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radioactivepeasant · 1 year

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Ambush! It's an unscheduled Free Day Thursday!

It's my b-day and I can break my scheduling rules if I darn well please. And yes, it's more Meddling Mar. I'm chipping away at Faulty Info writer's block and working on a different project for a bit usually rejuvenates my writer brain.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

As much as he hated to admit it, the monks' disgusting "desert lily" juice did do a lot to make Jak less lethargic and thirsty. Not that he would ever admit it. It was embarrassing enough when the monks would come each day to make him practice walking. He hated that he had to lean on them for support just to get to the latrine. It had been days, right? Why did he still feel so weak? He'd been able to run mere minutes after the final dark eco injection!

Part of him wondered if perhaps he healed faster when he was in imminent danger. If the dark eco merely kept his body moving and in fighting condition, just waiting for the next chance to come out. Maybe it just went back to being a detriment when he was truly at rest. But how would he know? Jak didn't think he'd actually had a chance to sleep in since- well, probably since before he convinced Daxter to go to Misty Island with him.

By the third day, he was sick of it. Sick of the medicine, sick of feeling helpless, and sick of the boring beige clay covering metal wallframes imperfectly. So when Mar once again suggested an escape, he was pretty sure he could force his legs to keep moving long enough to see something other than this stupid recovery ward.

"There's stairs right when you get through the door," Mar told him as he hauled himself out of bed. "I haven't tried going up yet, but I know there's always somebody downstairs."

"Well let's just start with me not falling down the stairs and cracking my head open," Jak answered flatly. "Did either of you see what they did with my goggles?"

Mar lifted blankets and pillows, then turned to shrug. "Maybe we'll find them upstairs?"

Tugging Jak's arm with one hand, and grabbing Daxter's hand with the other, Mar tried to pull them out of the alcove. He was eager to leave, and with his brothers both awake, now was the perfect time.

"So!" A booming voice echoed through the ward, curtailing the boys' escape attempt. "You've come back from the dead, have you?"

Jak instinctively shoved Mar behind him and whirled to face the door. The man blocking the exit wasn't the tallest person he'd ever seen, but his shoulders were broad and his frame was solid enough that Jak knew he wasn't going to be able to just push past him.

"And here my monks were, ready to pray for you."

The man folded his arms across his chest and smirked.

Daxter tensed up and pointed. "Jak! It's-!"

Mar scowled. "Thats-"

"The Snitch?"

The man's smirk stretched into a sharp grin that put Jak in mind of a shark.

"I'm afraid I'm here to ruin your escape attempt again, little Secret."

"Um."

Jak frowned and fruitlessly tried to push Mar behind him again, towards the beds.

"What are you talking about?"

The horned man -- or crowned or something -- strolled into the ward like he owned the place. "Well, every time I ask his name, he says it's "A Secret," after all."

He tilted his head towards Mar, that strange smile still glued on.

"Hmm, maybe I should have asked before. Do you prefer to go by "A-Sec"? Or "Cret"?"

Mischief sparkled in his dark eyes.

"What about "Seek"? Should we call you Seek?"

Mar's face twisted in confusion. "You're weird."

Daxter snorted. "That is not the worst nickname you coulda gotten, kid. Trust me."

"Where are we?" Jak demanded.

Fatigue pulled at his limbs, draining his resolve faster than he'd expected. But he didn't want to go back to bed, not until he had some answers.

"How did we get here? Who are you people?!"

"The nation of Spargus, I fished you out of the Strider Range, and Damas, king of Spargus, in that order," the man answered archly.

A king?!

In hindsight, Jak thought that might have explained the weird spikes coming out of his skull. But it didn't explain much else.

"Spargus?"

He said the name slowly, and fought back a yawn.

"Wait, nobody lives outside Haven's walls!" Jak sputtered, "Not a whole city!"

"Ah, yes." The king’s tone was dry. "We are the...forgotten ones. The refuse of cities like Haven, thrown out and left to die."

Oh.

Jak supposed it made sense that he wasn't the first person Haven had done this to, but it still managed to surprise him.

"Sounds like us," he muttered bitterly.

"Mm." The king stepped forward, straight into the little alcove where the boys had been sleeping. "Right: back to bed with you."

Mar shook his head fiercely. "Go away! It's not bedtime!"

Damas didn’t look offended. If anything, he looked amused.

"It is for Jak, little one. The sooner he sleeps off this ordeal, the sooner we can integrate you into the city."

The brothers glanced at each other.

"Who said we wanted to be part of your city?" Jak demanded.

"We're trying to get to some place called the Lighthouse."

All at once, Damas threw back his head and laughed.

"The light- the Lighthouse?" He shook his head and spread his arms wide. "Young one, you're in the Lighthouse!"

Daxter hopped up to the bed when it became obvious that this Damas guy wasn't going to let them leave.

"Uh, hate to interrupt here but- aren't lighthouses usually, y'know, near water?"

Damas smirked. He bent down and scooped up Daxter without so much as a by-your-leave, then held the offended ottsel up to the window cut into the stone wall.

"Tell me what you see."

It was the first time Daxter had gotten close to the window. He gripped the sill as a wave of nostalgia crashed over him.

The air was clean, and clear.

He could see so far-!

"It's...it's the ocean!" he gasped.

"Jak! Jak, we made it to the ocean! And the water is still clean!"

"You serious?!"

Jak scrambled up onto the bed to peer out the higher window overhead.

Sure enough, seabirds wheeled over an endless expanse of blue. Waves rolled and crashed as though they'd never heard of all the pollution of Haven, and Jak could have sworn he glimpsed something absolutely massive moving under the water.

It was so much like the view from Sentinel Beach.

Even after standing in the ruins of Samos’s hut, Jak knew that this was the closest he'd felt to home.

Damas set Daxter down and leaned casually against the wall.

"So. A couple children from Haven, trying to make it to unmarked shores. What were you hoping to accomplish?"

Caught up in nostalgia, Jak absently answered, "As long as I can see the ocean, I'm still free."

Surprise creased the king’s forehead, followed by an unexpected understanding.

He nodded slowly.

"You'd be surprised how many of us come to Spargus with the same thoughts."

Something wry and a little self-deprecating crossed his face.

"And how many of us get here on the edge of death’s door, like you. The Lighthouse represents the hope of both freedom and rescue to those stranded by their enemies. Once we're rescued, though, our lives belong to each other and the nation of Spargus, to be used for the city's good."

Jak dropped from the window to crouch on the bed, and a dark, suspicious look entered his eyes.

"What do you mean "belong to"?"

If he noticed the boy’s abruptly hostile tone, Damas didn’t indicate it. He shrugged and tipped his head back as though deep in thought.

"Out here, strength and survival are what Wastelanders respect the most. We live in a harsh land, boy. In order for there to even be a nation to accept the exiled, we all had to work to reclaim enough desert to live on."

Damas pushed off of the wall and scooped up the mortar and pestle on the table. Ignoring Jak's groan, he began methodically grinding up one of the last two leaves of Desert Lily.

"Everyone pulls their weight in Spargus," he said, lifting the pestle to point at Jak, "Be they king or recent rescue. Some serve as warriors, some as scouts. Some make things, some tend animals, some teach and tend to what few children we are granted. Without one link, the chain falls apart."

Damas straightened and looked from Jak to Daxter to Mar, more serious now.

"Let that be your first lesson in this city: through unity, we survive. If one person shirks or throws their work onto the shoulders of another, we all suffer for it."

Daxter folded his arms and scoffed. "Somebody tell Haven that. Right, Jak?"

Jak's frown was more pensive than suspicious now.

"Does everyone live by that?" he asked pointedly, "Or just you?"

The shark grin came back.

"Oh I learned it from an old woman here, when I was the half-dead stray. Those who have been here longer than twenty years all learned the value of unity long ago."

While Jak pondered the implications of that, Damas poured a little water into a bowl. Carefully, he tipped the mortar just enough for the bitter, gel-like juices and eco of the plant to slide into the water without splashing. After a moment's stirring, the king lifted the bowl to his own lips and took a sip. Instantly, he made a face and put it down.

"Ecch. That's not well filtered. I'm going to get a cheesecloth."

He stepped out of the alcove and began rummaging through the supplies the monks had lined up neatly on carts between alcoves.

Mar blinked twice. "What...what does cheese have to do with Jak's medicine?! Why are you so weird?!"

Bemused, Damas shook his head and turned his attention back to the search. "It's- It's for straining. I do not know -- Ah, there's one! -- I do not know why it is called a cheesecloth either."

"Because you pour the whey into it to catch the curds when you're making yakkow cheese," Daxter supplied idly. "Whey goes through the weave, curds don't. Get it? Cheese-cloth, for cheese-making."

Catching Mar's surprised look, Daxter shrugged. "Kid, I went from the brat who mucks out the barn to owning my own pub. I know everything we use yakkows for. Everything."

Mar wrinkled his nose. "We didn't have any yakkows left when we got the Rift boat working. Metalheads ate em all."

Jak recoiled. "All of them?! What- what about old Zeb? What happened to him?"

He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Sure, he'd known on a cognitive level that everyone who had lived in Sandover was long dead now. But when Mar had been living in the immediate aftermath of his departure, it was hard to think of the old folks dying. Especially if it had been in front of his younger self.

Mar shrugged with the careless nonchalance of childhood. "I dunno. Everybody that didn't get eaten moved to the jungle to hide in the Precursor ruins. We went back and forth a lot the first two years."

Jak's shoulders fell, and he nodded. "At least somebody survived, I guess."

"Samos always complains that it woulda been more if you'd gone back with us." Mar rolled his eyes. "Like he wasn't the guy who made you stay behind in the first place."

As he returned to filter the medicine, Damas read the small boy's signs in mild bewilderment. Rather quickly, he decided he wasn't going to poke that bear. Not while the boys were still recovering and in a potentially volatile state.

Samos was a name he recognized -- that Precursor History nut from the court of Haven, as he recalled, grandson of the last Green Eco sage. Damas had always found the man irritating. It seemed as if the little one, at least, shared his opinion.

"Mar, stop." Jak set his jaw and kept his signs low, partially out of sight. "We'll talk about it later."

The boy probably thought he'd been very discreet, but considering they were communicating with the lingua franca of Spargus, it was really pretty obvious. It was as if they believed they were the only signers present! Damas tucked the thought away to ponder later, preoccupied with the sign he guessed was little "Seek's" abbreviated name.

It bore a distinct similarity to his own son's nickname.

#surprise free day thursday #jak and daxter #meddling mar au #jak and daxter au #jak and daxter mar #dadmas #king damas #ENTER THE DADMAS #man steps inside and immediately starts cracking dad jokes. probably because he knows they go over everyone's head #continuation #daxter probably knows a lot about food and food preparation considering he actually managed to turn Krew's saloon into something functional #playing with the orignal game script to reflect what i feel a more developed game would be like #although to my chagrin there actually is a doylist reason for the Arena of Death #it's a mini version of all the game-overs you could face once you get the gate pass and go out in the desert #the darn thing actually has a useful function #Jak and Mar still don't realize literally every adult in Spargus can understand them. Their names are the worst-kept secret in Spargus

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okami-zero · 6 months

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Whilst chasing my damnable muse and chipping away at my Writer's Block...

I remembered I still need a healer and a magic DPS to finish out the role quests in Shadowbringers (Still need to last leg of physical DPS, SAM). So it was recommended to me by my FC-mates to level ACN/SCH/SMN because they share XP, gear (to a point, I think?) and some other things and that way I wouldn't have to grind two separate classes and sets of gear. My inventory got cleaned up, between putting some neat things in my glamour dresser and the rest donated to the Enclave (and then I realized my first retainer has SO MUCH SHIT in her bags I need to sort through -_-).

Anyhow, Doing the post-Moogle quests to get some more XP and something occurred to me. This quest saw Akagi delivering a missive to one of his favorite people in the world, Momodi. And it involves an entitled rich guy who is in love with her and he asks Akagi to help with figuring out who Momodi is in love with via her hairpin. Momodi has rebuffed this oblivious tryhard repeatedly, but she wants Akagi to keep him out of trouble.

I told you THAT, to get to a headcanon that occurred to me - any time Akagi has to deal with someone blithely ignorant of who he is, anytime they have to deal with someone who DOES know who he is (or knows him, period), Akagi will get them to downplay, or even omit his title/standing/etc. Once, because he is a humble lad, and two, if there comes a point where the hapless citizen he is escorting makes the realization, he can get some small, smug satisfaction out of it. (Just a little, he likes being a little shit every once in a while, ask the twins or Thancred. xD)

So yea, figured I'd squeeze that out in hope sit will loosen the rest of the words in my brain. And I will have to add this to the Akagi Lore Bible™. xD

#okami rambles #okami plays ffxiv #okami's OCs #wol #ffxiv wol #au ra raen #Akagi Obinata #Obinata no Akagi #I think Akagi finding a magic discipline is a neat idea #not sure where to fit it in #And not sure which one yet...

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yanderecrazysie · 3 years

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Candid

Did I put this off because I know nothing about Suna’s personality? Yes. Possibly.

I think this is badly rushed but only because I had writer’s block for so long EEK! I’m so sorry! And to the Tumblr requesters, don’t worry, I’m getting to you all now!

Title: Candid

Pairings: Suna x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, stalking, non-consensual photography (?), mild gore, death

Summary: Everywhere you go, you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you hear the click of a picture being taken and that overwhelming feeling that you’re being watched. You really wish it was just you being paranoid.

Notes: Requested by someone on Wattpad.

candid

/noun/

(of a photograph of a person) taken informally, especially without the subject's knowledge.

The first time you heard the click of a phone camera taking your picture without your permission was when you were walking back to your dorm alone. It was quickly followed by a shattering sound and pounding footsteps. All that was left behind was a shattered screen protector, a product of your photographer’s panic.

You were freaked out, to say the least. But thankfully, the sound of their own phone frightened them away. You almost laughed, picturing some unknown creep’s embarrassed face when they realized they were caught and went back to the safety of your dorm.

But that wasn’t the last time you’d hear that sound. It was the start of a nightmare you could never wake up from.

Click, click, click.

Your photographer had grown bolder, to say the least.

That clicking sound had become far too familiar over the next two weeks. Every single time you left your dorm, you heard it, following you around campus unless others were near you. It got to the point that you no longer wanted your quiet alone time, you just wanted someone, anyone near you. Just so you wouldn’t feel those eyes on the back of your head and see that little flash in the corner of your eye.

Anything to stop feeling like your picture is being taken every moment of the day.

Your roommate couldn’t be there for you every time, and you felt like you were coming across as clingy by asking her to escort you everywhere. She had her own classes to worry about, on top of a job. As kind as she was, you didn’t want to add onto her already-heavy workload.

So when a boy from your Chemistry course offered to walk you back to your dorm, you found yourself agreeing. It was the middle of the day, so he couldn’t try anything without people noticing, and your photographer would back down too.

He wasn’t very talkative, which made the walk a little awkward. His eyes seemed to be glued to you, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye. The intensity of his stare unnerved you.

When you stopped at the door of your room, you felt a confusing mixture of two types of relief. Relief that your photographer never showed up once and relief that your uncomfortable walk with him was finally over.

“I never actually learned your name.” You admitted to the boy, the polite part of you wanting to thank him for walking you to your dorm.

“Suna.” You waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. A man of few words, you supposed.

“I’m Y/n, it’s nice-”

“I know.”

Unnerved, you swallowed back your concern and decided to end this “conversation”.

“Thank you for walking me back, I appreciate it.”

Suna simply smiled. A small, yet genuine, sweet little twitch of the lips. You had to admit, it was kind of cute.

“Any time, (Y/n).”

Walks back to your dorm with Suna became a normal part of your weekdays. The couple days you didn’t walk with him, the snaps of a camera haunted your way home, almost worse than ever before.

But, like all good things, it had to come to an awkward end.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

It made you inwardly wince, how rehearsed those words sounded. You wondered if he’d practiced before the two of you met up.

“I’m sorry, Suna, but I barely know you.” You left out the fact that he unnerved you with his intensely calculating stare and the way he walked just-too-close to you.

“Oh.”

And… that was it. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this wasn’t it. Suna’s expression didn’t even change, that impassive face blankly blinking back at you.

He stood and watched, unnaturally calm, as you walked away.

Why couldn’t you shake the feeling that this was just the calm before a storm?

Your mysterious photographer was silent, despite the fact that you no longer walked with Suna. In fact, you didn’t hear the camera sounds at any point of the day. Finally, you wondered if the creep gave up or lost interest. Or maybe you were making it up in your head all along.

You really wish that was the case.

“Damn it- where’s my room key?” Your backpack, purse, and surroundings gave no clue as to where your student card was. Without that, you couldn’t get into your dorm room- which was a big problem, considering the sky was darkening by the minute. You just wanted to watch some Netflix and snack on some chips, was that too much for the universe to allow?

Hastily typing out a message on your phone to your roommate, you continued to pack up your scattered belongings. A ding signaled her reply.

You: Hey, u at the room? Lost my key, gotta get a new one tmrw or something

Roomie: Yeah

It was a strangely short reply for the roommate you knew. Usually, she’d write half a paragraph or at least chew you out (in a light-hearted way) about how stupid you were to lose your card.

Maybe she was doing homework. Either way, all you needed to know was that she was there to let you into your safe haven.

The first drops of rain were hitting your head when you arrived at your dorm. You were beyond grateful that your roommate was there to save the day. To be honest, she was more like a sister to you than anything else. The random roommate pairing system didn’t fail you, like it did most unlucky on-campus students.

Your knuckles barely touched the door when it opened and slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging you inside. But it wasn’t your roommate you came face-to-face with.

No, it was your worst nightmare.

Photographs pasted on the walls and desks, all featuring you, you, you. Photos of every size, with any person other than you cut out of it.

Every click of the camera was now laid out for you to see. But that was no longer your biggest concern.

Dead.

Your roommate… oh god… she laid on her bed, throat slit and blood everywhere- splattered on the walls and soaking the sheets. She was probably napping, you realized, and you prayed that she died peacefully. That she didn’t wake up when her killer loomed over her with your borrowed key card.

Because that’s how the killer got in. How he got in.

The man now blocking your only exit, that small, "sweet" smile gracing his lips again.

Suna Rintarou.

You felt dizzy- your world was spinning. Was that crying and screaming coming from you? It felt so far away… so detached…

Your vision swam with darkness, the shock numbing your senses. As you succumbed to unconsciousness, you heard Suna talking to you… a voice that sounded a mile away, yet right in your ear. With the arms wrapping gently around your form, it was most likely the latter.

“I know you don’t know me well, but I know you very, very well. You have time, Y/n, you have time…”

Why was it that you felt like your time was up?

Like every click of a camera was just the ticking of a clock, counting down to your inevitable doom.

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere suna #suna rintaro #suna rintarou #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot

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fantasyforbeginners · 3 years

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how to deal with writer’s block when you don’t outline

Outlining doesn’t work for every author (even if it works for me). So how should you confront writer’s block when you’re not sure what might happen next?

After all, it’s all well and good for me to say I always know my ending - but as you point out, how do I get there? How are we supposed to “know” or figure out the next section of our story?

If I’m stuck, I make a list of all the ideas or concepts I want to consider or I know I want to hit (similar to outlining, but a little bit messier). But in this list I take it one step further, and consider all the different ways a story could go, i.e.

What if this character reacted angrily to this situation? Sadly? In denial? What could push them to react in each way and why?

What does my character want in this moment? What are they afraid of?

What would make this character or situation change (unexpected beliefs or viewpoints, personal failings or successes, etc.)? What sort of change is interesting to yourself as the author?

If your characters are discussing an aspect of worldbuilding, the inability to move forward may be because you haven’t fleshed out the worldbuilding they’re discussing (i.e. politics, economics, trade, etc.) well enough yet.

Write an AU or canon divergence of your own story. Explore as many different possibilities or reactions as you can. Make a list

As you can see, a lot of writer’s block - any kind - usually comes down to a struggle with some sort of characterization. When I’m struggling with how a scene would be executed, it’s almost always because I’m not entirely sure how my characters would react (or how to phrase it). So I would suggest looking at possible characterization struggles of your own in this case. Even the most plot heavy story is really tied to character reaction (and action) in some way.

If it’s an original work, that can be trickier. Most of my advice is already dispensed above, but here’s a few more tips

If it’s a romance or realistic fiction, what are your characters going to hide and why? No one is entirely truthful all the time, especially about things that are embarrassing or make them vulnerable. What do other characters think someone is not being truthful about (even if they are)?

If it’s something like fantasy or sci fi with higher stakes, I always ask my characters three questions: What would completely break them? and What do they want and what they willing to justify to get it?

You will pretty naturally write double meanings and layers into your work. One of my favourite things is having a character make a choice and the readers/other characters think they know the reason for it - a sound reason, often, too - and it’s later revealed there was another reason for (either in addition or one that flat out took priority). Same goes for metaphors and meanings. These are things that can always be considered!

The theme or meaning of your piece is your guiding principle. Almost every scene can chip away at it a little. I’m not saying to make sure every single scene is super important to theme or meaning; you can wear yourself out thinking like that, juggling too many things at once. But this connects back to “what do you want the takeaway emotion of this section/scene to be” and often times something that connects to a theme (proving yourself, healing, regret, etc. or even all three in the same work) can be a helpful guiding tool. It can even be as simple as “i want my characters to do something fun in this scene”

Always consider emotional continuity! Are your characters coming up to a section where they’re processing what’s happening around them? Or are they in a section where they just have to keep going? Is this a breathing moment for your story? Follow accordingly. This is not to say your characters always have to react like real people (I would have a breakdown after just one day in most of my characters’ lives let alone a week dear god), fiction is escapism and to a certain degree unrealistic by extension. But figuring out whether you want a big emotional focus in this section or to be more plot focused can always be useful!

#writer's block #writing advice #outlining #or therefore lack of #mine

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lee-a-toiling-writer · 3 years

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Forgotten Memories, Lost Time (pt. 4)

pairing(s): natasha romanoff x reader; later wanda maximoff x reader (ish)

summary: A marriage, a damn near unbreakable union has been fractured by a few explosive words. What once was porcelain is now cracked and chipped, slowly breaking away. Is it too late to save what once was? Can memories be restored before it’s too late?

warning(s): hopefully a little angsty but also fluffy

a/n: posted (07/02/21). sorry this is really, very delayed. writer’s block is a bitch and a half and with the hospital opening up more it means for a bit of catch up at work. thank you to all those who read this, and please remember this isn’t edited. special shout out to @diaryoflife for helping motivate me to write. if you noticed the chapter numbers changed, its because i changed the prologue to chapter 1, and i’ll do a prologue that goes into the readers initial head injury at some point. anyway much love and stay safe~ Lee

*Please do not repost my work nor claim ownership*

Also sorry if you are seeing this again, it’s because i accidentally deleted like the fossil i am when it comes to technology. thanks for all of you who previously read it and hope you enjoyed it!

word count: 2.6k

masterlist

part 3 | part 4 | part 5 coming soon

Weeks drag on, but it feels like years for Natasha and you. Every interaction feels so incredibly awkward and terse. You feel burdened with the weight of trying to remember, yet the harder you try the more frustrated you become. Everything feels just out of reach, as you try to grasp onto your new reality. You feel the stares from your teammates, the looks of pity, and it angers you. You wish for it to just be normal again, to just feel okay again. If only you knew that Natasha felt the same.

Through it all, Wanda has been there for you and you wish so badly that you could truthfully say that her presence has soothed all your worries, but you cannot. It feels like your heart is longing for the presence of someone else. Yearning to fill the void that you’ve had since you woke up with no memories of the past years. A part of you will always yearn for her, for you know deep down that love never forgets. Love is not bound to memories, but will always be there, pulling you back to her.

Sometimes you would wake up in a cold sweat, having flashes of the redhead’s smiling face as the two of you dance in the kitchen. It feels so surreal, almost as if it is a created fantasy that you made purely out of your desires, but something tells you otherwise. Every dream leaves you wanting more, and a warm feeling spreads through your chest. It makes you feel at home.

Anything you do, whether it be cooking with Wanda in the kitchen, or sparring with Steve on the mats, brings flashes of memories. Each one featuring Natasha Romanoff looking so unburdened and carefree. You yearn to bring a smile to her face again, as you can see the longing in her eyes every time you are in the same room. You see the tight smiles that never reach her eyes, and you see the heartache that seems to never leave her face anymore. All you want is to gather her in your arms and assure her that everything will be okay, but you are scared. You are scared of your last conversation with her. The blowout you two shared all those weeks ago. You fear that some part of her meant those words, that they weren’t said purely out of fear, but deep down she meant them. For those reasons, you cannot bring yourself to confront her, to tell her of all the memories that have been flooding your dreams and mind constantly.

It is approaching the four-month mark since being discharged, and Doctor Cho gave you the go-ahead for missions. She just warned you to be careful, to take things slowly. Luckily for you, the next mission is simple and easy, perfect to get you back into things. Aren’t the fatal ones always said to be simple?

Heading to the meeting room for the debrief, you are dressed in a pair of sweats and an old hoodie you found in a bag left for you at the hospital. Wearing it brings a sense of comfort, of home. You had a sneaking suspicion of who left it, but then again you couldn’t be positive. Reaching the doorway you are so engrossed in your thoughts you collide with another person. Quickly reaching out, you steady yourself by grasping onto their forearms, while slender fingers grab yours. A quick glance up and your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet a pair of striking green eyes.

Both of you stand there, staring at each other, in a hypnotic way. Clearing your throat you take a step back, quickly letting go of the beautiful redhead. Your eyes don’t stray to her again, choosing instead to hurriedly make your way into the briefing room, hoping to ignore how your heart still skipped a beat at the sight of her. The feeling of longing didn’t escape you, but the feeling of hurt is too overwhelming to simply push past. Her words still ring loudly in your head, and despite your hopes to tell her of all your regained memories, your walls have been built too high. Instead, you take a seat next to Wanda and try to give her a small smile when she shoots you a worried look.

Flashback

It had been almost a year since joining the team, and you could say with certainty that you were fitting in nicely. They all treated you like family, except Natasha Romanoff. She always threw you cold glances whenever you passed her or met her challenging gaze. No one ever expects an immediate friendship, especially from a person with a reputation like the black widow, but that doesn’t mean you expected a cold shoulder.

While everyone else gave you welcoming smiles and friendly glances, the only thing you got was silence. It hurt, but you pushed past the discomfort and made it your goal to break down her walls, even just a little. You weren’t hoping for a marriage proposal, but you wanted to at least be cordial.

Suddenly it all changed just a couple of weeks later when you had been paired with her on an undercover mission. For five days you acted like a newlywed couple, and everything instantly clicked. You almost fooled yourself with how well you fit together. Chaste kisses were shared while you had to sleep in the same bed. Meals were shared in the safe house you two resided in, and it all felt normal. Of course, they were for the sake of the mission, not because you both enjoyed the domesticity of it all.

Upon arriving home the team could sense a shift in your relationship, you however were too scared to comment on it yourself. Now, however, when you met the gaze of the striking redhead you were met with a soft smile and warm eyes. It was the beginning of something beautiful, something deeper than the ocean itself. Years later your relationship would be one to rival that of Steve’s and Bucky’s very own.

With Steve wrapping the debrief, you stand up getting ready to go collect your things for the mission that would take place in less than twenty-four hours from then. Saying your goodbyes to Wanda, you rush to make your way out of the room, hoping for once that luck was on your side. However, you of course could never be so lucky. You’re stopped by soft hands gripping your wrist. After taking a deep breath and schooling your expression, you turn around to meet the sorrowful eyes of Natasha.

“What do you need.” Your voice exudes nonchalance and even boredom, but your insides swim with anxiety. Everything in you tells you to give in and forgive her, but then her words come back again. The pure hatred that she spewed and spit at you, and once again your resolve strengthens. You refuse to let her just walk back into your life. She needs to fight for you if she truly ever cared.

“Bab- sorry, I- Y/n. Can we please just talk?”

The hopeful and pleading look finally breaks through, despite your high walls you find yourself nodding. The silence is suffocating, but you follow anyway. You take in the familiar surroundings, as you walk the path to your once shared room. Walking in sends a torrent of memories your way. However, as quickly as they come, they are gone again. But for the fleeting moment, it felt safe, you felt like you were safe. A quick glance around shows the disheveled way in which Natasha was living. Everything seemed messy and thrown around, which is so unlike the master assassin currently fidgeting before you. While sweeping your eyes back to the woman in front of you, your eyes catch the shattered glass of a framed picture. It is hard to make out, but when you do you hear your breath catch in your throat.

Wordlessly you make your way over to the dresser and pick up the frame. Light fingers trace over the faces of the two of you on your wedding day. You were so lost in each other’s eyes, never caring to notice the photographer catching the moment of true, unadulterated love. A smile makes its way onto your lips, if only for a second. Turning around, remembering you are not alone, you are met with the teary, awestruck look of Natasha Romanoff.

Watching you, she saw as the memories flooded your mind. She could see the smile make its way onto your face as you silently gazed at the wedding photo. Tears sprung to her eyes when she saw that moment of recognition. You weren’t gone, and you were coming back. You were finally coming home. When you faced her, she saw a change in you. Your walls were being lowered, even just slightly.

Silently, Natasha walks over to you. Her heart pounds in her chest, but as she gets closer her mind becomes clearer, set on what she feels she must do. When she is right in front of you, still having said no words, you watch with confusion as she gets on her knees and grabs your hands. Tears are steadily streaming down her face, but you couldn’t care less. She is still the most beautiful woman in the world. Carefully you remove your hands from her grip, and you immediately see the disappointment and hurt spread across her face, as her eyes close in embarrassment. Before she can fully let the hurt sink in she feels soft hands wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Quickly opening up her eyes again reveals that you have now knelt in front of her. Your tear-stained cheeks speak for themselves, and she thinks her heart stops when you pull yourself flush against her. She only moves to reciprocate the hug when she feels your tears soaking through her shirt. Trying not to startle you too much, she slowly pulls you into a sitting position in her lap. She now has you curled in her lap, while you struggle to stop the torrent of sobs that overtook you.

“Hey, beautiful. It’s okay.” Her soft tone slightly soothes you, until your sobs have lessened to small hiccups. You slightly move your face away from being buried in her shoulder but stay seated in her lap. Looking in her eyes you can see the pain and concern shining through her bright green irises. Without a second thought, you lean in and connect your lips. Fire burst in your chest at the feeling, and warmth finally begins to seep back in. It feels like the sun has come once again in your life, and you can finally breathe again.

It’s not a lustful kiss, but rather it is slow and sensual. Your lips connect like two pieces of a puzzle, finally completing the previously unfinished image. Salty tears are tasted while lips connect over and over. Natasha’s hands make their way to your hips, while your hands gently grasp at the back of her neck. Finally, once air became a necessity, your foreheads rest together while you both try to catch your breath. No words are spoken, and yet, the quiet is calming.

“I’m sorry baby. You don’t know how sorry I am for what I said. There’s no excusing what I said, and I won’t feed you lies to save my image. All I can say is sorry and hope that you give me the chance to make it up to you.” All at once, the silence is broken with her quiet yet strong statement, but you aren’t upset by the intrusion. Instead, you open your eyes and cup her cheeks. Silently, you nod before connecting your lips again. It’s a wordless confirmation of forgiveness, of moving on. Every action, every move of your lips is slow. The months apart have all led to this moment. You know that this conversation is not over, and you both need to work on your relationship still, but right now you just want to be content in this moment. Natasha doesn’t waste a moment before she lifts you and moves you to the bed, gently laying you down. Your eyes follow her as she moves around to the other side of the bed to slide in beside you, pulling you closer until you are flush against her, legs tangled together.

Holding eye contact, she reaches behind her to unclasp the chain that is delicately clasped at the base of her neck. In one swift movement, she has the chain dangling in her hand and before you can blink an eye she removes an object that was previously hanging on the necklace. You have no time to ponder it before your left hand is gently grasped. Looking at her movements, you watch as to slowly puts your engagement ring and wedding band back on your finger. A glance up shows a delighted redhead admiring your now intertwined hands, the silver jewelry reflecting the light.

Delicate fingers run over the simple diamond, then move to roll the silver wedding band between Natasha’s fingers. Pulling your hand closer, she kisses your knuckles, being intentional to kiss your ring finger. A smile erupts on both of your faces, while the silence wraps around you. It feels so peaceful and wonderful to lay in her arms again. All the inner turmoil seems to settle when you feel her heartbeat so close to you, to see her green eyes watch you with such adoration and love. You might not remember everything, and you may never again, but it no longer pains you. Instead, you are hopeful to make new memories with the smiling redhead, hopeful to never see the smile leave her face.

You don’t know when, but you must have fallen asleep. Darkness wraps your mind, but it doesn’t torture you. It settles over you like a blanket, keeping out the cold. Light touches awaken you from your dreamless sleep, and you open your groggy eyes to your beautiful wife. It’s startling, but a wave of affection and warmth gathers in your chest. You wish to lay in her arms for a couple of minutes longer. Y/e/c eyes are drawn to her lips and you see her smirk, and suddenly the desire to wipe it off her gorgeous face becomes overpowering. Hands going to cradle her cheeks, you lean up quickly, swallowing her smirk when your lips meet her plump ones. You start pulling back only for calloused hands to grab at your waist, while strong thighs straddle you, halting any further movements.

You can feel her smile into the kiss, while your lips meet in harmony. Natasha pulls away first, and your lips chase after her, with your eyes still closed. Only do your eyes open when you feel her gently rub her thumbs across your cheek, so gentle as if she is afraid you might break otherwise. Your eyes flutter open meeting the bright green eyes, and soft smiles are exchanged.

“Morning,” Natasha whispers softly. Her eyes search yours, and you watch as tears glass over her beautiful ones. A single tear makes its way down her porcelain skin, but a smile makes its way onto her face. However, you are interrupted by the sound of Friday’s voice reminding you both of the upcoming mission. It disrupts that wishful thinking of staying in this single moment forever. Instead, you silently partake in your pre-mission routine together, feeling whole once again. The quiet peace settles over the room, while you both move in harmony to pack and prepare. If only you could foresee what this mission would bring.

so not medically accurate in that they'd be released for active duty after four months (especially with that type of head injury), but for the sake of the story i sped up healing a bit. also i’m working on the second part to ‘it was a mistake’ so look out for that soon (hopefully). i also have a story in my drafts and was wondering if you all think i should just post it

tags: @fishlikestuff @username23345 @dailyavengering @afuckingshituniverse @procrastinatingsapphictrash @blackxwidowsxwife @drpepperobsessed @tomy5girls @marvels-writings @thewidowsghost @trikruismybitch @diaryoflife @stephanieromanoff @natasha-danvers

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natalia romanova #natalia romanov x reader #black widow x reader #black widow

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bailey-whalieee · 3 years

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Things Are Different Now

(So sorry this took so long, I had major writers block and graduation and goodness life got in the way, it’s been a mess, but I am back!! Look out for regular updates!)

THREE

✮

A week had passed and still the DA and the investigation officer had absolutely nothing on the shooting or why it happened. Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky decided to pull Maggie from school for a few weeks to help her process what happened and her anxieties.

Maggie’s nightmares from the night of the party progressed into night terrors and her dad’s would awake to her screams and pleas. It was another reason why Steve and Bucky made the executive order to pull her out of school.

Steve and Bucky laid awake at 3:45 am, awaiting the heart wrenching screams that would soon emit from just down the hall. “Buck, you still awake?”

A sarcastic chuckle fell from his lips, “of course I am, punk.”

His hand intertwined with Bucky’s metal one, seeking comfort from the man. The nightly routine completely broke the men and it made them relive the first months after adopting their sweet girl.

Like clockwork, her screams echoed down the hallway and the two men rushed out of bed. Bucky and Steve felt as though there was something missing. It didn’t make any sense to them why her nightmares were so vivid and petrifying.

Her bed covers were tossed on the floor and Maggie thrashed violently on her mattress, pillowcase stained with tears.

“Maggie, sweetheart, hey, wake up. You’re okay, shh..”

The whimpers didn’t seem to want to stop and neither did the panicked breathing. Her own hands fought theirs as Steve and Bucky tried to wake her, fragments of sentences fell from her lips.

With a choking gasp, Maggie flinching away from the figures before realizing it was only her father’s.

“Hey, hey, doll.. Just breathe,” Bucky reassured, seeing the terrified glint in her eyes.

She locked eyes with Steve and immediately her bottom lip trembled and tears spilled down the red flushed cheeks. “Maggs, darling, what is going on? Honey, you haven’t had nightmares this bad since you were young. Are we missing something? You gotta start talking to us about this,” he coaxed, sitting on the messy bed.

“I-i…”

She drew a blank.. Not only did she have to make up another lie about the nightmares, but now she was just lying. “I don’t know.. Just scared okay?” she shrugged, her doe eyes irritated and puffy.

Bucky wanted to call her bluff.. He knew his daughter especially when she was hiding something, but it was four in the morning and the tiredness showed in her eyes. Maybe she needed to be pulled from school indefinitely, he thought..

“Okay honey.. Just get some sleep,” Steve sighed, smoothing down the mess of blonde curls.

As the two men turned to leave, Maggie whispered, “dad, papa, I’m sorry..”

Puzzled, they both turned around confused with the girl.

“For what maggs?”

“For being like this.. I know you guys are tired, and that you guys never asked for this,” she softly murmured out.

Steve and Bucky paused, before they sat back down on her bed. “Maggie, sweetheart, you are our daughter. Nothing is ever going to stop that from being true. We are here till the end of the line even if it means being here at four in the morning reminding you that whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours isn’t true,” Steve spoke gently, wiping the fallen tears off her face.

“Plus, your father had to deal with me when we were younger. This ain't nothing, doll,” Bucky chuckled, kissing the top of forehead.

“Get some sleep kiddo, we are going to go do something special today,” Steve winked, ruffling her hair once more.

Confused, she bid her goodnights and tried to lay back down, but the nightmare had reminded her of all the things she never used to be scared of.

✮

The morning came rather quickly and so did the smell of a familiar scent of something Maggie remembered from her childhood.

Bacon & chocolate chip pancakes.

The soft sound of 1920’s music played from the record player in the living room and her two father’s chuckling softly as they flipped pancakes and bacon. Stretching, Maggie made her appearance in the kitchen.

“What’s the occasion?” she yawned, finding her seat on the island.

Huffing, Bucky pointed the wooden spatula at his daughter accusingly, “can two loving father’s make their daughter her favorite breakfast without there being a catch?”

Rolling her eyes, she snickered, “oh may we not forget the time you made this breakfast when my fish died, or the time you guys made it when I failed the spelling bee. Or the time I broke my arm and you guys were trying to cheer me up.”

“Buck, she’s got a point..”

“Okay fine, we are going to take you to the botanical garden,” he smirked.

Maggie’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened, “wait seriously??”

“Yes Maggs, go do your thing and breakfast will be ready by the time you're done,” Steve chuckled, watching his daughter race back upstairs with a squeal.

Shaking their heads, Buck had one thought, “Stevie, I think we won’t have to worry about our daughter having children.. I think we are going to have to worry about her being a plant mom for the rest of her life.”

“I’m just glad she’s not interested in boys,” Steve laughed, “one less ass I have to kick.”

“Agreed, Stevie, agreed.”

Meanwhile, Maggie had decided on her outfit, settling on her all time favorite pants and a butterfly shirt she got for christmas one year. Steve often said her pants reminded him of a hippie and she would roll her eyes.

Practically, running back down stairs she skidded through the threshold of the kitchen excitement beaming from her body. Bucky and Steve’s face both held grins as they took in her outfit.

The yellow socks peaked through her cuffed jeans, a vivid reminder of sunshine and sunny days. They hadn’t seen her smile like this in weeks and to be honest, they never wanted to see it go away.

After breakfast, and lots of hippie jokes from Steve and Bucky, they finally decided to pile into the large Ford Expedition. In all honesty, Maggie had forgotten about the horrors that had happened over the past couple weeks and the weight of it all disappeared for just a moment.

“So, does this mean I get to buy plants while we are here father’s?” she asked wiggling her eyebrow as they all stepped out of the vehicle.

Taking a long sarcastic breath, Bucky sighed, “I suppose so, doll.. If you really need them.”

“Rookie mistake, Buck.. Now she is going to say she needs them all,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head at the man.

Maggie ignored their bickering and awe took over her features as she walked around the planted sanctuary.

Bucky and Steve smiled watching their normally tense daughter return back to her calm self. “Maggs look at this long leafy thing,” Buck pointed, inspecting the plant.

Turning on her heels, she examined what seemed to be a spider plant and spilled the useless information about plants and she gushed about the types of spider plants and how they are useful.

A cold feeling washed over her body when she caught out of the corner of her eye, the same military style boots from that night. Stopping mid sentence, Maggie froze. All of the air expelled from her lungs and both of the super-soldiers noticed the shift in the air.

“Maggie?”

No.

Not again.

“I’ll be right back,” Maggie breathed, not wasting a second before practically running to the bathroom. She could hear Steve and Bucky calling out her name, but she ignored them, only allowing her feet to carry her faster.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other with confusion, how odd?

Her breaths came out rushed and rugged as she entered the bathroom, not knowing exactly if he was actually there or if she had just imagined the combat boots.

She had to calm down. It may not even be him? Maggie couldn’t help, but think about all the what if’s that could happen. Her phone buzzed in her back pocket alarming the already shaken up women.

Unknown

you ought to be more careful. you never know who is lurking about.

1:26 pm

A chill ran up her spine as she sat in the bathroom stall, tears begging to be set free. She couldn’t just sit in the bathroom stall, knowing full well that Steve and Bucky would burst through the door not giving two shits about it being a women’s bathroom if she tried.

Gathering herself back together, she wiped the smeared mascara off her cheeks and took a deep breath.

Gods, why couldn’t this just be over?

‘Should I confess? Maybe I should tell them..’ she thought to herself exiting the bathroom searching for two pairs of familiar blue eyes.

Finally she spotted her two fathers, leaned up against a metal pole admiring the pond with bountiful amounts of fish. Making a beeline for them, she wrapped her arms around Bucky taking in his cologne.

He shot a glance at Steve, raising an eyebrow but nonetheless returning the hug back to his daughter. “Maggs? You okay, darlin’?” he asked, concerned with the surprise hug.

Sighing, she gave him a small smile, “just needed a hug.”

She turned to her other father wrapping her arms around him, and Steve chuckled shaking his head at her antics.

“Papa's, can we just go home and watch a movie or something, there’s a lot of people here?” she asked, knowing that it wasn’t the people it was just one person who might be lurking closer than she wanted.

Steve’s face scrunched up at her announcement, “I think you have been spending too much time with your father.”

“Hey now punk,” Bucky jokingly warned, “c’mon Maggs we will leave pop’s to his own devices since he doesn’t want to hang with us.”

Letting out a laugh, she shook her head at their jests at one another pulling on Bucky’s gloved hand as a sign it was time to go.

Staying high alert, she almost searched for the boots hoping that maybe she would have the courage to go after him. Deep down she wasn’t ready to face what was waiting for her on the other side of those damn combat boots and she knew it.

M&M

maggie, we need to talk asap.

1:41 pm

Furrowing her eyebrow, Maggie’s stomach almost dropped just by looking at the text. It felt like she couldn’t escape that feeling anymore.

Maggs

meet me at my house in ten.

1:43 pm

Clicking out of iMessage, she sighed trying not to allow her anxious thoughts to take over. Gods, she prayed that it was anything, but the shooting or related to the shooting. Maggie had bit off more than she could chew of this damn accident.

“Maggs, you okay? Look a lil’ bummed out, doll?” Bucky looked up into the rearview mirror the vehicle.

She smiled tightly, “yeah, Em is coming over. It’s an emergency.”

Steve turned around from the passenger seat looking concerned, “everything okay?”

Nodding, she shrunk more into the leather seat hoping to just disappear before shortly saying, “boy problems.”

Bucky and Steve almost choked on the air they were breathing. “W-what? Boy problems? Doll, you're not talking to boys yet, right? I mean, don’t get me wrong.. Papa and I won’t stop you, but they really do suck and…”

At this point, Maggie zoned out not even listening to anything Bucky panickingly stuttered out. Emma’s text burnt itself in the back of her mind and the thoughts were relentless.

‘Gods please let this be a boy problem… please.’

✮

When they arrived back, Emma’s car parked itself by their mailbox and she practically darted out of the car and into the house. Maggie knew exactly where she would find Emma.. Either curled up on her bed under the mounds of pillows or on her carpeted floor.

Pushing the bedroom door open, Maggie found Emma holding several envelopes and swollen red eyes.

Emma’s eyes were sunken in like she hadn’t slept very much and her face flushed a deep red. “Em..?”

She shoved the envelopes into Maggie’s hands, before a new wave of tears overtook the girl. Not knowing what to do, she opened the already torn envelopes wordlessly. Countless photos of her best friend, laid in her hands with several letters all written with the same message in fancy red ink.

‘This isn’t over Emma Anderson, this is only the beginning. - black wolf’

“Em, who is this?” Maggie uttered, speechless.

She looked at Maggie absolutely floored by her question, “are you fucking kidding me, Maggie? Do I know who this is? No, Maggie. I don’t fucking know who the hell it is. I’m going to guess it was that little prick who almost killed us, and thanks to you, I can’t tell anyone.”

“Emma, I didn’t know-”

“You know what Maggie Rogers-Barnes, how about you take care of this? Since you wanna be like your daddies and save the fucking world, fix it. You’re going to end up just like those kids. Dead. Fuck you for getting me into this mess and not letting the cops do their jobs.”

Every word hit Maggie like a slap in the face and her jaw went slack.

“You know what Maggie, just forget it. You’ll never be that hero you told me about, cause you’re too much of a damn coward to tell anyone about what happened at that damn party. Don’t text me again. Fuck you, fuck this friendship,” and with that, Emma walked out of her bedroom and back to her car.

Breathing harshly, she allowed the tears to freely fall down her face. This could not be happening. No, the one thing she wanted to keep until she died just walked out of her life.

Hearing the loud footsteps rushing up the stairs, Maggie hid the envelopes under her laptop trying to cover up her tears.

“Hey babydoll, everything okay? We heard some yelling and then Emma just left,” Steve furrowed his eyebrow noticing the wetness of her cheeks.

Clearing her throat, “yeah, just a little fight over something stupid. Can I ask you guys an irrelevant question?”

“Of course doll.”

“Shoot, honey.”

“You guys always told me that I should stand up for what I believe in and that I should fight for something even if it is hard, right? Because, I am so scared that people will be mad if I do,” she ended, feeling tears prick in the back of her eyes.

“Maggs, one of the hardest fights will always be following everyone else or you can take the hard path that won’t be easy and do what it is right,” Bucky spoke, watching his conflicted daughter.

“When I didn’t sign the Sokovia Accords, it was the hardest thing I had done, but Maggie I stood up for what I believed in and I did it. I fought a lot of pissed off people and faced criminal offenses, but it was so worth it. Don’t let anybody tell you what is right or wrong. Figure that out on your own,” Steve concluded with a soft smile, “besides, I got your dad through the deal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shoving him lightly.

Smiling gently, she mumbled a small, “thanks dad’s.”

And with that, Maggie formulated a plan in her mind.

She would fix this no matter what it took even if it meant her own life. She screwed it up. It didn’t matter if it took hell freezing over to make amends, Maggie made the decision that night that it was time to fix it.

✮

#stucky x daughter!reader #stucky x reader #stucky x oc #bucky x oc #bucky x reader #steve x oc #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #avengers x reader #agnst #fluff

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slytherinsnekxvii · 3 years

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this isn't my best work, but it's still pretty good for something i wrote when i was 15 after having a half a year of writer's block. anyways, ahem, presenting the fic in which severus says fuck it after the lake incident and just doesn't go back to hogwarts but potentially gets dragged into the war anyway despite living in the muggle world for like,, three years, part 1 (aka the only chapter i wrote bc my writer's block came back oops):

It starts simply, like most things do. It starts with a few words, tossed out without care and full of childish conviction. It escalates to brawls in the corridors and duels in the dungeons--if you could even call them that when it was four-on-one and most encounters left him reeling. It continues until he's twitchy and hypervigilant and awkward, always on the lookout for an attack, ready to bite before anyone could bite him.

It ends much the same. The events leading up to this are a production fit for the theatre, if the crowd is anything to by, but the ending itself is quite simple. Gasping for air near the shore of the Black Lake and battling a headache that hurts almost as much as the sharp press of his heart at the thought of what he'd done to Lily, he simply gives up. He picks himself up, tells himself this is the end of it and goes about collecting his belongings.

His wand comes to his hand easily enough with a mumbled Accio. His bag does, as well. Its contents, on the other hand, have to be collected by hand. His textbooks and ink are strewn beneath the tree, mostly, but the loose parchment and his quill are lost to the wind. He snatches up what he can find before someone gets it into their head to come further humiliate him and turns to head back into into the castle. Only to be smacked in the face by a bound sheaf of parchment and a quill. It's suspicious, and he's tempted to burn it then and there. It's his, but they were definitely scattered about the grounds two seconds ago. He doesn't burn it. He hesitates, puts it in his bag and returns to the castle, intent on making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

The apology doesn't go well. Lily isn't interested, refuses to hear it. He returns to the Slytherin dorms, drops into his bed and thanks Merlin that they'll be going home soon. Cokeworth is God-awful, but at least there's only one man trying to kill him there and only one woman for him to disappoint.

So, he waits it out. Spends his final classes looking over his shoulder and staring blankly at his parchment every time he remembers that they tried to kill him and they humiliated him and they got away with both. He shrinks into himself, avoiding the corridors at all costs, skipping meals to avoid being in the Great Hall and spends as much time as possible in the Library and the dusty old Potions Lab on the Fourth Floor that no one knows about, losing himself in research so he doesn't have to interact with his Housemates. He sits alone at the Leaving Feast, refuses to touch his plate until Evan Rosier falls into the seat next to him and bothers him into eating. The Headmaster dismisses them, says that they'll see each other come September and lets them filter out onto the train.

He ends up sharing a compartment with Mulciber, Avery and Rosier even though he's barely spoken to any of them since the incident. Evan needles him about everything and nothing the whole way to King's Cross, and when they get there, Evan claps him on shoulder and that's goodbye.

He gathers up his things, goes to meet his mother so they can Apparate home and not waste what little money they have on transport. Eileen's cheeks are sunken, her arms rail thin, her dress loose-fitting. He'd still rather see her than anyone even loosely affiliated with Hogwarts. She nods at him, he nods back. They go home.

He spends his summer making himself useful. He does odd jobs for the neighbours, is grudgingly polite to his father, takes care of his mother. By the time term rolls around, people are talking about that Snape boy. Strange, and quiet, too, but he works well, doesn't he? September first dawns bright and early, and Severus doesn't go back to Hogwarts.

He studies at home instead, nose buried in his mum's old books. He plants the few ingredients he has hidden away in his trunk at the back of the house and uses what grows to brew medicines and weedkillers and anything he can think of after experimenting a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith down the street both swear up and down he's working magic on their little garden and their old bones.

He feeds cats, delivers packages for the grocer, takes tables and nightstands home to cast Reparo on. Someone tells the pub owner about him, and the next thing he knows, he's frying chips and learning how to mix drinks even though the most complicated thing anyone ever orders is a pint of the beer that they have on tap.

It's not a bad existence. Eventually, slowly, his mother starts coming back to herself. She takes over the brewing when he isn't around. Annotates his annotations and even makes a trip to Diagon Alley for more ingredients to add to their garden when Severus forgets to write Narcissa to ask her to send a few more.

Severus is old enough now to drag his father home from the pub behind him when he's done working. One evening, they come home and Tobias nearly trips over the end table that Severus is meant to be fixing for Mr. Williams three houses up. Severus works his wand out of his boot and goes to cast a spell, but Tobias grumbles and bats his hand away. Drunk as he is, he still digs out his toolbox and gets to work. The job turns out almost decent.

By December, Severus is at the pub, feeding cats on his break and making deliveries when he has the time. Eileen is brewing and Tobias is doing carpenter's work fixing and building wardrobes, cupboards, cabinets and everything else. It keeps him busy enough that some days he doesn't see a drink at all. It's not much, but there's a little food on the table at the end of each day, and Severus thinks that he's probably better off than he would have been at Hogwarts.

Sometime around Christmas, his mother talks him into getting a Muggle education and writing his NEWTs. He writes the O-Levels for his Muggle exams in January. They're a breeze, given how well-read he is. He sees Petunia at the store shortly after, and she sneers vaguely in his direction. He hears her condescending voice in the back of his head and decides to sit the A-Levels in May out of spite.

His birthday comes and goes, the NEWTs come right after and he aces each and every one of the written exams. The practicals are spread out across the following weeks, and he's leaving the Ministry after his last exam to find that the date coincides with that of a field trip for the Sixth Years at Hogwarts.

He watches them a little, tearing his gaze away after he catches sight of a tanned arm draped over a shoulder touched by a red braid. The students mill near the doors for a while and so, Severus looks around for escape routes, eyes skipping hurriedly from door to door until they rest on a Ravenclaw who'd also taken the January NEWTs. All kinds of people had been there, adults who hadn't passed when they were younger and needed to retake the exams to get jobs, teenagers who had family fortunes waiting for them whose parents wanted them to at least look like they were competent, and overachievers--like Severus assumed the Ravenclaw was--who wanted to know where they stood before the actual exam. He jerks his chin toward another door, this one proclaiming to lead to the "Apparition Division". Severus nods once at him and makes his way toward it.

There's a one-day course for Apparition, apparently. The woman at the receptionist desk doesn't even bother looking at him, just points him in the direction of the Training Room with her nail file. He stays for nearly the rest of the day, until they're finally done. He gets his license and is quietly pleased to see that the building is nearly devoid of life when he leaves. He goes home.

May and June come around and bring with them the A-Levels. He finds them only marginally more challenging than his O-Levels and returns to his routine. It's a nice routine, which takes him all the way through to July of the next year when Lily starts coming in with Black and Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin. The first time it happens, he leaves the counter so fast that the patron he'd just given a glass of water to is convinced he teleported. He's already taken his regular break to go feed Mrs. Jones' cats, so he steps into the kitchen and tells Jimmy he's taking a smoke break. Jimmy snorts and reminds him that he doesn't smoke.

He fidgets, trying to think up a way to avoid going back out, when the ruckus they're making makes Jimmy look through the little window and see the lot of them crowded around a little table. He gets a peculiar look on face for a bit, before he asks Severus if they have something to do with why he doesn't go to his fancy school anymore. He doesn't need an answer, just tells him to keep an eye on the food and steps out to man the counter. Severus stays late, frying chips and washing dishes until the early hours of the morning when Jimmy pats him on the back and kicks him out.

It keeps up until September comes around, and by then, Severus has taken so many smoke breaks that he's actually started smoking. He keeps smoking long after they're gone.

He goes back to his routine until it's broken again by a letter that comes by owl. It's a short letter, coming from a Potions Master whose apprentice had been overseeing the exams. It claims that his work was the best either of them had seen in years and after asking around, they'd found that he was unbound to any Master and was highly recommended by the Malfoys. It ends with an offer. Severus would think himself foolish not to accept, so, he does. After that, two days a week are dedicated to Flooing to Master Diogene's laboratory to fulfil the requirements of his apprenticeship. It finds its own little nook in his routine and so he continues until June of 1980.

He's preparing to go to the pub when there's a knock at the door. It's not so uncommon anymore, so he thinks nothing of it, only that he hopes it doesn't take too long. His shift starts in half an hour. He pushes his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, where they perpetually are these days, and decides he'll roll them up properly later. He opens the door.

"Good afternoon," a very pregnant Lily says, and standing next to her is the Ravenclaw from the Ministry, back straight, arms clasped behind his back, his entire being alert.

"Good afternoon," he replies, awkward. After a long moment of silence, he asks, "Can I help you?"

"Depends on whether or not you let us in," she says.

Wordlessly, he steps aside, sliding the three pairs of shoes nearer to the wall in order to let them pass. "Do you want tea?"

"No," she says, at the exact same time her Auror friend says, "Thank you."

He gestures them into the little kitchen, where they sit at the little table where he and his mother and his father take their meals. He tugs his wand out of his boot, flicks it so that the cauldron bubbling away on the stove scoots aside but doesn't spill. The burner beneath lights on its own. He puts the kettle, already full, on to boil. "So," he begins, absentmindedly rolling up his sleeves. "Is there something you need from me?"

Lily smiles, strained. "Can't I just visit an old friend?"

"Sure," he says, quietly. "You made it very clear that you would prefer if we weren't, though."

Her expression twists. "And with good reason," she grits.

He says nothing. The kettle whistles. He searches for the boxes of tea, sets about mixing two cups of mint. He puts them both on a tray with milk and sugar, as well as the small container of honey kept for special occasions. He puts it on the table.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't say anything, just watches him with bright, green eyes aflame with old anger. She picks up one of the teacups and starts doctoring it to her liking. Her Auror friend follows suit. It really is obvious, Severus thinks, watching the man scan the room from top to bottom, corner to corner. He sighs. "Why are you here, Lily?"

She glares at her tea. The Auror shifts uncomfortably. Severus sighs again. "You know, when people visit old friends, they usually don't bring Aurors with them."

"Trainee, actually. This is my last year." He grins sheepishly. "That obvious?"

Severus nods.

He leans over the table, stretches out a hand. His right, Severus notices. He leans over and shakes with his left.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," the Auror trainee introduces himself.

"Severus Snape, but you already knew that."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

Lily continues to glare at her tea. Shacklebolt fidgets. Severus stares, adjusts the heat on the burner below the cauldron. Silence prevails. The door creaks open, just then, and Eileen comes in, stirring rod in hand. "You'll be late if--oh," she says, noticing their guests. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," the other three respond with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Well, if it isn't Lily Evans. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? You look well," Eileen says, nudging her son out of the way so she can poke at the mixture in the cauldron.

"You as well," Lily mumbles. "And it's, ah, it's Potter now, actually. Lily Evans Potter."

"Ah, I see. My mistake. Congratulations are in order, then, Mrs. Potter."

"Congratulations," Severus echoes.

"And you're a Shacklebolt, yes?" Eileen continues, her hands methodically sprinkling ground lavender into the cauldron. "Elodie's son, I should think. You resemble her quite a bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the trainee replies. "Grandmother says I'm nearly a carbon copy."

Eileen hums, lowers the heat under the cauldron. She takes out the stirring rod, examining the clinging lavender paste before wiping it off and placing it on the counter. "I suppose I'll leave you it, though Doris just passed, and she said that Jimmy has a full house, so, do try to hurry. It's already nearly four."

"Yes, Mam."

She leaves, and once more, silence settles over the small kitchen. Severus looks at the clock on the wall, sees that it does, indeed, say that it's minutes to four. Eleven minutes, to be exact, and it's a ten minute walk to the pub. He starts gathering the tea things, has just taken Shacklebolt's empty teacup when Lily clears her throat.

"Are you a Death Eater?" she asks.

"No," Severus tells her, and takes her teacup. Ten minutes to four.

"Prove it," she says, glaring.

Severus sets down the tray and leans across the table, arms outstretched, palms up, forearms exposed. The skin on either arm is pale, smooth and utterly unmarked, save and except for the scars one is bound to get when their preferred work involves knives and hot cauldrons.

"You keep regular contact with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, as well as Regulus Black and Evan Rosier, all of whom are suspected Death Eaters. Why?"

Severus' eyes narrow. "Lucius is sponsoring my Potions Mastery. Narcissa, for whatever reason, enjoys my conversation. Regulus and Evan both seem to think that I'll drop dead if I don't speak to them at least once a week and I haven't been able to disabuse them of the notion--though, not for lack of trying."

"So, you aren't planning to become a Death Eater?" Seven minutes to four.

"I'm not," Severus says, biting down on something rising in his chest. He returns the tea things to their proper places, washes the cups and sets them to dry. When he looks at them again, Lily's glare has softened into an unwavering stare.

"Are you certain?" she asks, and Severus grits his teeth.

"Oh, no, not at all. I only left the Wizarding World to live in a Muggle neighbourhood with my Muggle father, work for a Muggle and feed old ladies' cats and fix their husbands' cabinets because I thought it would make it easier for me when I decided I wanted to murder them all. Obviously," he snaps, throat closing around the words as soon they've been forced out of his mouth. His jaw clamps shut. Three minutes to four.

"You're being an a—" she starts, but then she bites her tongue. "Why... why did you leave?"

He stands silent for a moment. "Reasons I don't believe we have time to discuss. It appears that I'm late for work, I'm afraid." The clock reads three fifty-nine. By the time, he reaches the front door, it will be four o' clock. He starts walking.

"But–" Lily begins, standing.

He gestures them onto the porch while he shoves his feet into his boots. "Terribly sorry to leave in a hurry like this, but duty calls. Things to do, people to see. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Potter. Auror Trainee Shacklebolt." Four o' clock.

"Really–"

"Until next time, Mr. Snape," Shacklebolt interjects, and with a stiff nod, he and Lily make their way towards the Apparition Point they'd used and Severus is walking down the street. He exhales, slowly, carefully at the quiet, telltale crack of Disapparition off in the distance. He picks up the pace and hopes that'll be the end of it. He knows it won't, though. Until next time, Shacklebolt said.

It isn't the end, of course. It never is. There's a knock at the door just before he's ready to leave the next afternoon, and he contemplates just not answering the door and staying at home for the foreseeable future. There's enough food to last at least a week, and he could always just tell Mrs. Havisham that he wasn't feeling well. The news would make it around the town and back within the day. The knock sounds again. He sighs and gets up to go answer it. "Can I help you?"

"Only if you want to. May I come in?" Shacklebolt asks.

Against his better judgement, Severus lets him in.

#severus snape #snapedom #pro snape #fic #i didn't expect anyone to take me seriosuly but someone did and goddamn it i'll be damned if i don't give them something to read #anyways have fun #probably a bit ooc #but that's what makes aus fun amirite hehe #alright that's enough from me

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers Part 3: Storkules in Duckburg! aka THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES TERRIBLE BUT WELL MEANING ROOMATE OUT OF MYTH

Hello all you happy people! And welcome and welcome back to Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers, my look at the season 2 arcs of Ducktales! This arc was paid for by WeirdKev27 and I truly enjoy his support. if you want to know how to commission your own reviews or to get a guarnateed review of me of your choice from me a month, stick around to the end. I realized that shoving all my plugs in up top may be driving people away and while I DO make them because I want to make a living off this, i’ts not fair to those of you who simply can’t afford to buy a lot of extra shit like myself to keep shoving it in your face.

Previously on the Louie Inc Arc, Louie, after believing he had no skills and it was a matter of when not if he ws going to die, found his talent: seeing all the angles and thus being Sharper than the Sharpies. With newfound confidence and a chip on his shoulder from Scrooge saying he could one day be a bigger success than Scrooge himself, founding Louie Inc as a result. But what is Louie Inc? Does he actually have a plan or a bunch of buzzwords. And what does STORKULES, MANLY GAY OUT OF MYTH have to do with any of this? Join me under the cut to find out.

We open with Louie giving Scrooge his sales pitch that is essentially...

Naturally Scrooge buys none of it. I mean he’s somewhere in his hundreds, he’s probably seen about 80 thousand pitches that amount to “I have no plan but give me money anyway”. There’s a reason there’s a Butch Hartman shaped crater on the lawn from where he threw his ass out.

Scrooge does mentor the lad, or at least attempt to pointing out he needs an actual product or service (Louie rejects the idea of a lemonade stand as too easy), or as he puts it “Find a problem and create a solution”.

While the basic PRINCIPAL isn’t bad, find something people want or need and provide it, phrasing it that way sounds like “find a problem people are having and exploit the shit out of that problem for fun and profit.” Granted that IS a guiding principal of business, it’s just not something an uncle should be teaching his kids. They should be teaching them about the anime and cartoons they grew up with as I do with my niece and nibling.

He does show him a valid example of this in action in the form of Donald. Turns out Donald has found a good way to make money while he looks for a job, can relate: since Duckburg is facing a housing shortage, likely because several square blocks probably get destroyed by Scrooge’s Adventures, Glomgold’s Schemes, Superhero Battles, whatever creation went horribly wrong for Gyro, etc at least once a week. So he’s taken it upon himself to offer up the spare room to whoever can rent it.. and to steal Scrooge’s chandelier which even when caught he still takes anyway. Scrooge.. you called the guy a god-damn moocher in the season premiere, despite the fact he lives there soley because YOU offered and because he’s you know, being responsible and staying by his boys so they have their father figure around. So yeah I feel he’s doing this partly out of spite as is the McDuck way. I mean if your going to call him a freeloader just for being a responsible parent, then he’s going to take it up a damn notch.

Scrooge proceeds to laugh off Louie wanting a million dollars and gives him a dime instead because of course he was. Seriously Louie there are two other billionaires in town who are FAR dumber and far more easily swindled. Just go get star up capital from them. Hell with Glomgold all you’d have to do is tell him it’d upset scrooge and he’d literally throw money at you. Or give you a shark full of money. He needs the shark back though. He’s family.

Meanwhile Donald prepares for his new tenant and finds.. THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES! Who to his mounting horror as he realizes it, IS the new tenant. And who throws him into the sun. Cue credits.

So after Donald somehow survives being thrown into the sun, Storkules explains why he’s here: Zeus responded to his son playing the lute a lot like any rational reasonable

No of course he responded to the “crime” of “playing his instrument a lot” with sending a swarm of harpies on the town then blaming Storkules for it and casting him out. What’s most shocking is not the action, this is honestly him staying the course of being a fucking disgrace, but that Zeus somehow ISN’T the biggest asshole i’ve dealt with this week. No that honor is reserved as always for this bitch:

Keep in mind she manages to be this obnoxious in only TWO scenes. Also keep in mind I had to put up with Julie for a MUCH larger chunk of the previous two volumes I covered before volume 5 yesterday for my Scott Pilgrim Retrospective and she is ALWAYS like this and you now feel my pain.

This does create a problem though: Zeus casts Storkules out until he’s a responsible adult.. and thus paints Storkules as the bad guy... in a situation where the only other person in the story sent a swarm of HARPIES down at him for simply playing his music too loud. It just dosen’t work as a catalyst: Storkules objectively did nothing wrong. The only person he annoyed was a person who clearly dosen’t love, respect or like his son in any way shape or form anyway and essentially assaulted him and a bunch of innocent people via harpie and then cast him out. Zeus is an abusive asshole and i’ts weird the narrative sides with HIM and not our well meaning doofus. Zeus being an asshole with harpies is not a bad catalyst for the episode, and the harpies being unleashed is used well.. it’s just not a good catalyst for THIS story to try and portray an abuser as in the right. And make no mistake Zeus is a domestic abuser: he had his son mind controlled to try and MURDER innocent people, something Storkules begged him not to do, sent a swarm of creatures after him for the crime of playing his music too loud and in his next episode manipulatives Storkules sad emotional state for personal gain. Why would you try and paint THIS jackass as in the right?

Speaking of painting this jackass in the right sadly.. this episode does not do my boy donald justice. In most episodes he’s pretty nuanced and i’ts fair enough he’d be frustrated by Storkules as a roomate. Storkules has little sense of personal space, breaks his stove thinking theirs hydra in it, makes a mess of the kitchen making them a meal, and in general clearly dosen’t know how to live with a roomate much less in modern society. He has valid concerns and the episode COULD have used it that way.. but he’s also horribly impatient with Storkules. He refuses to get the guy just hasn’t had to live in a modern society and dosen’t know HOW to function in it and instead of helping him just gets mad again and again and gets really pissed when it’s clear Storkules dosen’t have a job and didn’t consider paying rent. He’s not WRONG to want him to pay Rent, despite what ironically the musical Rent would try and have you believe, but he dosen’t have any patience with the guy. And stork isn’t nearly coming on as strong as he normally does. The worst he does is cook the guy lunch and bring his donald fan art with him. Which we don’t see but I am assuming is mostly naked. What i’m saying is for once that while still bombastic, Storkules isn’t trying to force a relationship/friendship on him and simply wants to learn t be an adult from his best friend.. and Donald isn’t bothering teaching him.

Asking for rent or for him not to destroy the stove is fine, but not explaining WHY he needs either of those things or why he needs boundaries, he makes a roomate list, isn’t helping the guy. And this would be fine... but the episode dosen’t call Donald out on it for no real reason. It feels like it’s setting up for a “you should learn to wokrk with someone instead of just screaming at them aseop” that never comes and like with Zeus takes his side because shutup. I’d also LIKE to say this is the only time the writers reduced one of the cast to a caracture of themselves.. but I can’t. Several episodes in season 3 forgot Louie’s character development and another episode in season 2, The Duck Knight Returns!, somehow reduced both Scrooge and Dewey to parodies of themselves with Scrooge SOMEHOW, despite Della as stubborn as she is being in his care and by his side for decades and Movies bein ga huge business, not having seen a movie since the 1920′s and not knowing how they work and Dewey being reduced to just hyperactive moron. It isn’t as common as other shows like say Regular Show, The Loud House or, for the exact reason I lost intrest, Rick and Morty, but I still expect better, especially since they went into this season KNOWING Donald would be gone for half of it and this would likely be one of his only spotlight episodes.

Back at the good part of the plot, Louie is having a company meeting aka already treating Huey and Webby like his employees. Webby of course is glad to sign on, if little help in actually coming up with a product while Huey just wants to nope out. And if your wondering why Dewey isn’t involved Louie outright says he’d make a bad employee and while Dewey rises from his bed to object.. he stops halfway to opening his mouth and concludes he has a point. Best gag of the episode. Louie being louie easily cons Huey into staying by making Webby his charts officer.

So the three have a corporate retreat at Funso’s... granted they don’t have a product but Louie figures this might help. Huey.. still wants out of this and suggest since they already spent what they had on ski ball “Company over?”. It’s clear that Huey just sees this as another one of Louie’s short sighted schemes... and while he’s not ENITRELY wrong, Louie has genuine ambition.. he just has no earthly idea what he’s doing and is shooting way too high.. but for understandable reasons. 1) He’s 11 at this point. 11 year olds aren’t great at business strategy or reinging it in. 2) he wants to live up to what Scrooge said to prove he can be successful and really be worth something like his mom was.

But sometimes fate throws you one and the harpies bust in. And while Louie wants to do nothing and hope they go away Huey and Webby spring into action.. as does Storkules, who had to leave but warns donald there’s Orzo in the slowcooker and to not open it “LEST THE PASTA FAIL TO ABSORB THE BROTH!” Which is just.... Chris’ best line dleivery the episode. He says it like he’s saying the title of an old Stan Lee and Jack Kirby comic, i’ts wonderful.

So our heroes defeat them and Louie steps in to charge for the service and quickly comes up with a company idea and name “Harp-B-Gone” (A Subsidary of Louie Inc). Louie hires Storkules on the spot. Storkules proudly tells Donald he has a job the next day and goes off to it. What follows is our heroes hilarously shooting a commerical with Storkules playing a baby to promote themselves so they can help who needs it. They just need to find out what they want.. and thanks to the JWG and the harpies stealing it find out they go after people’s most treasured posessions Cue Ghostbusters-Style Montage

And this isn’t just me saying thing. The Rewriting History Entry (Which as a series weirdly stops around mid-season 2 and I don’t get why frank hasn’t gone back and finished it since) states they specifically based this whole operation on ghostbusters and the entire sequence of our heroes cleanin up the town reminds me of it. The highlight of it is a glomgold cameo where he’s kidnapped.. and refuses to pay so Louie just lets him go. And were this an innocent person who couldn’t afford it, i’d call him a monster.. but it’s glomgold. he brought this on himself.. and also sues himself for it. Wonder if he won.

So with their stars rising, our heroes get booked on the hottest show in town: Dewey Dew-Night! I had honestly forgotten there was a Dewey Dew-Night segment in there, and delighted I get to talk about this recurring bit. It’s one of the shows funniest runners and just perfectly FITS Dewey: of course the most egotistical and energetic of the kids would not only want to be a late hnight host but make up his own show. I also love the slow evolution of it: it started as something everyone clearly knew about but he stlill tried to keep hidden, slowly escalated to him allowing the rest of his siblings (Webby very much included) and the giant man who stalks his uncle in, and by later this season he’s putting the show online in the web shorts and gladly shooting it into space, with Season 3 having him spend the first half of let’s get dangerous making a documentary that includes an episode of the show featuring Darkwing. It’s a small thing sure, but it’s the little things like this that make the show special.

The show does reveal a problem though as it turns out they’ve GOT all the harpies and while Storkules merely wanted to help, Louie points out they need more to keep a buisness going and naturally never bothered to ask Storkules just how many there were. They need SOME plan to get going. Webby submits a legitamte and great idea, training the harpies as she’s been trying to do in the background of the episode and aside from a hole in the floor they are starting to listen. But Huey is an ass about it and not only shoots it down saying let’s keep the dangerous creatures contained, even though A) he has no idea WHERE they’ve been kept so he can’t verify it’s safe, and since i’ts Donald’s Closet no no it’s not. and B)There’s no where he knows of to keep them. He isn’t aware of the other bin till next season. and C) it’s not ehtical to keep creatures locked up forever epsecially since while the harpies are dangerous they arent’ MALEVOLENT and are clearly acting on instinct. oh and for D) at least she has a plan to keep the company going instead of just wanting to end this and cash out.

Which Huey tries to.. but naturally Louie spent all their money on...

So their broke.. and Storkules has no rent money and feels like a failure despite having done NOTHING wrong. We do get a clever little nod to Disney’s hercules though “I”m not a hero, i’m a zero”. Webby rightfully glares at Louie who decides to fix it... by sneaking into Donald’s house that night to free the harpies.

Though to the shows credit it’s a VERY bad idea, and Storkules coming in mid attempt and congradulating Louie when he lies about checking the door gets the kid to come clean. And it’s a nice character moment: He could still go through with it.. but it’s clear he realizes just HOW low he was about to sink to save his own skin and that as much as Storkules WANTS a paycheck and deserves one, it’s not worth hurting people to get it. Louie tries to justify after this.. but can’t.

Unforutnately Donald took a lot of stupid pills this episode, yells about his no pets rule and frees them instead of you know, THINKING for five minutes.

So yeah NATURALLY Donald is an angry shit about it , refusing to actually TALK to Storkules about this or maybe admit this is partly HIS OWN FAULT. Yes their both at fault, Storkules shoudln’t of shoved a bunch of harpies in a closet. That’s a classic blunder. But Donald still opened it and isn’t called out on taking zero responsibility. Huey sees the fracas and just takes down their days without an accident placard, good stuff and he and webby arrive to help. Donald fights with Storkules and Storkules worries about loosing his friend.. lead to them going after the thing he values most aka donlad and hyjacking the house boat, though the kids manage to get aboard.

As Storkules saves Donald, Louie realizes the most precious thing he has is his merch and willingly gives it, and his buisness up to save everyone. It’s good character stuff and shows that despite his problems with greed, Louie IS a good kid and will do the right thing. It’s what seperates him from the Rouges Gallery the family faces: He has FLEXIBLE morals but he has morals when it comes down to it. So everyone tosses the stoff to help direct the hapries and make it home tying them up. Donald has a heart to heart with Storkules and agrees to help him find another place, but still considers him a friend and they hug. Awww. One intresting thing I DID find out from rewriting history is they originally fully intended to have Storkules STAY on the houseboat. He was going to be a permenant member of the household, at least as far as Season 2 was concenred and plans were made for several episodes down the road: the whole bit with him in “The Golden Spear” was simply because he lived there, he was going to be the one Della met in the houseboat, obliviously guilting her about what she’d missed, and he was going to set off the kids subplot in “Whatever Happened to Donald Duck?”

This ended up not happneing for logistical reasons: Frank, and I swear this was the term he used, felt they already had the perfect Himbo in Launchpad and it was just too much HImbo energy for the two to coexist without one taking the others screen time or neither getting a lot.

The next reason was having a god around simply broke the story: He cited the gilded man from “Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!” as a specific example. There were just too many hoops to jump to have him not break any story he should be around for. Finally with Della being added to the cast soon there simply wasn’t room in the main cast. Della brought it up to 9, Storkules would make it 10, and as i’ve gone on about the show already had trouble ballancing it’s cast, something Frank admitted to. Adding him would both be too big a stiatus quo change and be one on top of the massive one of Della joining the cast. So he was dropped back to recurring and only showed up one more time. And while it was the right call I am dismayed he didn’t show up for the whatever happened to donald duck subplot and it does feel very weird he never adresses Donald being gone despite, at least for season 2, apparently living in Duckburg. Otherwise though as funny as this wouldv’e been.. yeah it was the right call.

Scrooge returns... having been absent all episode because otherwise it wouldn’t work and easily saw Louie loosing it all coming.. but gives him a can of lemonade for his troubles and comforts the boy. The heart of htis arc and what makes it work at it’s best.. is these two. Scrooge GENUINELY wants to help Louie see his potetial successor in buisness: oh sure adventure wise he’s throughly covered.. but Webby, Dewey and Della all are more focused on the addventure part and that’s where their passion and talent lies, Huey’s better at science and given his close frinedship with fenton and how much that part of things seems to truly inspire him, i’ts what he was born for, and Donald just wants a regualar life and can’t manage his own life much less a company.

Louie is the only one in his family whose the right fit to inhereit that part of his legacy and I feel that’s why he takes a special intrest in him and webby over the other two: While he loves all of them and will clearly again leave a piece of his fortune and empire to all of them, Webby is the most like him, as we later find out not coincidentally in the slightest, when it comes to adventuring and curosity and a love of exploration. But Louie is the most like him in other ways; He’s cynical, money driven and passionate. Scrooge simply wants him to be as good a person and buisnessperson as he can be and is trying to push him in the right direction. And does so here by pointing out that failure isn’t a huge problem..it happens, comes with the terriotiry and as we’ve seen with life and times, even with portions of it clearly not happening in this universe, he failed a LOT to get here. What matters is that he tries and tries to do it the right way.

Scrooge also sympathizes as he was buying a lemonade company in cape suzette, giving Louie the can as a present... but laments there’s no cheap effective way to deliver the lemons. Louie notices the harpies going after the can after he throws it and Webby controlling them with it and muses that theyd idn’t think about what THEY wanted.. nad rightfully gets punched across the lawn by Webby, whose had to spend an entire episode having her surrogate brothers talk down to her and ignore her valid ideas. She dosen’t even open her eyes she just bops him one.

So we end with Scrooge having enlisted the hapries, Louie trying to take credit again and both realizing they might just steal the lemons instead of work for them. Ha ha ha their going to get so sued.

Final Thoughts: This one was mediocre. It has some good points, Louies arc continues to fascenate me, Huey’s done with this shit attitude is hilarous, and Storkules is at his best in this episode: his crush on Donald is toned down from this..

To this

To the point I could see shipping them off this one if Storkules episode didn’t have him do eveyrthing short of .. well see above. So it’s not WITHOUT merit: I love me a ghost busters style plot, there are great jokes and Chris Dimatopolis is a gem as always. Glad he’s getting work after this show on Invincible and hope he gets to play Darkwing again some day. But the Donald stuff and the fairly predictable plot drag this one down. I’ts fairly obvious they’ll run out of harpies, Louie will have spent the money and they’ll somehow get free. It’s not a terrible episode but it’s it’s sandwiched story wise between two straight up classics on both sides: the previous two episodes were even better than I remembered and the next two are incredibly good: Whateve Happened to Della Duck?! is one of their finest hours and The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck, while not making my best of list for the series as a whole is still one of my favorites for the season. It’s just disapointing this one wasn’t nearly as good as I remmebered and it’s understandable why I forgot almost all of it, unlike the previous two episodes. Thankfully as I said better’s over the horizon.

NEXT TIME ON OF MOONS, MILLIONARES AND MOTHERS: I’m taking a break for a week. One of two weeklong breaks for the arc, the other being the first week of July where i’m on vacation anyway (Though i’ll be doing the episode I would’ve done for that week the week before to keep the pace up, so no worries),

As for why, it’s my utmost honor to announce GOOF WEEK! Goof Week is a weeklong celebration of Goofy’s birthday. The idea came about because as I do for the big three, I intended to just do a shorts special. But Kev , the guy who made this very review possible, suggested doing the two part Goof Troop pilot. And since kev pays for a house of mouth episode a month anyway and thaks to you lovely people I hit my patreon stretch goal to review the goofy movie, I figured “why not make a week out of it. Hence Goof week. So next week we’ll have a review of the two part pilot for Goof Troop, the special Sports Goof, the House of Mouse episode Super Goof, your regularly schedule shorts spectacular, with The Goofy Movie for the grand finale! yaaahoooooieeee!

When we come back i’ll be shuffling episodes around slightly so I can do the Della comics from the Ducktales Tie-In Comic before her debut and in time for Donald’s own theme week in June, i’ll be saving “Whatever Happened to Della Duck?” for the week after Donald Week. Instead next we get a fun wild west adventure as Scrooge tells a story of his outlaw days, his tension with goldie and his encounter with a certain robber baron as John D Rockerduck FINALLY makes his screen debut. Yee-Haw!

If you liked this review, subscribe and follow for more and consider joining my patroen, patreon.com/popculturebuffet. I have exclusive reviews, my most recent duck based one being an obscure carl barks story about wigs and the boys attempting to murder a guy with a blow gun, and your contribution helps me reach my goals and thus gets everyone, patreon or not, a bunch of neat new reviews. If you get me to 20 dollars a month, i’m currently at 15, EVERYONE will get a monthly darkwing duck reviews, reviews of the two remaning ducktales 87 mini series including the origin of GIZMOOOODDUUUUUCCCKKKK, and a review of the Danny Phantom movie The Ultimate Enemy. And with the month running out NOW’S the time to join. YOu’ll also get to pick one of the shorts for my Donald Duck birthday specail next month, so if you want to join in NOWS the time. But wether you can or you can’t, thank you for reading, i’ts been a pleasure.

#ducktales #louie duck #storkules in duckburg #dorkules #donald duck #storkules #scrooge mcduck #webby vanderquack #huey duck #flintheart glomgold #dewey duck #funzos #disney #disney+#disney plus #disney xd #harpies

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maybedefinitely404 · 3 years

Text

Day 17: Royality

@tsshipmonth2020 (does this still count so late?)

What’s that? Ly creating content? Unbelievable. (I have writer’s block, leave me alooone /j)

Thanks to @marshymoop for suggestions and encouragment when making this bad boy! Love ya <3

Day 17 - Everyone has heterochromia, one eye is your natural color the other is your soulmate’s natural color. Once you meet all eyes return to natural color.

Content warnings: food/drink mention, alcohol, mentions of hangover, vampires, referring to drinking blood as “eating”, non-explicit blood drinking, being chased.

Word count: 6.9k

THE CITY OF DEWMORE WELCOMES YOU

Patton tapped his fingers on the steering wheel excitedly, nearly vibrating as he passed the weathered sign. Beyond it, beckoning him forward, stood a forest more densely packed and darker than he’d ever had the pleasure of exploring, the achingly tall pine trees swaying minutely in the breeze, their tips barely visible through the blanket of fog. Just imagining what could be held within those depths made his leg bounce; forgotten, moss-drenched stone paths, broken stumps of fallen trees that hadn’t made a sound upon impact, patches of mushrooms scattered in the shadows, and whispering creeks. It was the perfect way to spend his spring break, and one his photography teacher had wholeheartedly encouraged him to take. If he hadn’t had so many midterms to mark, Patton was almost sure the man would have tried to join him.

Almost an anxious tic at this point, he ran his free hand over the photography bag in his passenger seat, as if to make sure it hadn’t disappeared in the three minutes since he’d last checked. The thing was his prized possession, given to him by the very same photography professor at his university. It had been the elder’s own, before he got his newest camera, and gifted the whole set to his favorite (but don’t tell the others) students. It was full of perfectly kept lenses and two miniature tripods, extra batteries and memory cards, speedlights, and most importantly, the camera tucked safely into the biggest pouch. It was more expensive than Patton would ever have dreamt to buy, so it was truly a gift he’d never forget. Now it was up to him to finally take some shots worthy of the thing.

The forests continued to grow denser and thicker until, in almost a shocking snap, they disappeared to reveal a quaint city that he hadn’t quite expected. The first few buildings he passed looked like they may have stood there for hundreds of years, weather worn and faded. Their signs were either scratched to nothingness or blaringly new, shining metal names standing out against an ancient backdrop. He was looking for a motel, figuring there had to be one, even in a town of less than two thousand people. His backup plan was to just sleep in his car. He’d brought his sleeping back and extra blankets, so it wasn’t a huge concern, but he’d still prefer a bed. But whenever he’d tried finding anything online, he’d come up blank.

A fog still covered the town, and though it created an air of calm and mystery that Patton was itching to capture, he also knew the area was surrounded by towering mountains that he also desired so badly. To his right, the buildings stopped abruptly, revealing a grey beach, all rocks and no sand, criss crossed with logs, opening to a dark lake. The other side wasn’t visible through the mist.

The further he drove, he realized the buildings weren’t improving in their modernity, just giving way to more and more old infrastructure. One stood out, a grocery store, it’s lights piercing through the evening dim. Patton didn’t get a look inside before he passed, once again surrounded antique houses and shops, a post office to his left, and a tavern just across from that. A sign above the door read “Vacancy” in peeling white letters, and that was all the enticing Patton needed to pull his car into the gravel parking lot in front of the building. There was only one other vehicle there, a matte red pickup truck that he parked next to, and what appeared to only be three more parking spots. From the high placed windows, a soft orange light bled, and a round of raucous laughter filtered through the cracked open door. Patton smiled. The photographer inside him was going to have a field day here.

He stepped up the concrete steps and ruffled his hair with one hand so it covered his eye, heaving a sigh in hopes to calm his nervous butterflies, and pulled the door open.

All at once, the chatter inside died, and Patton internally shrank as every face in the tavern turned to look at the newcomer. There was a moment of tense silence as he tried his best for a smile and met the gaze of the men scrutinizing him, drinks forgotten on high wooden tables, jubilance halted. Patton waited with baited breath, for someone to do something, why were they all just staring, when a voice spoke from behind the bar.

“Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. We don’t get a lot of new people around here.”

And the lull was broken as suddenly as it started, the men now ignoring him in favor of joking over mugs of fizzing ale. Patton swallowed thickly and turned to the voice, shoving his quivering hands into his pockets and shaking his head again to assure the curls were safely covering his eye. As usual.

The man standing before him, leaning on the bar with an easy smile, was almost enough to take Patton’s breath away. If he were a religious man, he’d go so far as to call him heavenly. Eyes as dark as the depths of the surrounding forests, auburn hair pushed back from his face in what he could only think to describe as an intentional bedhead. His skin was too flawless, teeth just a couple shades too white, everything perfect in a way that was almost…

Patton couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What can I get you, newbie?”

“Uhm-” Patton took a cleansing breath and sat at one of the barstools, all of them empty seeing as the crowd seemed more drawn to the tables in the center of the room, “I don’t come to bars that often. I don’t know.”

The bartender hummed, pushing up his already rolled up white sleeves and giving Patton a once over, almost investigating him. “You drink?”

“I… I guess.”

“Been on the road for a while, tired?”

“Do I look that exhausted?” Patton breathed a laugh, suddenly aching to pop his spine. He’d been driving since before dawn for the past three days, barely hunkering down for a decent sleep before he was off again. He’d been really excited to get here, plus he didn’t want to waste more of his meager break driving.

“I got just what you need, darling.” With a wink, the bartender straightened up and pulled down a series of bottles, cracking his knuckles with flourish before measuring them into a silver canister. “So what brings you to Dewmore?”

“I’m a photographer,” Patton said, “Or, a photography student. Down in Florida.”

The man whistled as he shoveled ice cubes into the mix, “Long drive for some pictures.”

“I’m… dedicated,” Patton laughed, scratching at his neck nervously. “My prof recommended it, said it might be a nice place to spend my break.”

“I assume you’re looking for a place to stay then, as well?” He plopped a cap on the canister and began to shake it above his shoulder, grinning widely, “These guys are always just like, ‘Gimme a beer’ this, ‘Gimme a beer’ that. It’s great to actually make fun drinks again.” With hands flying too fast for Patton to process, he grabbed a glass, popped the lid of the shaker, and poured the deep orange drink, tossing on a green sprig and sliding the drink over. “Enjoy.”

Patton took a cautious sip of the drink and had to fight not to sigh, the refreshing taste a welcome relief after three days of gas station Gatorade and hotel sink water. He could barely taste any alcohol, more focused on the ice cold sweet tartness at the back of his tongue. The bartender looked pleased, huffing a satisfied laugh and beginning to put away his bottles. He was taking another sip, satisfied with the backdrop of joyous chatter and clinking glasses, when he remembered why he’d come in.

“Yes, I am. Uhm, looking for a place to stay, that is.”

The bartender looked at him over his shoulder, “We haven’t had visitors in… a while, at least. You’ve pretty much got your pick of the rooms.”

“Do you have anything facing the water?” He took another sip, the photo possibilities already flowing through his mind. One through the window, just far back enough to catch the flow of the curtains and the chipped wood of the window ledge, a monochromatic lakeshore in the bottom third, a barely visible mountain looming ahead…

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me just finish this up, and I’ll get you on the ledger.”

“Patton.” He downed the rest of the drink and rested his elbow on the counter, chin in his palm, an easy smile playing on his lips.

“Hm?”

“My name’s Patton.”

“I’m Roman.” Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Roman gave him another wink before disappearing into the back room, coming back moments later with a thick black book. He was already thumbing through the pages, finally landing on the one he wanted, and spun a pen between his fingers.

“What’s your last name, sweetheart?”

Patton spelled it out for him, and was surprised when the man clapped the book shut after the final letter. “That’s all you need?”

“Yup.”

“No… ID, or anything?” It was at that moment when it occurred to Patton that, although he was legal, his baby face often prompted bouncers and servers back home to ask for identification. Roman hadn’t even blinked before serving him.

“Got anything to hide?”

“Uhm… no, I-”

“Good enough for me. It’s not like we’re a high traffic tourist spot. I don’t think we’ve had anyone take a room in, like, two years, and who knows how many before that. Frankly, I wouldn’t care if you were on the run for murder. Don’t kill me, and we’re solid.”

Patton blanched, unable to tell if the man was being sarcastic. Finally his expression cracked into a smirk and he brandished a key towards Patton, dangling it by the ring. “I’m messing with you. I mean, don’t kill me, that’s legit. Here you go, cutie. Let me know if you need anything.”

With that, he sashayed away with a tray of beers (when on Earth had he filled those?), and the men whooped loudly, startling Patton.

“Easy, boys,” Roman purred, beginning to round the tables, and Patton hopped off the bar stool to get his things from his car. He couldn’t wait to pass out in bed with the knowledge that he could sleep in however late he wanted.

-0-0-0-

But apparently sleep didn’t have the same ideas as him, because even after he was in comfortable clothes and tucked into the covers, he continued to toss and turn. Maybe it was the concept of being alone in a strange town, or the full moon shining through the thin curtains, or just plain excitement, but he suddenly felt wider awake then he had since he started this trip.

There was a soft rattling somewhere across the room and, with begrudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, fumbled his glasses on to search for the offending sound. With a grumble, he threw off the blankets and padded across the room to the window and tossed back the curtains, giving the moon a scalding glare for shining so darn brightly. It was the window, fitted loosely in its frame, being shook by the gentle wind that was causing the noise. Patton gave it an experimental tug, followed by a more forceful yank, and found it didn’t budge down at all. Instead, it continued to rattle mockingly, in what sounded almost like whispered giggles as he crossed his arms across his chest.

Fine. He turned his attention to the scenic view before him, letting out a minute shudder as a small gust of wind blew through his thin pajama shirt. Moonlit waves crashed against the rocky shore, tossing up silver spray against the dark backdrop of the forest. Patton took a breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace just staring at the silent town, the stone spires rising above the forest-

Wait, what?

Patton blinked sharply a couple times, leaning forward until his nose bumped the window and squinting through the glass. Those… things... definitely looked like manmade objects- the shape made it impossible for them to be natural- but you’d think he’d remember something that looked like a castle directly outside his window. In fact, he’d spent a significant amount of time upon first entering the room just admiring the view, and a castle one hundred percent would have been on his radar. Oh, if the thing was abandoned, imagine the photo opportunities, and even if it wasn’t he could totally just get some of the outside-

Yeah, there was no way he was sleeping now.

Before he’d even processed what he was doing, he’d slipped out of his pajamas and hurriedly pulled on the outfit he’d laid out on the desk chair, because there was no way he was digging through his suitcase to scrounge out more clothes. He threw a beige sweater over his white shirt, however, remembering the chill the night had brought and, after he’d adequate tucked them into his slacks, he threw his camera bag over his shoulder and trotted down the stairs.

Unsurprisingly, the first floor tavern was empty of all customers, overhead lights traded for softer electric lamps on the walls and the illuminated sign above the bar, where Roman was wiping down the counter, seemingly unbothered by the late hour.

“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” The bartender called out without turning around, tossing his rag across the counter and into a full soapy bucket behind the bar.

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Patton responded, shaking his bangs so they covered his eye. “I think I’m just too excited to start getting shots.”

“Mmm, you and me both.” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled a bottle of what looked like whiskey off the shelf. “What’s your poison?”

Patton snorted but shook his head, patting his camera bag, “I want to go out, and it’s probably not smart to drink before going out in a strange town at night.”

Roman shrugged before pouring himself a shot and downing it in one smooth motion.

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?”

The bartender hummed, replacing the bottle and locking the cabinet presumably for the night, “Once my tavern is empty, I consider myself off the clock. And I’m my own boss, so I hereby give myself the night off. I have a coffee machine in the back room, one of those Keurigs, if you want something fancy. Hasn’t been used in ages, but I’m sure if you wanted something, I-”

“No, it’s okay. Really.” Patton ducked his head and messed with his shirt, making sure the white collar stood above the neck of his sweater. He made his way over to the bar and took the same stool as before, leaning on the counter as Roman dumped out the dirty cleaning water into the sink. The clock above the bar, barely illuminated enough to see, revealed it was just after midnight. “Are there any old structures, like churches or anything, in the forest?”

Roman tilted his head, giving Patton a look over his shoulder he couldn’t quite understand.

“There’s nothing there besides wolves and ticks, sweetheart,” he said slowly with an almost condescending smile, “Why? Hoping the little town in the middle of nowhere has a mystery?” He rinsed out the bucket and placed it in the cabinet under the sink.

Patton shrugged, scratching at his temple, “I saw something outside of my window.”

“Like a tree?” The rag was rinsed as well and draped over the faucet.

“No, definitely not.” He tried not to feel too offended that Roman was clearly teasing him, but he was certain what he’d seen hadn’t been a tree. They were too tall, too angular, and too symmetrically placed for that.

“Pattycake, I grew up hunting with my dad and partying in those woods, and I would know if something were there.”

“Are you sure?” Patton implored, “There’s definitely something man made, could it be, like, an old castle, or something?”

There was a moment of silence between the two as Roman continued to look at Patton like he was crazy, the barest hints of an impish grin tugging at his lips, before he sucked in a sharp breath; as if he realized something.

On a dime, Roman’s expression contorted into one of anger, eyes alight with fury as he leaned into Patton’s space. As he spoke, his voice almost reverberated, like a choir speaking in unison.

“There is nothing in those woods, Patton. Understand? Don’t go wandering into places you don’t belong, or you won’t like what you find.”

Patton reared back from the forceful words, hand coming up subconsciously to readjust the hair on his face. Roman leaned just a tad closer, growling out a warning, “Got it, sweetheart?” The electric lamps on the walls, once creating such a homey, soft environment, suddenly flickered and Patton flinched, whipping around to face the large room as it seemed to strobe under the malfunctioning lights. Goosebumps spread across his arms as the flashing grew faster and his hand clamped over the back of his neck when a shiver raced up his spine.

“What’s going on? Why are-”

And then the lights went out completely, an eerie quiet settling over the tavern. Roman was silent. Was he even still in the room? Could he have left so quickly? The only sound in the empty room were Patton’s shaky breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as he fought down a scream. He wasn’t a fan of the dark.

A single street light barely shone through the window, too dim to even light up the tables near the glass, and Patton turned to focus on it. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In… out… in… out-

A silhouette appeared in the window.

The lights were back to their original gleam before he could even open his mouth to scream, filling the room with a dull hum as if nothing had even happened. Blinking rapidly, Patton took a calming breath (it’s just old lights, it’s just old lights, relax) and swiveled back in his chair to find that Roman was smiling at him innocently, cleaning out a glass with a rag.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

“Didn’t you see that?” Patton asked incredulously.

“See what?” The bartender placed the glass into the last space in a row of them, giving Patton that same condescending grin as before.

Patton sighed and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly, shaking his head. “I think travelling for so long has me seeing things.” Careful as ever, in the same fashion he’d so masterfully perfected in elementary school, he shook his head to cover his eye- his stupid, left, ‘soulmate’ eye- before removing his hands and letting his glasses fall back into place.

Other kids won’t like it, sweetie. I don’t think the teachers will either.

I know you can’t help it, my love. If I could take this burden from you, I would. But this is yours to handle until… well, you know.

I don’t know why, Patton. You’ll find them someday. And then you’ll understand.

“Why do you do your hair like that?”

“Hmm?” Patton blinked.

Roman smirked, leaning casually on the counter in front of Patton, “Covering half of your face like that. You shouldn’t, you know. You’re a stunner.” With that, he reached forward, intent on moving that hair out of his face.

No.

“NO!” Patton yelled, stumbling off the barstool just as Roman’s hand made contact with his face. He ducked his head, roughly scraping his hair back in place with shaking hands, but the damage was done. A single cute guy compliments him and he forgets the habit he’s built up for years? How could he be so stupid-

“Everything alright? I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetheart.”

Was it possible he hadn’t seen it? Maybe Patton had moved fast enough, maybe the bartender had been too surprised to get a good look, maybe everything was fine. Roman didn’t seem horrified, or at all perturbed. Instead, he just looked… worried.

Either way, after that reaction, Patton was aching to be left alone to stew in his embarrassment. His rented room held nothing for him that he wanted, and sleep felt farther than ever, so his only choice was outside. The promises of a maybe-crumbling ancient building, illuminated by a full moon, were far more tempting than anything inside had to offer.

“Actually,” Patton said nervously, “A coffee would be great.”

Roman squinted at him, biting on the inside of his cheek before huffing a breathy laugh through his nose. “Alright, darling. Give me just a second to dust off the Keurig.”

The moment he disappeared behind the door to the backroom, Patton tightened his hold on the camera bag and sprinted from the tavern, into the grips of the cool night.

-0-0-0-

What would he say when he got back to the tavern? Would Roman make him leave the inn? Had he crossed a line he hadn’t known existed; would he have to cut his trip early because he couldn’t help his curiosity? Was bothering the only innkeeper in town really the smartest decision to make?

All wonderful questions that Patton wished he’d considered before running.

But if he did have to leave, and if this was his last night in this delightful and equally terrifying little town, he was going to make the most of it. At least, that’s what he’d thought he would do as he’d left the few city lights behind and treading deeper into the forest. He had a flashlight with him, thank goodness, so he wasn’t completely screwed, and he’d already gotten a few great shots. He stayed in the areas that the full moon could still shine through the trees, and some of the clouds had rolled away, so he was having the time of his life working with silhouettes against the star filled sky (thanks to the little to no light pollution Dewmore offered).

The more prominent thought in his mind, however, were the spires steadily growing closer above the treeline. He couldn’t understand what Roman had been talking about. How could anyone living in this town not see whatever he was walking towards?

(Admittedly, curiosity was also a huge reason he was chasing something he’d been warned to avoid. He’d never been that great at impulse control.)

It had to be nearly two in the morning when he came to an incline; a steep path constructed entirely of rocks fist-sized and larger. At the top, Patton could just barely see what looked to be the back of the castle, and he bounced slightly on his toes in excitement. He couldn’t tell from this distance the state it was in, or if it was possible anyone still lived there, but dang it if he wasn’t going to give it a go before he left. He’d walked all this way, after all.

The first few steps up the hill were the loudest thing he’d heard since he’d started his midnight adventure, and he cringed as they dropped away under his feet, knocking against each other as they fell to the ground.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Patton spun around, his flashlight slipping out of his hands. It rolled down between the rocks, casting split second light beams in every direction as it bounced towards the source of the voice, and stopped dead in the middle between the two of them. It settled on an indent created by Patton’s steps, aimed at the newcomer. Patton breathed a sigh of relief.

“Roman, goodness gracious! You scared the bejesus out of me,” Patton laid a hand on his chest and let out a huge gust of air. Roman didn’t move, and for the first time he noticed the absolute glare the bartender was giving him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uhm… sorry about the… leaving. Thing. Are you mad?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Well, apparently they weren’t going to talk about it. “Oh- I’m sorry, is this private property? I didn’t see any signs, I’m- Wait, but look, Roman! See, that’s what I was talking-”

“You. Shouldn’t. Be. Here.”

Patton blinked at the harshness in his words, taken aback. How was this the same easy going bartender that he’d met earlier tonight? Whatever was beyond this hill, though, Roman obviously wasn’t going to allow Patton to see. Maybe it was dangerous, or something? Either way, he couldn’t deny his disappointment. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’ll leave-”

“How did you get here?”

“I… um, walked?”

“No!” Roman hissed, finally stepping forward and plucking up the flashlight from the ground, “You shouldn’t be able to see the castle, or go near it, how the hell did you get here?!”

Before he could answer, the other man froze, whipping around as if he’d heard a noise from his left. And then Patton blinked, and Roman was in front of him, pulling him back down to solid ground. He dragged him by the arm to a fallen tree that was propped up against its own splintered stump, leaving it angled just a few feet off the ground.

“How did you- You were just over there, how-”

“Get down!”

“What?”

“Get. Down!” Roman shoved his shoulders and Patton had no choice but to collapse, blending into a pile of ferns beneath the bend of the tree. “Take off the backpack, put it in front of you. It blends in better than you do.” He yanked off the dark green camera bag as he spoke, situating it in front of Patton. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t fucking breathe, Patton, I swear.” The flashlight flicked off and thumped to the ground as Roman walked away, leaving him standing in the pale moonlight. Patton debated reaching for the flashlight, but that would mean exposing himself from the foliage he was tucked in and under, and Roman had seemed really scared.

There was a rustle in the underbrush in front of Roman, and the photographer shoved his fist into his mouth before he could gasp.

“Roman, it’s so nice to see you back home. It’s been far too long.”

“It’s been hardly a month, mother.”

The woman that emerged from the tree’s shadows wore a black cloak, nearly blending into the forest around her as the fabric swirled hypnotically by her ankles with each step. Silver embroidery made up the tight bodice and strung together the corset front, meeting at the bottom in an intricate knot and trailing almost down to the earth in two strands. How her intricate updo had stayed intact through a walk in the forest, Patton couldn’t understand.

However, if this was Roman’s mother, he did understand where he got his looks. The only word that came to his mind was ethereal; all smooth pale skin, those same impossibly dark eyes, red lips curved in a constant, easy smile. She was beautiful, but she was terrifying, and Patton backed up more into his fern hiding spot.

She lifted her flared sleeves towards Roman as she stepped into the moonlit opening and he pulled her hands towards himself, kissing both of her cheeks before releasing her.

“A month is too long, darling,” She purred, letting the back of her hand trail down his cheek. “I don’t understand why you find it necessary to stay amongst those humans when you could be with your family.”

“Because I want more than just… lounging, and talking with my brothers. Do you have to bring this up every time I visit?” Despite his slightly aggravated tone, he leaned into her touch.

“When you’re older, you’ll look back at these choices with embarrassment and resentment.”

“Maybe.”

“I just don’t want you to blame me when you do.”

“I could never, I promise.”

She sighed heavily, “They miss you, Roman. We all do.”

“Which is why I’m here, mom. You act as if I’ve been gone a millenia.”

“Worrying is what a mother does best,” She smiled fondly, tapping his cheek with her finger, “You’re home, darling. Drop the glamor? It must be tiring keeping it up constantly.”

There was a moment of hesitation, where Patton couldn’t help but tense up along with the man in front of him. Then the air shifted, like it had been holding a breath it could finally let out, and though there was nothing different that Patton could see from Roman’s back, a certain jolt of fear hit him out of nowhere.

“There’s my boy.” The woman drew him in for a proper hug, one hand reaching around his back to rest on his head. She pressed a kiss to his hair when he wrapped his arms around her in turn. Suddenly her nose wrinkled and she pulled away, holding his shoulders at arm’s length. “Dearest, you smell like humans again.”

Roman chuckled, but there was a new quiver in his voice. “The only flaw in being surrounded by them so often. Let me change, and I’ll come meet you for dinner.”

She didn’t move, eyes narrowing as she watched his face. “No… it’s not you.”

“What? What else could it possibly-”

“There’s a human here.” Her voice was utterly calm, but she pushed Roman behind her resolutely. “There must be.”

“What?!”

A low growl filled the air, and it took Patton a few moments to realize the sound was originating from her. She stepped past Roman, her dress flowing soundlessly along with her as she glared into the woods around them.

Her eyes flashed red.

Once again, Patton shoved his fist into his mouth to hide a scream. That same alien jolt of fear returned as she moved closer to him, seemingly zeroing in on his location.

“Mother, come now. You’re being silly. Humans can't even come near here, remember? You made sure of that yourself!”

Patton tore his eyes away from the advancing woman and his breath caught in his throat. Roman had followed his mother, trying to placate her gently with a hand on her arm, and in doing so, had turned towards Patton’s hiding spot.

When Patton opened his eyes shortly after being born, he was taken away from his mother, despite his parent’s strong objections and his wails. He was returned hours later, much to their relief. On his birth certificate, his right eye was labeled blue. His left eye, the side usually taken by the natural color of his soulmate’s, was labeled ‘Defective’.

When he was set to start school at six years old, his mother sat him down on his bed and taught him how to properly cover his left eye with his hair. They’d grown it out enough to do so. Patton had asked why it was necessary, and subsequently learned the truth that not all people were as accepting and loving as his parents.

When he was ten, he returned home from school crying. He dropped into his mother’s arms and she held him until his sobs turned to sniffles, until he could explain between sharp breaths that a bully at school had revealed Patton’s eye while trying to force him into a fight, and… well, his classmates hadn’t taken it well. Those who weren’t downright afraid of him, refused to eat or sit with him anymore. But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t help it!

His eye was labeled ‘Defective’, because never before had the doctor’s seen a child born with a red eye. Not the pale color that came with pinkeye, or an allergic reaction, but the iris itself was such a bold, blood red color that it had left the team scrambling for any record of such an incident. They were left with more questions than answers. But the world had yet to understand how soulmates worked in the first place, so they chalked it up to another universal mystery.

Every day for as long as he could remember, Patton had stared into a mirror first thing in the morning, greeted with calm, airy blue on one side, and fiery, almost electric red on the other.

So it was jarring to see such a sight, yet reversed, on another person. But as Roman tugged again on his mother’s arm, there was no denying it; the man’s own color was a gleaming ruby, and the other was Patton’s very own blue.

“Mother, look,” Roman blurted out, scooping up the discarded flashlight from the forest floor, “This is a human tool. I’m sure this is what you’re smelling.”

She ripped the device from his hand, shaking it in his face, “That is still far too close to home, Roman! Humans have been here, and I guarantee they are still nearby.”

“And you don’t know how many there are, Mom!” Roman insisted, taking her hands. “It doesn’t matter how they got here, or why they did,” A slow grin spread across his face, highlighting a pair of glinting fangs, “Why don’t you gather the family, and we can find them together? I can’t even remember the last time I really ate.”

The woman was satiated by this answer, though she still cast the forest cautious looks. “Stay put, Roman. We’ll be back shortly.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Along with a change of clothes for you.”

And then she was gone, the only remaining trace being the tiny cloud of dust she’d left behind. Roman was calm for a moment, making sure she was really gone, before his demeanor dropped. The cocky smirk was gone, and he no longer held the confidence he’d had, either as a bartender or in the presence of his mother.

“We don’t have a lot of time, c’mon! Let’s go!” He crouched before the log, extending his hand to Patton.

“What the hell are you?!” Patton shrieked. Interesting, that those were the first words from his jumble of thoughts that came out.

“Oh, come on, do you really need to ask? I’m pretty sure you already know!”

And yeah, Patton was pretty sure he knew. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d had a teen Twilight phase, so of course the obvious answer was there. It just… it wasn’t possible. His brain was scrambling for any kind of other solution, anything that made sense, but it all kept circling to the same answer.

The cute bartender at the inn was a vampire.

…

Okay then.

Next problem.

“I… yeah. I think I got it.”

“Good! Now let’s go!” Roman grabbed Patton’s hand and yanked, effectively pulling him from his hiding place and nearly tearing the arm from it’s socket. Patton stumbled from the sudden movement and tripped on his camera bag, yelping as he crashed into Roman’s chest.

The vampire’s hands instantly wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he found his footing.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m all good, I just-”

Roman was much taller than he’d thought; that was the initial thought that came to mind as he looked up at the man holding him. The second was, well, the fact that his jaw had dropped open upon seeing Patton’s eyes, and for the first time since they’d met, the guy was completely speechless.

Patton felt his left eye began to tingle as they shifted into its own natural color. He ignored it.

“You really didn’t see it? At the bar?” Patton whispered.

“No, you moved too fast,” Roman murmured, bringing a hand up to Patton’s cheek. “You… you’re my-”

He must have sensed something, or heard something that was too quiet for Patton’s ears, because his head whipped towards the castle.

“We need to go. Now.” Roman intertwined their fingers and pulled him into a run towards the town.

“Wait, no! My bag!” He tugged hard to try and get his hand free, but he was truly no match for Roman.

“Not important right now, sweetheart!”

Without the aid of his flashlight, and enveloped by the darkness of the forest, Patton was totally blind, relying only on Roman’s grip to keep him from falling. Branches hit his face and roots reached up to trip him, but every time he stumbled, the hand tightened and pulled him back upright.

A howl cut through the air.

“What now, werewolves?!” Patton shrieked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, werewolves aren’t real!” Roman scoffed, “They’re normal wolves! What, you think just because we’re vampires, we’re unable to have pets?”

“Is this really a conversation we should be having at this exact moment?!” Patton shot back.

“You’re right, you’re right, okay.”

The howls were growing closer, and it was clear by Roman’s increased pace that this wasn’t about to be a friendly reunion.

“Can we outrun them?!”

“I take it you’ve never met a wolf!”

Patton looked up at him desperately, already struggling to keep up the conversation and keep up with Roman.

“I thought vampires had… like, super speed!”

“I wouldn’t be able to go for long, especially carrying you. Jump!”

Patton leapt blindly, feeling the side of a fallen log scrape the toes of his shoes. The landing was rough, sparks of pain shooting up his legs, but he was quickly pulled back upright.

“I don’t have the energy! I haven’t eaten in months!”

There were more yowls, definitely closer this time, followed by the sound of multiple animals fighting, barely louder than a voice shouting (presumably) at the racket. Whether it was the wolves having a spat, or a prey animal that had gotten in the way of the hunt, Patton didn’t know. It drew out a small whimper from him either way.

He didn’t want to be next.

“Do you trust me?” Roman suddenly gasped, holding his hand firmer.

“What?!”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?!”

Patton didn’t exactly think he had a choice right now. His feet were aching, his lungs were burning, and he wasn’t sure he could run another minute without his legs giving out. “I- Yeah! Sure!”

“Good enough,” Roman grunted bitterly, screeching to a halt, and using his grip on the other’s arm to stop him too. Before Patton could even bring himself to complain, or scream at him, or just incoherently yell, the vampire was drawing him to his chest, puppeting his arms so they were around his shoulders.

“Hold on.”

Obediently, Patton tightened the grip. “Why-”

And then there was a sharp pain in his neck, and his eyes widened. The sting almost immediately morphed into a pleasant warmth, the distant howling being replaced by a faint humming, the buzzing of his own mind calming, becoming numb until the only thought in his head was Roman, Roman, Roman-

He could feel Roman’s hand on his head, not restricting it, but cupping the back of it so he could lean against him as he stared up at the night sky, the full moon, and the slow blurring of the tops of the pine trees. His other arm was wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him up, and Patton was beyond grateful for the support as his legs began to turn to jelly. The last thing Patton felt was the vampire scooping up his legs and his head being cradled against the soft material of Roman’s shirt.

Then everything went dark.

-0-0-0-

Patton woke up slowly, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through his window. He dropped an arm across his eyes lazily, letting out a low groan at his pounding headache. There were voices downstairs in the tavern, and what sounded like dishes clanging, and he wondered if somehow this place was also a restaurant. How on earth could anybody run an establishment like that? It’s like the place never slept-

A wave of nausea pooled in his gut due to the speed of which he sat up but that wasn’t important, not right now. He flung his blankets back and… oh. He was dressed in his pajamas. Last he could remember, in the woods, running with Roman, he’d been in day clothes, in the sweater and shirt that was now draped on a chair across the room. His camera bag was... on the desk. His shoes were by the door, dirt free.

He raised his finger tips to his neck, expecting to feel a raised scab, or scar, any sign that he’d been bitten. There was nothing.

He swung his legs over the sides of the beds and immediately shut his eyes, fighting off an explosion of dizziness induced sparks that shot across his vision. It sure felt as if he’d lost some blood. As much as he didn’t want to believe he had a hangover from one drink, that could also be an explanation. He’d always been a bit of a lightweight.

A dream. Was it all just… a dream?

A feeling of disappointment washed over him and he sighed, running his hands up through his hair. Something soft snagged on his fingers and he carefully detangled it from the curls, pulling it out curiously. He blinked at the fern leaf between his finger tips. That definitely hadn’t happened between his car, the tavern, or the room... So-

He sucked in a breath sharply as his eyes locked with the mirror’s reflection in front of him, every thought coming to a halt.

Because staring back, for the first time ever, were two perfectly blue eyes.

I have a bunch of world building ideas that weren’t included in this fic, shoot me an ask if you have any lore questions!

General taglist:

@max-is-tired

@private-snippers

@joylessnightsky

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #vampire au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction

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pinkispoggers · 3 years

Text

New Girl || Lance Bishop x Fem!Reader

A/N: PLEASE READ!! ok, there's a few things I need to say before you get to reading. I have an alter named Bishop. He's my co-writer. I have DID. Please, if you don't know what that is, look it up to understand why some of the writing style is different than others. Second. I'm so sorry this took so long to write but that's because I was studying the Aliens script to write this, and had to watch the movie 2 times. 3rd the grammar sucks again and this is like a remake of the movie with a similar plot. I'm so tired but please don't comment about the writing style changing, that's probably Bishop's writing. Anyways please enjoy!

(Oh, and this is like the dumbest plot ever)

Tw: mentions of vomit, profanity, and the word "kill" and small violence, (and some death (gore)) Guns and of course Mr milk guts…

Words: 9.1k

You slowly wake up, yawning before you could notice anything in the room, but when you do, you see him, standing in the doorway, legs crossed and arms crossed, looking down at what you saw to be a plate with (a food you really like) on it. You smile widely. "You didn't have to!" You blush. "I kept my word" He smiled and looked down. You grab the fork as you sit up and dig in.

A few moments later

You finish your meal and he hops in bed with you. You gasp and smile as you hug him tightly, never wanting to let go but you had to if you wanted to kiss him. You smile and smash your lips on his and he kisses you back. You take a breather and he looks at you with care in his eyes. "I love you, Bishop, I just want you to know that." You whisper and he nods "me too Y/n" he smiles and kisses your forehead, putting his forehead on yours.

"I also watered the plant you have." He smiles and you mimic the gesture. "Aw, thank you Bishop" you say. "Do you want to go for a walk?" He asks and you nod. "After I get dressed, I would love to." You blush. You get up from your bed, fully nude. You go to get clothes but within seconds his arms are wrapped around you and his head is buried in your neck once more. But this didn't last long as you had to get dressed. You slip your shirt and pants on. You grabbed your wallet and headed out with him, hand in hand. "Wanna go to the mall?" You ask and he nods.

You hold his hand while you walk from your apartment, to the local park, skipping happily almost all the way there. You reach the flower field and you and him sit down on some soft grass, secluded from everyone else. No one was even at the park, just you and your synthetic boyfriend. You and him lie down on the grass and he does the same. You lie there, not saying a word for a few moments but he breaks the peaceful silence. "It's a beautiful day Y/n, isn't it?" He says and smiles. "It sure is!" You smile wider. He points out some cute shaped clouds and you laugh and point out another.

Without warning, you roll on top of him and he gasps. He looks up at you and smirks. No one is around so you can do whatever you want, but you choose not to. As you lay on his stomach, he flips you over to be on top of you. He kisses you deeply. "I love you Y/n'' he breaths and you smile on his mouth "Same here" you whisper as you continue to kiss him. This only lasts for a few moments as you remember what you said about 30 minutes ago. "We should probably start heading to the mall now." You say and he pushes himself off of you.

He stands up from the soft grass, pointing out one more pretty cloud. You stand and start running and laughing, knowing he is going to follow. He jogs after you, getting closer. You try your best to get away but as soon as you could process things, he scoops you up and swings you around once. You laugh and kiss him once more as he let's you down. You jog with him about 2 blocks to the mall.

You run in through the automatic doors but you pause when you see everything in there, you stop in your tracks. He catches up to you and hugs you from behind. You shake, not expecting that. "Oh, I'm sorry." He says and you grin "it's alright!" You say as you rush into a men's clothing store, and he follows you in. "Ooo oh! Bishop look!" You call to him and point to a black and gray striped shirt. "It looks… really nice!" He says and you smile and kiss him "wanna buy it?" You ask "Sure! You brought your wallet?" He asks and you nod. You also grab a few pairs of sweatpants and formal clothing. You head to the register and he goes to the other side of the shop and crosses his arms, waiting for you to finish paying.

As you finish paying and grabbing your bags, he grabs one from you, and you know he's trying to help and you smile. "May i?" He asks "Yes you may." You blush and you head out to other stores.

3 hours later

You call a Taxi and head home with what seemed to be a million bags. You were surprised that you could carry that much with his help of course. You arrive home at dawn, but there are 2 big black cars outside your apartment. "Y/n, I'm being pinged." He says slowly. You're so confused "pinged?" You ask and you don't even notice the large pair of hands grabbing you, and another set, Bishop. He doesn't say anything, but you are screaming for him. You get out of the pathetic grip of the person behind you, only to go up and hug Bishop, knowing what you have to do. The person doesn't try to grab you back so this is the perfect opportunity. You reach up and snatch the chip out roughly and put it in your pant pocket. No one noticed.

After you do that the hands pull you back and you don't say a word, knowing that you have him in your pocket, instead, you smile. The person escorts you up to your apartment, but while you were walking, you thought, how did they know he was here? The car he came in? Maybe, you had no clue. When you get inside you smile at the now known man that led you in and he just walks away "bitch" you mutter. You get in and immediately get a phone call. You rush to get your phone. It says WEYLAND-YUTANI CORPS. You honestly don't want to answer but you do.

It's a nice woman, asking how your day has been and how it goes now. "Listen Y/n, to cut to the chase, we need you on another mission. Hadley's Hope isn't responding. Again." She said and you sigh, barely wanting to do it, but you knew you would have the same crew, Bishop, Hicks, Apone, Hudson and more so you of course said yes and hung up without saying goodbye.

It's getting late so you head off to bed, only dreaming of Bishop, and wishing he was there, in bed with you.

2 days later and it's time to head into Cryosleep. You lie, not caring who was with you, but only caring about the journey ahead.

3 weeks later, sleeping peacefully with no interruption.

You rise from your chamber, slow and easy. You overhear a tiny conversation between Drake and an unnamed female, just before you feel the need to vomit all over the place, and you almost do, but you control yourself. You sit up and drag your heavy legs over the bedside and you see someone you know and love… or well, the same model you guessed. Bishop. You blush, but before you know it, that smile on your face turns into a frown.

You know it's him, and you know it's his same model, because he is the only synthetic of his line, named Bishop, which you could see on a screen in the far corner of the room. Your face flowers into a smile once more as you flood over with happiness. You were also happy because you were part of the team. You stand, in your underwear and a tank top and you hear Hudson and Apone fighting? If you could call it that.

You notice an unfamiliar woman staring at Bishop with a glint in her eyes. Something like… love? You get a rush of anger deep in your heart but you pay it no mind as you slip by them and rush over to your locker, just remembering what was inside. The chip. You grab that and your flight suit and move to the cafeteria.

You sit next to someone new today, a curly headed woman with light skin and beautiful eyes. You try to spark up a conversation but she doesn't answer. "Ok then" you snort. You look over to a sudden loud noise that is Hudson screaming. Bishop is playing the knife game with him of course. Why would he be screaming? It ends soon with a "Thank you" from the artificial person himself. He goes to sit down right next to the women you were trying to talk to, which was right across from you. You noticed the same woman from the locker room staring at Bishop. Her face was angry, probably because she didn't get to sit next to him, you thought. But again, you pay it no mind and try to ignore it.

"I thought you never missed, Bishop." Burke said with a scoff in his voice. The woman next to him was startled for a second, but her facial expression turned into a mix between shock and anger. "You never said an android was on board. Why not?" She said. "It never occurred to me." Burke replied. "It's common practice to have synthetic on board." He said calmly but Bishop's face turned into a slight frown, but then a smile as he said "I prefer the term "artificial person" myself." You were going to say something to Burke, to remind him that before Bishop said anything. "Right." Burke said with a nasty smile. "Is there a problem?" Bishop worried "I'm sorry." Burke breathed. "I didn't even... Ripley's last trip, the syn... The artificial person...malfunctioned." Burke said with a tone of worry in his voice.

"- Malfunctioned?" Ripley said, a bit surprised. "Ripley," you whispered and no one heard. Such a nice name, you thought. "There were problems and… a few deaths were involved." Burke lamented. Bishop opened his lips slightly, to come off as "I'm shocked." He turned to look at Ripley, then back at Burke. "Was it an older model?" Bishop asked. "Yeah. The Hyperdyne Systems 120-A-2." Burke answered and Bishop closed his lips and within seconds, "The A-2s always were a bit twitchy. That could never happen now with our behavioural inhibitors. It is impossible for me to harm, or allow to be harmed, a human being." He goes on, turning to Ripley, tray in hand "You sure you don't want some?" He asked.

As soon as he offered, she slapped the tray out of his hand and everyone in the room turned to look. You were surprised she had snapped. Maybe she wasn't so friendly after all. "Just stay away from me, Bishop. You got that straight?" She said angrily and he got up to go sit by the woman that was looking at him before and you sighed deeply, a spark of jealousy perking up in you. You turned your head to see her sparking up a conversation. You want to move but you don't want anybody to get suspicious of your intentions with him so you sit quietly, not eating any of the cornbread he had offered you earlier.

After Breakfast

You rush over to a few boxes where you wait for everyone to pile in. Ripley is standing in front of them with another Marine and Apone. Ripley is talking about our mission, going back to Hadley's Hope because they weren't responding… again but you barely listen. Only looking at that Bitch and Bishop together in the back, laughing together. You were furious now. But then you remembered that you had the chip. He would only love you, and nor her. He's loyal, right?. As Ripley finishes talking, you are still staring at him and the woman, until she and Apone motions everybody to move out.

You move to the back rooms, where you thought you were gonna be alone but as soon as you open the door, you honestly weren't surprised. It was Bishop and the girl. You are furious. They were sitting there, laughing at each other's jokes and things like that. "Excuse me?" You say and they notice you are there, her, holding in a laugh. Bishop got up and walked over to you. "Hello, I don't think we've met! I'm Bishop" He says softly. "I know" you say angrily. "Did I do something wrong?" He asks and you smile and stare dead at her. "No honey" you say, suddenly changing your tone, but still staring at her.

"Um…" She whispered "What the fuck" she said as her face contorted into a angry frown, but before she could say anything else, Apone barged in. "What is going on in here?!" He asks but before you or the girl could say anything, Bishop speaks. "Oh, I'm just introducing myself to Y/n and hanging around with Diana." Diana. Her name was Diana. Before you could even think of anything else, you thought of saying "Diana, more like Die-Ana" and you burst out with laughter. "What is so funny Y/n?" Apone asks, very seriously and you simply reply with "Oh nothing" and you slip past him, happy you made that bitch mad.

You overhear Apone telling Diana to get back to work and stop fucking around with the artificial person and you snicker under your breath. "Fuck" you mumbled, knowing that you still had the chip, but wondering what you were going to do when the time came to put it in. You see Ripley and you walk up to her slowly. "Hi!" You accidentally raise your voice and she shouts, turning around and shaking a bit. "Oh, I'm sorry if I scared you, I'm Y/n, you need anything?" You ask and she smiles gently "I'm sorry about what happened a little bit before this, I guess I just wasn't in the mood, I'm Ripley, and I don't need anything but thank you. And tell Bishop I'm sorry." She went on and you smiled.

"Yeah I can do that!" You say and she smiles widely.

30 mins later

Everything is in place and Apone is raising his voice for everybody to head into the M577 Armored Personnel Carrier, and you complied. You see Bishop heading in first and you, last. You strap into your seat next to Hicks and right across from Diana. You give her a mean stare and she catches your eyes. You try to start a convo with Hicks but he's asleep. "Well." You whisper, and the carrier heads off with a "Rodger!" From Bishop and you head out. The carrier pulls into a drop ship and they dive down into space, heading for LV-426, Hadley's Hope.

You set down on the planet and you feel sick from all the turbulence but you hold back your vomit. Apone rushes everyone to hop out and head in and you do as he said. Diana is a marine and you are a science officer, so is Bishop. You hide back with Bishop for a moment and Diana just stares at you "Well Marine, do as Apone says." You laugh and she growls at you like a fucking animal and you cringe as you look at Bishop with a smile and he smiles back, not processing what just happened. His mind is on something else, you thought.

You head in, walking and talking with him, having a pretty good conversation about life in general and how his goal in his "life" was to learn and grow more! It was very intriguing. "Oh! You remember Ripley right?" You ask "Well how could I not? I mentally cannot forget unless my memories are deleted." He said and you laugh "I know that silly. Well anyway, she said she was sorry for flipping out on you." You exclaim and his face lights up with a smile.

"Ah, thank you for telling me!" He says with a smile that could light up any room and it makes you blush. "I have a surprise for when we get inside, it has to be somewhere private." You whisper and his face lights up. "So… sex?" He whispers back. "When did you get such a dirty mind?!" You laugh. "So not what I'm thinking." He asks so politely "nope, definitely not" you smile. You head in, holding his hand all the way in, but you feel as if something or someone is watching you. When you make it to where the marines are and they are trying to catch something? A little… girl? You had no clue but they were very scared and you offered to help but it seemed like no one heard you.

You and Bishop head back and wait outside for the marines to come back. You start up a conversation with him and as soon as you know it, you are having a laugh with him, a light hearted talk with him, and you could tell it made him so happy that someone was treating him like he was a "human". You made him feel welcome, that was all he ever wanted. "So, Bishop, what was your early life like?" You ask and he smiles.

"Well I'm glad you asked! When I was… say, "born", all I remember was standing on a shute, and a beautiful woman on a keypad in front of me was murmuring something in another language. I said "Hello" but she wouldn't answer me back." He said with a frown. This seemed to be a slightly hard story for him to tell but you were intrigued. He sensed that and kept telling you the story. "Well, when she did answer, and after I asked some questions, mainly about the shute I was standing on, she got… worried? At Least that's what my database was telling me. She thought I was too curious? I don't know, but she told me about how the shute led to something that would disassemble malfunctioning Artificial persons like me." He went on and you felt sorry. He could have gone to that "room".

"Then she told me to walk into a room that had others like me, my same model. An artificial person named Rook greeted me. He told me the others were named Castle, King, and Knight." He said and you cut him off "someone likes chess!" You laugh and he mimics your gesture. "That's what I said!" He said and you laughed harder. "I was in my skin only. They gave me clothing and I pulled it on. They all pinged me to sit down on a long white couch, but I didn't. The room was all white too. They were like... brothers?" He exclaimed

"and why didn't you sit down?" You ask and he smiles "simply because I didn't want to." "But…" you stop and he takes that as a green light to speak "I'm just… different, maybe broken." He said and you frowned and hugged him. "You aren't broken, but you are very different, and that's what we love about you." "Thank you Y/n" he says as you hear faint screaming from inside the building.

"What was that?" You ask and he shrugs "I think it's better to wait here." He says. "People could be dyi-" you try to get out but before you could make out the rest of the words, the carrier came rolling out from inside the building and you screamed and Bishop grabbed you, careful not to hurt you, and quickly pulled you to the side so you wouldn't get hit. "Are you ok?!" He asks and you nod.

"We need to call a fuckin dropship, NOW!!" Hicks yells and you get a wave of anxiety. Ripley comes rushing out of the Carrier and you run up to her, leaving Bishop behind. "Ripley what is going on?!" You shout. "Those fucking aliens. We need a dropship!" She shouts back and you panic. Aliens? What the fuck was she talking about. You knew now that you should've listened to the speech she gave instead of worrying about Bishop.

You hear Burke and Hudson squabbling about something dumb, but you don't pay it any mind. You turn around and your eyes widen. Diana is in the middle of hugging Bishop, and looking right at you. Fuck you, you wanted to say but that would be unprofessional so you just stuck your middle finger towards her and she laughed. Oh, you were gonna get this bitch later.

About an hour later

You could see the dropship coming in close but something was wrong. It was a bit wobbly? It was coming in hot, and definitely not normal. You start running, and so does everyone else. Everything is coming down off of the ship and you cry out for everyone to move. You get out of the way, grabbing Bishop from Diana and rolling behind a rock with him, hugging him to protect him, and you. "Y/n, I'm ok!" He gasps out "Ok good!" You smile widely. "What the fuck are we gonna do now?" Somebody called. "Why don't we start a fire, and sing some songs!" Burke said annoyingly. "Shut the fuck up Burke" you call and his face turns to a frown and he shuts up.

It's been twenty minutes since everything had happened and Ripley motions you into a big base, with the little girl in hand, but before you could follow her in, "where were you Diana?" Hicks raises his voice at her. "We were all looking for you." He snaps. You had had a gut feeling that she was watching you and Bishop, but you didn't know if that was true, but you were going to assume it was. "She was watching me and Bishop." You blurt out and she rips her gaze away from Hicks and over to you. She gives you a glare and then looks back over to Hicks. "I swear I wasn-" she tried to say but he cut her off "I don't want to hear it. Let's go everyone!"

Diana rips Bishop's hand from yours and… kisses him, hard where no one but you sees. You could tell he was surprised, and had no say in this. You felt bad for him, but at the same time, you were fucking furious with her. It wasn't a competition for his love, but if he wanted to compete, you would gladly compete, and you knew you would win. You had the chip, and she didn't. You run in, looking back and winking at Bishop and he just smiles.

Bishop walks with Diana, and you behind into the building, having a chat. He parts ways with her to go into a room with the rest, but you head to what looks like the lab you guys were in last time you were here. You overhear Bishop talking, saying that he was heading to the mad lab. You make it there first and are already standing over the face hugger that Bishop was in the middle of dissecting, and right next to it, where you had the second best sex of your life. "Y/n?" A voice whispers. "Bishop!" You say and he smiles and comes over to hug you. This is the time! Now! You think and you reach to hug him.

Your hands slowly reach up to his neck and right before he can do anything, the chip is out. He's pretty much lifeless, not moving, but blinking. It was unsettling, but you had to do it, to get him back. You grab the chip from your pocket and slide it in the slot and he begins to power up. His eyes shut hard, and then open like the first time. His eyes, flawlessly human-like. When he opens his eyes, "Y/n!" He says as he goes in for a kiss and you let him. He backs off to speak "where are we?!" He asks and you smile and fill him in.

After you do, he stares blankly at something behind you. "Bishop?" You ask and he motions his eyes towards you. He slowly closes you into a corner and you get a wave of anxiety. "Bishop!?" You call out as his hands gently push you against the wall. You were already so touch starved so you didn't mind, but at the same time, you were scared, not knowing his intentions. "Now where were we?" He asked and chuckled. "Oh, so you want to have sex I'm guessing?" You whispered "Yes. Are you ok with this?" He asks "of course, but please ask before you make a move." You laugh.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I should have asked, I didn't mean to scare you!" He says with a sorry tone. "No, no, it's alright!" You laugh it off. "Ah ok!" He says with a smile. He pulls his arm from your chest and starts to pull his flight suit down. Once he gets it all down, yours is next. He unzips it and pulls it down with smooth, efficient movements with a little help from you of course. He grabs your legs and hoists them up to behind his head, now he's right in front of your heat. You are a little anxious even though you know he's seen you. You are also anxious because of the watching eyes you felt when you were outside with him and you weren't exactly comfortable with people watching you.

He pulls you closer to him as he leaves kisses along your thighs as he gets closer to you. When he reaches your sex, he leaves one gentle kiss on the top of your cunt. His tongue suddenly delved into you and he started pacing around your clit, making you shake. You reach for his hair while convulsing slightly, grabbing it and forcing his head towards you. His tongue speeds up against your clit, and you try your best not to shake anymore then you are already shaking.

"B- Ahh!!" You cry out. He takes this as a sign to go to the perfect pace, a pace that sent you to heaven. "Im-" you cry "please" He says, smiling on you. You burst out with moans of ecstasy. His tongue slows down, as he notices that's what you need. As you are coming down from your high, he's still working on you, but now, teasing you with two fingers right above your entrance. You noticed what he was doing as soon as you could see straight. "Please" you whine and with sudden moments, his fingers are in you, slowly pumping in and out, curling as they do.

"Mfh!" You cry out and he speeds up, but then stops suddenly. "Bishop?" You ask and he turns his head suddenly. "I heard something," He says. "Please continue" you say softly and he lowers you to hip level. "Shit Bishop" you moan as you look at his perfect shaft. He lines himself up with you, smearing pre cum all over you to lube you before he thrusts into you. As he's holding you with strong arms, your arms go over his head and he snaps his hips into you at an alarmingly fast speed. "AH!" You scream out.

"I love you Y/n" he says softly and the butterflies that were in your stomach were fluttering around fast. "I love you too!" You smile. He starts off with an achingly slow pace and you arch your back as best as you can. He uses the power of his upper body to lift you up and down on his cock, while still trusting at a normal pace now. He takes one arm off of your hips to finger your clit. "Ohhhh" you moan. You are a moaning mess under him, but you still hold onto yourself as best as you can.

He's leaving kisses wherever he can, mostly sucking on your neck to leave Hickeys, noticeable ones. "Faster!" You shout and he complies. He's thrusting into you at animalistic speeds and you are literally living your sexual dreams. "OoOH!" You moan and he smiles "you like this don't you" he asks and you nod while shaking in front of him. He licks a trail of artificial saliva up your neck and gently bites your ear and you scream out, gripping him, hard.

"Mmh" He grunts. "You feel amazing" He says as his head rolls back. You blush. "L- Let's change positions!" You call out and he slides you off of his shaft, gently. You point to a small mattress that definitely wouldn't fit both of you but you had an idea. He carried you bridal style over to the bed and to your surprise, flipped you so that you were facing the wall, stomach on the bed. "Like this?" He asked "exactly" you smile and he lines himself up and pushes in.

He continues his thrusts, very fast, but it stops suddenly. "Bishop?! What's wrong?" You ask, a little mad, but it's hard to be mad at him. He's not usually like this unless he thinks someone is in danger, or if he hears something. Then you hear it, small footsteps. "Shit," you mutter and he pulls out of you, concerningly slow and just stands there, awkwardly. You get up fast and try to cover yourself with a nearby blanket, quickly wrapping it around yourself as a figure steps in the room. "You BITCH" The figure says as she makes herself clear. Diana. Of course it has to be fucking Diana. Your face switches from panic to a shit eating grin. Not even giving a shit that she just caught you having sex with him, but that you won him over completely, like it was a game.

"Awwww are you mad Diana?" You ask and she just looks at you like she's ready to kill you, but with tears brimming her lashes. You started to walk towards her but Bishop grabbed your arm "Please Y/n, don't." He says, not exactly knowing what you were going to do. "Please" He says with a reassuring voice and you decide to stay back. Tears were falling down her face, but she was also angry. Diana runs away down the hall and out of sight. "Are you ok?" Bishop asks. "Yeah! I'm fine" you shake off what just happened with a smile. His hand lands on the wall behind your head "would you like to continue where we left off?" He asks and you shake your head no. He frowns, but he understands.

You slip under his hand and he doesn't stop you. You slip on your clothes and start a long conversation with him about what had been going on when he was gone. It's been 4 hours with you both trying to dissect a facehugger, which is quite a pain then you hear a buzzing in his ear. "they are pinging us over." He says. When you get there, Ripley is with Hudson and Vasquez fooling around and joking. Bishop went over to Ripley as she motioned him to.

"Now let me get this straight.

The aliens paralyzed the colonists, carried them over there, cocooned them to be hosts for more of those…" Ripley points at the stasis cylinders containing the face-hugger specimens. "Which would mean lots of those parasites, right? One for each person...over a hundred at least." She asked

"Yes. That follows." Bishop says "But these… things come from eggs...so where are all the eggs coming from?" Ripley asks and pauses "That is the question of the hour. We could assume a parallel to certain insect forms who have hivelike organization. An ant of termite colony, for example, is ruled by a single female, a queen, which is the source of new eggs." He says.

"You're saying one of those things lays all the eggs?" Ripley asks.

"Well, the queen is always physically larger than the others. A termite queen's abdomen is so bloated with eggs that it can't move at all. It is fed and tended by drone workers, defended by the warriors. She is the center of their lives, quite literally the mother of their society." Bishop runs on. "Could it be intelligent?" She asks.

"Hard to say. It may have been blind instinct...attraction to the heat of whatever...but she did choose to incubate her eggs in the one spot where we couldn't destroy her without destroying ourselves. That's if she exists, of course." Bishop says plainly. Ripley ponders the ramifications of Bishop's analysis. Ripley rises "I want those specimens destroyed as soon as you're done with them. You understand?"

Bishop glances at the creatures, pulsing malevolently in their cylinders. "Mr. Burke has instructions that they were to be kept alive in stasis for return to the company labs. He was very specific." Bishop says and Ripley feels the fabric of her self-restraint tearing. She slaps the intercom switch. "Burke!" She calls out and you look over at Bishop with a grin "He's in deep shit" you laugh and he laughs with you.

Everyone leaves the room so you and Bishop are alone, making things… well you can't say awkward. He walks over to you slowly. "Do you need something?" You ask but he doesn't answer. He reaches you and a hand crosses your neck, to the wall behind you like before. Then he twitches suddenly. "Bishop what's wrong?!" You call out but he doesn't answer. You try to push him away, but he won't budge, and then his eyes go blank and you can finally push him off of you. You stand behind him, clueless to what is happening. "Shit" you murmur. Then it hit you.

You reach up to the back of his neck and pull the chip out and he stands straight, not moving. You had to be quick about this though, for people might walk in. You rush over to get a hot glue gun from the side of the room as it seemed like it had everything in it. You grab the gun and start to try to fix the growing tear in the chip. Once you are done with that, you walk over to him but you feel that you are being watched… again. You turn around suddenly but there's no one there. "Ok…" you whisper but then a small hand grabs your shoulders and spins you around, just to slap you.

"Excuse me!" You shout at the person in front of you. It's obviously Diana, because who else would slap you that hard? "What the fuck is wrong with you, you whore!" She screams. You have no words, or any before she said something else. She looks over at Bishop, terrified. "What the fuck did you do? I watched you!" She calls out. "Why the fuck were you "watching" there's something seriously wrong with you Diana." You say calmly. "Nothing is wrong with me Y/n, it's you being a whore that's wrong with you." She said angrily as she stomped over to the lifeless artificial person like a child. "How am I a whore when I made love to him, and only him?"

"Well… i- ya know what, I'm gonna tell everyone that you slept with him" she smiled well she observed him. "Ok?" You pause "I couldn't give two fucks if you did or not… honestly" you give her a shit eating grin, practically begging her to tell everyone, knowing they aren't gonna give a fuck, so you let her. She leaves and you get back to what you were doing. You were supposed she didn't give a shit about what you were doing to him, or how you were helping him. You've been hiding the chip behind you while Diana was acting like a toddler. You go over to him and put it in, having to reach past his soft hair.

He powered up again and turned around, looking sad. "What's wrong hun? What's that look for?" You ask and giggle. "I'm sorry, it was an error in the chip. I'm trying to fix it." He smiled. You go up to kiss him and he gently lays his lips on yours for a moment then let's go and his hands, especially one finger, vibrates. You worry. He never shakes like that. "What's up with your hand?" You ask and he shakes his head with a frown. "My sexual functions are simulating rubbing you off. I'm sorry." He says and you almost snort "I'm sorry, so you're telling me you could have used that when we were fucking?! Woah, that's actually really cool." You say, louder than intended. "Well, next time tell me and I can." His smile widens and you nod.

"Shit!" You say and he turns his head back at you "I filled you in about what's going on right now, and why they need you right now? Right?" You ask. "Affirmative" He smiles. "Well let's go! Vamonos!" You say and he follows you out.

Ripley and Hudsons side

Mixed with the echoing crash-clang is a nerve-wrecking SCREECH of claws on steel. The intercom buzzes, startling them. "Bishop here. I'm afraid I have some bad news." He says over the coms. "Well, that's a switch," Hudson laughs.

You walk into the room with Bishop and he goes over to the window where Ripley and Hudson stand. You stand over to the side, just watching them. You overhear the conversation. It's hard not to listen.

"That's pretty Bishop, but what are we looking at" Ripley asks "That's it. See it? Emergency venting." Bishop answers as you see big blueish steam rising from outside somewhere. "How long until it blows?" Ripley asks "I'm projecting total systems failure in a little under four hours. The blast radius will be about thirty kilometers. About equal to ten megatons." Bishop runs on.

Before anyone could say anything more, Diana rushes in. The fuck does she want, you thought. "Do you need anything?" Ripley sighs. "She fucked him!!" Diana called out. "Who fucked who?" Hudson asked, confused. "Y/n" she breathed hard. You can tell she ran here. "She fucked Bishop" she panted and Hudson looked shocked. "Y/n…?" He said quietly. "C,mhere!" He shouted as he raised his fist for a fist bump and you did, and gave him one, while smiling from ear to ear.

"You gotta tell me about it when we get back!" Hudson said and you laughed and shook your head "Nah, I'd rather not" you smile and look back at Diana. Ripley just smiled, glad for you, but seeming stressed at the moment. Diana was furious, thinking all of them would be mad, and you, humiliated. Vasquez was also smiling. "We got problems." Hicks calls "I don't fucking believe this." Hudson says and you roll your eyes. "Do you believe this?" Hudson replies to himself "And it's too late to shut it down?" Ripley asks, not paying any attention to Hudson. "I'm afraid so. The crash did too much damage. The overload is inevitable, at this point." Bishop says.

"Oh, man. And I was gettin' short, too! Four more weeks and out. Now I'm gonna buy it on this fuckin' rock. It ain't half fair, man!" Hudson exclaims "Hudson, give us a break. They watch as another gas jet lights up the fog-shrouded landscape. "We need the other drop-ship. The one on the Sulaco. We have to bring it down on remote, somehow." Ripley says, looking at Hicks

"How? The transmitter was on the APC. It's wasted." Hudson cries. "I don't care how! Think of a way. Think of something." Ripley paces "Think of what? We're fucked." Hudson cries out again in-between some "Shut up"s from Hicks. "What about the colony transmitter? That up-link tower down at the other end. Why can't we use that?" Hicks asks "I checked. The hard wiring between here and there was severed in the fighting." Bishop answers.

Ripley is wound up like a dynamo, her mind spinning out options, grim solutions. "Well then somebody's just going to have to go out there. Take a portable terminal and go out there and plug in manually." Ripley says to which Hudson's face turns grim. "Oh, right! Right! With those things running around. No way." He says and you could hear someone muttering something, then they spoke up. "I'll go." Bishop says quietly. "What?" Ripley asks "I'll go" Bishop repeats himself.

"I'm really the only one qualified to remote-pilot the ship anyway. Believe me, I'd prefer not to. I may be synthetic but I'm not stupid." Bishop smiles for a moment, seeming to be proud of himself. "All right. Let's get on it. What'll you need?" Ripley asks. You turn your head away and walk with them into a med lab.

Vasquez and Hicks

"Listen." Vasquez shushes. It's stopped. They listen. Nothing. An instant later comes the high pitched shrilling of a motion-sensor alarm. Hicks looks at the tactical board. "Well, they're into the complex." Hicks says plainly

INT. MED LAB 130

One of the acid holes from the colonists' siege has yielded access to subfloor conduits. Bishop lying in the opening, reaches up to graph the portable terminal as Ripley hands it down to him. He pushes it into the constricted shaft ahead of him. She then hands him a small satchel containing tools and assorted patch cables, a service pistol and a small cutting torch. "This duct runs almost to the up-link assembly. One hundred eighty meters. Say, forty minutes to crawl down there. One hour to patch in and align the antenna. Thirty minutes to prep the ship, then about fifty minutes flight time." Bishop goes on. "Great" you sigh and he looks back at you with a grin. "Wanna come along?" Bishop asks and you nod

Ripley looks at her watch. "It's going to be closer. You guys better get going." "See you soon, C’mon Y/n!" he says cheerfully as he squirms into the shaft, pushing the equipment along ahead of him with a scraping rhythm. The diameter of the conduit is barely larger than the width of his shoulders. Then you get in, doing the same. Vasquez slides a metal plate over the hole and begins spot welding it in place. Bishop and you look back as the welder seals you guys in. He sighs fatalistically and squirms forward. Ahead of him the conduit dwindles straight to seeming infinity. Like being in the bore of a very long Howitzer. You say nothing as you crawl along.

When you finally make it there, it's very windy and cold, lightning everywhere.

hunched against the wind at the base of the telemetry tower. He has a test-bay panel open and the portable terminal patched in. His jacket is draped over the keyboard and monitor unit to protect it from the elements and he is typing frenetically. "Now, if I did it right…" He whispers to himself He punches a key marked "ENABLE." And the ship is off

10 mins later

"Bishop, you read me? Come in, over." A voice says through the coms, it's Hicks. There is a long pause then Bishop's voice, almost unintelligible with interference, comes over the radio. "Yes, I read you. Not very well... " Bishop replys.

Bishop is huddled against the base of the telemetry mast, out of the wind which is now gusting viciously. "The ship is on its way. ETA about sixteen minutes. I've got my hands full flying…" Bishop raises his voice over the coms. the weather's come up a bit. Bishop's fingers are blurring over the terminal keys and he squints, watching the screen as the flight telemetry updates rapidly. In the b.g. the AP station has become a raging demon, wreathed in boiling steam and electrical discharges. "All right, stand by there. We're on out way. Over." Hicks says and he's out.

You turn to Bishop, wind almost blowing your face away, a single tear falling down your face, and a smile on your lips. You started a nice conversation with him, telling him what happened while he was gone, or dormant. "So you're telling me this other Bishop told you about the time I was "born"?" He said, barely audible over the high winds. "Yep, all of it." You yell over the winds. He seemed surprised, he knew he would have told you if you had asked and laughed.

"Shit, we gotta go, it's gonna be here soon" you say and you rush out of there.

Drop-ship two descends toward the landing grid, side-slipping in hurricane gusts. Bishop stands, guiding it with the portable terminal. The ship sets down hard. Slides sideways. Stops. Bishop turns as Ripley and Hicks stumble out of a doorway in the colony building behind him. He goes to them, helping to support Hicks and they run toward the ship, buffeted by the gale. Ripley shouts, her words barely audible over the wind. "HOW MUCH TIME?" Ripley yells "PLENTY! TWENTY-SIX MINUTES!" Bishop answers. "WE'RE NOT LEAVING!" Ripley says and Bishop's facial expression is… from what you can see, confused. "WE'RE NOT?"

You step to Bishop's side once again. "Where is everyone?" You ask, trying to be as calm as possible "Dead. Let's go." Ripley said with a flat tone.

The loading ramp deploys and they run into the ship. An infernal engine, roaring out of control. Steam blasts and swirls, lightning zaps around the superstructure and columns of gas thunder hundreds of feet into the air. You look up in astonishment. If you had more time, you would have stayed and stared at it, but you had no time for that.

Ripley finishes winding tape around a bulky object and drops the roll. She has crudely fastened a M-41A assault rifle together, side by side, with a flamethrower. A massive, unwieldy package of absolute firepower. Her movements are precise...determined. She works rapidly, snatching magazines, grenades, belts and other gear from the fully stocked ordnance racks of the drop-ship.

Bishop comes out from the pilot's compartment to help Hicks dress his injuries. Hicks is laid out in a flight seat, the contents of a field medical key, strewn around him. He's out of the game...contorted with pain. "Ripley…" Bishop sighs "She's alive. They brought her here and you know it." Ripley says "in seventeen minutes this place will be a cloud of vapor the size of Nebraska." Bishop sighs again. Ripley is stuffing gear rapidly into a satchel, her hands flying. "Hicks, don't let him leave." Ripley eyes Bishop "We ain't going anywhere." Hicks said, grimacing in pain. Ripley runs down the ramp, crossing the platform to the open doors of a large freight elevator. The doors close.

You felt really bad for him, standing over him. He was one of your friends. You went to go stand out on the bridge of the drop-ship. "What the fuck?" You ask yourself as a small figure approaches the dropship. "Diana, what-" you try to make out the figure and sure enough, it's her. "Oh fuck" you blurt out. "What's up?" Hicks says painfully. "It's Diana" you sigh as you see her flap her arms in the air to try to get your attention. "I'd- I'd say shut the damn door, but that would be rude" Hicks tried to laugh. When she reached the bridge, she hopped on and ran straight to Bishop, who was still treating Hicks's wounds. She tried to hug him but he gently pushed her off.

"What's wrong hun?" She says. "What? Please don't call him that." You say, trying not to get annoyed. You could tell Hicks was enjoying this squabble since he was not trying to break it up. "I can call him whatever I want." She said as she walks up to you and slaps you for the second time today. "Fuck you" you say softly and punch her square in the bridge of her nose and she passed out right away. "Y/n!?" Bishop called. "Holy shit" Hicks said and you just smiled as she's laid out on the floor.

Bishop rushes up to the pilot's chamber and starts the ship. "What are you doing?!" You yell "the platform is getting unstable!" He calls back to you. "But Ripley?" You say and you get no answer.

30 minutes later

You just sit in your seat, Diana still passes out and you sigh "Damn, this bitch." Bishop let's down the ship and you gasp. The doors open and Ripley and the girl run in

Ripley leaps into a seat with the girl, cradling her. Begins strapping in. Bishop wrestles with the controls. The landing legs retract, ripping free. Ripley slams her seat harness latches home. "Ripley!" You say as she turns her head to you and then Diana. "Shit, what happened?" She asked and you told her everything and she just sat there with no words.

"Punch it Bishop!" She called

The entire lower level of the station disappears in a fireball. The air vibrates with intense heat waves and concussion. The drop-ship engines fire. Ripley is slammed back in her seat. The ship vaults out and up, Bishop standing it on its tail, pouring on the gees. Ripley and Newt see everything shake into a blur.

30 minutes later

Diana finally woke up, just staring at you the whole way to the Sulaco, probably not knowing what happened.

Bishop stands behind Ripley as she kneels beside a comatose Hicks. "I gave him a shot, for the pain. We'll need to get a stretcher to cart him up to medical." Bishop says. Ripley nods and, picking up the little girl, precedes Bishop down the aisle to the loading ramp. "I'm sorry if I gave you a scare but that platform was just becoming too unstable…" Bishop continues as they move down the ramp. "I had to circle and hope things didn't get too rough to take you off." He says. Ripley turns to him, stopping part way down the ramp. She puts her hand on his shoulder. "You did okay, Bishop." Ripley says. "Well, thanks, I-"

He notices a tiny innocuous drop of liquid splash onto the ramp next to his shoe. SSSSSS. Acid. Something bursts from his chest , spraying Ripley and you with milk-like android blood. It is the razor-sharp scorpion tail of the alien queen. Driven right through him from behind. Bishop thrashes, seizing the protruding section of tail in his hands, as it slowly lifts him off the deck. Above them the Queen flowers from its place of concealment among the hydraulic mechanisms inside one landing-leg bay.

It blends perfectly with the machinery until it begins to emerge. Seizing Bishop in two great hands it rips him apart and flings him aside, shredded, like a doll. It descends slowly to the deck, the rotating lights shining across its shiny black limbs, dripping acid and rage. Still smoking where Ripley half-fried it. The Queen is huge, powerful...and very pissed off. It descends slowly, its six limbs unfolding in inhuman ways.

"BISHOP!" You scream as you try to run over to him but Diana grabs your collar and pulls you back, making sure she's there first, but before she can make it, the razor sharp tail slices her straight in half, blood spilling and guts falling out of her and tears stream down your face. "HOLY SHIT" You scream and freeze in place.

You and the little girl run for cover. The Alien drops to the deck, pivoting toward the motion. Ripley waves her arms, decoying. You and the girl get under I grate, trying to hide from the creature, but, you see a big hand trying to rip the grates up and you try not to scream as you rush down the system. As you are trying to get away, the clawing stops and you do the same, and so does the little girl. You hear a stomping on the ground from above and the creature turns around from the grates. "Get away from them you Bitch!" Ripley says from about ant the "Queen" runs towards Ripley. This is your time to escape with the girl. You run from the queen and pick up the girl as you do it.

You see Ripley in a power loader "Holy shit" you mutter, and Bishop, violently torn in two.

Ripley pulls her arm out of the controls of the loader and claws toward a panel of airlock actuating buttons. She punches the red "INNER DOOR OVERRIDE" and latches the "HOLD" locking-key down. A KLAXON begins to sound. She hits "OUTER DOOR OPEN" and there is a hurricane shriek of air as the doors on which they are lying separate, revealing the infinite pit of stars, below.

The girl and you scream as the hurricane airstream sucks you and her across the floor toward the airlock. Bishop, torn virtually in two, his pasta-like internal organs whipped by the wind, grips a stanchion and reaches desperately for the girl as she slides past him, but not you as his hands are full. He catches her arm and hangs on as she dangles, doll-like, in the airblast. You grab onto a grate, also dangling like the girl. You don't know what is happening but as soon as you know it the airlock is closing with shrieking winds.

When It finally does close, Ripley emerges from the pit, not in the power loader at the moment. She lies on her back, drained of all strength. Gasping for breath. Weakly, she turns her head, seeing Bishop still holding Newt by the arm. Encrusted with his own vanilla milkshake blood. Bishop gives her a small, grim smile.

"Not bad for a" He gurgles "human." He winks.

The little girl is called out for Ripley, calling her mommy, to which Ripley grabs her, like a mother and her child, and cradles her, spinning her around and hugging her tightly, careful not to hurt her.

You smile at Bishop, hurting just looking at him, but you gather the strength to go over to him, and kiss him on his, also encrusted lips and he smiles back

Ripley is carrying Newt on her hip, and you are carrying Bishop's top half, In your arms to the Cryogenic chambers and lie him in it, in a big plastic-like bag. But before you close it, he blurts out three simple, but complicated words. "I love you" he says and before you can say it back, he shuts himself down and you begin to cry while you walk over to yours. Ripley lies Hicks in one of the chambers next to her and Newt in another, having a little conversation before her, and you both get into your own chambers and drift off to sleep, but you, with one tear rolling off of your face. It's been a tough journey, but you are just glad you made it.

Tag List: @soggy-enchilada (hi! So ik I'm tagging you in all of this so I'm sorry, it just seemed like you were interested!)

#lance bishop #bishop x reader #lance bishop x reader #aliens #smut fanfiction #aliens movie #fanfic #robot love #robot/human relationships #smut #lance henriksen

43 notes · View notes

snickiebear · 3 years

Note

Hello, snickiebear! Congratulations on your 200 followers! If you have the time, would you mind writing Shisui x Sakura in a nonmass au? I’m actually curious about your take on a time travel scenario with this pairing, but I also understand that a lot of works have been written on time travel already, so it’s still awesome if you don’t do the time travel part!

Congratulations again and thanks for taking the time to read this ask! Your works are really enjoyable to read. Thank you so much for writing and for doing this 200-follower event!

hello lovely anon!!! thank YOU for reading and requesting!!!! this one was so much fun to write! you ask for time travel + nonmass + shisaku? i am helpless to deliver!! this is a bit more angsty than i wanted but are we surprised? (nope, not at all lmao) this is also now on AO3 bc i really liked it!

also, apologies that this took a bit!! lifes been a real fuckin bitch and the wall of writer's block hit me like a train AHAHAHA but i hope you like this one!!! :)))

The sky is sunny and the spring beautiful when the sky splits itself in half with a brillant, blinding flash of light.

Shisui, masked and riding the after mission high, can only stare as a body plummets from that crack, limp and silent.

It is as if the heavens have spit out what they have deemed unworthy.

Or perhaps, the heavens are dropping a gift on their doorstep.

Either way, Shisui is moving before he knows what is happening, catching that body— a woman with shaven pink hair— and holding her close, head tucked under his chin.

She’s breathing, chest rising and lowering feebly.

Shisui catches his breath as the fracture within the sky closes and only then does he notice the mask.

Porcelain and painted. A combination of a snake and fox, a wolf and slug.

His ANBU team materializes next to him, Dog-taicho’s chakra going from lazy to alert at the sight of the woman. “That’s…”

“Yeah.” Shisui says hoarsely. “She- she needs medical attention. I think.” There is a lot of blood, she’s dripping in it. But he can’t see where she’s bleeding from… or if all that blood is even hers.

“Let’s go.” Dog-taicho cuts through his thoughts, voice hard and a bit panicked. Afterall, Kakashi owes his life to this woman, they all did.

Team Ro blurred out of existence in their race to Kohona, their Savior clutched within his arms.

It's funny, really. When she looks back, as she so often does now, it's laughable. The fact that Haruno Sakura, the civilian born, the nobody, the weak one of Team 7 is the only one left.

Sakura was the only one left in the war against Kaguya and she had done what she has always done; what was needed.

So, Sakura was the only one left and she figured out what was left of Naruto’s seals and shot herself through time to fix everything, to save everyone. To take down Danzo, Hanzo, Madara, to save Sai, the Uchihas, Kakashi.

She was the one to heal Obito, to save Rin, to make sure that Itachi’s hands would never be stained with his family’s blood.

And now, now she sits in a T&I room and she laughs, laughs herself hoarse because she succeeded, she won. And now she is in the future, her intended destination, but it is not the same.

In this future, Haruno Sakura does not exist. She is nothing and no one.

Naruto and Sasuke are alive and well and happy. They get to live the lives they could have only dreamed about.

And Sakura. She doesn’t exist.

She laughs herself hoarse, the laughs turning into broken sobs and she drops her forehead to the table, hiccuping and clenching her hands into blood inducing fists.

Alone. As she always has been.

The door creaks open and Ibiki steps in, a folder in hand.

Sakura’s head snaps up, wiping her face as she almost sighs in relief. She loved (loves?) Ibiki, he once was one of her closest friends near the end. She knows Ibiki, trusts him. Or, at least, she had.

Sakura straightens in her chair, careful of the chakra suppressing handcuffs that really do nothing for her, just acting as a hindrance. But, she does not remove them because she is not a threat to Konoha, she never has been, never intends to be.

Ibiki sits down in front of her, eyeing her carefully and it almost feels like coming home. “You say your name is Haruno Sakura.”

“Yes.” She rasps, licking her cracked and bleeding lips. “That’s right.”

Her eyes flit to the glass window, ignoring her own reflection as she narrows her eyes at whoever is behind the wall. An unknown chakra signature, wild and worried. And— and—

Kakashi.

His cool and lazy chakra, almost like a current of electricity. She would know that chakra any where, as if it is engrained deep in her bones. And right now he’s interested, almost antsy.

Swallowing, Sakura looks back to Ibiki, who had been watching her keenly. “You already had Inoichi-san do a mind walk. You know everything I do.” Shoulders back, chin tilted, spine steeled.

The dead man that sits in front of her hums and opens a folder, “We believe you—”

“It is not a matter of believing.” Sakura snaps, eyes flashing. “You know it is a fact. He saw, he showed you, you saw. How could I ever make something like that up?”

“What we know,” Ibiki says too calmly, too pleasantly, “Is that you are severely traumatized.”

And Sakura well, she laughs again. Because. Because what else is she supposed to do? She gives and gives and gives and is given nothing back.

There are no fruits for her labor, no reward for her sacrifice.

Shoulders shaking as she cries and laughs, scrubbing at her face. “We were friends, you know.” She manages. “I made you laugh twice, once after I lost my middle finger,” Sakura holds up her hand to show him, unsure of why she is even talking. “The second when you were dying in my arms.”

Silence rings out as Sakura gathers herself, swallowing harshly. Ibiki is still looking at her, but the way is no longer cynical, no longer studying.

“Haruno—”

“Just Sakura,” She says wearily.

“Sakura-san,” He continues, “When you were brought in you had a mask on. A mask that has been seen countless times saving Konoha shinobi.”

Sakura does not dare mention the fact that she has also interfered with Suna, giving Gaara the childhood he deserves. And with Mist, cutting the head off the snake quickly enough that the caste system would never truly solidify.

So, she nods. “I am aware.”

“And you claim you are the person behind the mask on every occasion.”

Sighing, she runs a hand over what is left of her hair and makes direct eye contact with her once friend, giving a curt nod, “I am the person behind the mask.”

“One last question, Sakura-san.” Ibiki murmurs, jotting something down in his folder. Sakura forces herself not to read the familiar writing. Though, she is well equipped to read upside down. “How did you come to possess the rinnegan?”

The air drops from mildly uncomfortable to freezing and Sakura does not balk at the question. “You saw it for yourself, Ibiki. It was a gift.”

“Yes, but from who?”

Her heart aches, squeezes at the thought of Naruto, of Sasuke, phantom pains. It is as if she has lost a limb, a piece of her heart when they had turned to ash between her fingers. But Sakura does not waver as she says, “It was a parting gift from Uchiha Sasuke before he died.”

The unknown chakra behind the wall erupts into a mess of emotions while Kakashi’s is mildly surprised if not wary. There is tension between the both of them though.

Which is incredibly amusing considering it wasn’t until much, much later did Kakashi ever see anything to be wary about in her.

(It took her flicking the ground and allowing it to split open and swallow any of their pursuers to convince him that she could very well tear him in half without a second thought.

She wouldn’t though. Team 7 and its members will always be a soft and deeply bruised spot for her. A wound she could never quite heal. Sakura cannot remember a time when she has ever been bruiseless. She has come to terms with being wounded.)

Ibiki closes the folder and taps it on the steel table between them, he motions over his shoulder and the door opens swiftly, revealing Kakashi and another Uchiha with curly hair.

He’s just as she remembers him, except not. Her Kakashi had slouched, had a certain energy about him.

This one, he looks the same, has the scar, the slight slouch. But it is clear that ghosts no longer beat on his back, the world's weight no longer bends him to its will.

Pain races through her heart, echoing physically throughout her body. It hurts. It shouldn’t, seeing her old sensei, her once friend, happy. But it does.

Because while she cannot live without Team 7, it is clear Team 7 can live without her.

She straightens, eyes sharp and body tense as Ibiki stands, chair scraping harshly against the floor and then takes her hands into his, calluses and scars scraping against each other.

Sakura could only imagine what Tsunade-shishou would say if she were to see her, riddled with scars and missing fingers. She could have healed them without a second thought, but chakra had been precious then. Every single ounce had been poured into keeping her precious people safe and herself alive enough to keep fighting.

Her once friend produces a key and unlocks the handcuffs, letting them drop heavily into his awaiting hands before standing up, “Sakura-san, this is Hatake Kakashi,” Her former teacher gives her a hard once over. “And Uchiha Shisui.”

Her skin itches and crawls at Kakashi’s look, cold and unfond, nothing like how she remembers him. And of course, of course he wouldn’t be the man who she had come to adore. He is someone else in this carefully constructed future of her own doing.

The blame, as always, rests upon her weakening shoulders. Sakura is crumbling, her sanity chipping away ever so slowly. It is laughable, really. She wants to throw her head back and howl, she wants to bow and allow herself to scream.

But, if she were to begin to scream, she is not sure she would be able to stop.

So, she gives a curt nod, “Hatake-san. Uchiha-san.”

“Shisui, and therefore the Uchiha, have volunteered to bring you into their custody.” Ibiki goes on, taking a step back. Sakura stays where she is, rooted.

A chill runs up her spine and she looks to Ibiki almost pleadingly. “And you can’t simply dump me into ANBU instead?”

“Mah, Sakura-san.” Kakashi drawls and Sakura’s will cracks. (That bruise will never quite heal.) “I can promise that the Uchiha aren’t as bad as they seem.”

Shisui smiles and it is unlike any smile she has seen before.

She cannot remember the last time she had seen a smile.

“Don’t listen to the old man, Sakura-san.” Shisui says and she’s caught off guard at how friendly he sounds, deep and welcoming. Sakura swallows harshly. “We’re a bunch of assholes but no harm will come to you, we can promise that.”

Uchiha men, she thinks with distaste, will always hold a knife to her heart. And they will always know how to twist the wretched blade to get her to bend for them.

But. But perhaps Sakura could bend, bend and lay and rest. Just once. And this time she'll bend for herself. Perhaps.

She finds herself nodding, hands shaking despite the steel in her spine, her shoulders still straight. “You’re going to just let me go.”

Ibiki gives her a hard look and Sakura’s lips twitch. Ah, of course not. The Uchiha compound is just a glorified prison. Then again, it is much better than anything she thought would happen.

Then again, Saura never thought this would happen.

Too desperate, too blind with the possibility of a chance to see them again, to be whole again. She, for all her brains, all her genius, had not even stopped to think of the possibility that her future would no longer exist.

It is laughable, really.

So she laughs, she clutches her stomach and laughs because what else can she do?

Sakura has done what she has always done; what was needed. And once again, like every other time, there is nothing but black at the end of the tunnel. No light exists for her.

She is to blame for her own destruction, her own crumbling.

“You can come out,” Sakura’s voice calls out and Shisui grins.

He steps from the shadows, two mugs in hand as he comes to sit next to her, offering her the drink. She takes it without hesitation but swirls it before sipping from it, Shisui watches as her eyes light up just a little bit.

Hot cocoa with peanut butter. He had noticed, the last time the clan had it, that she’d snuck four mugs worth.

If Sakura was surprised he noticed, she didn’t show it. She was like that, a one way mirror, giving nothing away even as she saw everything.

“Did you want something, Shisui-san?” She twitches as he scoots a little closer, the fireflies floating around the backyard. “Or did you just want some company?”

Shisui smiles boyishly, tilting his head back to look at her, “Heard that Minato-sama called you into the Hokage’s office again.”

“You mean you heard from Genma, who told Itachi while on their date, who then told you that the Hokage summoned me for the fourth time this week.” Sakura snorts, taking a long drink from her mug. There's a little foam on her upper lip that he fights to not wipe away. “He and his wife keep trying to convince me to let them look at the seals I used.”

Shisui pauses, eyes trained on Sakura as she looks to the sky, head leaning back. Her hair has grown out a little, more fuzz on her head than anything, she looks more alive, well fed. Deep bags under her one visible eye, three nasty scars dissect her face and the rest of her body isn’t any better.

She is the most beautiful, most terrifying, most devastating thing he has ever seen.

“The seals you used…”

“To go back and hop through time like a jack rabbit to save the entire world?” She asks, a wry smile on her face. “Yes, Shisui, those seals.”

He hums, leaning back on the heels on her hands, “Why don’t you just let them look?”

“They aren’t my seals to share.” Sakura half snaps, shoulders curling in, her body strung tight. “Naru— my friend was the one to draw them out, I just figured out the last bit of it. Plus, there is no reason why they need to see those seals.” Her tone sharp, unyielding almost pleading.

Shisui stays quiet until Sakura begins to slowly relax. She gets like this sometimes, tense and defensive. As if trying to convince herself rather than him of her deeds. He knew better than to push, he knew that she had gone through more than anyone would ever go through.

The way Ibiki and Inoichi look at her with the utmost respect can verify that. The way Kakashi and Rin and Obito have gone out of their way to greet her, to help her speaks volumes.

He takes a drink from his mug, studying the stars winking above them. “Hey Sakura,”

“Yes?” She sounds oh so weary. His very soul aches.

“Thank you, for everything.” He doesn’t dare look at her, barely hearing himself over the pounding of his heart. “You don’t talk much about what happened but I know, I can tell that it was horrible. And thank you for saving us, the world.”

She had lost everything, everyone. In that future that she had protected them from Sasuke died, Itachi died, he was dead. He could only imagine what the ruins of that world looked like. He could only imagine what Sakura had to do to survive.

Sakura’s fingers are cold, freezing as they brushes the back of his hand. Shisui fights a shiver, the trail of goosebumps, the thrill. “Oh, oh Shisui.” Her voice is heartbreaking and full of nothing but steel. “I would never allow anyone to endure that. You will never have to endure that, I made sure of it. Never. No one will. I promise.”

Her hand draws back as she brings her knees to her chest, eyes far away and breathes quick. And Shisui, he doesn’t know what comes over him as he scoots even closer and carefully wraps his arm around her strong shoulders, drawing her closer.

And. And Sakura, she allows it. She moves to his side, not quite leaning but touching.

“Are you happy here?” Shisui finds himself asking after long minutes of silence. Sakura’s breath evened out and she sits with her chin on her knees.

Her eye flits to him, weighing and heavy. She looks at him and Shisui cannot help but see the age, the ancientness that has taken root. He wants to pull out the misery within her, wants to hold her tight enough that she will never fall apart without somewhere there to catch the pieces.

He wants to love her, he wants her to let him love her.

“No.” Sakura whispers, as if her unhappiness in a world that does not know her, that has done nothing for her is such an awful, wretched thing. “I miss everyone.”

Shisui cannot say anything so he does what he does best; what he wants.

He stays with her, arm resting on her shoulders and slowly, Sakura allows herself to lean into his side.

Around them, the night settles and the crickets chirp. The heavens had nothing to do with Haruno Sakura, with their Savior, coming to them. No, Sakura is the catalyst of this, of this paradise they now all reside in.

If anything, she is the heavens themselves. And it is about time someone tells her that, shows her that.

Sakura sees them for the first time in the five months she has landed in this new future. Itachi invited her to meet his genin team. Itachi, the man who had once been a mass murderer, is now a mednin and a jounin sensei.

Shisui joins her because of course he does, he has been the one constant throughout this entire ordeal. The Uchihas are nothing like she thought they would be. The Uchihas are everything she hoped they would.

They are loving, friendly, welcoming, and thankful. Mikoto is nothing but heaven sent sunshine and cloud soft embraces, Fukago is nothing but a deep rumbling laugh and fond looks.

No one is the same, nothing is the same.

Shisui is there though, at her side, at her back. She trusts him, gods, she trusts him. Despite her better judgement, despite everything. Sakura trusts Shisui.

So, Shisui joins her as she takes to the roofs and to training field 7. She’s finally been cleared for the mission roster and given her jounin blues. Though, Sakura has yet to decide if she even would enjoy going on missions.

Maybe with Shisui.

But she does not think she has a taste for violence anymore, for killing. Maybe she'll spend her days with Kakashi's dogs and holed up in the libraries. Maybe she'll visit Gaara or Chojuro.

She had yet to meet Tsunade, who had been hunting for her since Minato (the bastard) had let it slip that Sakura was in possession of the rinnegan and the byakugan seal. Shisui is exceptionally good at playing discractor as Sakura flees to rock in a corner until he finds her. He's good at that, holding her, letting her breathe, allowing her to find solace within his arms and his space.

They step onto the training fields and Sakura freezes mid step to watch as Sasuke, Naruto, and Sai (oh, oh Sai. Sweet Sai, oh.) attack in perfect sync.

They’re fourteen if her math is correct.

They move smooth and swift, nonverbal communication as if they had been working like this for years. It's beautiful, really.

Something ugly claws at her heart, catching on an already scabbing part to rip open a new wound. Simply another reminder that Sakura is not needed. She never was.

It's laughable, really.

Shisui’s fingers massages the sides of her neck with his fingers, the spot where her skull and neck meet. “You’re tense.”

“They have beautiful teamwork.” She chokes out.

He looks at her, long and open, “We can go home, if you want.”

Shisui’s good at that t00, the open ended question, the way of making her not feel trapped. He's too perceptive for his own good, she has yet to tell him anything except what is on record. But, but. He knows. He knows of Kakashi, of Naruto, Sasuke, and Sai. It is both a relief and a terror. “No.” She manages, curling her hands. She is Haruno Sakura. She has faced the impossible her entire life. Ghosts are nothing compared to gods.

At least, that is what she tells herself.

“I’ll be fine.” Sakura glances up at him, licking her lips. He watches the movement before his eyes flit back up hers and he offers one of her favorite smiles. The one where his dimples are visible, where she can see the small chip of his front tooth and the way his top canin is a little crooked.

Itachi calls the spar minutes later, the boys slumping onto the ground and breathing heavily. Sakura offers a small smile as Itachi nears them, waving a hand in greeting.

“Ah, Sakura-chan.” He grins, then looks to Shisui, dry amusement clear in his tone, “Shisui.”

“You’ve trained them well,” Sakura praises, watching as Naruto (oh gods, Naruto with his big blue eyes and blonde, blonde hair) pulls a limp Sasuke (a Sasuke who laughs freely, who smiles, and is loved) onto his feet, Sai huffing a chuckle from the ground.

Itachi practically beams at the praise, “They are very talented. And you would like to meet them, yes?”

Shisui’s thumb traces the bumps of her spine and Sakura is reminded that she has forged herself from the ashes of her friends, that she is borne from war and steel. She can do this. Shisui is here and she can do this. “Yes, I would love to, Itachi.”

Shisui’s hand burns through her clothes as they follow Itachi, the boys immediately catching sight and freezing at the sight of them. Sakura will never admit it out loud that she has been avoiding any and all people from her past (present? future?).

One look at Ino, whole and happy and sassy, and Sakura had almost gone insane. And then Shikamaru and Chouji, all together, all smiling. Gods, Sakura had fallen to her knees at the sight. Such grief, such loneliness—

She’s better now. She is.

“Team 7.” Itachi says, “This Haruno Sakura, and you already know Shisui.”

Silence.

Sakura shifts under the wide eyed gazes of the boys, the men she loved (loves?) with her entire being. “It is a pleasure to meet you,”

Naruto recovers first because of course he does. And he smiles at her, he smiles at her and Sakura wants to claw at her skin and cry. Shisui intertwines their hands, as if sensing that urge.

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto!” He’s fourteen and he's alive and he’s happy. He isn’t out of the village, he’s here because he has a clan, he has a family. “Is it true that you’re the Savior?”

Sasuke smacks him in the back of the head with a scowl, “Be polite, dobe.” To Sakura he offers a bow, “It is pleasure to meet you, Haruno-san. I am Uchiha Sasuke.”

Sakura’s lips twitch despite herself. Never, not once, did Sasuke ever bow to anyone. He had always been arrogant, but here? Now? It's laughable, really.

She glances to Sai and he isn’t as pale as he once was, his cheeks are full of color, his eyes brimming with life. “I am Senju Sai, Haruno-san.”

And. Sakura pauses at that. Senju Sai, huh. Perhaps she'll have to face Tsunade sooner than later. The thought added to the dread filled pool in her stomach. But. But, she could do it. Maybe.

“It is very nice to meet you all,” She croaks and then offers a very brittle smile. “And Naruto-kun,” She fights a shiver at the honorific. “That information is S class, but find me when you make jounin, hm?” And for a moment she could pretend that everything was okay and she was teasing her Naruto. Just for a moment.

Much to her amusement, all three boys pout, looking to Itachi who shrugs, “You heard Sakura, now, let’s see formation Alpha but reverse.”

The boys groan and Sakura can’t help the smile, a smile with teeth.

She can feel Shisui’s eyes on her before she even turns to look at him. Her body is shaking, Sakura realizes blankly but Shisui still holds her sweating hands, squeezing ever so slightly. “Ready to go?”

Sakura swallows, staring up at him, studying him. And oh, she is so tempted to uncover her eye, to memorize his face. “Yes. Let’s… let's go home.”

He wakes to warmth pressed against his chest, warm breaths against his neck. Their legs are tangled, her arm thrown over his side and brushes against the bare skin of his back. Both of them are missing their clothes, Sakura preferred being able to feel the skin on him, the brush of flesh between them.

What they have, it is something deeper than any type of physical act. No, what they have… well, Shisui can not put it to words. There are no words. There will never be words.

It is rare for Sakura to sleep soundlessly and through the entire night. Shisui kisses her forehead, above her seal, on one of the many scars of her face. She doesn’t stir except to shift ever so slightly, hugging him closer.

And if Shisui’s heart melts, no one else is there to see the absolute brilliant smile on his lips.

“Sakura,” He murmurs because if she doesn’t get up soon, she’ll miss her lunch with Ibiki (who gets very grumpy when his time with Sakura is cut short), “Sakura.”

She grumbles, limbs tensing for a moment, a single breath before melting once more. “Shisui,” Her voice is rough with sleep, the sound swirls and dances around his bones. “G’mornin’.”

Shisui laughs, a soft push of air, as Sakura leans back to peer at him, both eyes uncovered as she studies him, the look like a physical caress. “Good morning.” He whispers, kissing her forehead once again.

“What time is it?” She murmurs, eyes drooping closed.

“You’ve got about an hour before Ibiki comes knocking.” Shisui chuckles.

Sakura snorts, pulling away to stretch her arms above her head, arching her back in the way that Shisui can admire every muscle, every scar, every part of her. “Then I better get up,”

“Or, you could always stay,” Shisui cajools, to which Sakura only laughs. The sound is beautiful and full and makes his heart beat a little faster.

“The last time I canceled on Ibiki was when I had to help Itachi with his and Genma’s wedding plans, and he sent little Terror Ino after me for a week.”

Shisui cracks an even wider grin, “Well, at least you got some nice clothes out of it.”

Laughing again, Sakura leans down to kiss him, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Go on,” Shisui shoos, making a little gesture with his hand. “Have fun, I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

She cups his face, thumbing the sharp of his cheek bone before leaning forward to kiss him again, "I love you." Then. "I am glad that my suffering brought me to you, that I landed here."

"I love you." He returns, barely a whisper as he brushes hair behind her ears. His heart beats for her, cracks and aches and swells. All for her. "There will never be a time that I will not love you. There will never be a time where I do not see you and see everything you are, everything you have done."

The sky is sunny and the spring beautiful as Sakura, the very heavens themselves, mouth splits into a brilliant, blinding smile.

(Sakura has crumbled and broken, she has fallen apart over and over. She has always known how to put herself together, until she couldn’t.

But Shisui, oh Shisui, he has always been readily available with glue and tape. He will always be there to hold her together with his bare hands, ready to bleed for her, with her.

She has given and given and given. He is willing to give everything back to her tenfold.

It is the very least she deserves, the very least the world can gift her. Shisui will always be willing to give more.)

#silly things from silly friends #i hope you like it anon!!! thank u again :'')#shisaku #a shared pen

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sichengtual · 3 years

Text

jihoon had never really felt the need for a travel buddy, until he finds himself alone in europe on christmas night. cheers to long lost friends and warm strudels!

— pairing: lee jihoon x reader.

— au: friends to lovers, writer!jihoon.

— genre: fluff.

— word count: 1864.

— song: we all fall in love sometimes — elton john.

this is for linh, from your tct secret santa! i really enjoyed writing this for you, and i hope you’re having a merry christmas and some very happy holidays!

The scene in front of him is almost a perfect one. Sitting down in the middle of a cheery café, Jihoon can’t help but wonder what it would take to complete the picture.

There’s a strong scent of freshly brewed coffee rising from his cup, meeting his nose in the form of thick, creamy wisps of warm steam. He can see them clearly in this lighting; soft, color-tinged light coming from the stained glass lamps that almost cover the entire roof, illuminating the entire place like a sort of luminous kaleidoscope. Just like every Christmas night (according to a bright red flyer pasted on the door), a live band plays instrumental covers of famous festive pieces, accompanied with the occasional singing of the clients. There’s the distinctive sound of an espresso machine mixing in with the music, all blending together with happy cheers and excited conversations.

The place was nothing fancy; full of small families and large groups of friends. Everyone is happily drinking from a colorful assortment of cups that assured each and every one of the clients held a different one, including Jihoon’s pastel blue mug, and snacking on the varied home-made pastries.

In the end, the only person Jihoon could see sitting alone in the vivid establishment is himself. Everyone around him is talking loudly to one another, laughing at inside jokes in words he can’t really understand if he’s not actively focusing on it.

He can see people passing by from the large window in the opposing wall, the stars in the night sky shining bright over their heads, and it strikes him: he’s by himself, in a foreign country, being alone in all the possible senses of the word. There’s really not much he can do except sip on his coffee and write along in his notebook, listening to the music and occasionally looking up to appreciate the carved wood decorations laid all over the cabinets.

He had, much to all of his friends’ dismay, hopped on a plane in an effort to cure his writer’s block with a bit of foreign inspiration, looking for new, exciting people that could somehow inspire new, exciting stories. And he had been successful, or at least effective, no matter how much he wishes he could have someone to share a cup of coffee with in the middle of a bursting restaurant.

“Jihoon? Do you mind if I join you?” He hears, and can’t help but think of the irony behind his last thought and the incoming question.

The voice comes to him like a flashback from his past: from breaks spent together in highschool, sharing snacks while sitting down on the staircase. It’s soft as he thinks back of a childhood spent together but an adulthood spent apart, of old friends separated by the harsh passing of time.

“The waiter said there aren’t any free tables left, but since we’re both alone, I thought we could share. He offered me a place at the bar, but it’s right next to where the band is playing. ”

He’s not sure what to answer, because he’s not even sure what to think. He’s surprised, wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights as he looks up at you, recognizing you as he thinks of how different you look.

“Alone?” Jihoon asks, finally finding his voice as he closes his notebook. “How did you know?”

“I saw you through the window,” the voice adds. “That… sounds weird, sorry. What I mean is I was waiting to get in and saw you while I was in the queue. A table for one is not that hard to recognize.”

Jihoon nods. “Sit down, it’s alright.”

And so you do, looking all over the place as you do in an attempt to take everything in. Because honestly, your surroundings are a lot to process when you think of all the colors, sounds and scents mixing in like some sort of surrealist artwork you still don’t understand. You try to divert your eyes from the guy sitting in front of you, his platinum blonde hair falling over his face as he looks down and writes in his notebook.

“I’ve never been here,” you comment.

And Jihoon looks up, because even though you had asked to accompany him at the table, he wasn’t really expecting a conversation. He always welcomed one, though.

“Me neither,” he says. “I’m just here on vacation.”

“Yeah, me too,” you answer.

“On the holidays?”

“Well, what a better place to experience the season’s magic than getting to travel the world, don’t you think?”

The waiter arrives. Following your old friend’s advice, you order a latte and a warm apple strudel (the latter being a suggestion from the waiter because, after all, it was the house specialty). Jihoon gets a refill for his coffee and a pastry just like yours before the waiter walks away after being called to another table.

“Are you writing?” You ask, pointing to the small notebook as you take off your scarf. It’s burning hot against your neck now that you’ve finally found refuge from the cold.

Jihoon nods. “I’m working on a story. That’s the reason I’m here.”

“A Vienna love story?”

“Could be. I… still don’t know the route it will take,” he confesses. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the waiter finally passing your order to the baristas. “I’m just jotting down ideas as they come to me.”

“You always found inspiration in the strangest of places,” you say. Jihoon smiles at the words, a soft laugh accompanying them. “A whole different country, for example.”

In all honesty, Jihoon had never thought he’d ever see you again. You had moved away for college and never really met up again, both of you way too busy with your own lives to find some middle ground. Or even look for it. He had buried himself in trying to write the next big literary classic, and you were completely dedicated to doing your own thing. In the end, it had all seemed way more demanding than trying to catch up with the person that used to steal your blueberry jelly-beans when you were kids.

You look away from him as your coffee arrives. The moment you set your eyes on it you’re happy you listened to Jihoon’s advice, the creamy foam on top showcasing a clearly drawn tulip. You’re also met with a steaming, puffy bun covered in fine powdered sugar, some of it instantly melting as a product of the heat.

“I never expected to find you here,” you comment as you empty a small packet of sugar into your coffee. “I mean, no one expects to find their old childhood friend while vacationing in Europe, but still. It’s a nice surprise.”

And he agrees, because out of his entire trip, seeing you here had been what had taken him by surprise the most. It almost felt like going back in time, or being in an alternate universe, following a completely different timeline. Somehow, being with you inside a small, quaint café in downtown Vienna feels like a big what if, completely different from the route your lives had taken.

It seems like a story told by a different narrator, actions improvised and producing an entirely different outcome. And it feels nice.

“It’s weird,” he says. He takes a sip of his coffee, feeling the warm beverage travel down his throat, soothing it. “I don’t know if it will sound crazy, or just extremely weird, but it almost feels as if time hasn’t passed at all.”

“What, are you still stuck in the marvelous nineteen’s?” You joke. He smirks in your direction as a retort to your words.

“It just feels way too familiar, even when it’s entirely different,” he adds.

“It’s just us having been good friends, once upon a time,” you say. “I guess the bond still exists, even if it’s buried deep inside.”

You notice him staring as you bite into your strudel, but you don’t really make anything out of it, because as he looks at you under the colorful light, he knows what the what if refers to. What if he had told you how he felt back then? How we was completely in love with you, knowing you like the back of his hand and thinking he really could see himself sharing his life with you as he always had.

“Oh, I read your book when it came out last year!” You comment excitedly, once you’ve swallowed down the treat. “I can’t believe I was childhood friends with this generation’s Shakespeare.”

Jihoon laughs, feeling the blood rising to his cheeks. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, it was amazing!” You continue. “You were always so amazingly talented. Even my mom read it, and you know the only things she ever reads are the nutritional tabs when she goes grocery shopping.”

“God, do you remember going grocery shopping with your mom, though?”

“You were always her favorite, she kept buying you those chilli powder candies in exchange of you backing her up with her choice of chips.”

“I can’t believe I agreed on buying family-sized sour cream chips only on the promise of tangy chilli powder candies.”

And he laughs. He laughs, wholeheartedly, throwing his head back as he feels a weight finally being lifted from his shoulders. He laughs, to his entire soul’s content, for once being able to get lost in the feeling of it. It’s a feeling he knows, a feeling he misses, and it feels like coming home. Somehow, despite being miles and years away, your smile has brought him back to days spent in the sun, basking in the warmth of the summer.

He looks at you, a big grin plastered on both of your faces, a direct aftermath of the laughter, and he can’t help but feel like he’s just been given a second chance. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in coincidences, but as you look back at him, smiling as wide as your face allows, it almost feels as if the entire universe has conspired in reuniting you, once again, on Christmas night in a foreign country.

The band begins to play a very familiar song, one he can easily recognize even when the words sung are not ones he understands. But it speaks of home, and of love, and it’s finally, once and for all, something he can be completely sure he’s feeling.

And so he opens his notebook, his pen rolling effortlessly over the thick, creamy paper as he writes down the title of his next novel, undoubtedly his biggest hit to date. His first ever dedication, completely inspired by the moment he’s sharing with you. And the moments he hopes will come.

It’s a tale of two lovers separated by the cruel will of life, finally finding each other a thousand moonlights since their ways had parted. It’s a tale of hope, of love conquering even with the odds completely not in its favor. It’s a tale of luck, after all, of second chances finally allowing for happiness.

He smiles when he reads the words.

Coffee, Vienna, and love regained.

#tct secret santa #svtsource #caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenario #seventeen scenario #woozi scenarios #jihoon scenario #seventeen x reader #svt scenarios #svt fluff #woozi fluff #svt scenario #svt x reader #woozi x reader #mar.writing

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Family Don't End with Blood Transcription

Family Don't End with Blood Transcription [twitter version]

Jared: So, in Supernatural, our character Bobby Singer played by the wonderful Jim Beaver has a quote, “family don't end in blood”.

Jensen: You know, it's one of the many, kind of, mottos of-of Supernatural and it is the family that you choose and it is the people that you care about and that you fight next to and that you fight to save. And that inspire you. And that push you.

Singer: No, I think definitely the family was going to be a theme right from the beginning. I mean the Pilot story was and- and whatever the mythology of season one was- was, you know, the search for dad.

Dabb: You'll watch the first few moments of the Pilot and it very clearly plants this flag about what it is. It is a family show.

Misha: Like who's your clan and who are the people you care about the most? And obviously, two orphaned brothers couldn't care about anything in the world more than one another, but they envelop this community of people who also care about them and one another. Alex: Sam and Dean and Cas and Jack and these host of characters are kind of... with loss forced to reassess what family is, and what I love about the show is they kind of build their own version of that.

Jared: There's so many characters along the way that Sam and Dean treated as they would treat each other. Dabb: I think that was a core part of this, because Sam and Dean are two guys that, because they define everything by family, they're always looking for a family.

Jared: You know, not everybody out there has a wonderful family life as far as their- their blood relatives.

Dabb: Sam and Dean come from a very dysfunctional family. Their father suffered this great, you know, world shattering tragedy and really spent the entire rest of his life trying to get revenge. And unfortunately, Sam and Dean came second to that.

Dabb: So when they got to be an adult, and I think a lot of people that come from dysfunctional families find this... is it becomes less about the family you're born into and it becomes about your family by choice.

Jensen: When you find someone that's willing to fight alongside you for what you collectively believe is the right thing, then it instantly makes you brothers and sisters in arms. And that's exactly what these two brothers found. They found other brothers and sisters in arms.

Singer: Bobby really served as a, you know, a father figure. One thing we always tried to do is that if we had a guest character that really kind of hit the mark, we would say oh, you know, we got to keep going with this- with this person. Bobby, that, character is certainly one of them.

Beaver: If you're walking the walk, and not just talking the talk, I think probably respects that immensely and- and he sees that in Sam and Dean.

Buckner: Crowley, Charlie, Jack, Rowena... all these people had a commonality. I mean, they were all alone in their own little universes to a- to an extent.

Singer: When Misha showed up... and created the- the Castiel character, we knew we had something special.

Misha: It's been such an interesting arc with the character of Castiel on Supernatural.

Jensen: You know sure the story at the core was- was about these brothers, but it was also about this- this ragtag gang of fighters.

Samantha Smith: Most hunters are solitary. It’s lonely. And, when they can connect with other people who understand their pain and their life and their dedication and their purpose, there's going to be a bond there.

Jensen: I'm thankful for, not only the characters and how they were written and how they affected the Winchester's, but also for the actors and actresses that have portrayed them, because they too have become family with Jared and I. And they are- they're part of this crazy circus that is supernatural.

Dabb: Jared and Jensen are both excellent actors, but I think their biggest achievement on this show is the example they were able to set for everybody. And you know, it's kind of a famous story, but Eric Kripke sat them down, you know, the first season we're like, “This is your show. You guys set the tone of this show.”

Kripke: They're bringing so much more to it than I ever could have written, in their grounding it and they're making it real. And it's clear you watch these guys, and they're smart guys, going through this story and I'm-I’m thrilled.

Dabb: Both Jared and Jensen are capable of carrying a show on their own. As they now will go off and do, I'm sure. The fact that we could get them together for this period of time- again, I don’t know that’s something you are going to repeat on a TV show for a while.

Buckner: They-they really are quite incredible. Jensen learned to tap dance for an episode... I keep hearing the phrase “once in a lifetime” and probably so.

Dabb: To get two guys at this caliber who are leading men to come in and do that job into it so well, and so thoughtfully- again I-I said it earlier, but I don't think I'm gonna find that again in my career.

Jensen: That's the crazy thing about being on a show this long and- and not just being on a show this long, but being with a large- a large majority of our crew has been with us either from the beginning 15 years or they've been with us 12 years, or 10 years, or eight years.

Jensen: That's a long, long time for these professionals to be in one- to be on one job.

Singer: Our set was always loose. The crew felt part of the family. They were in on the joke. The guys were always great to the crew, had great respect for the crew.

Sheppard: Truly great people all at the peak of their abilities. Some great, great wonderful writers, some extraordinary producers over the years, the various showrunners from Kripke at the beginning, to Sera, to- to Jeremy, to Andrew. It's been an amazing journey.

Misha: I've just been both grateful and inspired to be around a crew like this. We laugh so much and I-I know that Jared and Jensen and the producers all agree, we wouldn't be here if the crew of Supernatural wasn't the crew that it is.

Alex Calvert: I came into this show relatively late compared to everybody else.

The relationships that I've seen at work and away from work are incredible. People have started families. People have had kids on the show. You know, I think these people are-are gonna be in each other's lives forever because of this bond that they formed.

Dabb: This is a show where assistants have gone on to write scripts.

This is a show where crew people have gone on to direct. It's a show that has tried to be supportive to people who show that passion and that work ethic to get up there and do it. I certainly have felt supported. I mean, I-I went from a staff writer to running the show and you know, so obviously I felt very supported (laughs) in kind of my goals.

Jared: You know, I've-I’ve met my wife, mother of my kids. I met one of my groomsmen. I met a ton of dear friends, and I have a new extended family, our SPN family.

Jared: I'm honored and flattered and grateful that I got to be a part of that journey.

Alex: I think the- the overwhelming thing that I'd like to express for me and I think for a lot of people on the show that maybe don't get a say, which I want to represent, is the crew and the people that build the show and paint the show.

Alex: You know, costume to show and- and are here everyday working on it. I think a lot of it is just gratitude and thankfulness that- that we get to do what we do.

Dabb: On the writing side of it here in Burbank, that's always felt like there's a family atmosphere. I feel it's a great gift where we work with so many people that are both talented and professional.

Buckner: They- a lot of laughter in that room. I remember a tabletop strewn with toys, and play-dough, and slinkies, and etcha-a-sketches, and blocks that got played with endlessly. I know there's a whole wall covered with index cards with various, either funny, pointless, or stupid, things that the writers have said over the course of many, many, many meetings that's tacked up on a wall. And remember just a lot of give and take and a lot of feelings of safety in that room. It was maybe the largest production office I've worked in. The tiki bar in the middle of the office, always laid out with cakes or whatever for birthdays.

Eugenie: We were a community. We were a brotherhood. We were a sisterhood. And, that kind of was the way everything was run.

Buckner: One of the writers I remember once, had major surgery and had to come to work in sweats, a really loose fitting stuff. So a lot of the writers showed up in PJs as a-as a sort of show of solidarity. So there's just lots of ways that people supported each other.

Dabb: And I just feel incredibly lucky to have worked with, number one with Bob Singer because I've worked with him for 15 years now. It has been the most rewarding... partnership, mentorship, whatever you want to call it, of my professional life. In terms of being able to learn from him.

Jared: His involvement in the series was so necessary from day one. He can walk on set, look at me, not really saying anything, just give me a face, and I'm like got it. And that's built over time.

Singer: I come in with a plan, but it's not chipped in stone and then, you know, lots of times, you know, the guys would have ideas. Sometimes I would accept them readily. Sometimes, we had to talk about them, but there was always this mutual respect.

Jensen: He has been just this... Yoda character for our show. I call him my confident captain. He's just- he's been- he's been the real compass of this- of the show for so long.

We have come together in times of crisis. We've lost several of our crew members. We lost Yap. We lost Matt Riley. We lost Kim Manners in Season 4.

Singer: Kim was a great guy and a great director. Everybody responded to his talent but also to who he was.

Jared: He used to say, you know, we're not curing cancer, and I spend more time with you than I do my wife, my kids, my dogs. So, if we're not having a good time, then what are we doing?

And so we tried to make sure that we kept it light and that we all realized like hey, we're putting on makeup and playing pretend for a living.

Sheppard: I came into a couple of episodes, with a show that Kim Manners told me I really needed to do someday because I would really enjoy it and I'd love the boys. And he was right. He was absolutely right.

Singer: The hardest part of season four was- was losing Kim. And I think the… the best thing we could say about losing Kim was that we never replaced him. I didn't feel like anyone should have that job other than- than Kim. So, you know, that was hard.

Jensen: I'm not quite sure when the-the phrase was coined, but the SPN family, as the- the fandom is- is lovingly known as. What we are on set as a crew is now reflected in- in what we see as a fandom.

Misha: The SPN family, Supernatural family. I've seen so many instances of people gathering together to go support a Supernatural fan.

Misha: It's so lovely and inspiring and I-I-I honestly, you know, hope that that could serve as a template for how greater society works.

Buckner: When these guys were feeling for each other, or for other characters, or when they were afraid, or, you know, when they loved somebody, it just radiated off the screen, and the fans really picked up on that.

Jared: I know several of the fans personally and care about them deeply. And it's neat to talk about a shared passion. Man, I love Supernatural too. Like, I love the storyline too. I like that episode too. Like let's talk about it.

Jensen: We have this unique situation with our show where we're able to do these fan conventions and we do them quite often and it gives us an opportunity to get in front of a lot of these people and have honest real conversations with them face-to-face. And that's, in my opinion, that's helped shape the show.

Buckner: And this is not just limited to the United States. It's a worldwide thing. I mean, there are these conventions held, you know, everywhere in the world.

Eugenie: The fans are so polite. They're- they're very respectful of each other's appreciation of the same show they appreciate. It's like we're all in this together.

Alex Calvert: I can tell you that the people that I've met and that have been affected by the show and the fans of the show will- will tell you a hundred times over that this is not the end, that this goes on forever.

Singer: They've bonded over this show. And-and have created their own Supernatural family. And have a tremendous respect for what we do, but respect for each other.

Just a motivation of why we wanted to always keep the show going and keep it fresh was not to disappoint the fans. We certainly didn't want to disappoint them, because we didn't want to disappoint family members.

Dabb: There's nothing I won't miss. This has been, creatively speaking, an incredible gift.

Buckner: Just be able to go to work and have that kind of freedom and not dread going into a place.

Jensen: We love the show. We love the story.

We love these characters. We love the- we love the people that we make this show with. I hope and I believe that that translates on camera.

Eugenie: You know, there's always reruns. I'll always be able to see Sam and Dean.

Alex Calvert: I think everybody loves that- that Sam and Dean, you know, can go through hell together literally, and give each other a big hug at the end of it and know that they're gonna be alright because they have each other. I think that's a really beautiful concept of the show.

Singer: That bond is really, I think, you know, the heart and soulless show, and what gave us the longevity that we had.

Misha: I also genuinely hope that the supernatural family is something that carries on past the end of the shooting of the show. I hope we can continue collectively to do good in the world and to set a good example and to be a family to one another.

Jared: Sam and Dean, much like Jared and Jensen, over the course of Supernatural were allowed to add many members to their family, and they would do anything for their family members and vice versa. This world and this journey isn't just about fighting for yourself or fighting for somebody that it'll- it'll benefit you. It's not about the glory. It's about doing what's right and taking care of good people. And I think Supernatural from day one has been able to accomplish that. [Huge thanks to Kira who helped me clean this up!!]

End of the Road Special Transcription Winchester Mythology Transcription

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