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therivergirl · 2 years

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Title of the one-shot: Three Guys in Green and one Green Guy.

AKA, Louie, Gladstone, Gyro and Jose team up to solve a wery weird isssue.

Summary: You know how when you have artist block or writer's block you write or draw ridiculous things? Well, when Gyro is having an inventor's block, he creates ridiculous things. And when Beagle Boys steal said ridiculous invention, things could go sour. But Gyro knows that the McDucks and their allies will help. The only issue, the only people available to help are Louie, Gladstone and Jose. Not the most ideal team, but they will have to make do.

....

This was inspired by @citrus-wall-paint and her post you can find here. She said these four should be forced to hang out, and by golly, I made them hang out.

Work:

Louie Duck sat in the kitchen, enjoying his third first sip of Pep!. He set the can next to the first two he opened, knowing someone else was bound to drink the rest. With Uncle Scrooge and his frugality, just throwing the near-full can was never an option. Usually, he would just hand the can to Huey or Dewey and they would drink the rest, but they weren’t with him at the moment.

He was home alone and enjoying it. To some, he knew, the scene of the youngest triplet being left by himself would be sad, but he needed that time for himself. Mum took Huey to a Woodchuck meeting, Uncle Scrooge and Mrs Beakley were both at the bin while Dewey and LP were at the cinema. Webby was on a trip with the Sabrewings. With all the loudest manor residents away, Louie was enjoying a bit of peace and quiet.

Ok, he wasn’t truly home alone. After everything that happened with Glomgold and The Comb of Duchess Catsandra the week prior, Uncle Gladstone and Fethry were visiting. While Fethry joined mum and Huey, Gladstone spent the entire night out on the town and was currently sleeping in his guest room. He was hungover, Louie knew that. So, he let him sleep it off.

Besides, Louie had the latest Arcane Rangers comic to read. And maybe he could squeeze in a few of Law made easy videos on YouTube before Gladstone would wake up. And then he could probably convince Gladstone to order some food before Beakley and Scrooge returned to be party breakers. The only thing that put a smudge on Louie's morning was opening Beakbook and finding out that Mark Beaks was bailed out of the prison, where he ended up after he tried to steal intellectual property from both Gyro and Della. Beaks' social media was filled with braggy posts about being bailed out by his rich mother while Emma Glamour's was filled with posts in which she was sympathy-baiting. But, once Louie decided to just relax, read and drink Pep!, the stupidity of the Beaks-Glamour family was forgotten and he could once again enjoy himself.

“HORROR! DISASTER! EVENT OF APOCALYPTIC MAGNITUDE!” a frantic voice suddenly came from the foyer, accompanied by the sound of doors being violently opened. Louie jumped in shock, spilling the newly opened Pep! All over himself and his comic book.

“Shit!” he cursed. (Another benefit of being home alone-nobody to yell Language! at you). The intruder in the foyer kept yelling about a disaster. For a moment Louie thought it was Gladstone but, that was not his voice.

“Mr McDuck! Della! Nephews! Anyone!” the intruder yelled. From the sound of it, he was running from one room to the next. Louie finally recognized the voice.

“Gyro?” he wondered, setting the half-empty can and his soaked comic on the counter and slipping off the chair when the scientist’s head poked into the kitchen.

“Green Nephew!” he said, relief in his voice evident, “At least somebody is in the house! Now, where’s everyone else?”

“Um, who exactly?”“Your family, you little-“ Gyro stopped himself, clutching his hands, clearly trying to stay somewhat calm, “Any other inhabitant of this house?” he said through gritted teeth.Louie shrugged, “Not at home!”“I can see that, but where are they?! I have a situation on my hands, and I need help!”“Well, mum and Huey are at the Woodchuck field trip…”“Oh right, B.O.Y.D. mentioned it…”“LP and Dewey are in St Canard at the cinema with Gos and Drake, and…wait, isn’t Uncle Scrooge at the bin with Mrs Beakley?”“No, they are on an impromptu business trip!” Gyro said, frustrated, “I hoped they popped off here to get whatever they need for the trip but, apparently I was wrong! Wait, where is the girl, the pink one?”“Oh, Webby’s with Lena and her dads, they went-““Are they in town?” Gyro cut him off.“No.”“Ugghhhh,” Gyro groaned, frustratedly pacing up and down. He noticed there was a pot of coffee on the counter. Not caring if it was rude, he took a mug from the cabinet and poured some of the black liquid for himself as Louie observed, almost afraid to disturb the scientist.“HA!” Gyro suddenly exclaimed, turning on his heal, “Duckworth! Or Penumbra! Isn't Goldie O'Gilt in town? Can you get one of them?”“Penny is at work, Goldie has some meeting with a business partner, Duckworth is in the underworld, playing chess with Hades. He does that often, I guess it’s a ghost thing. What is going-”“What? So, you’re home alone? Is there anyone in this house who can help? An adult, preferably!”“Ok, Gyro-““Dr Gearloose for you, Green Nephew!”“Whatever, Dr Gearloose, what the hell is going on? If you need help, why don’t you ask someone from the lab?”“I would, but Fenton is dealing with that supervillain that robbed a jewellery store two hours ago, Manny is on the same business trip as your great uncle and 22 and Gandra is in Spoonerville, getting materials we need for the Ramrod model. Leaving just me and Li’l Bulb. I wasn’t even at the bin, I was at home, I slept in, which usually never happens. I’m trying this work-life balance thing,” Gyro air-quoted the words, “So I’m trying to get home earlier. I took this, erm, project home with me so I can do some more work before bed-““You know, healthy work-life balance usually doesn’t involve literally taking your work home,”“Shut up, Green Nephew I won’t be lectured by the child! So, I took this thing with me, don’t ask what it is, it’s classified…”“You are aware that I’m aware of much larger secrets than whatever this thing turns out to be and that I’m, like, one of the few people we know that can actually keep a secret?”“Would you stop interrupting me!” Gyro snapped.“Ok, ok, go on!”“So, this morning, I woke up, realized I overslept and then-disaster!” Gyro threw his arms out dramatically, “My invention was missing!”“Did it run away!”“Pth-pst-ba-ba-p-NO! It doesn’t have legs! Also, I have a security camera on each of my windows and I recorded Beagle Boys!”“Beagle Boys stole your new invention? And nothing else?”“YES!”“Weird. Why didn’t you call the police?”“Oh, you know how they are with my wildly misunderstood inventions! Well, not even wildly misunderstood this time just unfinished and possibly still a bit unstable in the wrong hands. And Beagle Boy hands are wrong hands! Now, tell me, is there anyone here, anyone at all, a relative, a friend, an ally, a sentient statue, I don’t care, anyone who can help?”“Well, there is-““Whoa, Gearloose-io!” came a tired voice from the door and Gyro turned, facing Gladstone Gander. The other man’s hair was dishevelled, and he sported eye circles that would put the most determined STEM student to shame, “Long time no see, what brings you here?""We've interacted last week..." Gyro grumbled."By the way," Gladstone completely ignored Gyro, "do you happen to have a painkiller on you? Oh coffee, thanks,” he said, reaching for Gyro’s cup but the scientist raised it above his head, scowling.“Aw come on, share a sip with an old friend!” Gladstone said, disappointed. Mumbling to himself, he started looking through the kitchen for anything caffeinatedGyro

turned to Louie, his face a mask of disbelief and betrayal, “You gotta be kidding me!”“Gear-man, come one, just one sip!” Gladstone pleaded, earning an incredulous glare from Gyro.“Even if I wanted to share my coffee with you before, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t give you any for that nickname alone,” Gyro said flatly "It's Dr Gearloose. Or at the very least, Gyro!".“Ok, fine you don’t want to share coffee, I’m making some for myself. Hey Green Pastures, where do you keep the coffee machine! Or the powder. The caffettiera! Turkish coffee pot! Anything!”“The coffee machine is right in front of you, you dumbass!” Gyro snarled.“Wait, that thing?” Gladstone stared at the old appliance in front of him, “Wow, I knew Uncle McMoneybags was cheap but using this old hunk of metal that is from what, 50? 60?”“It’s from the ‘86, the Brewmaster 2001, a pretty great coffee maker if I say so myself,” Gyro said, sipping on his coffee, annoying Gladstone.“Wow, ok, nerd. Can you help a guy out?”“Nope, you said, you’re making coffee yourself,” Gyro replied to him coldly, then leaned over to Louie, “Ok, Green Nephew, it’s just you and me after all. Ouch!” Gyro yelped as he felt a sharp pinch on his shoulder, “Yes, and you Li’l Bulb, sorry! Come on, let’s sneak out while the stupid one is distracted!”“Huh?” Louie stared at Gyro, confused.“I can’t handle the Beagle Boys alone, I need help! And you’re going to help me!” Gyro grabbed Louie’s arm and started pulling the boy towards the kitchen door.“What? Wait, hold on! How about you tell me what this mysterious invention is!”“It’s not really that important!” Gyro huffed.Li’l Bulb started blinking, “.. - .----. ... / .- / ..-. . -. - --- -. .. ..- -- -....- .--. --- .-- . .-. . -.. / . .-.. . -.-. - .-. .. -.-. / --. ..- .. - .- .-./, .... .. --. .-.. -.-- / ..- -. ... - .- -... .-.. .!”“Li’l Bulb! I told you not to tell anyone!” Gyro said, seeming embarrassed, “Luckily, only Hat Nephew knows-““A Fentonium powered…wait, that can’t be right!” Louie said as Gyro buried his face into his hands, it was over, his dignity was ruined, “Wow, I have to brush up on Morse code!”“Since when do you know Morse code?” Gyro muttered into his hands.“Since Beakley made us all learn it! But apparently, I have to brush up before her next test-not that I care, I just don’t want to deal with her because I think Li’l Bulb signalled the word guitar and that can’t be right!”The only answer Gyro gave was a desperate whimper.“Wait! Holy crap I got it right! It is a guitar!”“Ngghh…I’m ruined…” Gyro groaned.“Why would you make a Fentonium powered electric guitar?” Louie asked.“Better question,” Gladstone asked, having given up on figuring the coffee machine out but delighted to have miraculously found a stack of strong black tea. He was looking at his reflection in the microwave while trying to get his fringe to behave, “why are you so flustered about it, from the way you are acting I would guess it’s Fentonium powered…something much less PG! If you get what I mean!”“EW!” Gyro and Louie said and then exchanged a brief glance of ace comradery.“Back to my question,” Louie cleared his throat, “why would you make-““I don’t know! OK?!” Gyro threw out his hands in frustration, “I was having an inventor’s block!”“I still don’t see how a guitar is dangerous, are Beagle Boys singing that badly?” Louie said as Gladstone turned his attention back to the coffee making contraption in front of him.“Fentonium. Powered. Guitar.” Gyro said as if speaking to a small child, “Unstable, probably. I don’t know, I haven’t fully tested it. It shouldn’t cause too much damage, I haven’t had any incidents in a while, but I don’t want to risk it. I have no idea what I was doing, I wanted to scrap the whole thing today, but they had to choose last night, of all nights, to break into my apartment!”“Oh my god, what are they thinking! Putting Beagle Boys in a show!” Gladstone suddenly said, and Gyro blanched.“Wha-wha-what did you just say?” He looked at Gladstone who drinking tea, completely ignoring Louie and Gyro. He snapped his head as if he just

realized the other two people were still there.“Ok, so, there is this music show at the Great Duckburg Plaza. Kind of like amateur hour, where pretty much anyone can apply as long as they can sing or play semi-decently. I follow it each year, I’m waiting for their last-minute audience tickets giveaway because I get them, every year, naturally,” Gladstone said, “and they just announced that Beagle Boys of all people are competing this year!”“Let me see that!” Gyro rushed over to him.“Huh, they have pretty sweet guit-HEY! Gladstone complained as Gyro snatched his phone and looked at the Beakbook post.“Blathering blatherskite! This is bad!”“Yes, I know, it will totally ruin the vibe!” Gladstone said, looking over Gyro’s shoulder, “As far as I know there isn’t like a Bop Beagle! You know, so his songs are a bop!”“There are Blues Beagle, Bebop Beagle and Boogie Beagle, and they are not that bad but from this post, they don’t seem to be the ones that applied for the show,” Louie said, having recognized the familiar faces of Big Time, Bruiser and Burger Beagle, "It's the usual trio. And also, huh, that’s weirs, Bluescreen Beagle? I thought Mrs Beakley just made him up that one time she was training us for fighting F.O.W.L. Why add him?”“The rule is that you need a band of four members or more,” Gladstone said, “I’m pretty sure the organizer is simply a huge fan of barber quartets! Therefore, the four-member rule!”“Oh, no, no no…”“Oh come on, Gear-man! Barber quartets can be fun!”“Dr Gearloose…is your secret invention…that electric guitar?” Louie said, looking at Gladstone’s phone and seeing the guitar, a nicely made, but otherwise unremarkable instrument, that Big Time Beagle was holding.Gladstone did a spit take, “What? You really invented a guitar?”“You really weren’t following the conversation?” Louie asked.“I thought you two were pulling my leg or something!”Gyro groaned. This was a disaster.“Dr-““Yes. Yes, Green Nephew, my invention is that guitar! Happy! I can’t even call it inventing, it’s reinventing at best! I was in a bit of a rut regarding Ramrod progress and then, I had this moment of brilliant inventive inspiration! But then I forgot what I wanted to do with the guitar, told you, inventor’s block! I took it home to work on it. Tried a bunch of things, but I couldn’t find a use for it that makes sense! So, I decided to scrap the project, get rid of it first thing in the morning! I would work through the rut somehow!”“So, what does it do? The guitar?”“Well, it should help with the performance, however instead of it acting like autotune…I think I accidentally made it so it makes people think you sound good!”“What?”“So what I’m hearing is…you made a brainwashing guitar?” Gladstone asked.“It was an accident!”Louie stared at him, “How the fuck, do you make a brainwashing guitar by accident!”“I’m a mad scientist, what do you expect! And it’s not brainwashing, it just…changes your perception! I never intended on using it, ok?”“Ok, so what I’m getting here,” Gladstone said, “Is you made this crazy guitar, and now you should try to snatch it back. Why not just call the police?”“Police and my inventions don’t mix well!”“He is just terrified of his co-worker’s mum appearing!”“Do you want to risk officer Cabrera coming here?” Gyro asked, raising his eyebrow. “Mr. Former President of Louie’s Kids?”“You know what, I think that between the three, wait, four of us, can’t forget Lil Bulb, we can figure this out!” Louie concluded.“Ugh…” Gyro buried his face back into his palms. “How do I get it back?”Louie thought for a moment, “Wait!” He turned to Gladstone, “You mentioned tickets? Like one ticket, two tickets?”“Um, usually two? But I can apply my name twice. I’m sure I’d win both times. But if you want to get to the guitar, you need to have access to the performer’s lounge. And I don’t think I can just get there, with all the luck in the world. Or maybe I could, I probably could!”“I don’t need probably! I need 100% certainty!” Gyro snapped, “Green Nephew! You once schemed your way into a fancy gala, you can certainly find your

way into this place!”“Wow, Gyro-” Louie looked at him, genuinely touched.“Dr Gearloose!”“Whatever, I’m flattered! Thinking of my skills immediately! Unfortunately, I have to disappoint, if this competition is today, we have a problem. Last time things took me days, weeks to figure out and to formulate a perfect scheme to get in! This time, I don’t have weeks!”“Hypothetically,” Gyro said, “if we had those tickets, could we sneak into the lounge?”“Nuh-uh! Gladstone said, rubbing his head. He could still use a painkiller, “look, I may be the most amazing duck in the world, but I’m no spy. And neither are you and Green-Bean. If we had Webby or Mrs B. with us, it could probably work. No scratch that, it would definitely work because the guards would take one glance at Mrs B. and decide that losing their job is better than fighting her. This way, only if we get your little buddy there to sneak in.”“And how is Li’l Bulb supposed to carry the guitar out by himself? We must get to that lounge! I can’t believe I’m discussing this with you two!” Gyro shook his head, “You especially!” he pointed to Gladstone.“Hey, loose-io, I’m trying to help, am I not,” Gladstone said, somewhat offended.As a response Gyro slumped into one of the chairs, groaning “This is a nightmare…”“When is this competition?” Louie asked.“In three hours,” Gladstone said, “Oh look, I got my free tickets!”“Ok, how about, we go in and I zap all the Beagle Boys with a ray gun from the audience!” Gyro suggested, his eyes gleaming maniacally.“Yeah, I think that will definitely end up with police interfering!” Gladstone pointed out.“Ok, we have one option, the audience tickets, but we need to get to the lounge,” Louie thought out loud.Li’l Bulb blinked, “-- .- -.-- -... . / - .... . -.-- / .- .-. . / .-.. --- --- -.- .. -. --. / ..-. --- .-. / ...- --- .-.. ..- -. - . . .-. ... --..-- / - --- / .... . .-.. .--. / --- ..- - --..-- / --- .-. / ..-. --- .-. / .-- --- .-. -.- . .-. ...!”“You brilliant piece of technology!” Gyro said, “That could work!”“What, what could work?” Gladstone asked, “We’re not all fluent in Morse code here!”“Uncle Gladstone, check if they have any applications for volunteers to help out during the competition, or for contactors! That’s what Li’l Bulb suggested!”“Looking, and…nothing! There is just a last-minute application for musicians, performers.”“Where?”“Here, I just stumbled upon it! But I mean, this time it is just an accident, not my luck shining through. I mean, you must print this out and then go and have it verified in their office and…Green Bean? Why are you looking at me like that?”“Let’s just say," Louie said, putting his fingers together like an evil mastermind in a spy film, "it’s a good thing Gyro didn’t call the police!”“Whoa! You are going to forge something, aren’t you? You really are a sneaky one!” Gladstone ruffled Louie’s hair, “I’m still totally not following your plan!”“Well, there is a legal way of entering…” Louie shrugged. “And then there is the create a fake band and get in way of entering!”“Us, forming a fake band?” Gyro sounded sceptical, looking at Li’l Bulb for advice, who shrugged. It couln’t hurt. “Eh, fine, it’s not like I have many options here,” Gyro said.“So fake band and a forged application it is!” Louie said cheerfully.“Just one issue,” Gladstone pointed out, “Remember? You need four members! And I don't think they will count your tiny robot!”“What?” Gyro and Louie said in unison.“What do you mean,” Gyro asked further.“Oh, who is not listening now?” Gladstone asked, “You wondered why there is a fourth Beagle Boy there and I told you-you must have four members to apply. Because the organiser is just a huge barber quartet geek!”“That last part is just your crazy crackpot theory!” Louie said, “Or not," he said as he opened the application in PDF, "The application is requiring me to either apply as a barber quartet or as a band. If we’re a band we must have an instrument!”“Well, I can sing, real nice!” Gladstone said.“He can sing like one song and he sounds kind of decent,” Louie corrected "And it's literally

singing praises to himself.".“Hey, compared to your uncle who is in a band my singing voice is angelic!”“Pfft, that doesn’t say much, compared to Donald my singing voice is angelic,” Gyro snorted, “However, that doesn’t matter because Donald can play a guitar, a contrabass, a cello and a harmonica and probably something else I’m forgetting! So having Donald here right now would be really useful!”“Ok, I can kind of sing too,” Louie said, “I mean, I’m not going to do it on stage for two reasons. Firstly, it’s simply not my thing. And secondly, If Dewey learned I was stealing” Louie air-quoted the word, “one of his things he would kill me in my sleep and I love life.”“Yeah, Green Nephew, we’re going to get in with two subpar vocals, I thought you were the sharper than the sharpies! You just said we need an instrument!”“Hey, I’m just throwing suggestions out there!”“I mean, it is amateur hour,” Gladstone said, “we just have to not suck completely, which I think Lou and I can pull off!”“No, no we can’t, I can’t even play Do-re-mi scale on a recorder!” Louie said.“Ugh, why did I get this stupid Idea! Stupid, stupid Gyro!” The chicken started hitting himself over the forehead.“Ok, don’t beat yourself over it-literally!” Gladstone tried to stop him.Louie sat and thought, “Wait a minute! Uncle Donald’s band!”“Yeah, green Nephew, we know! But, if you haven’t noticed, your uncle is out at the sea and neither of his friends are here!”“That is not entirely correct! One is! Mum mentioned that, when she gets back from the trip tonight, she is going for drinks with José! He has a few days off from work and his last plane is landing in Duckburg! He should have landed by now! We have a musician! A good musician!”“Wait a minute!” Gladstone said suddenly, taking a sip of black tea he made for himself, “I just remembered something else! This tea is really strong, by the way! Gyro!” he turned to the scientist with a wide grin, “Do you remember college days?”“Oh no…”“Oh yes! You played the banjo back then!”Louie’s eyes grew wide, and he turned to Gyro, even Li’l Bulb seemed surprised, “What?” Louie asked. “No, I can’t see it…”Gyro sighed, “Yes, it’s true. I can play the banjo. My father taught me when I was a kid,” he said, giving up a pretence of being embarrassed. It was a fond memory. “I’ll tell you that story later,” he promised to Li’l Bulb who, having overcome his initial surprise, seemed offended to not have known this fact before.The next moment, Gyro snapped out of his nostalgia, “Wait, wait, wait. Are we really going in with as a Banjo-whatever Jose is playing now-duo, with two semi-decent vocals and a forged application? Of all the insane plans I’ve been a part of…”“Do you have a better plan?” Louie asked.“No.”“In that case, we’re going with this plan!” Louie said. “Come on, we don’t have much time. Also, let's grab some fancy clothes on our way, just in case we end up on stage somehow. I would like to avoid actually performing. We’re taking Gladstone’s car and Uncle Gladstone, you’re driving!”“But my head still hurts! Why me? Why am I even part of this plan?”“You have painkillers in the medicine cabinet in the pantry. And you’re coming because I have what is very much barely slapped together and we could use some luck. Also, you have information on this competition which Gyro and I lack!” Louie said.“Ok, that tracks!” Gladstone said, walking to the pantry to get the medicine.“Yeah, but why is he the one driving?”“Because with him behind the wheel, we’re going to get all the green lights!” Louie walked out of the room.Gyro opened his mouth to protest and then frowned, “I can’t believe I’m saying this…but I can’t argue with that logic!”…..“Ola, amigos! Come in, come in!” José invited them into the small rental apartment where he settled for a few days during the break, “Gladstone, Gyro haven’t seen you since the big battle! And Louie, how are you!”“Can we skip the pleasantries,” Gyro moved so he could avoid José’s hug.“Still not a hugger, I see. Gyro, there is no need to rush, let’s sit down-““There is quite a bit of a need to

rush in fact!” Gyro bristled. “Haven’t you heard Green Nephew over the phone?”“Gyro, por favor, acalme se!”“Pleeeaasee….” Gyro said through gritted teeth, “don’t tell me to calm down!”“Yeah, he’s been like this the whole drive!” Gladstone said.“Because you kept stopping the car to pick up 20$ that would land in front of the car!” Gyro bristled. “What’s the point of you driving to catch the green wave, if you’re going to stop every two minutes!”“Hey, you got 20$?” José asked, “I forgot my debit card in the airport and I’m practically broke till I getit back. And I need a cab or a train to get it back so...”“Sure, her you go Umbrella-man!”“Thank you!”“How about…our plan! You are a flight attendant! You should be aware of the importance of tight schedules!”“I am, amigo! This is why I try to keep it relaxed in my free time. But I can see this is important. Why don’t we talk about this plan over coffee? You can’t tell me you don’t have time for a coffee!”“Oh, I could definitely use one!” Gladstone said.Gyro grumbled, annoyed that he had to admit defeat, “Fine, you got me there. But only if you have a good blend!”“Now that is insulting! You think I would have a bad blend? Tsk-tsk-tsk!” José said, walking over to the kitchen cabinet. “Now, what is this plan of yours? Another Louie Duck heist?”“Yup, but much more improvised this time. Dr Gearloose, will you start?”“Ugh, fine! Ok so, I made this guitar, don’t ask why, I don’t know! So, I wanted to work on it, took it home. Realized in the middle of the night nothing will come of it, so I wanted to scrap it in the morning, but Beagle Boys broke into my apartment and, God I wish they stole my TV. But no! they stole the guitar. Anyways this guitar is…um…”“A mind control device, basically!” Louie said.“A-ba-ba-ba-ba! It is not used for mind control; it just makes you think that whatever music is played on it is good!”“You really are trying to insult me today!” José teased, “First you imply I would keep a bad coffee blend, then you tell me you made something that could keep me out of a job? Why would you make an instrument anyone can play and people think they sound good? What about talent, practice, passion for music?”“Oh, come on it’s not a big deal!” Gyro crossed his arms.“Not a big deal? Filho da mãe! How would you feel if I made some, some device that makes me sound scientific even if I’m spouting nonsense? If I say, electrical super-transforming nuclear projector, and people think I’m as smart as you, ey?”Gyro cringed, “Fine, maybe it is a big deal. To you!”“All the more reason to help us!” Gladstone said.“I would help regardless, what are friends for? But what do you need me to do, we still haven’t gotten to this part!” he poured coffee to Gladstone and Gyro, “Patinho?” José gestured with the pot to Louie, “Coffee?”“I’m 13...”“Si, coffee?”“Um, sure,” Louie shrugged and was given a mug that was more milk than coffee. “So, in order to get to Beagle Boys without storming their hide-out, which would not be a wise thing to do because everyone is out of town or working, and I do mean everyone, we need to get to them while they are at the competition. And they will be at the musician’s lounge. And only other musicians can get there, so we kind of haphazarded a band.”“You have a band now?” José asked in awe, “What do you play? What is your name?”“A-ba-ba-ba-ba! It’s just a today thing. Fake band. If we absolutely have to, we will play one song to get into the lounge and that. Is. It!”“And we need a fourth member!” Louie said.“And you were the only one available!” Gyro added.“Dude, cold!”“Oh, I’m not offended. It sounds urgent, I knew that you would grab whoever was available if there was anyone.”“It is helpful that you’re an actual musician, since, apparently, this application requires two instrument players and two vocals, if we’re applying as a band!”“And if we end up having to play in front of someone for any reason, having someone actually good at it, would be helpful,” Louie finished.“Gyro was not that bad on the banjo back in the day,” José said.“I haven’t played in years, I

had to dig the thing out from two separate piles of clothes when we stopped at my place before we got here,” Gyro said.“And what do you to play?”“Um, I’m singing,” Louie said, scratching his neck“Ok, so a banjo and two vocals did not expect to join such an unusual trio!”“You play an umbrella!” Gladstone frowned.“Yes, we’ll be a very unusual band. However,” he turned to Gladstone, “what do you play?”“I sing!” Gladstone said.“You too?”“Oh quit being weirded out, you sing in a band with Donald!”“Ok, ok, I just didn’t know it was a hobby for you!”“It isn’t, I usually only sing in the shower, and that still sounds absolutely amazing,” Gladstone said.“Well, now that I think, if it’s all the same to you and as long as it’s just an act, maybe I can pretend to be a vocal and one of you two can pretend to play…something! I may even be willing to lend my banjo!”“And what if someone asks us to show our work?” Louie asked, “I can’t play a single chord on a guitar, let alone a banjo!”“Same here. Also, no offence to your childhood memories, but I wouldn’t be caught dead with a banjo in my hands!” Gladstone said.“Fine, I’ll play! Because at this point, I’m desperate! I’m working with you two, after all!” Gyro gestured at José and Gladstone.“Wow, he really makes you feel appreciated,” Gladstone said, sipping on his coffee.“Eh, it’s Gyro on a bad day, what are you expecting,” Jose shrugged. “So, when are we getting to this show, what are we playing?”“We’re not playing anything!” Louie said.“Good, because it would take a while to rehearse,” Jose said, “and if anyone asks us to start playing, Gyro and I will improvise.”“I’m not great at improvising! And we won’t improvise because we’ll get in, grab the guitar and then leave!”“Ok, no playing, if anyone asks, I’ll just play a few notes and we’ll say it’s a teaser for the real deal. Now, how convincing are we trying to be? Do we have costumes, suits, something?”“We just took a formal suit each,” Louie shrugged.“Just a heads up, even my formal suit is green!” Gyro said.“Do either of us look to you like someone who would have an issue with that?” José asked.“Oh, oh that should be our name-the green team!” Gladstone said, “Or that but in Portuguese. Time Verde!”“Your accent is a tad off, but not bad!” Jose complimented.“Ok, so, filling out this form,” Louie said, “Should I put it Time Verde?”“Si! Its spelled T-I-M-E V-E-R-D-E. Not a bad theme for the four of us!” Jose said, “I usually wear yellow but I do have one dark green jacket here with me!!”“No, nope, no way! I somehow agreed of being part of team science, I’m not part of any more teams!”“You are the one who pointed out you have a green formal suit,” José said. “Oh, and since Gyro and I already have matching hats, I’ll lend you two my spares so we can all match!”“Yes, I think this is one time in history that is not on St. Patrick's day that four guys who all have green formal suits are hanging out," Louie chuckled, "At least in modern history, I’ve seen aunt Daisy’s book on fashion history and things were quite out there back in the day.”“Much more fun if you ask me,” José said, “And not today, black and white and dark blue…”“And brown, don’t forget brown!” Gladstone said.“What is wrong with brown?” Gyro pulled his vest closer to him.“Nothing, but I don’t see you wearing all brown either, Gyro,” Gladstone shrugged, “You are defying norms in the way you dress.”“Of course I do! Why would I want to blend in with the boring masses?”“Speaking of the way we’re dressing, how about an extra uniform touch?” Gladstone asked, “Red Bow ties!”“That is my thing! José is already stealing my hat thing,” Gyro said“I’m most certainly not, we have both been wearing straw hats since forever!”“Nobody is stealing my red bow tie thing!”“I’ve worn one as a kid!” Gladstone said.“I’ve worn mine since I was a toddler!” Gyro countered.“Dr Gearloose, nobody is trying to steal your thing. Well, except maybe Huey and B.O.Y.D., both are partial to red bow ties.”“Red is Red Nephew’s whole thing, it would be absurd to expect him to wear any other shade of a bow tie other

than red. So he doesn’t count. And B.O.Y.D. is an exception,” Gyro said with a warm smile.“I still wore it first, back when I was a kid!” Gladstone said stubbornly.“Well, I’m older than you, and I wore it when I was a kid. And since I was a kid before you, I wore it before you! Case closed.”“Are you really fighting over who gets to wear red ties?” José asked, coming out of the bedroom dressed in a green suit and offering hats to Louie and Gladstone.“Let’s just get dressed, get there and get this over with! And Green Nephew, you better forge that application like our lives depend on it!”“Gyro, it’s like you don’t even know me!”“It’s Dr Gearloose for you!”………Three men and one teenager dressed in green were at the performers’ entrance.“Sorry we came a bit last minute,” Jose said to the woman behind the desk, “there was a huge jam at Avian Avenue!”“Whatever,” the young pig, speaking with a pronounced midwestern accent and who seemed thoroughly disinterested with her job, said, “Just one question. Why is there a kid in your band?”“Well, see senhorita, the three of us,” he threw his arms around Gyro and Gladstone, much to Gyro’s chagrin, “are the best of friends. We always wanted to play together!”“Great, what a riveting story. I just want to know why there is a kid?” the woman asked, not sparing them a glance.“Well,” José said, but then Gladstone leaned forward, as Gyro pulled himself free from a side-hug.“Look, lady, between you and me, the kid isn’t any good. But he is my nephew, you know, I had to bring him in. See, his mother-““Yeah, I don’t care! I just have to ask about a kid if there is a kid, my boss says so because kids can only apply if they are relatives to the other performers. And he is, so it's fine” the woman said, barely glancing at the application form, “Things seem to be in order, go in! Check in with that guy!” she pointed to one of the guards.Jose repeated his story at the guard, a brown dog, but he was not as easily deterred as the woman.“Now wait for a second, when did you fill out this form?”“Three days ago, as it says!” Gyro snorted, “What, do you think we’re falsifying an application form for a music show?”“Well, now-““Hey, 20$!” Gladstone exclaimed, grabbing the guard’s attention.As Gladstone started to bend over to grab the bill, the guard reached forward as well, grabbing it, “It must’ve fallen out of my pocket!” he said, “wait, where are you going?” he called after them as the slipped into the musician lounge, “Ah, screw it as if someone would ever falsify a form to play here.”“Ok, that was close!” Gyro said, “Green Nephew, what was with the form? Why did he find an issue?”“I had, like five minutes to fill it out and make everything seem legit and like we filled it out and had it verified on time! I had to figure out how to sign the woman from their head office in the most generic way possible because I never saw her signature! But at last,” Louie grinned proudly at his quick work, “We’re in, aren’t we!”“Thanks to Gladstone quick thinking! Good work with those fake 20$!” José patted the duck-goose on the shoulder.“Yes, that was…an acceptable example of quick thinking, you have earned the tiniest possible bit of my respect!” Gyro muttered.“Huh? Oh, yes, yes…quick thinking!”“The 20$ just randomly appeared for you as they always do, didn’t it?” Louie asked flatly.“Yes, yes it did!”“And, you ruined it! Losing even that tiniest bit of respect. Fascinating!” Gyro teased.“Oh, wow, so sad to lose the respect of all-important Gyro Gearloose!” Gladstone rolled his eyes. Gyro opened his beak to retort something angrily.“Hey, hey, guys!” Louie snapped his fingers to get their attention, “focus! We’re in. How and why doesn’t matter, but" he said smugly, "It’s because I managed to forge an application form with an acceptable date on it, you’re welcome.”Gladstone wondered if he was supposed to be the responsible adult, he was the boy’s uncle after all, and tell him that, while he did a great job, forging was usually the bad thing to do. But he decided that was Donald’s and Della’s job.“Ok, we’re in. Now what?”

he asked.“Now we find the Beagle Boys, Bouncer, Burger and Big time. And also Blue Screen.”“Gyro do you see anyone?” José wondered.“Why are you asking me,” Gyro asked.“You are the tallest.”“Ugh, fine. No, that’s not them…and no, that’s just four dads in red shirts and, ah yes! I’m spotting one of them. It’s Bouncer! Big Time is next to him, he is the one with my guitar. They are dressed in blue. Why blue? Their signature colour is red! And there is one with…blue fur?”“Blue Screen. Will check with Webby if she knows why he is blue later,” Louie said, “Is ma Beagle there?”“No Ma Beagle…that’s odd,” Gyro said. “She is always with them on bigger heists, to make sure they don’t screw up!”“Yes, that is the second oddity of this entire case,” Jose said.“And the first is?” Gyro asked“Why would they steal your guitar?”“Apparently, they wanted to be in a band!” Gyro snapped.“José has a point though,” Louie said, “I was so focused on getting us in and getting the guitar back that I didn’t think about why they wouldn’t steal your TV, laptop, cash, those expensive books you have…” he frowned, “Ok, scratch that last part, Beagle Boys wouldn’t recognize an expensive book if they found one bound in gold.”“Are you implying someone ordered them to steal the guitar?” José asked.“But who would know, I’m literally the only person who knew about it, Well, me and Li’l Bulb. Nobody else, not Cabrera, not Dee or Manny, I haven’t even told B.O.Y.D”“Well, we do know that one person likes to record other people using drones and his favourite targets are those he can steal inventions from. And he was just bailed out of prison after being there for what, two weeks? After the Waddlehelper incident,” Louie said.“BEAKS!” Gyro growled, as Li’l bulb turned red and blinked in a pattern that would most certainly be censored in any Morse code speaking circle, “For once I thought I would be rid of that waste of cells for a while, but no! His mummy bailed him from jail!”“Oh, don’t mention his name around me! I was once tending the first-class section while he was on the plane. The worst shift of my career!” José said.“I don’t have any beef with him, but I’m going to scowl with you all to feel included!” Gladstone said, yawning. His hangover was not over.“So, you think Beaks was spying on Gyro, went to Ma Beagle, hired Beagle Boys to steal the guitar from him and he now, what? Wants to show off how good it works?” José asked.“No. Ma Beagle despises Beaks!” Louie frowned, “I think that the only people that despise him more than she are our family, Team Science and Glomgold! The only thing Uncle Scrooge agrees on with both Ma Beagle and Glomgold is that Beaks sucks! Why would she agree for her sons to work for him, even for one job?”“Money?” Gladstone suggested.“Doubt it,” Louie said, “I mean, I’m not saying she would never do it, but she is not here. So, that is leading me to believe Big Time, Bouncer and Burger are working behind her back! And they roped Blue Screen in because they needed a fourth guy. Also, he is one of the few Beagle Boys that is good with tech.”“Oh well, it’s a pity that we haven’t figured that sooner, before we went through this whole charade because now, our solution is simple,” Gyro said. He and Louie exchanged a smirk. “Green Nephew, do you happen to have a contact from Ma Beagle?”“Dr Gearloose, are you asking me if I have a contact of one of my family’s greatest enemies? It’s like you don’t even know me!” Louie put his hand over his chest in feigned offence, then smirked, “Of course I do! As well as a handy alias and fake Eggstagram profile that I can use to send her whatever information needs to be sent without raising suspicion.”“Perfect,” Gyro smiled deviously, handing Li’l Bulb his phone, “Li’l Bulb, you know what to do!”Li’l bulb skipped away. Less than two minutes later Louie got a video sent from Gyro’s number. It showed the four Beagle Boys laughing about having gotten a job themselves, behind Ma’s back.“Lil’ Bulb, you couldn’t have captured a better moment!” Louie said, “Aaand…send!“Who-ho-ho, who do my eyes see!” the four

suddenly heard a very familiar, very annoying voice. Gyro and Louie scowled. Jose looked like he was having a war flashback. Gladstone never had direct contact with Mark Beaks but at one point, he did own a Waddle phone. Gladstone’s phones never broke. Ever.Except for his Waddle phone. The low quality of those things managed to even surpass the effect of his luck. Which was saying a lot. And was also utterly infuriating. Also, he was still hungover, and the presence of the parrot somehow made his symptoms worse, which made him very, very annoyed.“Beaks,” Gyro said, with all the politeness he could muster. In other words, he sounded like he was greeting three-day-old roadkill.“Came to the watch the show? Or are you, oh my, you are making a band! I can’t believe this! The most ridiculous thing I’ve heard! Here let me take a picture of you, you will become a meme so fast!”“Don’t. You. Da-““And click! You are so cute like you’re going to St. Patrick's day! Well, yeah that’s right, you are Irish, right, Green Kid? Just like your great-uncle!”“Hey, we’re Scottish! Huh, I never felt the need to yell that defensively before.”“What are you doing here?” Gyro sneered, “This is a musician only area!”“But you are here, aren’t you!” Beaks laughed, “Oh right, you believe you can make a band! Usually they don’t let anyone who is not a musician here, but there is a surprising amount of things money can buy! Pew, pew, pew, pew, pew!”.“You know I really miss that lovely time two moments ago when Gladstone was the most annoying person near me!” Gyro said.“Gearloose, Green Kid, mixed-guy,” beaks said and everyone had a rare opportunity to see a genuinely offended Gladstone, “and, oh my, I remember you! You are my little Spanish plane waiter amigo!” Beaks said to Jose.“It’s flight attendant, and please, do not use the word amigo. The way you say it makes me never want to use my own mother tongue again. Also, I’m Brazilian!” Jose said with a frown.“Same thing,” Beaks said, and Jose looked like he was about to commit murder with his umbrella. “Anyways, how about a picture?” He turned to them, ready to snap a selfie.“How about not,” Gyro groused.“Too late, I’ve already snapped a picture of all five of us!” Beaks turned his attention back to his phone, “Hashtag hanging out! Hashtag amigos! Oh, you half duck half goose! You must’ve been a cute child! Mixed species children are always soo cute! Pity it didn’t hold!”Suddenly Gladstone had much more understanding for Donald’s and Della’s need to hit things. Or in this case, people. Or one person.“So, I’m assuming you saw the totally awesome team my company is sponsoring!” beaks said, ignoring the four angry, burning pairs of eyes, “The Beagle Band, yes I will make them the most viral thing! Hashtag the best band. Hashtag, I’m amazing! Yeah, we have this totally amazing deal where they got me what I needed for my newest project anyone can be a musician, you don’t even have to try, and I let them play my newest invention, The Waddleuitar!”“You mean a group of criminals you hired to rob my apartment to get to my invention?” Gyro said, somehow keeping his cool. The fact that Beaks was, only a minute ago, making fun of Time Verde was ridiculous. Gyro would never describe himself as a musician, let alone a band member. But their band, fake as it was, was certainly ten times better than The Beagle Band, “Which, by the way, that name is the worst thing I ever heard and I will invent a memory-erasing ray just to-““Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean you don’t even have to try to be a musician!” Jose cut in, holding his umbrella like a rapier, threatening to poke Beaks in the chest with it.“Hey, hey hey, I’m not the one who thought of the idea! The Beagle Boys suggested they steal something from Gearloose for me and I just figured what to steal!” Beaks said, “I also found a way to utilize the guitar! Pew, pew, pew, pew!”“So now you fully admit that you can’t come up with your own ideas?” Gyro asked, his arms crossed, still annoyed but deriving a lot of enjoyment from the interaction as well.“Worse, Dr

Gearloose, he is saying that even Beagle Boys have better ideas than him!”“Yes, I’m owning it! Hashtag be true to yourself, hashtag sharing ideas, is just like having your own ideas! Besides, you can’t prove anything! Your little guitar, or rather Waddleuitar-““Stop saying that word, it’s like nails on a chalkboard to my ears!” Gyro and Jose said in unison.“…is not patented. So it’s mine!”“You had it stolen,” Gyro said flatly, “From my apartment.”“No, the Beagle Boys stole it. I should have figured a long time ago that I can always have aid, I just have to surpass the dreaded-“A loud crash of a door being removed from its hinges cut through the room. The security guards scattered at the presence of the person in the doorframe.“MA!?!?!” came a sudden worried exclamation from the four Beagle Boys in the room as every other musician rushed to the back of the lounge or into the bathrooms and changing rooms, avoiding the rage of the short woman.“YOU THREE! HOW DARE YOU, YOU IMBECILES! YOU DISGRACES!”“Ma! We didn’t-““SHUT YOUR YAPS! WORKING WITH THAT, THAT, THAT…” even Ma beagle couldn’t think of an appropriate insult for Mark Beaks, “WITH MARK BEAKS! IF YOU WORKED WITH SCROOGE MCDUCK HIMSELF, AT LEAST IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A PROPER BETRAYAL! AND IT WOULD HURT LESS! THIS IS BENEATH US! AND STEALING JOBS FROM YOUR BROTHERS, BLUES, BOOGIE AND BEBOP BEAGLE! YOU ARE LUCKY I’M A GOOD MOTHER AND I WON’T DISOWN YOU! MOVE IT! AND LEAVE THAT INSTRUMENT THERE, NO PIECE OF TECH THAT HAS MARK BEAK’S NAME ON IT WIL ENTER MY HOUSE!”“Actually, it’s from Gearloose-““I DON’T CARE WHERE IT’S FROM, LEAVE IT!”“Yes, Ma!”“And you!” Ma beagle approached the Time Verde and Beaks, pointing her cane at the grey parrot, ignoring the presence of the other four even as Beaks tried to hide behind Gyro. “How dare you use my boys like that! They are sensitive, stupid, naïve souls, those four!”“Well, it was a good business opportunity-““SHUT UP!” Ma and Gyro both yelled.You!” she pointed to Gyro.“I’ll have you know, I had nothing to do with this! I was robbed by, erm, well, your sons and-““Heh, my sons, robbing a nerd like you,” Ma said, taking in Gyro’s lankiness, “I could be proud of them!”“Well, um…” Gyro fumbled, unsure whether this interaction was going well for him or not.“If they weren’t total wimpy idiots and only stole this? What even is this?” she shook the guitar in her hand,“Hey that is my invention that I,” gyro stopped mid-sentence, “You know what, honestly you’re right. I have no idea what I was thinking! That is the worst thing I made in my life!”“Right! I know what garbage comes from McDuck labs to the junkyard, and your garbage is usually better than this. Him wanting it,” she pointed to Beaks who was by that point cowering behind Gladstone, “I get that. He is an idiot, but I hope that the nerdiest, scrawniest nerd my biggest enemy employs would think of something better, something worthy of stealing!”“Well, heh, hate to disappoint…”“Take your dumb guitar with you,” she threw the instrument at Gyro, who caught it awkwardly“Um, actually, it’s Waddleuitar!” Mark Beaks spoke up.“No, I’m not calling it that, that is stupid!" Ma shook her head, "The invention is stupid but not that stupid! So take that dumb guitar and go!” she turned around, and tried to walk out of the musician lounge only to be stopped by the security.“Well, well, well,” Beaks said, “looks like it’s just us and-““Um, sir, I’m going to need you to come with us!” One of the security guards said.“What, but I’m Mark beaks!”“All the more reasons for you to come. She tells us you hired her sons to do the robbery!”“Yes, but they are the ones who robbed my dear colleague Gyro Gearloose here, us, both tech geniuses”“Please never refer to you and me as us in any context,” Gyro said. “And we’re not colleagues. You are simply an embarrassment to the field!”“Sir, you’re going to have to come with us! You’ve been accused of hiring robbers while on parole. That is a serious offence, and we will use force if we need to!”“Ugh, fiiineee! But I’m Tweeting bad things about you, security guard

Peet!”The security guards led the Beagle Boys, Ma and Beaks away.Louie, Gyro, Gladstone and Jose stood in shock.“Well that was…”“Surprisingly easy,” Louie said.“So, we could have just tipped Ma Beagle off this entire time, and we wouldn’t have had to go through the entire charade,” Gyro said, sounding a bit shell-shocked.“Would you believe that this was not the weirdest thing that happened to me?” Jose asked.“Well, we are all connected to the McDuck family, so it’s only natural-““No, no Gyro, I mean, outside of me hanging out with Donald and the rest of the family. At work, I’ve had weirder thing than this happen!”“So, what now?” Gladstone asked, yawning again. “My head hurts!”“Well, now I go to the lab, and I ask Gizmoduck to destroy this with a rocket launcher,” Gyro pointed to the guitar, “Or maybe I should just delete it from existence using a plasma gun. That way my shame will forever be erased!”“Ok, yeah I get that but what do we do?” Gladstone asked, “We’re still technically performers.”“I’m not getting out on that stage,” Gyro said, lifting his banjo up, “Playing this thing during college next to a bonfire was one thing. But I’m not a performer!”“I am, but I already have a band. You guys are great, but you can’t beat my Caballeros!”“And I don’t want to be murdered in sleep by my own brother for stealing his thing,” Louie said, “so, we’re leaving!”The four approached to exit, only to be met by the stage manager, “You can’t leave!”“We can!” Louie said.“No, no you can’t. By signing the application form-““We all agreed to the terms and conditions,” Louie interrupted him, “Is that what you were going to say?”“Um…yes…”“Well, according to the terms and conditions, a child can be a part of the band as long as they are related to one of the adult members. For which, you need proof. However, you have not asked us for that proof, which means, you messed up!”“If you don’t have proof, you messed up!”“Um, no. See, I have birth certificates of my entire family saved on my phone. For just this reason. I could very well show you that Gladstone and I are related. He is my maternal uncle. However, the application desk lady did not ask us for proof, so you are the one to blame!”“You should have given proof!”“Oopsie, forgetful us!” Louie said, “You know, I could have been a smuggled child this whole time, and you haven’t even checked. Suck an oversight…”“All, right, all right! Fine! You can leave!” The security guard said, “What child reads terms and conditions?” he muttered to himself.“You are leaving them just like that?” the other guard, the same one that gave them hard time before asked.“Hey, look, 20$!” Gladstone exclaimed and the security guard turned around.“Run!” Gladstone ordered and the other three birds clad in green did not have to be told twice, pushing next to the confused security guards, and leaving tha plaza, Louie taking the guitar from Gyro so the scientist didn’t have to run carrying two instruments.“Lou that was…” Jose said with a grin.“Risky! What if the woman asked you for the papers!”“Please! I had three back-up plans! And the backup backup plan that included reminding them of who my great uncle is, but you can’t always count on that, some pure uncorrupted soul could be in one of those uniforms! Therefore, I used loopholes,” Louie shrugged.“And good thing Gladstone saw another 20$!” Jose said.“Oh no, I was totally lying this time! There was nothing there!” Gladstone smirked, “But look! Hey, 20$!” he picked up a bill that landed next to him. “I need this to go to the pharmacy to buy some painkillers!”“So, Gyro, are you up for a jam session in the park?”José offered.“No, I have a day off. However, first, I really should go to the lab to have this disassembled. Wait, where is Li’l bulb? Oh no, we left him in the lounge! I’m going back for him!” He said, but then Li’l bulb suddenly ran up to them holding a blowtorch and pointed it to the guitar, melting parts of it untill in only vaguely resembled the instrument.“Where did you get that!” Gyro asked.Li’l bulb pointed to a nearby cake shop.“Well, give it back!

They need it for caramel! But good job, this is destroyed now!”“Up for a jam session now?”“What? Still no! I’m off to a museum, I promised Li’l Bulb we’ll go. He was under repair on Saturday, when I went there with B.O.Y.D. After I leave my banjo at home.”“Ugh, the museum! Why not something fun!” Gladstone said, “Also, I did not want to say anything before, but you are playing the stupidest instrument! You’re not even from the south, why banjo?”"Fenton is playing bagpipes, and he is Latino, you can learn whatever instrument!” Gyro noted.Gladstone frowned, “Ok, why are you scientists all choosing, like the lamest instruments! You with the banjo and Purple Tie seriously plays the bagpipes? Wow, talk about being lame…”“Hey, you can’t even-“ Gyro spoke up.“HIT THE DECK!” Louie jumped behind a park bench. He glanced around from his hidden position for a few moments, and then crawled back on his feet, dusting his suit off.“What was that about?” Jose asked.“You don’t insult bagpipes unless you want Scrooge to burst in with a two-hour lecture on bagpipe music history,” Louie shuddered, “I learned it the hard way!”“Yeah, Green-Bean, I know! But that is only important when he is around and, if I realized it correctly, he is on a business trip, so he can’t exactly materialize next to us!”“I’m not risking it,” Louie said, looking around the room suspiciously. “Ok, I guess it’s-““Now, where are those lads!” they suddenly heard a familiar Scottish brogue.“Gear-man? Where is that museum you were just talking to us about?”“Yes that…that sounds…fun!” Louie said, dreading the repeated lecture.“I don’t even care you are lying to care about it, you idiots, just follow me!” Gyro said, rushing off in the opposite direction from Scrooge’s voice and the rest followed.….“So, that was actually not horrible!” Louie said as the four sat on the stairs of the Museum of Technological Development “The TV room was fun!”“You are aware that the TV room, or rather, Philo Taylor Fowlsworth’ Room is actually meant to make you learn about differences of TV technology through the decades? Starting even before Fowlsworth himself, as he can’t be solely credited for the invention of the TV.”“Ok, ok, ease up on the lecture!” Louie rolled his eyes. “I’ve learned that I’m glad I live in this decade with awesome HD plasma screens and pristine picture!”“I will say, the communication section was a bit lacklustre!” Gyro shook his head, “Barely any mention of Hedy Lalark, her work during WW2 were crucial to later development of Wi-Fi!”“So, wait, without this woman, I would not be able to use the internet wherever?”“Likely not. I’m sure the discovery would have happened eventually, but maybe not by today’s time,” Gyro nodded.“Damn! The lady deserves credit! Why do I feel like you’re starting with a lecture about equality throughout history? Also, tell mum that thing about Hedy Lalark and they will have her name plastered all over. Or mum and Gandra!”“Hm,” Gyro tapped his chin, “I do like the idea of the two of them raining a storm down on the museum head for improper crediting of marginalized groups!”“The music section was severely lacking,” Jose said, “not a single theremin! Ah, qual e, they are not that unknown!”“You know what’s not lacklustre? These ice-cream cones!” Gladstone said.“No black liquorice ice-cream, though” Gyro muttered, “Disgrace. But this bitter coffee ice cream is not bad! And I do appreciate them naming the ice-cream shop after Nancy Maria Donaldson Jakreabitson!”“I can’t believe that today started with me just trying to relax and ended with listening to Gyro spouting science history trivia! It’s like every other day, like I’m around Huey!”“I can’t believe that I’m sitting on the stairs chatting and eating Ice-cream like some teenager!” Gyro said.“I still just want to sleep a bit more,” Gladstone yawned, “Another coffee?” he walked to the counter to grab three more cups, plus a hot chocolate for Louie, when he heard steps approaching them.“Well,” a familiar voice could be heard by them, “I’m glad you lads had a fun afternoon of learning!”“Oh no!

he’s here!” Louie hide behind Jose, “He heard you,” the boy glared at Gladstone accusatory.“However, now it’s time for you to learn how to properly appreciate the best instrument out there, the bagpipes!”“Uncle Scrooge can I be excused? I already heard about it?” Louie proposed.“Ah, lad, but I’ve since updated my lecture,” Scrooge said, seeming genuinely enthusiastic.“Segnor Scrooge, I would absolutely love to hear your lecture, but let me just finish what I was telling to the guys,” Jose said, “The music section in there, not only is it lacklustre but it also implied that the electronic bagpipes are, and I don’t know how to say this, it will probably be upsetting…”“Just spill it, José!”“Maybe you should sit down,” Jose continued, but then noticed Scrooge’s glare, “Ok, ok I’ll tell! They say that the electronic bagpipes are better than the traditional ones!”“What?” Scrooge growled, “Oh I will talk to the museum management immediately. And the head curator. And the music section curator! That eclectic electronical embarrassment being better than the traditional bagpipes? Tatter me tartans! Oh, they will have a piece of my mind!” his eyes blazed, “Thank you for telling me lad, this injustice has to be corrected!”Scrooge stomped off into the museum.“Wow José, good save!”“You did just condemn the museum curator to a horrible fate,” Gyro said, “However, you saved us from one, so I guess I own you a thanks!”“You’re welcome, now, let’s scram before he returns!”“Yeah, I want to be in my bed, like, right now!”“And I need to go dispose of this properly,” Gyro pointed to the duffel bag in which the remains of his guitar were.“Pena, Time Verde está se dividindo,” Jose said solemnly.“Yeah, every great band has to separate at some point!” Gladstone yawned.“Nah, we don’t have to!” Louie said, “We drop Gyro’s ruined guitar at the lab, and then we go to the manor. Gyro can pick B.O.Y.D. up there and you are going for drinks with my mum anyway!”“And Gladstone can sleep on the couch!” Gladstone said, leaning on Jose.“Ok, we need to get him to your home, he will collapse. But Time Verde stays together! Wooo!”“Yeah, yeah, we’re all happy!” Gyro grumbled, “Now let’s get to the manor before Mr. McDuck comes out of there and lectures us on the historic importance of wood types in Bagpipe making!”

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #fanfiction #louie duck #gyro gearloose #gladstone gander #jose carioca #mark beaks #scrooge mcduck #more ducktales adventures #one shot

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writinglizards · 3 years

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someone wanted us to kiss for a picture and i thought you were gonna stage kiss me w/ your thumbs in the middle buT NO OH MY GOD THATS……………..THATS A REAL KISS WOW OK au -- another writing prompt I lost the link to 💖

Okay, so this got WAY out of hand, but here you go! <3

Title: A Portrait of the Artist in Love

Summary: Jaskier's senior exhibition requires he present a sequence of cohesive photos representing a theme of his choosing. Geralt, after seeing the photos in person, notices one's missing.

Read on Ao3

"So what's the matter?" Geralt finally asks when Jaskier stomps through the living room for the third time in under twenty minutes, his eyes still firmly trained on the tv set. He can't look like he cares too much or Jaskier will shut down on him, he knows.

"What's the matter is I've got my senior exhibition in two months and I still haven't settled on a fucking theme, that's the matter," he bites out, back to the sofa and hands threaded firmly through his hair, tugging hard.

Geralt sighs. All of Jaskier's problems seem to circle back to his senior exhibition. "I thought you had some photos?"

"I did," he says, tone venomous, "and then Valdo decided he was going to do a series on music and I refuse to compete with that pompous arse." Geralt bites his tongue against the 'why does what Valdo's doing matter?' He knows better.

"So? What are your ideas?" Jaskier shifts as if to speak, "and don't tell me you don't have any, I know you do." He clicks the tv off and shifts around to face Jaskier's back as he sighs, shoulders going slack.

"I want to do something personal," he says, and Geralt can hear the frustration in his voice, "something important. Not--" he can picture the way his face is scrunched up just from his tone, "--not something predictable, something trite. I want to do something meaningful."

"Okay. So make it personal. What's important to you, Jaskier?" he asks, voice soft, and watches as Jaskier's shoulders gradually go taunt again.

"Oh. Oh I could--" he cuts off, whirls around, and the nearly manic light in his eyes makes Geralt smile.

"There you go," he says, and Jaskier beams. The look on his face steals Geralt’s breath, tightens his chest. Jaskier crosses the room, headed for his bedroom slash photo studio and presumably his camera, but he pauses at the couch to squeeze Geralt's shoulder tightly.

"Thank you, darling." Geralt just rolls his eyes and clicks the tv back on.

* * * *

Jaskier never does share what idea he settled on, even after Geralt had asked, a few days later. He'd ducked his head, blushing, and told Geralt not to worry about it, it was fine, he'd get to see when it was done, and Geralt had let it go. Jaskier tends to hold his projects close to his chest until he's done with them anyway. It’s not personal.

They're seated at a cafe waiting for Yen to drop off Ciri for their afternoon trip to the zoo and Jaskier is, predicably, fiddling with his camera.

"Do you have to bring that everywhere?" he asks, tone light and teasing, and Jaskier only sticks his tongue out at him.

"Yes, you oaf, I do. I'm working," he snips, and then he lifts the camera and in a quick movement snaps a picture of Geralt's face.

"Jaskier."

"Just a test photo, love," he grins, not at all apologetic. Before Geralt can pitch anything close to a fit about Jaskier taking more photos of him (and out in public, no less), Yen and Ciri are stepping through the door. Ciri gives a delighted little shriek the way only children under five seem to do and throws herself at her father. Geralt catches her around the waist and hauls her into his lap, both of them laughing, and the photo is promptly forgotten about after that.

* * * *

"Can I come with you?"

"Why?" Geralt asks again, frowning at Jaskier where he stands next to their couch, shifting nervously with his camera clutched to his chest, "you don't like the barn."

"No, but I like Roach," he insists, "and I want to get some pictures of her. I haven't in a while." Geralt narrows his eyes.

"Is this about your project?" he asks, and the way Jaskier splutters is answer enough.

"Can't I just want to take nice photos of my best friend's lovely horse? Come on Geralt, I don't always have a reason." The color high on his cheeks says otherwise.

"Hm." He hefts his supply bag over his shoulder, "come on, then."

Jaskier practically beams the entire trip to the barn, even after he nearly slips in a spot of mud when they get there. His pure, simple joy is infectious, leaves Geralt grinning right alongside him. And if Jaskier takes pictures of him the entire time? Well, he's always taking pictures anyway.

* * * *

"Jask, my guy, must you always bring that stupid camera?" Lambert asks, "it's beer night," he says, as if beer should preclude Jaskier taking pictures.

"Yes, and? Your point?" He raises the camera to snap a blatant picture of Lambert. Aiden leans over to throw up a pair of bunny ears behind his boyfriend as if they're primary schoolers. Eskel laughs.

"Jaskier's exhibition's coming up, leave off," Geralt growls, reprimanding, and Jaskier grins all the brighter.

"Yes, thank you, darling!"

"Doesn't mean he needs to take pictures of us," Lambert grouches, but Aiden wraps his arm around his neck and pulls him into a gentle headlock.

"Be nice," Aiden admonishes, and Lambert grumbles, but subsides. After enough alcohol, no one really thinks about Jaskier's pictures.

* * * *

Catching Jaskier around their apartment snapping photos isn't strictly unusual. It's not even strictly unusual for Jaskier to be snapping photos of him, but--

"Must you take pictures while I'm trying to meditate?"

"Yeah," Jaskier answers, sunny and quick. Geralt gives a huff. The camera clicks again. "Just pretend I'm not here." Geralt hums an affirmative even though he knows it's an impossible task. He could never forget Jaskier was in a room with him.

* * * *

"Didn't know you were picking me up today," Geralt says, wandering over from his post by the medieval art exhibit to where Jaskier stands near the circulation desk, fiddling with his camera.

"Oh, well, you know," he grins brightly up at him, cheeks a little pink--maybe he's getting sick, "I was in the area and thought we could walk home together. I know you’ve got a little still but I can swing by Starbucks; I'll get you that fruity tea you like."

"Hm."

When he gets off his shift forty-five minutes later, Jaskier's waiting for him out front with the Starbucks already in hand, a radiant smile on his face, and Geralt’s chest clenches just looking at him.

* * * *

"Hey, so I know you're busy--" Jaskier starts over dinner one night, eyes focused down on his pasta, "and I don't know if you wanted to come or not, but the exhibition's next week and I--" he sneaks a glance up at Geralt from under his eyelashes, ducks his head, "--I'd like for you to be there."

Geralt can't help the smile that tugs at his lips, can't help the way affection swells in his chest. "Of course I'll go, Jask." It really is as simple as that.

* * * *

Geralt arrives in the midst of the opening hubbub. He knows Jaskier has to linger around his exhibit for at least the first hour or so and from what he understands it's tucked away somewhere toward the back, so Geralt takes a leisurely path in that general direction, stopping to look at the work Jaskier's classmates have done as he goes.

"Oh, Geralt!" Valdo's grinning as he waves him over and reluctantly he lets himself be lured in. "Good to see you here, my man. Jaskier's been a basketcase all day," he winks. Geralt rolls his eyes.

"I'm sure. Your work's good," he says, nodding back towards the row of photos behind them, all different instruments either alone or being played, the close up of hands on strings and keys.

"Don't let Jask hear you say that," he laughs, even as he preens at the praise. "And don't let him catch you over here, either. He'll be accusing infidelity in a heartbeat." Valdo winks again. Geralt doesn't even go to the effort of correcting the fact they're not together. Valdo never seems to remember anyway.

"Yeah. Have a good night, Valdo," he says before ducking out of the way of a shorter blonde woman who throws herself past him and into Valdo's arms, proclaiming her love for him and his photography. Another blonde follows behind her friend, smiling. Geralt hurries away before Priscilla and Essi can realize who Valdo had been talking to and rope him back into the conversation.

It's not that he dislikes Jaskier's friends it's just...they seem to assume things about the two of them. Yes, Geralt loves Jaskier, but Jaskier…he doesn’t know what Jaskier feels for him beyond a deep friendship.

He wanders a bit while he tries not to think about that, stopping to look at some of the other photos--landscapes, pets, significant others, children--until he spots Jaskier, all done up in the suit he'd picked out for the occasion months ago, the gold tie that Geralt had done for him this morning a beautiful contrast to the baby blue of his suit. And the pictures--

Geralt's breath catches. They're all of him; a photo of Geralt and Ciri from the zoo, Ciri seated on his shoulders, one tiny fist in his hair as she gestures wildly at the monkeys. Geralt astride Roach as he puts her through her paces at the barn, and later, Roach out in the pasture, Geralt leading her in a gentle cool down, the both of them in profile. Geralt and his brothers over beers, Geralt grinning, Eskel telling a story, hands spread wide, Lambert and Aiden leaning on each other across the table, smiles indulgent. Geralt meditating in their living room, the ghost of a smile on his face. Geralt at the museum, explaining the history of medieval art to a gaggle of tourists.

They're all him.

"Oh, thank fuck, Geralt, I--" Jaskier breaks off as he gets closer, takes in Geralt's expression, "Geralt?"

His mouth is dry and he has to clear his throat twice before he can get any words to work. "They're all of...me?" Jaskier flushes immediately.

"Well I mean--yes? I wanted it to be something important and personal and, uh, what's more personal than everything my best friend loves?" he explains rapidly, as if he's worried Geralt will cut him off, not let him explain.

"Oh," he says, because it's the only thing he can get out. And then as it dawns on him, "wait, if this is about--" he has to clear his throat again, uncharacteristically embarrassed, "--about what I love...why aren't you in any of them?"

"What, I--" Jaskier chokes off, that flush going a little darker, "I, I didn't--we weren't allowed to be the subjects of our own photos," he lies, and Geralt just raises a brow. He's seen his classmate's work--he knows it's a bullshit answer and Jaskier knows he knows.

"I didn't want to presume," he mumbles, then, a little firmer, "and it would have had to been staged. "I don't--staged photos are terrible, Geralt, you know how I feel about that." He does, but it doesn't change the fact Jaskier's collection is incomplete without him.

"Hm."

* * * *

He thinks about it for the rest of the exhibition and once he starts, it's like he can't stop. Jaskier has a collection of photos of things Geralt loves, and Jaskier's not in any of them.

It takes him almost a week to set it right.

"Geralt," Jaskier calls as the front door clicks open, Jaskier home from class. "Geralt darling, I'm famished, what--" he cuts off abruptly when he steps into the living room, gaze catching on the camera set on the tripod set up on the coffee table. Geralt stands in front of the lens, between the camera and the large bay window overlooking the distant park.

"Jaskier." Geralt's a little bit of a nervous wreck about it, but it's fine. Probably. After all, Jaskier spent months taking photos of Geralt and the things he loved. What's one more?

"Geralt, what--"

"Come here." Jaskier swallows roughly, adams apple bobbing, before he puts his bag down and steps up beside him. "Check the camera," Geralt says softly, "make sure I did it right."

Jaskier does, quick. "It's set on the ten second timer. Should I--?"

"Yeah," he says, stomach clenching in some horrible mix of fear and anticipation, "and come here."

"Geralt, if you'd wanted to take a picture together, I could have--" he says, setting the camera and starting over. He cuts off abruptly when Geralt loops an arm around his waist and tugs him in close until they're chest to chest, his other hand at Jaskier's jaw, thumb sweeping back and forth across his cheek.

"I know," he says, voice pitched low, "but you're missing a picture." And then he dips his head and kisses him.

Jaskier makes a small, wounded noise and then his arms are around Geralt's neck, fingers tight in his hair as he presses up into Geralt's grip, surges against him. Geralt cups his jaw and nips at his lower lip, revels in the quiet gasp that leaves Jaskier open for him to lick into his mouth, deepen the kiss. Distantly he's aware of the camera going off, but it's inconsequential to the way Jaskier feels in his arms.

The kiss only breaks when Jaskier pulls away to hide his face in Geralt's throat, gasping for air. Geralt chuckles, a little breathless.

"Now I'm not complaining," Jaskier says, sounding a little dazed, "but what did I do to deserve that? Because I'd like to keep doing it. Repeatedly, if possible." Geralt laughs.

"You were missing a picture," Geralt says again, and the look on Jaskier's face when he pulls back is so confused it makes his chest constrict. "The things I love," Geralt reminds, and Jaskier flushes bright red.

"Geralt--" he stammers out, flustered, before he returns to hiding his face in Geralt's shoulder. "Melitele help me," He presses his lips to the fabric of Geralt's shirt, a warm, fleeting pressure, "you really are going to be the death of me."

"Don't see how," he hums, tips his head to rest his cheek against Jaskier's head.

"Thought you wanted a friendly picture and then you just--! You just wrapped your arm around my waist like you've done it a hundred times before and I thought, oh, he's going to pretend to kiss me, for the photo, because of course you would and you, you just--" he makes a tiny, outraged noise. Geralt chuckles again. "Don't laugh at me, Geralt, I almost died."

"Mmhm," he rubs his cheek where it rests, mussing Jaskier's hair. Jaskier just huffs. "How'd the picture come out?"

Reluctantly, Jaskier peels himself away to check the photo, and Geralt can already tell from the face he's making it didn't come out well. "You moved," Jaskier admonishes, eyes glued to the tiny viewer. He fiddles with a few settings before putting it back down on the tripod. "Alright," he presses his way back into Geralt's arms, "we'll just have to try again."

"Yeah," Geralt grins, and he kisses him again.

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #rating: teen #reader reviews #Anonymous

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Note

108. Go ahead, baby, I got plenty of time. + Roman 🖤

prompt requests open

“We just have one more stop…” Roman trailed off, ducking his head down to peer up through the windshield at the fast passing scenery.

Roman had insisted on taking you out to dinner that night, to the nicest restaurant Hemlock Grove had to offer. With plush velvet chairs and pricey cuts of meat and aged whiskey and wines. He made a show of holding your hand on the tabletop, fiddling with your fingers during conversations, cupping your palm gently while he ate. When he needed both hands for something, he’d only part for for a moment, before quickly resuming his previous grip.

After two delicious courses and fifty dollar sundaes with rich espressos, you’d both left feeling fat and happy. You were idly discussing plans for the weekend, when Roman took a right down Main Street instead of a left that would lead to the Godfrey Mansion.

“Is this finally it?” You asked, “Is this where you finally kill me?”

Roman chuckled, the hand that lay on your thigh gave your exposed skin a squeeze.

“Not just yet,” He mused, flicking on his turn signal to drive deeper a web of backroads and brush.

“Oh thank lord,” You sighed dramatically, “That gives me more time to earn my keep with you.”

Roman snorted and gave you another pulsing squeeze before removing his hand completely to aid his other in turning the wheel of his Jaguar. You could feel the ghost weight of his palm and fingers still tingling your skin.

He had removed his hand to steer into a sharp turn onto a long gravel road flanked by a lumbering sea of trees. You looked out the passenger window to see the blur of passing greenery and couldn’t help but wonder what Roman was up to. He wasn’t a fan of the outdoors, openly scoffing at the idea of hikes and camping trips. He didn’t like public bodies of water or picnics anywhere but artistically groomed parks. While your murder joke had been just that, you wondered if Roman had in fact killed someone and they were folded in the trunk, waiting for the both of you to dig a hole in the middle of nowhere Pennslynia to dispose of them… You’d have to dig two holes if that were true. You’d strangle Roman to death if he made you dig a grave in heels and a brand new dress.

Just as you were about to seriously inquire on what in the living fuck you two were doing out in the woods, Roman turned once more, which placed you both in front of a massive home. Smaller than the encompassing Godfrey estate, but large nonetheless. This home was much more angular, modern, with a much more muted color palette.

Roman put the car in park and removed the keys from the ignition and simply stared at you. Utterly confused as to why you were at this mystery house was your final destination of the night, you just raised your eyebrows with a shake of your head.

“Well, let’s get out.” He said frankly, before opening his door and stepping out into the cold.

You followed his actions, though you were still completely puzzled by his behavior and the reason for this visit. When you exited the car, Roman extended his hand out for you to take, which you did without hesitation.

“C’mon,” He gestured with his head to the house and you both started to walk up the drive to the entrance.

“Do you know who lives here?” You asked, glancing around for any neighbors or the owners.

“You could say that.” Roman replied with a glint in his eyes, before he began to rummage through his pockets.

“You’re being awful cryptic…” You laugh uncomfortably as Roman procedures a set of keys, which he uses to open the front door.

Roman pushed it open with an effort so it swung wide open to reveal the entire first floor; the entire first floor that was completely empty.

Roman said nothing as he guided you by the hand across the threshold. The sound of the soles of your shoes echoed through the house as you both walked across spotless hardwood. The house smelt like fresh paint and industrial glue.

The home was open concept and extremely modern, something you would no doubt spy on the pages of a magazine. While it felt a bit cold, you saw so much potential all around.

“Do you like it?” Roman asked as he looked at you while your eyes scanned the bare home.

“I mean -- yes. It’s beautiful. Is it a new place for The Tower or something? Like housing for clients or patients or something?” You said, eyes still inspecting the marble countertops and printine fixtures.

“No, not exactly.” Roman swallowed thickly, so loud that you could hear him.

You stopped your wandering and looked at Roman, who suddenly seemed nervous. Not in a sniveling, shaking, sweating way. Roman could never look anything but dignified and regal. But, his eyes were narrowed and blinking, his jaw was clenched and his shoulders squared as if he were waiting for the worst.

“I, uh, I actually bought this place. Out of pocket, not for Godfrey. I bought it for us.”

Us.

At the mention your eyes grew as large as dinner plates and your stomach dropped to your feet.

“What?” You asked, completely baffled.

“Yeah, I found it a few months ago and just closed escrow last week. It’s ours. I bought it for us to live in.”

You opened your mouth multiple times, lips flapping like a fish as you tried to form words to reply to him with.

“Fuck, do you hate it? Shit, fuck! OK, baby, just hear me out --” But you cut him off.

Because you couldn’t find the words to tell him how happy you were, so your lips on his right now would have to suffice. You crushed your mouth to his and wound your shaking fingers in his hair, making sure he couldn’t move an inch away from your affections. Roman made a small grunt at the impact, but quickly recovered, taking a healthy grip of your ass as he kissed you back with fervor.

When you did finally pull apart from your heated kiss, both of you with labored breaths, you had tears on your cheeks.

“I love it, Ro. I love it, so much. I can’t believe you did this for us.” You sniffled and Roman preened.

“For you. For us to move on and start over. Away from that fucking mansion and all the pain it’s caused. It’s just us from now on,” He said, taking your face in his hands.

You hiccuped with a large smile, elated.

Sure, some people might be angry that their partner bought a home without their knowing, but you didn’t care. You just loved the fact that Roman had thought of your collective future, of your new little family, of the love he had for you. You were high off of the adrenaline of surprise and the giddy bubble in your chest from Roman’s spoiling.

“I love you,” You cooed before kissing him once more.

It wasn’t really a kiss, more of you both just both pressing your smiles together to properly convey your happiness in the moment.

“Can we look around?” You knew Roman had work early the next morning.

“Go ahead, baby, we got plenty of time.” He grinned, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You squealed with excitement, practically bouncing in your Manolos as you took Roman’s hand and started for the stairs.

Roman went willingly, his arms straight as an arrow as you drug him around the house, chirping about art galleries, landscaping and antique dealers. He simply nodded and watched you with loving affection, his chest puffed out from the feeling of making you so happy, from the feeling of providing for you, for doing something right.

He watched with his heart in his throat as you began to plan your future together.

#sorry this took a while i was feeling really uninspired #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard imagine #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

Serial Killer!Armitage Hux x Blood Spatter Analyst F Reader/DCI!Ben Solo x BSA!Fem Reader

A/N: THIS IS A DARKFIC. This is a only prelude for the whole fic which I am still working on. Exploring Hux’s potential darker side is something that’s been on my mind for a really long time and then I watched Hannibal and my serial killer enjoyment kicked up again 🤣 just the picture for this weeks Writer Wednesday prompted this little snippet. Also RC does enjoy her job probably as much as Dexter 🤣The first half is from Hux’s pov and the second is from RC’s. DO NOT READ if you are sensitive to anything remotely dubious. 18+ Minors DNI. @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings: description of taking life, stalker Hux, dark thoughts, he’s a strangler so be warned. Mention of food, moving between jobs, description of blood. Set in London but I am using artistic licence in this fic so not 100% accurate with locations, but I have done my research into BSA and the job they do. (My google search is not something that the police should look at right now 🤣)

Word Count: 1541

Read the Prelude here on AO3.

These places were perfect, it was dark, the lighting wasn’t great and he could hug the shadows as he watched people go about their unsuspecting lives. It had been a few weeks since he’d felt the strain of his garrotte and his hands itched, his mind cried out for that relief he felt when the life left their body.

The heaviness of their form was always a comfort and he wondered often if his father felt the same way after he’d killed his wife. It played in Hux’s mind every time he took a life, he felt like he was in his fathers shoes. The only time he was good enough to step up to his fathers legacy. Killing was a habit now, he craved the rush it gave him that they couldn’t over power him or take anything from him, unlike everyone else in his life. He was taking the most precious thing from them and it gave him such a heady feeling.

He looked up when a few people arrived at the temporary diner, the soft light highlighted you as you stepped up to deliver your order and he was instantly captivated. The way you moved was enchanting, life seemed to blossom from you, alighting everything around you and he couldn’t look away. You looked up at the man you were with, your beautiful face breaking out into a smile and your laugh reached Hux’s ears making his fists clench in desperation. The garrotte was in his pocket ready and waiting to wrap around the column of your beautiful neck but when Hux finally paid attention to the man behind you he withdrew around the tree.

DCI Ben Solo…the copper who had suspicions about Hux but had no proof. Oh, Hux knew about the board of supposed facts the DCI had in his office, like a shrine to Hux’s misdeeds and he smirked into the darkness. Taking one right from under the nose of the DCI was so appealing, a game with high stakes and strict rules, a game Hux wanted to play.

He peered around the trunk of the tree, watching you with a renewed intensity, the desire burned through his blood like a fire that only one action could douse. His eyelids flickered as he imagined the way your throat would constrict, the way you’d fight, he could see you had spirit. You’d be a challenge. His gaze fixated on the column of your throat and he rested heavily against the tree, the longer he watched you the more he wanted….no. He needed you. He needed to feel your soft skin, he needed to hear you struggle, he needed to pull you close to his chest as he choked you. To smell your hair, to feel your warmth, to know that he was in that moment, the most powerful being in your life.

Your gaze swept over his hiding place and he moved, now was not the time. He needed to be patient, it would come down to a particular moment and only when that moment was upon him, would he know how perfect it was.

“What do you fancy? My treat.” You turned to Ben, his cinnamon eyes roaming over the menu over the top of your head because he stood so much taller than anyone else.

“I think you’re doing enough for me, this is my treat,” you exclaimed firmly.

“But I called you here…”

“So? This is on me.” He shrugged, a smile pulling on the corner of his mouth and you swatted his arm, a small laugh bursting forth as you tried not to notice the dimples that appeared in his cheeks. The soft light of the mobile diner gave them a sense of life which he snuffed out as he ran a hand over his stubble.

“Nah, come on. I’m starving,” he moaned and you rolled your eyes.

“Ok ok,” you peered at the menu asking for a basket of loaded fries and Ben ordered the same. You both sat down on the red stools which were much more comfortable than they looked. You turned your seat round, lifting your face up to the dark sky and letting a gentle breeze flow over you. The quiet trickle of conversation filled the air around you and people sat at the tables dotted around enjoying their food, some music played in the background and if you closed your eyes you could easily imagine you were across the pond sat in a real diner. The smell of the coffee, the sizzle of the fries, it all coagulated together into a comforting sensation in the middle of your chest and you let out a little sigh. Ben nudged your arm alerting you to food so you turned and grabbed the Tabasco bottle off the little sauce shelf.

“Tabasco. Really?” You smiled as you dribbled some over the melted cheese.

“Yeah, you don’t like spicy food?” You asked. He wrinkled his face in distaste and you couldn’t stop the giggles.

“Anyway,” he started clearly in an effort to change the subject. “How’s the lab? You think I could persuade you to stay here, permanently?” You shook your head, chewing on a chip and reaching for some napkins before answering.

“I’m a nomad. I like moving around…”

“But you have no home. Doesn’t it get you know, lonely?” You shrugged. You’d never really thought about it, you went where the blood was flowing the most, following the trail of destruction across the country. You didn’t tell many people but you enjoyed the thrill, when you stepped into a new blood soaked crime scene it gave you a sense of awe. None of the patterns were ever the same and it fascinated you how a simple flick of the wrist could produce different results for different killers. Your eyes rose to meet Ben’s and you felt like you wanted to tell him, I wanted to explain the way your job made you feel. As a fellow colleague he might understand but you always kept this part of you locked away. There was a fine line between enjoying your job and enjoying your job.

“No, not lonely, just means I can do what I like or work as long as I like.” Ben licked his fingers, reaching for a napkin he nodded.

“Yeah I get that. My parents are constantly on at me to find someone but I refuse to date a fellow copper and aside from the victims' families I don’t meet anyone else.”

“Oh, that’s not much of a dating pool,” you mumbled and he smirked at your words.

“No, no dating pool. If my mother had her way I’d be all “I’m really sorry your husband died, looking to remarry because my mother wants grandkids!” Yeah, no thanks.” You giggled wiping your greasy hands on another napkin.

“She sounds like she just wants the best for you.”

“The best for me isn’t meeting someone on the worst day of their lives,” he rumbled, suddenly withdrawing into himself and you turned to see him looking down at his food with a vacant expression.

“There’ll be someone. I have to believe there is someone for everyone, otherwise what’s the point of all this.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t like the dip in mood and you looked around trying to see something to distract you both. Some movement caught your eye, over by a tree just outside the pool of light and you squinted, but instantly dismissed it when you saw the railings along the edge of a pond beyond the tree.

“Come on,” you tugged on his arm offering no explanation and dumping your empty basket into the bin provided. You waved and thanked the staff getting a chorus of farewells back and sauntered over to the path.

“Where are we going?” He asked, finally catching up with you. You peered into the darkness, hoping your eyes were playing tricks on you because you swore there had been someone standing next to this tree, but there was no one here.

“I saw a pond, I wanted to see the ducks,” you said without thinking.

“You do know it’s around ten thirty at night the ducks will be sleeping. Like we should be,” he muttered.

“It was your idea to get dinner.” He huffed in resignation, stuffing his hands in his pockets and picking up his pace to follow you to the edge of the lake. You peered into the darkness, something didn’t feel right and your skin prickled. Ben instantly noticed and followed your line of sight.

“What is it?” His tone hushed as though not wanting to disturb you.

“You know, I think I should head back now.” The sense you were being watched was increasing, making your stomach flip uncomfortably with nerves.

“Ok, I’ll walk you back. I left my car at the station anyway. Your hotel is on the way.” You flinched slightly when he pressed his hand against the top of your back steering you back down the path. Finally you turned, telling yourself you were being stupid you were safe here and yet the sense of danger was there, nibbling at your subconscious telling you no matter where you went, you were never completely safe.

#serial killer!hux #DCI!Ben Solo #serial killer au #writer wednesday #an actual darkfic #darkfic #blood spatter analyst! reader #female reader

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nalgenewhore · 4 years

Text

Slipping Through My Fingers - Three

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

warnings: none

an: let the games begin bitches

Lorcan was desperate.

The five-year old sitting on the floor of his room refused to get dressed and Lorcan’s nerves were getting frayed. He looked more like Lorcan than his mother, but his features softer than his father’s, his eyes brighter - a pale doe-brown. The freckles over his button nose were Essar’s, no doubt about it.

“No, Dad.” Despite his words and negation, Lorcan was forever grateful that they spoke his mother tongue at home, as well as Essar’s. That their son was able to speak their languages, for their cultures and people to be kept alive for one more generation. They tended to mix and match with the two tongues, one from the northernmost part of Doranelle, and the other from deep within the Bogdano jungle.

He sighed and ran a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes before he too sat on the floor. “Prince, please. Please just put on your pants.”

“No, Dad. Don’t wanna go to school,” Kohana* said, his arms crossed tightly, glowering menacingly. He was already wearing his long-sleeved t-shirt, sweater and puffy jacket. The child insisted on wearing all his layers, even though it was hardly fall and he would definitely become way to warm by the end of the day.

“I know, kiddo,” Lorcan said, wishing that Essar was here to convince him. She’d always managed to soothe their son and sometimes - most of the time if he were honest - Lorcan felt like a failure. He’d asked every god, multiple times, why him. “I know you don’t.”

His tone was defeated and Kohana looked up at him, his brows lowered. “If you know, why telling me to go?”

That was a very good point. An excellent one. Lorcan resorted to his last point: bribery. “Alright, if you go to school, tonight when we get home, we’ll get ice cream and watch your favourite movie. Deal?”

His son looked between the pants and him, narrowing his chestnut eyes, just like his mom. Finally, Kohana nodded. “Ok, Dad.”

Ten minutes later, Kohana was concentrating on his laces, his tongue sticking out as he tied his shoes up. He was successful and clapped his little hands, “Look! Tied my shoes!”

Lorcan smiled, his heart cracking just a bit, “Good job, baby.” Kohana stood up on the front hall bench and lifted his arms. Lorcan scooped him up and tossed him up, catching him before setting the little one down on his feet, smiling at his son’s pealing laughter. “We ready?”

Kohana grabbed Lorcan’s pinky and ring finger after Lorcan helped him put on his mini rainbow Kanken backpack. “Yep! Go time!”

As Lorcan opened the door, Kohana froze, “Oh no! I forgot to say bye bye to Tigger!” He raced back into their house, seeking out Essar’s old ragdoll cat. Lorcan had a love-hate relationship with Tigger, but even he smiled when he heard the kid’s little voice saying good-bye. He looked in the mirror beside Essar’s picture, noting the length of his hair had just finally begun to brush against his shoulders after he had cut it, out of respect and honour for the passing of his wife.

It made his throat close up, this feeling that he was moving on and forgetting her - when he’d once promised to never forget her. Lorcan had meant it that dark day in that sterile hospital room and he meant it now. His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the pattering feet of their son as he came racing back and crashed into Lorcan’s legs. “Ready to go.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Kohana chattered the entire way to his school, looking out the window as he kicked his feet, sitting on his booster seat. Lorcan grinned and conversed with him, only slightly worried about the amount that he talked.

Kohana was a fairly quiet child, reserved and freakily observant like his dad, and preferred to silently ride in the truck wherever they went. Soon enough, they pulled up in front of the school and Kohana fell silent, nervously glancing out at the other kids and parents.

“You need a minute, Ko?”

Kohana slowly shook his head, “No, I ready. Go time, Dad.”

Lorcan stifled his chuckle and unbuckled his seatbelt, turning off the engine and making his way to Kohana’s door. He opened it and Kohana unclipped his seat belt and stood on his booster seat, waiting for Lorcan to pick him up. Lorcan did, propping him on his hip as he got his backpack and shut the door, clicking his keys to lock the truck as he strode through the parking lot, unaware of the stares and attention he drew to himself as he walked to the school.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide checked the time again, reassuring herself that nobody was late, considering the bell didn’t ring for another fifteen minutes. She breathed out slowly, checking over her class list and making sure that each little desk (who knew kindergarten desks could be so cute) had a velcroed name label on it. She figured she would let the kids choose their seats and go from there once she knew the different dynamics.

She checked over the reading area, making sure the toadstool-patterned pouffes were placed correctly and relative to the bookshelves and toy area. What she had wanted was a whimsical, faerie-woods like reading area and Elide was happy with what she had done. She'd even managed to find a tree-throne inspired wooden chair made by a local artist.

The art corner was all ready, it had been the first area she set up, and Elide walked into the cubby area, which was separate from the rest of the classroom.

Unlike the desks, the cubbies were designated to each student and she made sure that the velcroed labels stuck on well. Elide did not need wild little ones pulling things off at random. She popped into the little bathroom they had, thanking her gods and goddesses for being one of the few kindergarten classes with their own toilet. There was a sign with diagrams on correct hand washing and a step stool up to the sink, soap and paper towels in easy access.

She looked at herself in the mirror, running an eye over her outfit: a pair of raw-edge, blue mom jeans and a slouchy lavender sweater, paired with a pair of delicate silver hoops, her hair twisted into a low-bun and held together with a silver hairpin, a gift from her ex-girlfriend. She wore her everyday, white sneakers, her makeup simple with just mascara and a light dusting of blush.

Perfect for meeting parents and kiddos. Comfortable and still somewhat professional for the first day of school. Aelin had asked her to model some things for her newest collection and had dumped a bunch of custom made pieces into her arms. A congrats-on-your-new-job present, she’d said, so needless to say, Elide was well-equipped and excited for her new outfits.

Someone knocked on the door and called out, “Hello?”

Elide squeaked and hurried into her class, “Hey, I’m— Lorcan?” Oh gods, what was he doing here? Elide subtly checked the available exits, in case something went sideways. “What are you doing here?”

Just then, she noticed how shocked he looked and the children’s backpack that dangled from his hand, not to mention the nearly identical child who held onto his other hand in a death grip. “Um, I- kid- school-” he stuttered out, his jaw still dropped as the child tugged on his hand.

“Dad?” The dark-haired child looked up at Lorcan in confusion, his brow wrinkling. Elide genuinely thought that every kid was cute, but by the gods, this one took the cake. She had the sudden urge to kiss his round cheek and clamped down on the desire.

He was a father. And she was his kid’s teacher. And she should not be thinking about how he held her up and fucked her against a wall three nights ago or how the way his lips parted as she got on her knees for—

“Oh my gods, sorry,” Elide said, snapping out of her shock. “Hi!” The kid looked nervous and hugged Lorcan’s legs, hiding his face in his father’s navy painter pants.

“Ko,” Lorcan said, crouching down in front of his son. Elide scanned the class roster, landing on the name Kohana **Tangaroa-Salvaterre. Lorcan began to speak in a language she discerned as ***Ozuye from hearing it during her gap year, but she didn’t comprehend a word, her mind reeling.

Even if this wasn’t the situation, she still wouldn’t have been able to understand a word on account of not speaking a language other than the common tongue and Blackbeak.

“Ok, Dad,” Kohana whispered. He walked over to her, his light eyes wide as he clasped his hands together in front of him, “Hello. My name is Kohana. I am five.”

Elide huffed a laugh and crouched down in front of him, “Hi, Kohana. My name’s supposed to be Miss Lochan, but you can call me Elide.” He smiled and nodded, running back to Lorcan to grab his backpack and grab a quick hug before saying bye with a tight hug and an accepted top-of-the-head kiss. He quickly ran back to Elide’s side.

Lorcan laughed quietly and nodded an only semi-awkward goodbye before ducking out of the classroom. “Alright, Kohana, why don’t we see your cubby?”

“Ok,” he said, following her closely as she led the way to the coat room.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Hellas save him, this was a mess. How had he managed to sleep with the one person that would be his son’s teacher for ten whole months?

Lorcan stopped at a red light and hit his head against the steering wheel, swearing low. If Essar could see him now, she’d be crying in laughter. That got him to smile, even if it was forced and unnatural.

He drove in utter silence to the mechanic shop he worked at, alongside Fenrys and Malakai, trying to think about anything other than the sounds she had made when he was inside her. He was not successful in the slightest.

It had him in a foul mood when he parked and got out of his truck, stalking into the back room. Fenrys was sitting at the table and drinking a cup of coffee when he walked in. “Woah, who pissed in your coffee this morning?”

Lorcan sighed and braced his hands against his locker, hanging his head. “I fucked Ko’s teacher.”

“Wait, just now?”

He snarled and spun to glare at Fenrys, “Yeah, in the five-minute period I was dropping my kindergartener off at school, I took her in the cubby and fucked her real good.” He walked over to the blonde and slapped him upside the head, “Fuck is wrong with you? She’s the girl from the bar.”

“Well. You two are fucked.”

That was exactly the problem.

+*+*+*+*+*+*

*Kohana is a Lakota name that means swift

**Tangaroa is the Māori god of the sea! In this story (and all things i write) both Essar and Lorcan are indigenous - Essar is Māori and Lorcan is Lakota because you can never have too much colour 😌✨

***Ozuye is the fictional tribe of my own invention, it’s very largely based off the Lakota nation

@mythicaitt @tinywolfofeyllwe @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @westofmoon @empire-of-wildfire @rhysands-highlady @city-of-fae @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tangledraysofsunshine @ttakeitbacknoww @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @superspiritfestival @empress-ofbloodshed @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @beccasophia95 @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thewayshedreamed @hizqueen4life @ifinallygavein @bat-wing-rhys @awkward-avocado-s

#slipping through my fingers #stmf chapter three #elorcan #elide x lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #kohana #baby oc!#isa writes #nalgenewhore

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nomoregoldfish · 4 years

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Imagine Pacho Sends You as a Gift to (Spy on) Amado 3/3

More smut (but I’m really bad at writing it, :////). Plot twist guaranteed. And I can’t believe I wrote 6K for this, FML. What has Chema done to me? I also made a few changes in the first two parts, read the whole thing on AO3.

You are woken by a phone call in the middle of the night. But you neither move nor open your eyes. You hear some numbers, Amado sounds irritated. It could be something related to tonight's dinner?

Your patience is wore out minutes after minute and Amado still hasn't returned to bed. You make a bold decision to wake up, and the Mexican is smoking by the window. Something keeps him up at night? That doesn't sound like the Lord of the Skies, the man who has had the world at his feet.

"You wanna talk, more sex or a bath?" You carefully propose.

"I was expecting for late night snacks you pull with some Asian witch shit." Amado lets you sit on his lap. "Hang on, I've got some leftovers from the kitchen."

You two settle for sharing the jacarandas mochi from a small food container in the bathtub.

"You like it?" You don't really need validation from Amado. It's just you spent hours coming up with the idea of improvisation, trying to make a traditional Japanese dessert more appealing to the Mexican guests. "I made the bean paste from scratch, less sugar. I understand most Mexicans are not used to sweet bean paste..."

"They don't deserve it." Amado suddenly claims. You don't get it. Who are they? "They are just a bunch of pigs in expensive suits, corrupted, stinky pieces of shit." Then Amado tells you almost everything. He invited the tequila exporters with the hope that the cartel could use their affiliate companies in the States as front to launder more drug money since tequila is one of the largest yet least regulated businesses between the US and Mexico. And the politicians are officials from Mexican Customs Bureau and SHCP.

"Fucking idiots. They thought I was gonna ask them to smuggle coke under the tequila crates. With all the fucking Pier 1 sofa and Ford pasenger seat manufacturers in Juárez, I've had more than enough trucks to move products across the border." When Amado brought up money laundering, the tequila exporters expressed concern regarding possible investigation of tax evasion from ATF, putting more pressure on Amado to increase their cut.

They eventually made a deal less favorable to the cartel and that's why Amado's a bit pissed when he's on the phone.

"Why are you telling me this?" For the first time that night, you ask softly.

"Those cabrón. They don't deserve what you bring to the table. You pour your heart and soul, making the best feast I've ever had. You deserve to know what happened."

You've never thought you'd hear that from Amado. He didn't have to tell you anything. It makes you lower your guard. You want to get closer to him, without any agenda.

"Does this mean my body won't be put in the trunk of one of your auto collections tomorrow?" You try to lighten it up.

Amado kisses you from behind. The position is awkward but neither of you care.

Making out with Amado in the bathtub makes the night better than your wettest dream.

The Mexican's gonna make you cum again with those magician hands of his.

"You...haven't told me if you like the jacarandas mochi." You're so screwed. Maybe you'll never get the answer because Amado's too busy sucking you tits.

Amado clears his schedule the next day. He brings you to the Asian boutique where he bought the Japanese painting.

"One of my guys found this place. I thought you might be interested..." That's cute from a drug lord. But you're not that kind of person.

"A) I don't need a Buddha artifact home to find my inner peace, and B) only Pacho wears shirts with Chinese characters taken from a poem back in the Tang Dynasty. Seriously, he's ridiculous. Come on, let's go."

Instead, you two spend the day trying different Asian food you can find in DF. From hotpot to Peking roasted duck, from pho to char kway teow. Amado seems to enjoy the Chinese food more than others.

"Most Asian restaurants in North America are run by the Chinese, from San Francisco to DF. Since you guys can't tell if an Asian cook is from China, Japan, Vietnam or Thailand, he or she would quickly learn dishes from other Asian countries. We are always the most hardworking people." You explain to him.

"Oh, I love hardworking people." He's so full of shit but you can't help smiling.

Amado finds a fortune cookie note saying "Happy New Year of Monkey." Then you explain Monkey is one of the Chinese zodiac signs which repeat every 12 years.

"So 1956...I am a monkey? Cool." He's surprisingly quick with math.

You write the Chinese character of monkey on a napkin and Amado seems fascinated by it. So you suggest that he could get the Chinese character tattooed, "Next time you can show that to Pacho. He probably would get one, too."

Holy shit, he's really doing it.

The way the tattoo parole Amado brings you to is cleared makes you believe it's part of the cartel business, which makes perfect sense.

"You don't have any tattoos? Not at all?" You're surprised when the tattoo artist prepares Amado's skin on his forearm, first cleaning then shaving.

"We've fucked three times, once in a bathtub," Amado grins, obviously in a good mood, "Don't you think it's a bit late to ask? Or I fucked you too hard you didn't notice?"

Thank God the tattoo artist doesn't even flinch.

OK, you have to get back at the fucker. So when the tattoo artist asks you for the character to make a design, you write pig in Chinese instead of monkey.

"Hold on, that doesn't look like what you wrote on the napkin. Let me see it." Right after the tattoo artist places an outline of the design on his skin, the Mexican stops him.

You're 100% sure Amado doesn't speak or write Chinese. How the fuck does he figure it out?

"What is it exactly? Tell me the truth or you will have an honest conversation with my brother." Amado makes the threat more scary by pointing at Vicente, who stands next to the door with two guns and a pink lollipop.

"Wait. He doesn't know shit. It was me...I wrote a different character." Your confession is quick, you don't want to see anyone get hurt over this beef.

You thought it's just a silly prank. Now you realize you're dealing with the most notorious narcos of the country. Amado may look like a businessman, reasonable, even decent. He's still capable of getting violent whenever he thinks it is necessary, to an extent you really don't want to know.

You take a deep breath, then apologize to Amado. You are ready for the consequence.

"Apology accepted. On one condition, you'll have the exact same tattoo as I do when the new design is done." Fair enough.

But you're a chef who often needs to cook right in front of customers. You can't let them see a tattoo on your forearm.

"How about here?" The Mexican is touching your breast as if no one's around.

It's a small tattoo, just one character. But it's near your heart and you're sensitive as fuck.

You can't move but your nipples are hard almost through the entire process. Amado's right beside you and he sees everything. Someone please help you ease the pain FFS.

The fucker doesn't act on it until you get into the car. Amado shuts the soundproof panel between the front and rear seats and the next thing you know, you're riding the man who just makes you get a stupid matching tattoo. It fucking stings, and itchy. Yet the pleasure is undeniable when your tits being teased, bit, sucked. Amado carefully avoids the tattoo, which makes you want him to scratch the itch even more. You scream his name when you cum with both extreme pleasure and pain.

Amado puts an arm around you when it's over. Two matching tattoos are right next to one another. Your heart is still beating fast from the afterglow, echoing his pulse.

You feel the caress on your beast, it hurts a bit yet the body warmth is nice. Is it how it feels to be marked by someone else? Not many people will ever see it, plus it's not a specific name or symbol that would embarrass you later. It'd be a secret.

"You know what? You won't be able to find a dead body to stand in for you when you eventually betray me, sweetheart. No one else would get a tattoo like this."

What Amado just says feels like a kick in the stomach. It's cold and absolutely right. Have you been sloppy? Has Amado figured out something already? "Why would I betray you?" You ask, but he doesn't give an answer.

It's the last day of your stay. You have a very special package delivered from Japan.

You gonna make blowfish sashimi tonight for Amado.

Everyone knows it's toxic so it has to be handled with meticulous care. You make Amado watch every step — a set of fuguhiki, knives with thin blade is unwrapped, you pick them one by one to gut the fish, remove the deadly liver and ovaries, skin it and cut off its head. Then instead of cutting outward like most people do, you turn a knife to cut inward.

"Careful! You shouldn't hold knife like that." Amado almost jumps in to help. But you assure him it's OK. Then you show off the technique to cut extremely thin and translucent slices of blowfish.

To make the white meat more attractive, you set the slices in a large plate with red poppy flower pattern. They are so thin, the poppy flower is still visible when all's done.

"An ancient Chinese writer used to say, 'The taste of blowfish is worthy of death.'" You joke when you mix the sauce. "Don't worry. I'm a licensed blowfish-preparation chef."

Amado squints, "So you're testing me."

You want to tell him to just trust you, but you don't know how.

"There's no antidote for the tetrodotoxin. But I'll eat it, too. If it's poisonous, our muscle will be paralyzed bit by bit when we're fully conscious, eventually we won't be able to breathe. We're going to die slowly, painfully and desperately."

You take the first bite, Amado follows.

"Why are you so loyal to him?" Amado breaks the silence, "For one, you don't sleep with him. You obviously are not related. And as far as I know, money can't buy loyalty."

"I'll answer it if you answer my question first." The Mexican agrees. "You didn't want me for me, you barely knew me. You made the decision when Pacho said I was the best, he wouldn't last a week without me. You want him, or something that makes you his equivalent. Except being gay, I don't know. You won't fuck his boys, so I'm the next proxy. Am I correct?"

After a pause, Amado nods. Then it's your turn.

"How many female chefs do you know?" Amado is confused for a few seconds, then he gets it.

"There was no place for you in your line of work, just like there was no place for him in this game controlled by men, men who have multiple wives and fuck whores. He sees himself in you. So he takes you under his wings."

"Yes. Pacho is the only one who's believed me. He's also the biggest shareholder of my first restaurant."

Amado then asks what you gonna tell Pacho when you return. "I'll tell him you give really good heads. Maybe he should try it himself." You wink, "No, I'll let him know you're not a cold-blooded bastard. Even though you sometimes make awful choice by dipping sashimi in guacamole, you're appreciative of other people's work." You really mean it, you like Amado. But you'll probably never know if he buys it or if it matters.

After a while, you finish the whole plate of blowfish sashimi. "Seems we're not dead." Amado's poking your cheek with chopsticks.

"No, we are not."

"Last question, why did Pacho send you?"

"Amado, you would've done the same. You know that."

#narcos #narcos mexico #narcos imagine #amado carrillo fuentes #pacho herrera

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thebaddie96-blog · 3 years

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Once In A Life Time

~ Chapter 4~

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.” I jumped out of bed rolling over So-Eun and rush down the stairs. I can't believe I slept through my alarm; and on a day like this.

“ Woah! Jesus Min-ho, why are you laying in front of the stairs?”

“Mmmmm” he wines shooing me away. Ugh I don’t have time for this. Bussing it to the bathroom I wasted no time in discarding my clothes and stepping under the scalding hot water. “Finally” I release a deep breath.

I knew going out with So-eun and Min-ho to “Network” was a bad idea as soon as we got into the first club. They just know how to get to me; or I guess I should say they know what's best for me. I knew they could see me over thinking about my meeting with Jay Park, I mean I’m sure anyone could; so when they kept bugging me about the club, lets just say they didn't need to twist my arm too much to get me out. But today is my very important meeting with AOMG and I just can’t be late, I despise being late.

I’m definitely scared shitless, I’m not sure what deal Jay is going to offer me; I’m not even 100% sure if I'm gonna take it. It's just… the weight of everything finally sinking in. I just got to South Korea 5 Days ago. I'm supposed to be here to work with a completely different artist and... I can't help but think I'm in over my head and I should slow the breaks a bit. Taking another deep breath I stretch my arms in front of the marble wall letting the water soothe my aching muscles. ‘You got this B. You’ve got no reason to panic or over think. You wouldn't be in this position if you didn’t deserve it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“안녕하세요, I have a meeting with Jay Park I mean Mr. Park J-”

“Bianca Queen?”

“Hi, uh, yes, yes uh that's me.”

Jesus B relax.

“Great, he’s expecting you. You can take the elevator to the 6th floor, his office is the last one all the way down. You can’t miss it.”

“Ok Thank you!”

Here we go. I walk up to the elevator pressing the up button. At the same time the doors come flying open and none other than Loco comes stepping out. I’m not gonna lie out of everyone who is signed to AOMG Loco is my all time favorite; I could just see us being the closest.

He stops in the doorway of the elevator staring at me. I smile watching his brows raise in confusion and curiosity.

“Excuse me.”

I don’t think he heard me because he didn’t move till the elevator doors started to push closed, slightly squashing him in between. He steps back inside the elevator letting me walk in. As soon as I’m inside he maneuvers exiting through the doors all the while not taking his eyes off me. I smile again, press 6 on the keypad and shoot him a slight wave before the doors close; he quickly shoots me one back. Yeah I can see us being great friends.

The walk to Jay’s office felt like an eternity, my legs just felt so heavy. When I finally made it down the hall I came face to face with yet another secretary.

“Hi, I'm here to see Jay Park.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” I stood there stunned. “Bianca Queen? The Bianca Queen in the flesh. I love your work when Jay first told me he was scouting you for AOMG I was like ‘umm hell yeah! You should; she is like amazing’ I’m Z by the way short for Zen’na.” Z is a cute Korean tattooed babe, her long blue hair was pulled up in a messy bun. She had a tattoo of a star on her left cheek bone. She has a unique personality. I sense nothing but positive vibes and energy from her, it's refreshing. Plus she’s a fan of my work.

“Nice to meet you Z. Thank you so much for enjoying my work. I never thought they would find their way to South Korea, but I really appreciate your support. We should grab a drink sometime. If your free”

“My shift ends at 6.”

“6 sounds great. Do you have a pen?”She pulls a red pen from her hair slamming it down in front of a mini notepad on her desk. I take the pen jotting down my number. “Shoot me a call when you're off.”

She takes the pad back, staring at the paper in awe.

“I thought you might be held up out here.” And there he is, the man I'm here to see, Jay Park. He stood in some loose jeans, a graphic-T and Jordans he was even rocking a Jordan snapback. lol can you say Seattle Nigga, the culture has definitely shown influence on his style. It works for him though; it's natural, not forced. “Z's always watching your videos when she should be working.”

“Ok you ain't really gotta be embarrassing me like that.”

“Yeah Alright. Did you check the messages like I asked you to.”

“Yes I checked the messages like you asked me to. I emailed them to your computer.”

“Thanks Z. Bianca Come on in.”

“Bye Z. Give me a call.”

“Have a seat Bianca.”

His office was a soft green and black. Huge floor to ceiling windows that look out over Seoul. I dodge the chair he gestured to and stepped a little closer, gazing out the window.

Beautiful.

“ You like the view?” Jay asked walking next to me.

“It’s amazing. Why the 6th floor, why not the top? I mean for a CEO.”

“Come on, you don’t know. I would think a fellow Tauren would know the answer to a question like that.”

“You checked up on me?”

“First rule of business. Always know who you're getting into bed with. Metaphorically speaking of course.” He shoots me a smug smile walking to his desk. “Not that you're not a beautiful woman cause.” he paused, looking me up and down with a hint of lust. “ I brought you here for your talent. Come over here, have a seat.”

Heh, he’s way more charming in person. Ok B, eyes up chin up.

When I finally take my seat he’s just looking at me, then to a file on his desk then back at me.

“Bianca I’m gonna be up front with you, I want to sign you to AOMG. How does a 3 year Contract sound?”

“What?”

“You would be the first Choreographer/Artist Director to be signed to our company and after doing all my research I just know you would be a great fit for AOMG. Not to mention the Artist we low-key already got lined up who really wanna work with you.”

Signed to a record label, this record label.This all feels so surreal. I mean all of it. Being in Korea, being at AOMG, Being in Jay Parks office.

“You're hesitant. I can see it in your face. Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m truly honored Jay, I would want nothing more than to work with AOMG I- I just, have a life a company back home as well I-”

“I don’t want you to leave your company or your life. If anything, think of it as an enhancement for both. We would definitely need you stationed here for the first year but after that you can free flow.” Silence. I couldn’t speak “ Ok how about this? You're in Seoul for the next 6 months working with Hwasa correct. Let's do a trial contact; we have our 8 year anniversary in August, and I would like to hire you to do the show’s Artistic direction. After the show we can check in and if you're done with Seoul, that's that; at least you know.”

He even knows I’m working with Hwasa, he really did his research. Just then my mothers voice popped into my head. “Live your life for you Bianca. And live it to the fullest.”

“Deal.”

“Yes! Alright cool dope. I’ll have Z send over a contract by the end of the day.”

“That quick?”

“I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“You knew I’d be hesitant?”

“No, I just knew you’d say yes.”

“Yeah sure. I’ll be looking out for the contract.” Getting up Jay walks me to his front door placing his hand on the handle.

“Oh there’s a black tie event on Saturday. I want you to come out and get a feel for the scene. I’m also gonna announce our collaboration.”

Tomorrow?

“Black tie?”

“I’ll send something over.” he reaches out his hand towards me and I shake it with excitement.

“Ok.” he steps back, opening the door, sending Loco, Ugly Duck and Won Jae falling into the room collapsing on the floor.

“Nice guys. Bianca-”

““B, you can call me B.”

“Alright B, I'll see you Saturday. I’ll be in touch”

“I look forward to it.” I step over their legs walking out the door. “See ya later Z.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m sitting in Hangang Park with a beer, I stare out over the lake taking in the calm.

‘It all starts here.’ I think.

The next chapter of my life.

Let's live it to the fullest B.

#New #Beginnings #Black #Woman #Lead #Seoul #south #Korea #Jay #Park #Jaypark #AMNW #AOMG #Loco #Dance #artist #story #fanfictiom #Chapter4

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lia-jones · 4 years

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Growing Pains - Chapter Ten - Finding Solace

My doorbell rang at 6:30 sharp. Apparently the driver shared Victor’s punctuality, and for a moment I considered how effective Victor was on keeping everyone on their toes. Without answering through the intercom, I went downstairs.

The black sedan was parked on the curb in front of the building. I walked to the car and the front passenger window opened. I immediately recognized the bass voice coming from inside.

“Get in.”

I paused for a moment, startled. Didn’t he say he was going to send a car?

“What? You forgot how the door opens?” Well, good morning to you too, Mr. Sunshine.

“Good morning.” I said, getting in the car. Of course, I didn’t have a reply. He pulled the car from the curb and just drove, his eyes focused on the road.

“Your coffee is getting cold.” Victor finally spoke.

I looked down. In the cup holder, there was a paper coffee cup with my name on it.

“Thank you.” I said before taking a sip, the warmth and the caffeine making me feel a whole lot better.

“It’s nothing.”

He spoke without even glancing at me, his eyes on the road at all times. I looked closer at him, hoping he would feel my gaze and at the very least glance at me. After a moment, I realized he was lost in thought. Like the true daughter of a therapist, I studied his posture. He looked tense, his shoulders not all the way down, his grip hard on the wheel.

“You look tense.” I finally blurted out, not caring if he would like it or not.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ok, he didn’t want to talk. Tough luck.

“How did it go yesterday?” I pressed again.

Victor sighed.

“I spent yesterday’s afternoon with a forensic team. Ted embezzled almost two million dollars from the company. The lawyers pressed charges. He will be taken for questioning today.”

“I’m sorry. I understand it must be hard, you being friends and all.”

“It’s my company. It’s my responsibility.” Victor’s expression turned sour. “I shouldn’t have let friendship affect business.”

“You speak like this is your fault.” I said, in disbelief. Was he really taking the blame for being robbed blind?

Victor was quiet for a while, focused on entering LFG’s parking lot and parking his car at his reserved spot. He killed the engine and sat back on his seat.

“It is my responsibility.” He finally said, his voice low. “The people I hire, what and how they do, all of that is my responsibility.”

“That’s honorable, but a little pretentious as well. You can’t possibly know everything about everyone, know exactly what’s on their minds, predict every crappy thing life throws at you.”

“And even though it’s painstakingly obvious that I can’t, that is exactly what’s expected from me.” His eyes were filled with a painful resolve. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, they say. Victor was fully aware of how heavy the crown was.

Our ride in the elevator to the top floor was silent. Victor kept himself busy with his phone, and I spent the time counting up the floors as we rose through the tall building.

“Today will be a hard day.” Victor said, touching my arm slightly. “Dealing with the mess Ted left won’t be easy, this is more than just making payments, I need to clear the company’s name. I need to protect what took so many years to build. The partners already know you, they will trust you. I’m counting on your help.”

I smiled softly at Victor.

“I’ll do my best. Thank you for trusting my skills.”

“I do.” His eyes were earnest. “I do trust you.”

As I walked into the office, I was startled with the piles of documents in both desks. Victor followed me in and, without another word, took his jacket and rolled up his sleeves.

“So, what do you want me to do?” I said, not even bothering to sit. I took one of the files and skimmed through it.

Victor leaned on the desk and explained his strategy to fix that mess. Some of the partners were trying to back away from the funding, already seeking other investors. Every file contained an alternative investment plan, one more alluring to the partners, in order to keep them with LFG. Ted held the accounts of some major companies, and losing them would be a hard blow on LFG’s reputation and profits.

Goldman joined us shortly after, his hand busy with coffee and food to fuel our morning. I spent the entire time talking to the partners, apologizing for what had happened and offering a renegotiation of the contractual terms.

We never left the office, except for bathroom breaks, having lunch while working. One by one, the files on both our desks disappeared.

By the time Goldman took the last file, it was dark out.

“Are we done?” I asked, leaning back on my chair.

Victor was already leaning on his chair, staring at nothing. He has taken off his tie and undone the first two buttons of his shirt, and he looked exhausted, faint dark circles surrounding his eyes, his hair slightly disheveled.

“Yes. We’re done for today.” Victor said, getting up. “Get your things, I’ll drive you home.”

We left the office and walked in the elevator silently, the humming of the elevator motors the only audible thing. I was startled by Victor’s voice.

“You know, we deserve a treat after all this hard work. Have dinner with me.”

“Sounds good. I mean, if you’re not too tired. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense.” Victor shook his head. “I could use the company and the distraction.”

Victor drove us to an eclectic part of town, filled with buildings of odd colors and shapes. We could see art everywhere: in the walls, the gardens, the light posts. Everything was decorated with something original and beautiful, representing some culture.

“I have been here for what? Almost six months? And I have never visited this part of town, it’s beautiful.” I said as I looked around.

“It’s southwest Loveland, the artistic part of town.” Victor explained. “If you follow the street we just passed to your left, you’ll find Loveland’s Museum. A few blocks after, the Music School and Loveland’s Theatre, where Loveland’s Orchestra performs.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’ve been here for months and haven’t properly visited the city yet?”

“Levi keeps inviting me, but work on my thesis during the weekend, so…” I shrugged. My life had been all work, no play. I had to do something about that.

“Levi?”

“My neighbor. He’s an immigrant like me, but he’s been here for years, so he knows his way around the city.”

“That’s ridiculous. You should visit the city with someone that is actually from Loveland, someone who actually knows the place.” Victor said, frowning. “I could give you a tour one of these days.”

“You?” I was surprised. “It’s fine, you probably have better things to do.”

“You don’t need to worry about what I have or don’t have to do.” Victor replied coldly. “I know every nook and corner of this town. I will gladly show you around.”

“Ok, thank you.” I nodded. He was probably just being polite, so there was no use speaking about it anymore.

We arrived at a secluded restaurant named Solace. It was totally decorated in shades of black and white, the walls covered with photographs of what the owner seemingly perceived as comfort: hands holding, two people hugging, a sunset, someone crying with joy.

“So, what do you think?” Victor asked, as we sat at a small table at the corner.

“I love it. The art is beautiful.” I said, still admiring the photographs on the walls.

“I knew you’d like it.” Victor picked up the menu. “The food is exquisite as well. You should try the duck, it’s delicious. Do you want to pick the wine, Miss “my-father-is-an-oenologist”?” Victor handed me the wine menu.

“You overestimate my knowledge of wine. Please do the honors.” I gave the menu back to Victor. He opened it, reading it carefully.

“So we’re both having the duck… How do you feel about… Beaujolais?”

“Fruity wine. I like the way you think.” I nodded. I didn’t have to be a connoisseur as my father to know Victor understood wine perfectly. I imagined how it would be like if Victor ever visited my parents’ house. He wouldn’t leave the cellar.

Our food arrived shortly, and Victor was absolutely right, it was delicious. The kind of food you’d expect from a 3 Michelin star restaurant, but in a small venue, where you could eat and just chill, listen to the music and enjoy the art, straight from work. Really my kind of place. Simple, elegant and with good food.

“How’s your meal?” Victor asked.

“Like you said: exquisite. And the wine matches it perfectly.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Victor said, filling my empty glass with more wine. “We need to toast.” He said, raising his glass. “To a job well done.”

“Cheers!” I smiled, as I raised my glass and clinked it with Victor’s. “You have to look me in the eyes while you drink, or you will get seven years of terrible sex.”

For the life of me, I don’t know why I said that. Maybe the wine was getting to me. Luckily, Victor found my words amusing, chuckling at my moronic statement.

“You believe in such a superstition?” He asked, holding his cup in the air, without drinking it.

“No, but… It’s seven years of terrible sex. Better safe than sorry.”

“Sure, nobody wants that. Let’s drink then.” He brought the cup to his lips and drank, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Your girlfriends will deeply appreciate it.” I nodded ceremoniously.

“What girlfriends?”

“Oh, please, a guy like you? Wealthy and good looking?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“We do have a whole department for girlfriends at LFG.” He stated, his face dead serious. “They have to fill an application, stating how they can make my wildest dreams come true, and occasionally I drop by to beat them off with a stick.” He paused for my reaction, which was a laugh. “Where have you ever seen me with a woman? Even if I did have women lining up for me, they don’t interest me. I prefer quality over quantity.”

“You’re in search of the one and only? When you find her, please introduce her to me? I want to see the girl that meets your very high standards.” My heart panged. I ignored it completely.

“I don’t think I have to search much longer, actually.” He looked at me meaningfully. My heart swelled. My head immediately stumped it down. Stop reading into things, Andrea.

“Well, what are you doing here with me, then? Shouldn’t you be with her instead? Go get your piece of heaven, be happy.” I wanted to sound perky and positive, but my tone came out all wrong, my uneasiness about the subject clearly showing. Victor smiled.

“I have to be patient with her. If I come out too strong, I’ll scare her away. Besides, she’s terrible at understanding the subtle hints I give her, so I’ll have to wait for her to put all the pieces together before I can actually be blunt about it.” She has to be incredibly stupid if she’s missing the chance, I thought.

“I don’t know, if it’s this hard to begin with, if you have to use such caution, maybe it’s not worth it at all.” My words sounded more bitter than I intended.

“It’s supposed to be hard. The things that matter to you the most usually are. If you’re not willing to give it your all, put yourself on the spot and risk losing everything, it’s because that thing wasn’t as important as you thought.” Victor looked me in the eyes and rested his hand on the table. I wanted to hold it, but refrained. He quickly took his hand away, taking his glass to drink more wine. I did the same.

“Enough about me.” He stated. “What about you? Besides that Lewis guy, any love interest?”

I almost snorted the wine I was drinking.

“Ok, first: Levi is not a love interest. Not at all, not once, not ever.” I said, gesticulating furiously. “Second: I don’t have the time to visit the city, where would I find the time to date? No dates.”

“Does that mean you’re off the market, so to speak?”

“It means I don’t even have a clue where the market is. I’m still finding my ground here.”

“Good to know.” Victor smiled.

“What’s good to know? The fact that I’m pathetic? I’m glad you enjoy it, always a pleasure to serve.” I spoke ironically, pretending to be offended.

“It’s good to know that you’re working hard on finding your ground. You have all these plans, your doctorate, launching your career, I hope you see all of those through.” Victor replied earnestly.

Me too. It was so important for me to get my life back on track after so much I had been through. To find my own solace. I promised myself that when I got my diploma I would take a picture of it and give it to the owner of this restaurant.

I waited by the entrance as Victor paid the bill. I hadn’t noticed before the huge photograph near the door, hands lovingly holding a pregnant belly.

“There’s no solace like your mother’s womb.” I hear Victor speaking behind me. “Where you find nothing but warmth and love.”

I didn’t reply. I was afraid words would let out the tears I was hiding. I got out the door.

“Is everything ok?” He followed me, watching me closely.

“Oh, yeah, everything is fine.” I tried to downplay it, but he could hear in my voice how tight my throat was.

“Everything is not fine.” Victor insisted, softly putting his hand on my back. “Tell me the truth. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is fine!” I laughed. “I just got emotional with the photograph and I didn’t want you to make fun of me. I admit, maybe I had too much wine.” Victor’s eyes were deep into mine, scanning my expression for any sign of deceit. “Do you mind taking me home? It’s late, and we had a rough day…”

“Sure.” Victor promptly answered, as he snapped out of focus. “You’re right, we’re both tired, we should get some rest.”

He seemed to find my excuse satisfactory, dropping the subject completely. But I suspected he didn’t really believe me, because his hand never left my back as we walked to the car.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingpains #mlqc victor #victor x oc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc li zeyan #love and producer #mister love queens choice

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loganscalesaurawrites · 4 years

Text

9/1 Prompt for @tsshipmonth2020 ‘s Soulmate September stuff. I haven’t written a lot of Sanders Sides though [... Or fanfics in general that were more than oneshots/fallen projects. so expect roughness.

[I’ll be doing a mix of platonic soulmates and romantic soulmates as this goes on [If I write more], because I’m a big fan of the sides as a big poly web with Roman and Remus being the only two not actively dating because remro/m = no.]

This one’s the full web with remus and roman as platonic soulmates! Because start with your favorite thing.

[Remus is also probably a bit ooc, but I like the headcanon that he plays up his “Depravity” as a side, and in human!Au he’s just someone with a morbid fascination with death or biology that leaves most people unnerved/is prone to blurting out what he’s thinking without really caring about other people’s comfort until he’s told off.

Soulmate Marks had been appearing for centuries at this point with very limited knowledge on how or why exactly they did, a short list of names appearing in either a dark crimson for your lovers, or a glittering emerald for those who you bond with as friends or even a found family in most cases- both darkening with an outline the moment you came in contact with your soulmates. These started forming generally early on in life as your soulmates were born and names chosen, or you were born with them if you were the youngest of your soulmates.- Though rarely were they ever more than a year or two apart, and with astonishing frequently, you started meeting your romantic soulmates a few days after your eighteenth birthday.

It was a rarity for someone to have more than one [maybe two] of both, but when they were born, the Alvarez twins had a stretch of four crimson names, and the moment their names were chosen emerald swirled on each other’s wrists.

But that was almost two decades ago, now it was eighteen years later, nearing the end of the school year a few days after the twins’ birthday and Roman, once again, was trying to figure out his soulmates.

Patton Kravitz: His last name had changed quite a lot early on, which his parents said probably meant he was bouncing around in adoption centers until he settled in a few years prior. The original name was long forgotten in his memory, but he was sure it was’t a masculine name to start- but that was fine with them both, whatever pronouns- [Roman had a hard time switching to they in his head, but was working on it![- their soulmate had they knew to respect.

Logan Sanders: A simple, regular name. [Remus even jolted up about three times in the past week hearing either of the two seperate, but had to be reminded their birthday hadn’t come up yet, it was unlikely.], unlike the

Virgil: No last name, at least not one in english, Roman no matter how hard he tried to learn japanese for the sake of this soulmate was just unable to figure out how to read the kanji [Though Remus could, and it infuriated him to no end when he never said how to read it].

Janus : No last name again, though he had disappeared for a week, before coming back in the same exact place [Remus was the most panicked about this, his more... grim worries flashing through his head before Roman calmed him down, talking about how Patton’s name flickered a few times while his name was in flux, so maybe Janus was similar to patton, just took longer.

Roman quietly stared at the names on his wrist, again pencil tapping rapidly on his desk, a few rapid bounces of his leg came before the teacher called on him, jolting him out of his reviere and rushing to catch back up on which question they were on.

His brother behind him softly snorted, tapping a rapid series of things and Roman quickly flicked forward and read the line out with a narrowed from his teacher, but the bell rung right after and he quickly rushed to get his things and dart before he could get told off for daydreaming again.

Right behind him Remus playfully chided his brother with a low tsk. “C’mon, Ro, I thought we said you only get one longing lovestruck look at your names a day, that’s the third time I caught you thinking about them and how much you-”

Roman gently elbowed the other as he snickered, “Oh please, you’re the one who daydreams about the bedroom, I’m pure and chaste and romantic.”

“Say that to your picture of Aladdin-”

“He is a god among mortals and you will shut your face before I do-”

Remus’s cackle was heard through the hallway, the two seniors bickering on their way to the car as Roman slid into the passenger’s side, flapping his hands about in excitement as Remus let him jabber on, driving their way to a nearby coffee shop during their lunchbreak. He quickly passed by their usual one, Remus deciding to try different places nearby to hopefully get his brother to shut up about them for one second.

“What absurd thing’re you going to ask them to put on your cup this time?” Roman slid out staring Remus down, ticking his latest creations. “Last name sucker, first name Dick? Boo T Chaser?”

Remus shrugged, grinning wider than Roman had seen, “Just Remus!”

There was a second, Roman waiting for the beat to drop before he blinked, frowning. “... Remus?”

“Yeah, I mean you’re obsessed with our soulmates, might as well make it easier, besides seeing the two of us together and our last names on the cups should abso fucking lutely make these people notice. You think one of our soulmates’d be willing to bang me right after we meet or should I buy them dinner fi-”

Roman threw his hands up in the air, slamming them down to his sides with a snort that betrayed his annoyance. “Your pansexual ass needs to chill.”

“And your Ace ass is the only person I can talk to about this who won’t squirm in discomfort and would dropkick me. Thank god you’re not repulsed otherwise I have no idea how we’re soulmates if you can’t reign me in, princey.” Remus stuck his tongue out, ducking a grabbing hand at the childish nickname before walking in.

The shop itself wasn’t all too unique, a simple cafe with a chalkboard menu above the counter, currently being updated by a guy in a patchwork purple hoodie doodling all sorts of plants along the frame of the board. One of the baristas- dressed complete in suspenders and the hipster aesthetic from the looks of it [who else’d wear a necktie to a casual cafe]- pratling to a customer with a cardigan around his shoulders. Remus met the light chill of the AC with a happy sigh, quickly rushing to stand behind a guy with multicolored skin [Vitiligo- Roman remembered reading about it once] and he jolted when Remus had already moved to the register.

shit.

“Hi I want your darkest roast you’ve got, black, and sunshine here’s gonna need more cream and sugar than coffee. If it’s not whiter than a sheet of paper he won’t drink it.”

“Asshole.” Roman elbowed Remus, turning to the barista. “I’d like just a latte, if you don’t mind. And I’ll pay extra for it too, but if anyone working can do that fancy latte art stuff I’d appreciate it?”

“Very well.” The barista’s tone was an odd mix of clipped formality, and warm gentleness that immediately made Roman melt, and the Barista pulled out two cups real quick, grabbing papers. “Names? And please-” he glared at Remus. “This time, do not make me call out “Luke Kinfor Cawk”

Roman ignored the soft snort from the arist above them, hearing him grumble “Is that any way to treat a customer?”

He glanced up, glaring at the smirking artist- Remus gawking at his light makeup for a second and mumbling something about needing tips from the stylish asian indivudal- “I’ve been working here for a week, I’ll do better about it.”

“God I’m joking Lo, take a hint. Though you’re leagues above where you were when we met. Sorry about that.” The hoodie wearer hopped down, dusting his shirt and picking up a pen himself. “Welcome to the Roast, since he forgot to welcome you. I can do latte art, so any requests?”

“Yeah, can I kiss you-” Roman’s hand slapped over Remus’s mouth- surprised at the safe for work flirt and he stumbled out.

“My apologies, my brother here’s... Eccentric, I apologize if he’s ever gone too far.”

The barista shrugged- and Roman noticed neither of the employees had a nametag on. Odd. “The first time yes, but I just hold it against him since we’ve had a pretty decent rapport.”

“How you can stomach all that biology I don’t know. You two start prattling off those facts in the corner like it’s a science course.” The other two customers nearby snorted, trying to hide their eavesdropping as they themselves chatted, and the artist quickly pulled the labels off. “Names?”

“Roman and Remus Alvarez-”

All at once, four different things fell over. The pencil in the artist’s hand, the mug the barista was cleaning, the coffee that the cardigan clad guy was sipping from... and the 4th individual in his entirety, who somehow litterally fell over at the name spontaneously as though it shocked him.

The twins stared at one another for about half a second, seeing things processing on the other four, before Roman grinned, hands moving up and showing the lines of red names on his wrist.

“Virgil, Logan, Patton and Janus I presume?” Artist, Barista, Cardigan, and the one currently still on the floor in shock nodded in that order, and Remus cackled like mad.

“Ok now that it’s a LOT more kosher, Specs or Chalkboy, can I kiss you now” Remus helped Janus up from the floor, dusting his shirt off while pouting at the workers and Patton giggled.

“I get the feeling we’re gonna be skipping the rest of school today, Remus.” [Don’t do that kiddo!][Please do] “There’s a lot of stuff to talk about.”

#sanders sides #soulmate september #soulmate AU

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afternoonteawithme · 4 years

Text

Comfort and Lies

(read it on AO3)

Levi looked up from his laptop when he heard the apartment’s front door slam shut. He was about to call out, to let Eren know he was there, when he heard the slamming of a second, inside door.

Eyebrow arching, Levi eyed the wall dividing the kitchen he sat in from the bedroom. He glanced at the floor plans he’d been studying on his laptop, the unread messages on his cell phone, and the clock ticking away on the wall. He’d hoped to see Eren before he left so he was already running late. His ride was waiting impatiently – very impatiently – outside, but… he shut his laptop, tucked his phone into his pocket, and stood.

When he stepped into the bedroom, he saw Eren had thrown himself face down on the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, reached out a hand to stroke Eren’s hair. “Bad day?”

Eren turned his face and smiled weakly up at him, “I thought you’d be long gone already or I’d have come and said hello. Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to your booth at the trade show?”

“The flight was delayed, so I was killing time for a couple hours. What’s wrong?”

“It’s no big deal. My professor was just more of a jerk than usual.”

“What did he do now?”

“He’s an ass, is all. He just hates me because I helped Historia report him her first year, so he likes making real sure the whole class knows I stupid I am.”

Levi’s eyes went hard, but he kept his voice soft as he stroked Eren’s hair. “You’re not stupid.”

Eren laughed, and shot a brief, mischievous glance at Levi. “Really? I seem to remember you told me I was ‘the biggest idiot this side of the state line’, when you were driving me to the hospital last month.”

Levi pinched at Eren’s arm. “That was different, idiot. You almost gave yourself pneumonia, running around like that and pretending you didn’t have the flu.” He turned his fingers, stroked away the slight redness on Eren’s skin. “But you’re not stupid. Never that.”

“Thank you,” Eren turned over, scooted across the blanket until he could burrow against Levi’s side. “It’s ok, he can’t fail me because the exams are all externally marked, and I get decent marks there. But today he kept calling on me and asking me all these questions, and when I couldn’t answer he’d do that, you know, sneering thing, so I got mad and I…sorta told him what I thought of him. Because he was being an asshole, and I swear we hadn’t gone over half the stuff he asked about, and if we had then that just shows he’s a bad teacher, doesn’t it? Plus he’s a disgusting perv, even if Historia and I couldn’t prove more than we did.”

He pressed in a little closer, wrapping his arms around Levi’s waist. His voice was muffled against Levi’s suit jacket as he continued, “So then he tells me I’m ‘an embarrassment to my father’s memory’.” He said the words mockingly, almost managing to hide the hurt underneath. “He told me the only reason I passed any of my classes was because my dad’s estate promised the dean they’d donate lots of money when I graduate, and I know that’s not true, but…” Eren sighed, pulling away from Levi and flopping onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “But the whole class was there listening, and I just…I know some teachers do sometimes treat me differently because of my dad. So I guess I couldn’t really be entirely sure he was lying.” He half laughed, ruefully. “Maybe I am more stupid than I thought.”

If he’d been watching Levi’s eyes, instead of staring up at the ceiling, Eren might have been shocked at the flash of fierce rage that ran through them.

“And by the end he’s like two inches away from my face so his spit is just landing all over me.” Eren shuddered. “After class I went to the bathroom and scrubbed my face as much as I could. He’s creepy and gross.”

Very, very carefully, Levi fought to calm himself. Lightly, he reached out, flicking a finger at Eren’s forehead as he spoke as casually as he could manage. “There, there. Want me to beat him up for you?”

Eren laughed, turning his head to grin at Levi. “As always, thanks for the offer. Right now I’m going to rinse off any spit left on me, then I’ll go do my homework like any other good, diligent student so I can graduate as soon as possible.” He pushed himself up, planted a kiss on Levi’s cheek before sliding to the edge of the bed. “And then we’ll move, far far away, and I’ll never have to see him again.”

Levi watched Eren disappear into the bathroom, and quickly pulled out his phone. Ignoring the many increasingly irritated messages telling him his ride was ready and waiting for him outside, he sent out a brief text.

Change of plan. Personal issue came up. Abort mission.

There was a short pause, and then someone replied Sex is not a good enough reason to abort mission. Get your ass dressed and out to the car. Furlan has been waiting almost an hour.

Levi narrowed his eyes. Fuck you. Will require Furlan’s assistance with transport, equipment, possibly clean-up.

The reply this time took even less time. I stand corrected, maybe it is a good enough reason. Sounds like you’re planning some amazing sex.

Again, fuck you. I’ll be out in a minute.

Levi kept an eye on the bathroom door and tucked his phone away again an instant before Eren stepped back out, scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel.

“Levi, I just realized, didn’t you say you had to set up your booth today? Will you have enough time before the expo opens tomorrow?”

“It’ll be fine. Erwin is there already, he’ll set up most of it.” Levi stood. “I do have to go though, my ride should be pulling up outside any minute.”

“Ok, thanks for listening. I feel better already.”

“Good.” Levi stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Eren’s neck and pulling his head down for a deep, lingering kiss. “Now go study. I should be back late Sunday, but I’ll call you on my lunch break tomorrow.”

“Alright. Travel safe. Sell lots of vacuum cleaners.”

Levi slid into the car waiting at the curb. As they pulled away, the driver threw a disposable cell phone over at him. “Boss wants to talk.”

“Boss can go fuck himself.” But as Levi met Furlan’s eyes in the rearview mirror, he sighed, opened the phone.

“What do you want?”

“Me?” The voice on the other end was rich, deep, amused. “You’re the one changing plans at the last minute.”

“This is important, Erwin.”

“You sure you want to cancel? We might not have another go at this target for a while.”

“Let the client know we’ll get to it. Something came up.

“Uh huh. I’ll pass the word.”

There was a long, drawn out silence while neither Erwin or Levi said anything, and then there was a loud clatter as someone grabbed the phone from Erwin and a different voice yelled into the receiver, “Dammit, Levi, stop being a hardass and tell us what the hell is going on! I need to know. And do you need help? What’s happening? What do you need us to do? We can be on the next flight out there in…fourty-five minutes.”

Biting back a curse, Levi closed his eyes. “Hanji, calm down. And Furlan is enough, the rest of you can stand down. I’d like to handle this one myself.”

There was more clattering on the line, and then Erwin was back. “Then we’ll leave you to it, and give Eren my love when you next see him. Make sure to tell him I sold more…what is it you tell him we do these days? Oh, yes, tell him I sold more vacuum cleaners than you.”

Levi let himself into a large, empty bedroom. He sneered a little as he glanced at the fussy, oversized bed covered with black satin sheets and a leopard print rug, at the framed, stylized sketches of women wearing only artistically tied rope that hung along the walls. The man had a giant damned painting of himself, bare-chested and riding some unrealistically small horse hung over the head of his bed. If he didn’t already loathe his guts Levi would have been happy to kill him based on that smug, self-satisfied portrait alone.

But he wasn’t here to kill him today. After all, he hadn’t asked Eren if he could kill him, he’d only asked if he could beat him up.

And this time Eren hadn’t said no, the way he had every other time Levi had offered. He’d laughed, but he hadn’t said no.

Opening the closet, Levi gingerly searched through until he found a white shirt with the tags still attached. He spread it out on the bed and settled onto it. While he waited, he checked his guns, and unwrapped the kit he’d brought with him. It had been a gift from Hanji, and she’d slowly been teaching him how to use all the little tools.

He wasn’t anywhere near as good at torturing as she was, but he could get by.

As he laid everything out, Levi wondered, not for the first time, if Eren would enjoy coming along on these trips once Levi told him he, Erwin, Hanji and the rest didn’t really sell vacuum cleaners for a living, and told him the truth about what they did.

Unless he was very much mistaken, he thought Eren would take to this world like a duck to water.

But not yet. He had to finish college first.

Levi heard a noise somewhere in the house and sat back on the bed. When the door opened and a man that looked a lot like the man in the insufferable portrait over the bed, if a lot smaller and a lot less attractive, stepped in and flipped on the lights, Levi shot him with the tranquilizer gun.

He watched as the asshole’s knees crumpled, and he landed on his ass on the ground, staring incredulously at Levi.

“Who…what’s going on? Why are you in my room?” The man’s words were already slurring.

“Hello, Professor.” Levi smiled coldly as he ran one sharp tool through his fingers. “I’ve been wanting to meet with you for some time. We need to discuss your teaching methods.”

#snk #ereri #snk fanfiction #eren x levi #my fanfiction #elliemoran #its a whole lot darker than I planned but I still stand by the fluff tag #this was meant to be posted before halloween but that #did not happen

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heyyylittlemo · 4 years

Text

Ask game

1. Where did you hide the body??

Me: *pause* No, where did you hide the body—

*police stare at me with disbelief*

Me: there’s no—there’s not a single body here—well stop looking at me like that, you’re the cop! You should know! Why are you asking me for! Body? Whaaaaaat. Ahaha.

*cops shake head*

*whispers to my friend* Guys I think I pulled that one off

Police: you know we can hear everything you’re saying

me: 👁👄👁

2. Favorite rock? The 1975. Dominic Fike. Arctic Monkeys. Bad Suns. The killers. Pale Waves. Etc. That good good shit 👌

3. Most aesthetic season? Fall. Love them orange colors. The leaves falling. Though spring is also neat if you have a bunch of flowers bloomin in shit and winter is only aesthetic when it’s snowing. Boring ass summer tho just be heating me up.

4. When texting do u shorten words or spell out? I used to write stuff out all the time mostly but now it’s like half and half bcuz its just faster and nobody got time for it 🤣🤣

5. Vintage stuff? Hell yeah, but maybe not anything too expensive since some old stuff IS hyper expensive.

6. Colors that pop or blend? Not sure I understand what u mean abt them blending ahaha u mean like when they’re so similar to another?? Well I think it’s nice but honestly I prefer a pop and a bang, y’Know?

- At this moment I realized I was answering the last few questions from a completely different ask and felt like a dumbass 😂 anyways the actual number we’re on is three so imma just kickback

3. Worst dream u have ever had? I had sleep paralysis but was imbetween that and a lucid dream. At first I was paralyzed and could see my bed but my eyes felt closed and open at the same time?? A giant dark demon looking dog had towered over me and began to tear at my neck. It looked and felt very real I started to try to scream and it felt like a scream was coming out but no sound exited. Then I went into a lucid dream where I was being chased by this dog and running for my life I was running by and nobody could save me nobody in the dream when it caught up to me I was back in my bed and it was trying to eat me again. I was so terrified I couldn’t sleep for a whole week.

4. Lyric that comes to your mind? “And I don’t think I can be there. I’m paralyzed,I’m terrified of being alone. When you said I deserved what had happened.”

5. Blood make u uncomfortable? Yes, I passed out once when getting my finger pricked and a VERY small blood sample and another when dissecting a fish.

6. Even or odd numbers? Well I like the number 5,7,9, 3 so odd. (Like me 🤣🤣)

7. Something I hate that I love? Anything I’ve ever loved becuz love can be frustrating. Bruh.

8. 1st initial of someone I hate? Hmm...do I hate someone tho? Not that I can think of...

9. *Skipping down the lane* NOPE

10. Corn dogs? It’s funny cuz when I think of corn dogs my mind will always go to when we first moved to our current house because at our initial town we never had Sonic and while we were getting the house fixed up and moving stuff we use to always get Sonic since it was the closest to us most times to eat and that was a bunch of corn dogs and hotdog days 🤣 so thnk u corn dogs for ur service

11. I’m not a huge movie person so...I looked up movies from 2005 and movies Inlike from this time are Brokeback mountain bcuz it’s gay af, Shark Boy and Lava Girl damn I rewatched the shot out of it when I was younger, Narnia and the Chocolate Factory(although it low key creeped me out as a kid, and idk why).

12. Least fav music genre? Most country, most EDM, dubstep, screaming/really hard rock, some pop music, mumble raping.

13. As someone who waits on tables, my job is my least favorite restaurant experience 🤣🤣 just dealing with ppl...like ok, I’m half Hispanic right?? But I look white. Well, I work at a Mexican restaurant and so sometimes racist costumers will say shady shit just bcuz I guess they think it’s appropriate to say it to me just bcuz I’m not Hispanic in their eyes?? But it pisses me off and I feel like I can’t say anything without causing a drama which I hate and when the “costumers always right” it can be hard to budge and stand up and say “bitch wtf did u just say??” And there’s just folks who take things the wrong ways or ask too much at once or give u a hard time or just say something that sticks onto you for the whole day. One bad move can turn my whole day upside down.

14. 3 things never come near me? Cockroaches, Needles, and close mind ppl

15. Worst way to die? With regrets. Something really brutual, random, or where something just happened to go wrong (accident). Being killed by someone u love.

16. Unusual habits? Doing a Michael Jackson esque “hee-hee” after every sneeze I make, being extremely clumsy and making every task 100% more difficult, having the ability to talk as if I have an accent that comes from nowhere in particular just stupidity also I can’t speak my own language half the time 🙃getting words confused or misusing them in a sentence so I sound dumb having a very weird imagination and thoughts, I swear it like I never went to school and don’t know how the world works, plus many many more

17. Clothing style u want? I want to dress in a way that screams who I am and is a blend of both femininity and masculinity. A little vintage. Grunge. Urban maybe?? What do I know abt fashion 🤣🤣

18. Song or artist that deserves more? Dijon, hands down. I love his stuff. He’s like Frank Ocean meets light-singing beautiful lyricist with a more rock vibe?? Hidden gem. I also think Durand Jones & the Indications needs more love along with BadBadNotGood they sound like old-times but are new!! Oh, and Pale Waves is like a female The 1975 and kicks it. Bad Suns is a good alt rock band that no one seems to recognize :,D Toro y Moi too! His song with Flume “The difference “ is a banger!! Kid Cudi is my man when I want a blend of rock and rap. Also Dominic Fike,King Krule, and Roy Blair, who are all amazing!! Ok I need to stop 🛑

Duck I answered the past questions from a different post I’m sorry 😐

17. Emoji never used? There’s a bunch since I reuse the same over and over again. Lmao

18. 3 sentence Gatorade horror story? A faint quiver overtook the small freezer the Gatorade lay in; no one had come by in days, hours, weeks; when was the last time he met the lips of a thirsty body? They’d forgotten about him, as his last sips remained glued to his hollowing entrance. ‘Help, ‘it wanted to say, but it’s frozen lips could not be moved; It’d stay here, die here...just like the rest.” What am I doing with my life 🤣🙏

19. Do u know what an old bay is? A bay that is old? And old ocean? Idk!!!

20. Can u dance? Sometimes I dance when I’m alone but nothing spectral lol

21. What first comes to ur mind when u see ropes? 2 extremes. Sex and death. Hm. Ok. Moving on.

22. Make an obscure reference. “Even a bra couldn’t hold these nipples” *Holds a water gun to chest*

23. Fav balloon color? Pink or yellow.

24. If u were in court would u be innocent or guilty? Depends, what am I in court for 🤣 lmao jk honestly idk bcuz I don’t think I’d wind up in there

25. Are u hungry ? Nope

26. Unlucky number? Hm I don’t think so but I have a lucky number “123”

27. What’s “JMD”stand for? I’m guessing...Jamming my d—- 💀lol jk ahaha why am so dirt

28. Random inside joke? *chirpy squeak* I’m making a double batch of cookies

29. What sends chills up ur spine? Seeing disgust food or smell disgust or talking abt disgust things like gore

30. How many questions are in ur inbox? A pathetic zero ahaha no one want to ask me anything 😂

31. Someone real who scares u. 2 of my ex friends. One when I was 10 said disturbing things and I was kinda forced onto the friendship and everything they said make me fear for others lives...and then a different ex friend who seemed normal at 1st but became both low key psychopath cult leader type stuff and I booed out of there—-.

32. Run or hide? Uhh probably hide because I’d say even if ppl say “u can run but u can’t hide” u CAN just hide! that’s the point of hiding they not find u xD also why not combine them? Hide then run somewhere far away once I got them off the trial.

33. Last person who made u angry? A frickin beetle that flew at me and pinched me in the middle of singing in the shed xD also my autocorrect

34. What’s going on in ur head? I should probably pee soon—

35. Little thing that makes u Smile? A lot of little things bruh.

36. Are u a descisive person?

Not sure.

*pAuse *

Ok, I guess I’m not then 🤣

37. Would ppl say I’m paranoid? Hm maybe about certain things social situations, singing in front of others what ppl think abt me etc etc

38. Store least likely in? Any southern clothes shop, Abercrombie & Finch types shit, lol

39. Do I like hats fave type? Hm not wear many hats but I think they’re cool any type is cool for different ppl and their aesthetici just can’t rock a hat.

40. Bow ties or ties? Don’t really care but now want to see more bow ties

41. Who? You.

42. What? Reading this shit

43. Where? In ur ass

44. When? Now.

45. Why? Not even u know why.

46. How? We all want to know

47. Do u collect anything? Vinyl records.

48. What tome is it? Time to get a watch

49. Fav transportation? My car or walk is possible

50. Would u ever kill someone to save someone? Don’t want to think about that

51. Make a joke. Yo, it’s time to make a joke—so the other day I was working. And I was practicing my Spanish, yes? Anyone whose trying to learn anew language k n o w s that sometimes words can be so close to another u just confuse then! So apparently churros in Spanish is a desert but if u say it more harshly (it literally sounds almost the same) it makes a whole different meaning—diharrea, but like I didn’t know that so I legit just walked up to this person and asked if they would like some shit to eat. So yeah, that was great. Let’s not forget that I mixed up blood, watermelon, and sangria which is a wine. I legit once said I had mixed wine in my vines and another time watermelon 🤣

52. I’m really confused so I skip

53. Would ur dash be confiscated SFW? By dash do u mean this account? Um not 😬

54. Do I like to cuddle? Hell yeah and manhandle ppl all the time it’s my affection

55. What makes u angry? Close minded ppl or ppl who jump too fast to conclusions, strict schedules just dumb stuff that people try to force when I just want to be carefree 😭✌️

56. How many voices are in ur head? 😐

57. Do U consider urself mentally stable? 😐

58. Are u easily offended? Well U just called me mentally unstable and asked it there was voices in my head!!

59. What’s wrong with taking the backstreets? Uhm...

60. Any questions u want ppl to ask u? Nothing in particular but it’s be nice if someone care to ask me something abt me from personal question to my opinions on shit to 19 days fandom related junk 😌

Woooo I’ve finished this game! Thanks to @seiji-amasawa for introducing me to this ^^

#tag game #game #ask #19 days #19days

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sweetpea-willybee · 3 years

Text

Four way lovelies (part 1/2)

Fandom: sanders sides

Pairings: LAMP

description: Virgil doesn’t have the best relationship with his family. He never has. But when he meet Roman, Patton, and Logan, thing look like they might turn around. (P.S. everyone is cute, fluff happens)

Warnings: !THIS IS A TICKLE FIC (in part 2)!, bad family relationships (for those who are triggered by that), slight angst but it gets better, FLUFF✨❤️☺️🥺💅🏽😭🏳️‍🌈🤫😚😛☠️

—————

Virgil never really had the best relationship with his family. He loved them, he really did! But...he was always in his room and his family never knew how to help/deal with him when he needed it. They just didn’t understand each other. And that’s fine. He’s fine. He doesn’t need people to live his life.

At least, that's what he thought two years ago.

~ flashback ~

“I can’t deal with you right now Virgil” , that was his mother speaking. Virgil currently sat at a small coffee table at the corner of the college roof. He had been trying to enjoy the pleasant weather and soft breeze when she called. “Look- I love you, really, but ever since your dad left and your sister moved away with her partner I just haven’t had the patience to try to put up with you. You’re never out of your room when you are at home, you always hide when I invite guests over, you never wear anything but hoodies even when it’s in the middle of a heatwave, you just never do anything like a functional human being except keep your room clean! I can’t deal with that right now, ok?!” His mother sighed heavily as if his introverted tendencies actually hurt her. Her ego maybe. “Just- just stay at the dorms this weekend, please. Or, you know what? Stay at the dorms until summer break. During the break I’ll be visiting your sister so you can have the house to yourself, I doubt she’d want you to influence her daughter to be like you.” And with that, his mother, his own mother, hung up on him after acting like he had killed someone.

Powering his phone off, he numbly bent over the table. Tears silently dripped down his cheeks and left streaks in his makeup. He didn’t know if he was sad or if he even cared, but his tears seemed to decide for him. He didn’t even care about what she thought about his behavior, it had always been that way and it always will be. But the part that really gave him a sting, was the part about his sister not wanting him to be around his niece. Angela was only 2 but was being sucked away from him like the rest of his family. Huh, figures. No one wanted to be around the guy who barely spoke and wore spooky makeup, not even his family could see past that.

A bitter sadness washed over him but before he could drown, a strong hand landed on his shoulder. Startled out of his thoughts, Virgil jumped out of his seat and whipped around to face the newcomer who’s hand didn’t let go but migrated to gently cradling his shoulder. When he faced the owner of said hand, he was almost blinded. The person -a medium height man- was decked head to toe in white and gold and bright red. His dress shirt was tight fitting but loose at the elbows and down, with small gold tassels hanging from one wrist. The man’s pants were made similarly but one difference was that a strip of bright red fabric with gold designs was tied at the top and the excess hung to his left hip. He looked like a real life Disney prince. But what made Virgil shrink into himself was not the man's attire and confident build, but his soft sympathetic expression.

“Oh- uh- I’ll leave if you need this table. Sorry about the noise.” Virgil managed to stutter out, looking towards the ground. At that, Virgil heard two more footsteps approached and looked up to find a short man with a light blue t-shirt littered with puppies and kittens and brown slacks, and a tall tense man in a dark blue polo shirt with a silver tie and black work pants that rolled up to reveal light blue and red ankle bracelets. Suddenly Virgil was very aware of his messy appearance in front of these very attractive men.

Violently, Virgil reached up to scrub his smudged eyeshadow away as he turned his back to the beautiful strangers. He scrubbed with one hand and the other fumbled for the discarded phone on the table. Eventually his hand found it but just as he was about to break for it, a hand softly snaked around his bicep and caught his attention.

It was the man in light blue, he realized, who was currently holding onto his arm and tucking Virgil’s head into the crook of his neck. Virgil’s breath caught in his throat but just as he thought to pull away, the man’s other hand found a home in his chocolate hair. Dangit, Virgil thought defeatedly as his body sagged unwillingly into the strangers warm embrace.

“Why- why are you hugging me?” Virgil hushedly questioned, worried he’d scare the other away if he spoke too loudly.

“Because we heard your conversation accidentally, and you looked like you needed a hug.” The man said simply. They stayed there for a few more seconds before the stranger in blue abruptly tore away and gasped loudly. Virgil was about to apologize for whatever he did wrong when he noticed the excited stars in the others' eyes. “We never introduced ourselves! Silly me! Anyways, my name is Patton Costly, that’s Logan Croft-” the man in dark blue nodded “and that’s Roman Pascal!” The first stranger in blinding colors beamed and waved. “What’s yours?”

Blinking at the question, Virgil dumbly let out, “huh?”

The other man - Patton- just giggled and exclaimed “your name, silly! What’s your name!”

Virgil felt his face heat up and choked out “Virgil Rayne, sorry for the distraction. You probably didn’t plan to be cheering a random stranger up for your Sunday afternoon.” He finished with a mumble.

“Nonsense! I’m always up to meet new people, plus, Roman had heard you did the scenery art for his theatre club and wanted to thank you!” Patton dismissed cheerily, his warm persona never dropping like Virgil kept expecting it to.

“Of course! I always wondered what fine artist allowed us all to be blessed with their masterpieces!” The golden man -Roman- gushed. The man in the tie still hasn’t said anything, but this was the moment he decided to interject.

“Indeed. If I may ask, what was your inspiration? The second to last piece you did seemed very similar to Claude Monet’s pieces. I’ve never met anyone who outwardly expressed an interest in him, most only mentioning their favorites and leaving it at that. I find your version of his style quite interesting, I'd like to ask about it some other time if you’d let me?”

Blinking at the tense man, Virgil barely registered what he said. It seemed he was just as nervous as Virgil felt.

“U-um, sure” Virgil hesitantly agreed.

“And, kiddo, you don’t have to talk about that phone call at all, but would you like some company? It’s never fun to be completely alone once someone close hurts you like that. We all know that by now.” Patton added softly. Virgil’s eyes widened and he turned to look at the other two, though they didn’t seem to have any objections. One nodding more enthusiastically than the other. Turning back to Patton, he searched the man's face for a lie. A trick. But al, Virgil found was honesty and soft hope. Which was different.

The only times Virgil had seen someone hope he would be around, they were more demanding than asking. But here he was, being asked whether or not he wanted to spend time with someone. Not demanded, and not ordered. Asked. He could say no if he really wanted to and they wouldn’t stop him. But…

Virgil found himself being drawn to these people. They were all so different from each other but seemed really close. Like, a family. Virgil wanted to be like that too. So he shyly ducked his head and quietly agreed.

~ end of flashback ~

That day had led to many more days of just hanging out and supporting each other. A couple days in Virgil had found out that they were all dating each other and that had stung a little. He didn’t know why, but it did. It wasn’t until he was pulled into one of their impromptu cuddle sessions did he realize, the realization coming in a life crisis and gay panic. Though, as long as they were happy, he was happy.

Years passed like that, and they became closer every passing day. At some point they all agreed to move in together, the being all the family they needed. The apartment was small but was more than enough for each of them, and they soon fell into a rhythm. Eventually, the best day in Virgil’s life came along. That day is today.

“Virgil~!!” A voice rang through the apartment. Roman’s, judging by the dramatic flourish ending his name. Virgil, who was laying on his bed, groaned knowing they would get complaints about it from their neighbors later. He resigned himself to his fate though, and pushed out of his room.

“Virgil, come here kiddo!” Ah, there was Patton. Ok, Virgil decided it was safe since Patton was there, Roman couldn’t get away with his shenanigans with patton.

“Virgil, we require your company please!” Logan? Ok, now Virgil was curious. It had to be something important if they got Logan in on it. He sped up his walk a little, getting worried. However, right as he was about to step through the doorway to the living room, there was a pop and suddenly pastel purple confetti rained down on him. A hand shot out from behind him and wrapped a cloth around his eyes, effectively cutting him off.

“Wha-” he began to exclaim before he felt strong arms sweep him off his feet and start carrying him in another direction.

“Relax stormcloud, it’s just us!” Roman’s voice said, obviously amused.

“Yeah. Okay. But why is this happening? I seem to have forgotten the “get kidnapped by the others” bit in my schedule” Virgil deadpanned, the curious tilt in his voice ruining all attempts to sound disinterested.

“It’s a surprise, blackberry!” Sounded Patton’s voice somewhere off to the side. Virgil blushed from the fond nickname but didn’t question them anymore. They walked for a little longer before he got settled onto what seemed to be the couch.

“Okay, on the count of three you can take off the blind fold!” Patton squealed excitedly.

“One” Logan counted from somewhere in front of him.

“Two~!” Roman sang from around Logan’s left.

“Three!!” Patton rushed out a few seconds early, seemingly too impatient to wait any longer. He was coming from Logan’s right.

Virgil pulled at the knot behind his head and immediately gasped at what he saw.

In front of him, Roman was on one knee with Logan and Patton mimicking him on either side. They all held a rose (Logan’s was black, Patton’s was light purple, and romans was white) up to him in an offering. Each of them wore beautiful suits (Logan’s was navy with a black tie and silver hemming, Patton’s was white with a light blue tie, and Roman’s was red with a golden tie) that fit their shapes perfectly and complemented their features. They all looked a little goofy though, considering they never wore suits (except for Logan) so Virgil couldn’t help but bite his lip so as to not laugh. Even before they spoke, Virgil started blushing and tearing up.

“Virgil, we’ve been dating for four years now. Throughout that entire time it felt like something or someone was missing. When we met you it felt like we were finally whole. At first we decided not to tell you because we didn’t know how you would feel.” Roman began, pouring his heart and soul into every word.

“We thought you might push us away, and we would go back to being half of a whole. We didn’t want to risk losing you, our lovely Virgil. Though, we recently decided that if anything was going to push you away from us, keeping this secret was going to be it.” Patton continued, a soft smile playing at his lips.

“So here we are. We know we probably haven’t done much to earn your romantic feelings, but we wanted to try. It’s perfectly ok if you say no though, we wouldn’t want to force you into something you didn’t want. But, just know that we...we love you Virgil. We are so lucky we met, so lucky we get to call you our friend. So, will you do us the honor of letting us call you our boyfrie-“ Logan never got to finish his sentence, because a moment later Virgil launched himself off of the couch and hooked his arms around all three of them, pulling them into a hug. The hug was a bit awkward and not very cushiony, but none of them would have it any differently.

Both Virgil and Roman burst into loud sobbing while Patton laughed hard and Logan wore a dazed, relieved and proud grin. They stayed there for what felt like hours, just hugging each other and never letting go. Though at some point they decided to take themselves to the couch, instead of staying laid out on the floor.

“You never answered though.” Roman murmured once they all settled into a pile on the couch. Virgil was laying on his chest with Logan seated behind him, petting Roman’s hair where it got messed up during Virgil’s attack. Patton was sitting in between Logan’s legs, letting Roman lay his head on his lap.

“Seriously? I’d think pouncing on you guys and staining your shirts with happy tears would be enough of an answer for you.” Virgil mumbled back, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Sorry about that by the way.” he added sheepishly.

“Not to worry, Virgil. The stains won’t last. Though, Roman has a point.” Logan reassured him.

Virgil didn’t know how to deny the others so aphe blushed furiously, pouted, and said “Logan, Patton, and Roman, I love you with all of my heart and would love to be your boyfriend.”

When he opened his eyes again, all of the others were staring at him wide eyed and slack jawed. Blushing darker, Virgil glanced to the side and asked “what?”

“Just never thought I could love you even more than I already do. Turns out I was very wrong.” Roman replied without missing a beat, still staring Starry-eyed. The smooth show off.

“I take it back, I love you a little less now.”

“You wound me, panic at the everywhere!”

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lildowdow123 · 4 years

Text

MLQC Guys being jealous (slight NSFW for Vic and Lu)

Hey everyone, I'm glad that people like my last piece so I decides to make another one. Hopefully you guys like it too. There may he some spoilers. If so I'll put it in ** so you can just be a Goldman and avert your eyes. Btw, in these, you're dating the s/o in question just to clear up any confusion

Also, feel free to drop me a message to ask me to do a particular scene. If I can, I'll do it

Exel own the bois

Lets get to it

Victor slight NSFW

Normally, its us who has our green eyed monster rear its head. Contenders for our medusa stares are socialites wanting to get a piece of Loveland's most eligible batchelor (like Chik) , the new pretty interns who spends a little too long with Victor

It is a rare event when the tables are turned and it is Victor questioning himself on weather he has it in him keep you with him. But rare isn't a never

At events like the LFG charity ball or an Investors evening, any occasion where MC dresses up and gets a little fancy, the CEO's blood pressure begins to rise when he sees how much male attention you get. Not in a creepy possessive way. More a jealous way.

You're chatting with another business owner, just making polite conversation with the man. Of course you get compliments on your outfit or maybe your hair. You're god damn gorgeous

The conversation gets more and more friendly. Small lines are dropped here and there like "Wow that colour really goes well with your eyes" or "It suits your figure" until soon enough he is asking you back to his place after this

You're a little taken aback by the offer at first. "Oh I'm really sorry.." you try to start. A shadow looms over you. The charming sexy devil in his suit has arrived

An arm finds his way around your silk covered waist, pulling you to him. He won't say anything unpleasant or nasty, the boi has decorum but he will make sure this man knows you're his

"Who's this MC?" Victor asks, his cold stare not moving away from the other man. He will hold his free hand out for him to shake while he introduces himself, not giving a damn about the mans name. He wont be around you two for much longer

"Victor Li. I'm with MC" and with that, the poor other man knows you're not available

His chit chat is far less flirtatious now that LFG's bossy bitch is standing with you anchored to him

After the event, when you two are driving back, feel free to give him a small rant on how the other man was just being friendly and that he shouldn't have scared him shitless. He may not take it seriously and argue that he was flirting with you and that he will not let someone else lure away his woman

A long night of jealousy/make up sex will follow as soon as you get back to his place. He will dirty talk you sometimes if you make him jealous. Things like "do you like my cock? Only I can make you feel this way" He'll take you all night and make sure that you have forgotten all about the other man

Kiro

Tbh, I find it really hard to imagine Kiro getting really jealous. He is always so bright and cheerful that it would be hard to see his green eyed monster. So forgive me if this is a little wishy washy

You and the backstage team are preparing for an episode of your show which Kiro will guest star in. He is getting prepped to be in front of the cameras when he sees you talking to one of his crew. It's pretty normal stuff. Communication between your team and his team is key to make this run smoothly so he doesn't pay that much mind. He just watches Miss Chips pull the concentrated face you make (also, it's been pointed out to me by another Tumblr writer that MC is an acronym for Miss Chips) because it's cute to see you get passionate about your work

That is something they all really appreciate about you

His attention is turned away from you and back to his makeup artist who is nearly done and just needs him to close his eyes for some setting spray but when he opens them again, the stagehand is much closer and leaning in for a kiss.

Miss Chips is leaning back away because she is already in a relationship with Kiro but the boy just keeps closing in.

Not on his watch *SPOILER: He has to stop himself from having a full on Helios moment with the guy*

"Hey, Miss Chips. I'm ready do you need me anywhere?" You hear the chipper voice of your star and boyfriend call out as he walks up to you, planting a kiss on your forehead. Stage boy backs up a little, seeing Kiro place his metaphorical stake on you.

He won't scream or shout or threaten violence on the boy. No, his way of expressing this jealousy is much more passive aggressive way. His smile will still be bright and his voice as happy as ever but after MC explains that she was just telling the guy that she needs the lights checked or something, he adds "so please do that now" in the most delightful tone he could muster

He might as well have said fuck off to the guy

He wont wait until they have privacy, he will make out with his MC as the backstage crew busy themselves around they, pinning the rest of you to the wall *SPOILERS kind of like that Kiro Kiss date* May earn some raised eyebrows from Kiki and Willow and a huff from the make up artist as his lip balm gets all over you.

Gavin

*SPOILERS I MIGHT AS WELL JUST PUT IT HERE BECAUSE THIS ONE IS KIND OF ONE BIG SPOILER THROUGHOUT ALSO, THIS ONE WILL NEED A FEW SMALL THINGS LIKE PEOPLE FORGETTING YOU EXIST THINGS TO NOT HAPPEN. OK?*

One word is needed to explain how BirdCop will get jealous on this. That word is Shaw

The guy is the embodiment of sexual energy, probably most teenage girls fantasy. Sk8ter boi with a nonchalant outlook on rules and authority with enough big dick energy to power New York. Now, MC isn't a teen anymore but it doesn't mean that you're not immune to his flirtatious charms

He was reluctant to let you meet his brother. In fact, for a long period of time he was completely opposed to it. Then, you two ran into eachother on the bus. Ooops

Ever since, whenever you two interact, Gavin feels the need to be around in some way. Weather it be with her, tuning into the Wind FM to feel that is happening or flying around wherever they are. It could be thought of as stalkerish but it comes from a good place..I think

Irrational things would be flying around his head. I mean, it's his brother. Jesus! "He's not even that much taller than me! And younger than me! How could he even attract her?"

Shaw being Shaw is sure to make some kind of comment that is bound to set Gavin off. It probably would turn into a fight. Like, not even a civilised wrestling round, like a proper bitch fight brawl. He'd tackle his brother's ass to the ground and start punching, maybe hair pulling so he can keep punching. Shaw would be putting up one hell of a fight just to bruise Gavin. Poor MC has to try and break up this shit

Later, once the fight has stopped and MC has managed to get Gavin away, she has to ice him down and try to patch up some of the scrapes that he had gotten.

Mother duck MC comes out in spectacular fashion to scold him, telling him not to do that again. Gavin will probably explain why he felt jealous of his brother but will do so with the biggest blush ever. Poor thing is a bit insecure about you and his brother but you'll find a way to try and ease it for him

Lucien slight NSFW

The man has a cool calm demeanor and a confidence that seems unshakable. Damn he looks hot while giving his lectures at Loveland Uni

Being the hot as hell POA that you are, you turn the heads of some of the university boys there. I mean, really. What's there not to love about you. You're fucking cute

He may not show his jealousy but it is there, building like a shaken coke bottle. Watching a guy sneak small whispers to you during his lecture? Not going to go unpunished.

Has the manners not to call you two out in front of the entire class but after his lecture ends, you best believe that this man is going to make the two of you stay behind.

Once all the other students have filed out of the lecture hall, he will begin. In his low, unwavering voice he will say to both of you (but mainly the guy since he did most of the talking) "I don't appreciate being talked over in my own lecture hall. If you don't have the courtesy to let other students learn, then I urge you to leave." He says, all serious. The small smile he usually gives you will not be there. It's more than just a light scolding.

Once he dismisses the other student, who leaves a little scared of how the professor talked to him, he will give you your scolding by going to the seat behind a desk and patting his knee. He takes off his glasses and gives you one of those piercing stares that let you know that he is deadly serious

Even if you protest that he was the one who started talking to you, he will not even say a word. His eyes will never leave you as you try convince him. This man is a bad jealous (not bad bad but pretty bad at handling it)

After you finally bend over his knee, he will pull down your trousers or skirt and tug down your panties, letting them pool at your bent knees. "You know that I don't like to share you MC" he will say in his deep voice

You'd best believe that he is making you count each one and thank the professor. You can feel his fingers occasionally dip down to tease you a little before returning to your now pink ass

20 spanks and a whole round of orgasm denial later, he will send you on your way but tells you to come over to his place later where you will continue...

I hope you enjoyed that. I am sorry if Lucien was a little short. I'll try to do better next time. If you have any scenes you want in particular, feel free to leave me a message and I'll do my best to complete it

Thank you

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dearartdirector · 5 years

Note

How do you cope with feeling like you don't belong in the (fantasy)illustration industry? Do you think an illustrator has to be a certain kind of person to do well in this career? For context - I was the only Native American student in my graduating school, the only one at my in-house studio job, and I've never met another Native illustrator at the many conventions I've attended. I feel like I'm passed up for opportunities in both my studio/freelance career despite being at the level of my peers

Ok, this is a big question…that’s really 2 questions, and I want to address them separately, because they’re both really important: 1) What do you do when you were sure you wanted something, get some or all of the way there, and then don’t think you want it/can make it/are going to be comfortable there? And then 2) How do you know if you’re getting passed over for opportunities because of prejudice or because of your work?

1) First off, take a moment to congratulate yourself. You were one of the many thousands of kids that graduated art school with a goal — and one of the few who made it. I’m sure at some point in your life working at a studio in one of the fantasy art fields was a giant dream of yours. But it’s a lot of people’s dream and not a lot of people make it. I’m being serious, here! You are a full-time working artist! That’s a major accomplishment that most of the folks that read this blog are desperately trying to achieve. Well done. Don’t forget to appreciate how far you’ve come.

So you’re there…but it’s not the dream you thought it would be. Your question implies you’re struggling with issues regarding discrimination, and I’ll get to that next, but in general, getting to the goal doesn’t always look the way we thought it would. Sometimes what we thought of as our goal…is just a bend in the road and you take that turn you think is into the finish line but suddenly you see a whole new road ahead of you. Maybe the fantasy art world is not your ultimate destination. Maybe it’s just the furthest goal you could imagine when you were a less mature artist. Now that you know more, it might be time for new goals. Some illustrators move on to a fine art career. Some move out of studios into full time freelance. Some stay and become Art Directors and Project Leads. Every few years or so you need to assess and make new goals. Course correct. That’s not just an art thing, that’s a life thing. It can be a little depressing to realize that you’re never going to feel “done” or “set” or like you “made it” — but take some comfort in the understanding that it’s exactly that feeling of dissatisfaction that you share with the most successful artists (and people ) in the world. That’s what’s going to keep moving you forward to new heights, rather than settling.

It’s not a comfortable feeling, unfortunately, but you can learn to balance appreciation for where you are with the urge to move on to ever better goals.

Just make sure you are choosing to move on rather than being forced out. Which brings us to question #2:

2) Sometimes it’s blatantly obvious that we’re being treated unfairly because of our race, sex, age, etc. And that is awful, and happens all the time. If you’re in a blatantly racist or sexist workplace, there might not be anything you can do but leave to further your career. But it doesn’t feel like that’s what you’re asking. You’re not sure. You feel like you might be passed over for opportunities because of your race, but it doesn’t sound like something concrete you can put your finger on. So what do we do about the weird gray area when we know we’re not getting the same opportunities as others are but we can’t quite quantify it and we don’t know if it is our race, or sex, or something else? Could it be our work? Could it be our personality? Are other people just making better connections? Are other people handing in better work? It’s maddening to not know! I don’t want to out my secret identity by saying my gender or race or age, but I can tell you I’ve been in the same place. I was definitely passed over for opportunities and promotions…but was it my work? Or was it me as a person? And if it was me, was it something I could control, or not?

From the outside of this situation & not knowing anything about you or your work, there’s no way I can tell which it is. There’s been more than a few times I have talked to artists convinced they aren’t getting work because of a whole lot of reasons, but when I look at their portfolio I can tell immediately they’re not judging their own work clearly — they’re not at the level they think they are. To those folks I say, honestly, you have to get better at self-judgement. Until you do, ask your peers and better artists for honest and very specific feedback on everything until you can see exactly what they see.

But there are also a lot of artists I see who’s work is so good that I wonder why they haven’t gotten further in their career yet. Some of it is luck and timing but some of it is absolutely prejudice and/or misogyny. I recommend to those folks to do everything they can to get their ducks (and portfolio) in a row and start networking their way out of whatever studio they’re in and into one that has a better reputation for diversity and fair treatment. The good news is, you’re a working professional. It’s way easier to find a job when you already have one in the field. Try to reach out to peers for connections, keep your eye on job boards, get to professional events, seminars, and conventions, and get the hell out of there as soon as the opportunity comes.

You ask what kind of person you need to be to do well? In any kind of creative work, you need to be Good At What You Do, Easy to Work With, and On Time/Reliable. If you are those three things then you should excel. If you are those three things and you are not excelling, then it’s not you, it’s them. You may need to move, but I promise you not all studios in illustration/fantasy illustration are rotten. As I said above, choosing to revise your dreams is one thing — but you should never get chased away from your dreams. Get your networking in gear and find more welcoming ground, and your career will take off.

—Agent KillFee

#agentkillfee #studios #inhouse #racism #prejudice #misogyny #race #gender #goodniceontime #freelance #dearad

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fireintheforest · 4 years

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The apartment above the Den was silent during midmorning and the warmth clings to the body. Rialas was lying on the floor, where he’d been dozing in the sunrays on the mammoth rug that Lillandril brought as a souvenir when he visited the north. The door creaked, being opened slowly, but he didn’t bother to get up. The creaks go on, and the lightest steps start to circle the room from the borders, slowly spiraling closer and closer.

"Do I look like a mouse?" Rialas said, stretching and rolling over, bare chested, but wearing loose silk trousers. The steps stopped, then they moved quicker to one of Rialas’s sides, a shadow covering Rialas’s head.

"You look like a crocodile taking sun, is what you look like." Saufinril's voice rang from above the shadow. One single finger nudged one of Rialas's curls aside from his face. Rialas laughed and opened his eyes, reaching his own hand to take Saufinrils and lightly kiss his knuckles. "I am flattered. Truly the Altmer know how to wield words, hmm?" he purred.

Saufinril grinned back. He was crouched by Rialas’s head, his hair was tied back in a bun and he only retired his hand from Rialas's when the Bosmer finished with the kisses. "We're natural poets, what can one say."

Rialas yawned and rolled fully on his back, a picture of some cheesy Breton novel. "So Silas did not completely forget to feed you hmm?"

"Perish the thought, give him some credit. He only forgot twice." Saufinril sat next to Rialas and turned, lying facedown. The back of his head had a braid that's hiding under his bun

"In whole month?" Rialas chuckled. "He does like you."

"One knew that since the very first day we met. It's not news to one." Saufinril smiled back

“But it is to me." Rialas stretched and sat up. "Do that to my hair." He demanded

"Do what to your hair?"

Rialas rolled his eyes “The braid. Did you lose your brain into the bog?"

Saufinril supressed the smile (by the Nine did he love to tease Rialas), then sat up, got behind the Bosmer and parted the hair, moving the majority of hair forward and over Rialas's face. Rialas laughed and blew his hair inefficiently before moving his hands to hold it from rolling back to Saufinril’s way. "So kynd, did you enjoy yourself?"

Saufinril's fingers meanwhile collected the lower hairs and started to braid them, "One did, it was good. One of your cousins wants to know when will you come back, everything went smoothly, one named a crocodile. You know, the usual." He said in a cheerful tone.

"You're not supposed to enjoy your punishment kynd." Rialas lauged. "But I suppose some people just do.”

"Do you enjoy your-you know what, nevermind." That’s a topic he was not getting into. He tucked the braid, merged the rest of the hair and began to build the bun, "One just, you know, saw the golden lining."

"Kynd should I ever do anything bad in my life, I will tell you I'd I enjoy being punished or not. Alas, so far I have been good, never to blame for anything."

"Sure you were." Saufinril tied the bun and pulled here and there to loosen it up, "You're done"

Rialas chuckles and stands up, walking few steps to take a look on big mirror mounted behind the silk curtain that separates his and Lillandril’s bed from the living area. He tilts his head this way and that, like a bird. Saufinril meanwhile stretched, a smile still on his face even if he doesn't seem to notice he has it, "Like it?"

"I look gorgeous as always." Rialas smiled, blowing a kiss at his reflection.

"One will take that as a yes. So, how was this place without one? Is Muraz our of the kitchens?"

Rialas laughed as he walked back to Saufinril. "Have you seen your atta yet?"

"No. Unless he also has a twin one has never met before too."

"Have you considered that he's over thousand years old and few months is nothing to him?"

"...did he..." the smile on the Altmer’s face fades, "Wh-so soon? How? When?" He scrambled to his feet and to the other side of the curtain, shock evident in his eyes, “One knew he was old but-was it at least in his sleep?”

Rialas raised an eyebrow "did he what? Die? No such luck." Saufinril exhaled with relief as Rialas went on, "Kynd, you really have bog water in your brain. All I meant is he's not going to let Muraz out from kitchen this soon."

"You could've been clearer. One almost thought you were going to tell one he took a vacation faraway or whatever bullshit." Saufinril combed back a flyaway baby hair, "At least he'll keep out of trouble."

Rialas rolled his eyes and tossed his head. "Don't blame this on me. You've grown slow with my sweet brother’s calm lifestyle."

"How your words wound one." The small smile spreads across his face again before asking what had been on his mind for some days, "Rialas, what's the Ooze?"

Rialas blokes in surprise, opening his mouth once, twice. Then he asked "Have you not heard by now? Every Bosmer child grows up with this story, how have your big ears and curiosity not taught you this yet?"

"Uhhh one is not Bosmer? Also one was working while the kids got stories told, so…"

Rialas rolled his eyes again and sat down on the pelt, patting the spot next to himself. Saufinril sat next to him obediently, legs crossed and listening.

"Once, there was nothing but formlessness. The land held no shape, the trees did not harden into timber and bark, and the Elves themselves shifted from form to form. This formlessness was called the Ooze." Saufinril nodded, listening, as Rialas went on, “But Y'ffre took the Ooze and ordered it. First, she told of the Green, the forest and all the plant life in it. She gave the Green the power to shape itself as it willed, for it was her first tale.” Saufinril now rested his head on his hand, the elbow on his knee, as the story continued, “The Elves were Y'ffre's second tale. As Y'ffre spun the story, the Elves took the form they have today. Y'ffre gave them the power to tell stories, but warned them against trying to shape themselves or the Green. Shifting and the destruction of the forest were forbidden. Instead, Y'ffre commended the Wood Elves to the Green, so that they might ask the Green to provide them with shelter and a safe passage, and as long as they respected the Green, it would obey. This is called the Green Pact.” Rialas sighed and looks somewhere far away, face lifted towards the sunlight filtering down through the huge roots the Den is built inside of, "Finally, Y'ffre told of all the beasts that crawl on the land or swim in the rivers or fly in the air. These, Y'ffre gave to the Wood Elves as sustenance. They were to eat no plants but consume only meat. Y'ffre also told that no Wood Elf who is struck down by another Wood Elf should be allowed to sink into the ground, but should instead be consumed, like the beasts. This is called the Meat Mandate. When the stories were told, Y'ffre saw that they had a pleasing shape, but some of the Ooze remained. Y'ffre told a final tale then, and gave purpose to the Ooze. Any Bosmer that violated the Green Pact, either by shifting or by damaging the Green, would be condemned to return to the formlessness of the Ooze. Their names would be scrubbed from the story Y'ffre is telling and replaced with silence.”

Rialas remained silent for a long time before speaking again, "You understand this Saufinril?" He finally asks, voice uncharacteristically serious. Just by watching Rialas look out the window and by being called by his full name he could tell this was serious. "One does." He said, "Thank you, Ria"

Rialas hummed and smiled. He turned away from the ceiling window and reached out to ruffle Saufinril’s hair. "And what do you mean you are not Bosmer? Everyone here knows you're at least half a Bosmer."

"Don't start" he gave a smile, however, as some strands freed themselves, making the bun look more messy as he ducked sideways.

"Start what?" Rialas grinned, "Are you worried people will find out your Amma is better looking than you?"

"Don't you get tired of being one's mother? We don't even look anything alike. Not to mention, you're a boy"

"Don't be discriminatory. If I want to be Amma I can well be. Don't you want me as your mother?"

"You'll still be one's mother no matter what one replies." Saufinril said with a grin

"And you love it even if your uptight Altmer-ness is incapable of saying it"

"Ok, no. One doesn't" Saufinril’s ears, however, turned pink. Rialas glanced at Saufinril’s ears knowingly, with a smug, barely contained smile. Saufinril spoke again as if that hadn’t happened, "Anyhow, what are you doing here? One thought you'd be downstairs getting your makeup or making Lillandril jealous or something."

Rialas arches an eyebrow. "Kynd, the sun is up."

“When has that stopped you?"

"The Den is closed." Rialas pulled Saufinril’s ear and made a show of trying to see inside, "Can you feel the bog water sloshing around your empty head?"

"Again, when has that stopped you?" Saufinril moved his head, "There's waiters, the artists downstairs, the new bartender..."

Rialas let go of Saufinril’s ear and flopped on his back on the floor "They're all boring."

"Poor you" Saufinril rested next to him, a hand in front of Rialas's face and letting a cool ice mist shower on his face, "Surrounded by dull blokes. A snake amidst mere ants. If only someone could give you some morsel of entertainment. Like a stunt or a prank on Lillandril or gossip..."

Rialas huffed and laughed, turning his head away from the mist. "Oh? You saying you know something hmm?"

"Maybe one does." His hand follows Rialas's face, both to tease him with the cold and because of the mesmerizing gaze that was the contrast between the white, delicate snowflakes that landed on the fiery red, wild curls on Rialas’s head, akin to flames. Rialas moved up, snapping his teeth not too far from Saufinril’s fingers. He, however, moved his hand away with a grin, "If you bite one, one won't tell you anything. And you'll have to wait for Silas to remember and tell you."

"Or, I can hold your finger as hostage."

"How will one remember to tell you if one is distressed over a fingernapping? But fine, just because one is nice" he shifted his legs and said, "There's a new baby in your family, and there was a stranger in Lynpar March, all Altmer except for a couple of details."

Rialas narrowed his eyes. "Altmer."

"Lookalike" Saufinril specified, "He had black hair." This earned him a raised eyebrow from the Bosmer.

"Dyed?"

"One doesn’t think so. It wasn’t a glamour, that’s for sure. Lots of beauty marks too"

Rialas raised an eyebrow, then asked, "All over?"

Saufinril stared at Rialas for a second too long, "No." He lied.

"Good for you, kynd." Rialas said, chilling and rolling on the rug like animal looking for comfortable spot. Shit, maybe he knew? Of course he knew. He and Lillandril were impossible to lie to.

"About what?"

Rialas didn't answer, instead curling up into a sunny spot. "As far as gossip goes that is not much." Maybe not, but there was still chance of moving this gossip to another direction, one that didn’t immediately go to private affairs and a failed resolution to stay single until he got his shit together, so Saufinril went on, "Come on, one thought you'd be interested in knowing why a total stranger is in Lynpar March!" he said.

"Perhaps. But it is more of a mystery than gossip. Now, if you had say, said Silas killed him or you slept with him or something, now that would have been something interesting."

There was no use keeping a secret with this godsforsaken Bosmer. Saufinril rolled his eyes, "Fine, it's a mystery and one spent one night at his place."

"At whose place?" Ria yawned like sleepy snake. "He can't have had place if he was a stranger. And there are no inns. And visitors usually stay at tribe house. So. Whose place was he staying? With you. For a night."

"Yep, all over your things.” He couldn’t help the sarcasm, light as it was, “No, he said he had a friend and that's where we spent it. Maybe not his place, but it wasn't in your apartment."

"I don't care about that, kynd. For all I care you can dig roots all over Lillandril’s shirts. What I meant is who's friend he supposedly is?"

Saufinril lied down, eyes narrowed towards the ceiling as he tried to remember. Details of the house floated into his memory like a fog,

"One recalls the house had a pig pen in the back, it wasn't as close to the center, more like in the outskirts...one never got to see his friend, though." He remembered a sickeningly sweet aroma that he'd picked up when he'd arrived, "there was a guava tree nearby"

Rialas had closed his eyes while Saufinril spoke. He was silent for so long it was almost like he had fallen asleep, before he shrugged. "Most people don't have separate houses, they tend to live in tribe house. It could be second cousin Eslion's. Or little aunt Liennas, if she's still around. I don't remember taking her in. I'll ask Silas about it."

"One thought you'd be angrier about this. Also, taking her in?"

"Eaten her at the end of her life." Rialas answered. "And why should I be angry?"

Saufinril shrugged in order to avoid explaining why, "One wasn't supposed to enjoy one's punishment and all that." He grinned.

Rialas rolled his eyes. "I thought we established it already. You like punishment. Was he at least a good lover?"

"You have such a weird way to say things."

"Or maybe you have weird way to listen things, kynd."

I mean, that was true. He sighed and shimmied a bit, putting an arm under his head and thinking for a while. He was going to skip telling him about the letter and his words that night, for now. "Yeah" he nodded. Watching Saufinril shift, Rialas huffed and said, "If you have to think about it, it can't have been that good."

"It's not that, nevermind. He was good. He said he was in, a...circus troop or something like that, one was a little drunk."

Rialas grinned. "My, little kynd is growing up, getting drink and having sex."

"It's not like one hasn't drank or slept with someone before." Saufinril laughed.

"Exactly." Rialas said, "Meaning, you have not grown at all. Soon we will need to find you proper marriage or you will ruin the good reputation of your atta."

"Excuse one, where have you been in the last 200 years?" He pressed Rialas's nose lightly, “And why marriage?" He scrunched his nose, "One's not going to get married. Ever. Sorry to disappoint Lillandril and his reputation, but if one were going to get married one would've taken Kartan's offer or returned to the Isles and had one's stepfather choose a wife"

Rialas hissed and swatted Saufinril’s hand away before replying. "True. When you dragged yourself in the first time you were even more wet behind the ears than Lillandril. And he had just survived shipwreck."

"Well, one was 27 or so."

"As for your stepfather - and I use the word lightly-, he couldn't even introduce the one side of his arse to the other let alone arrange marriage."

"Point is, one doesn't want to get married. Ever. No offense to you or Lillandril, but it's not going to happen."

"As you choose." Rialas shrugged.

"One just," Sau went on, "doesn't see the point in it. With Ondacano, then Kartan, and one's mother, you guys are the exception but otherwise one just doesn't see it as much of a good time as everyone else says it is. One would rather spare oneself and the other person all that."

Rialas laughed and patted Saufinril’s head. "It is true. Not everyone can be as lucky as your atta. When we got married, I was happy. And he was extremely thankful. If I recall, he thanked me repeatedly for several days." Saufinril just gave Rialas an ‘ew’ face, "Something is wrong with your face, kynd?"

Saufinril just stared at Rialas, then said "No, nothing. Glad we're on the same page"

"Kynd, we will never. I am way out of your league."

"Sure." Saufinril stretched, "Why did you chose to get married, anyhow? You could've decided to meet more people"

"I already told you didn't I?" Rialas yawned and stretched in the sun, the scarred pattern and ink moving with the muscles.

"Yes but why didn't you just, what, kill him and moved on? Or just moved away or ignored him? Also, he says it was the other way around."

"You know he lies. But fine. I could have killed him. Or just gone. I could have ignored him. So have you considered this: maybe I actually do love him?"

Saufinril smiled, "Yeah, you both are the one thing that makes me reconsider. Anyhow, before you forget, your cousin wants to know when are you going to go back to Lynpar March." Quieter, he whispered, "Fuck, one missed this stupid Den"

"Which cousin?"rialas asked casually. It was pretty clear he didn't really care much.

"It was...Tago? Tagal? One with a scar on his head."

"Oh Tagmal. He can wait all he wants." Saufinril supressed a laugh, "What does he want anyway. Pah. I'm sure he's after Lillandril."The silence falls for two seconds before Sau incorporates himself and looks at Ria, "Wait, hold up. What?" he asked

"Hmm?" Rialas had closed his eyes and leaned back, looking like he was ready to nap in the sun again

"He's after Lillandril?"

"Why not? My husband is most handsome."

"One just thought he wouldn't be into him."

"You think many things."

“It's one's many talents"

"Don't you mean bad habits?"

"No, one meant excellent talents."

"Oh? You sneaky little thing." Rialas said, "Keeping all those talents so well hidden."

Saufinril laughed at that, then pat his own hair and undid the bun and braid he had. Rialas murmured and shuffled into more comfortable position under the golden rays and over the deep brown pelt. Saufinril began to do a fishtail braid, working on his long, long hair in silence. At least for a couple of seconds, "Sleepy?" he asked

"It's warm" rialas murmured, eyes closed. "And you are home."

Saufinril didn’t expect Rialas to mention him as a positive reason to find sleep now, so he involuntarily stopped and turned to look at Rialas, eyes focused on the Bosmer's face and a warm flush of gratefulness for Rialas flooding his chest. He observed Rialas for some seconds, then resumed his braiding, acting nonchalantly so as to not show the moment he had, "The Isles are warm. This is an oven." He said offhandedly.

"The Isles" Rialas hummed, "smell like fish."

"They are surrounded by sea, yes. What part of the Isles did you go to?"

"I dont know what it was called. They all have way too long weird names anyway."

"But the weird names sound different. Was it Lillandril?"

“Maybe. But I’ve been in Lillandril many times.”

He chose to ignore that joke. “Lillandril is so ugly.” To be fair, he’d only been there once.

“How dare you say that about my husband?”

“One meant the city. One’s stepfather took one and one’s brother there once, to stay at his batshit crazy sister’s house for some days, one hated it.” By the time Saufinril finished the braids, he laid by Rialas and both continued the conversation well until they fell asleep on the ground, the sun resting on both brown and gold skins.

#fourth era sau #OH MY GOD HE IS BACK #meh-ayleidion #the den #3 months of silence and peace #before Sau got back

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