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leverage-ot3 · 4 years

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notable moments from The Lost Hier Job

leverage 2.09

(Sophie opens her curtains and looks out the window. A knock comes to the door and she goes to look through the peep hole, then immediately opens the door)

Sophie: Who's dead?

Nate: No, no. Everybody's okay. Can I...

Sophie: Huh?

Nate: I-I...

(Sophie lets Nate into the room)

Sophie: Oh. Y-You scared the life out of me.

HER FIRST FEAR IS THAT SOMEONE DIED OR GOT HURT

SOPHIE IS THEIR MOM FIRST BEFORE EVERYTHING

- - - - -

Nate: Oh, yeah. No, we're doing fine. I mean, yeah. Everything's, I mean, it kind of went from a quintet to what we are now, a quartet. I mean, it's like, we still know how to play. We sound good, you know. But something is, uh, sounding a little bit, uh, you know, wrong.

Sophie: Huh. Well, I hope that I’m, I really hope I’m not the violist because when I was little, my mum made me have lessons, and I was rubbish. I was completely rubbish. I can't play a note. Not a single note

- - - - -

Tara: Either I am in, or Ruth is out. It's your choice. (walks away)

Nate: They are gonna hate this.

[Leverage HQ]

Eliot: I hate this.

Hardison: You do not let Vicki Vale into the Batcave ever.

Nate: First, this is my home, not a cave. And, second, we're not gonna allow her up here.

Parker: Sophie would never approve. Call her.

Nate: We can't just keep calling Sophie.

Hardison: Oh, okay. I see how it is. We can't call her, but you can go off and have a little secret meeting with her.

Nate: Secret meeting? What are you talking about? I was in Harrisburg, researching a client.

Hardison: Wow, ‘cause you know what? (hits remote and pulls information up on monitor) Your passport got dinged going through Heathrow airport yesterday. Heathrow's in London. I guess you couldn't get a direct flight over to Harrisburg.

Eliot: Well, it's hard when you do the same-day booking.

Hardison: Yeah, 'cause you had to go with the -- Did you realize that London is the home of the most surveillance cameras in the world?

Parker: Really?

Hardison: Who feels like playing "where's Waldo"?

Parker: Oh. Yeah. (raises hand)

Hardison: I do. (hits remote to show video on monitors) Oh. There's Waldo right there. Waldo Ford. Oh, oh. Is that big Ben and you? Wow. You got twins and triplets everywhere. And looky there. 11:18 am standing outside of Sophie’s apartment, Looking quite pensive.

Parker: Aww. He's rehearsing what he's gonna say. I've seen him do that.

Nate: All right, all right, all right, guys. Okay. Yeah. You caught me. I went to London. Yeah. I saw Sophie. And she's not coming back.

Parker: Not now or not ever?

Nate: I don't know. And I don't, I don't think she knows either. So, uh, that's that. Could you please take the...

(Hardison darkens the monitors)

parker wearing that bright yellow flannel? adorable

parker and eliot look DELIGHTED as hardison fucks with nate it’s great

- - - - -

Hardison: Tara Carlisle. She checks out. Civil-Rights lawyer, does a lot of pro bono work. Collects lost causes like kittens.

Eliot: Well, she's honest.

Hardison: Crusader. Incorruptible.

(Tara pulls up and gets out of her car)

Hardison: And one sexy librarian

I saw a headcanon that Tara did actually do this on the side for a living, because, if you think about it, could she really fake a file THAT GOOD to fool hardison, the best hacker in the world

- - - - -

we love to see parker in the vents

- - - - -

EVEN IN P R I S O N HARDISON GETS HIS ORANGE SODA

- - - - -

(Frank slides the back from a photo to find a Nazi flag and a photo of Hitler. He carries it over to where Orson is standing between Hardison and Eliot)

Hardison: My god, he is Aryan nation

LMFAO

- - - - -

(Blanchard enters room reading a file. He looks up to see Nate on a ladder tearing pages from a law book and clears his throat. Nate looks over at him)

can someone PLEASE make a compilation of nate’s characters being obnoxious and chaotic pretty please

- - - - -

parker’s sMOOTH exit from the vents into a flip I am in LOVE with her

- - - - -

Hardison: I tied the adoption-Reference number to the medical records of one of Parker's aliases. Social security, taxes, long record of drug offenses. Anybody short of the CIA is gonna believe that is Kimball’s daughter.

he’s so good at this I love it

- - - - -

(hiding behind a broken crate, Lind points a gun at Parker and Hardison. Eliot sees this as he approaches)

Eliot: Nate!

(Lind fires, shattering the passenger’s side window. Eliot runs forward, bends to pick up a rock, and throws it at Lind, hitting him in the head. He fires again, shooting out the tire as Nate runs around the car. Lind swings the gun at Eliot, who catches it. Lind punches Eliot in the stomach and Eliot hits Lind in the face with the gun. Eliot throws the gun down as Lind stumbles back for more)

Eliot: Come on!

(Lind swings, Eliot ducks and hits Lind in the ribs, then pushes him away. Lind turns around and swings but Eliot blocks his punches, grabbing him and throwing him to the ground. Lind gets up and looks at the gun. Eliot picks up the gun)

Eliot: You want this?

(Lind holds up his hands and moves away, running. Nate and Parker move out from behind the car. Eliot unloads the gun and tosses it aside)

when eliot sees the sniper and is terrified? when he manages to pick up a rock and nail the sniper in the face with it while running? his FURY when he’s fighting him? he’ll do anything to protect his family

- - - - -

(Eliot and Parker walk past a sunglasses vendor. Eliot bumps a table for a distraction and Parker grabs two pairs of sunglasses, handing one to Eliot)

Eliot: Are you kidding me? (puts on the glasses) Look at this.

THEYRE SO IN SYNC I LOVE IT

also married complaining about the style of the sunglasses? we love to see it

- - - - -

(Eliot and Parker run through a hallway)

Parker: We're cut off. We're gonna have to get rough.

Eliot: I ain't hitting cops.

(a noise from behind has them looking back)

Parker: I look forward to seeing you explain that

remember that one commentary with john rogers where he said in this scene beth changed her lines/energy to more of a kinky vibe that made the scene that much better? because I do and boy was this scene charged with something interesting

- - - - -

Eliot: All right. Be cool.

(Eliot unloads the gun and catches the bullet)

Eliot: All right. Nothing's gonna happen to anybody. Just settle down.

(The officer raises a stun gun that Eliot knocks out of his hand and Parker catches)

Eliot: You’re not using a stun gun either

(Eliot pushes the officer back and Parker points the stun gun at the officer)

Eliot: Hold on. Stop. Chill. All right? Nobody's gonna get hurt.

(another officer steps out behind Parker, his gun raised)

Officer: Drop it!

(Parker points the stun gun under her arm and hits the officer, knocking him down)

Eliot (to Parker): Seriously? What are you doin’?

Parker: Mmm.

Eliot (to officer): Listen, it's probably best if you pretend that you never saw us. Okay?

(Eliot and Parker move down the hall past the fallen officer. Parker triggers the stun gun again)

Eliot: Stop

parker loves tasing people and eliot is exhausted

- - - - -

Nate: Hey, Parker, forget about the hearing. I need you to do something else.

(Parker pulls files from the safe in Blanchard’s office, proudly kissing it)

SHES BABY YOUR HONOR

- - - - -

Blanchard: What the hell is this? Hey, you don't understand!

(the officers drag Blanchard to the exit)

Blanchard: These people are thieves! I don’t even think that one’s a lawyer!

someone also make a compilation of their marks swearing they’re not who they say they are. I just think it’s funny and chaotic

- - - - -

parker hardison and eliot all walk in together (TOGETHER)

also both parker and eliot are wearing flannel

- - - - -

Parker: I bet you're not even a lawyer.

Tara: Oh. Sophie was right. You are adorable.

Parker: Excuse me?

(Eliot, Parker and Hardison talk angrily at her for several moments as Nate reads what’s in the envelope)

some highlights that I was able to hear from all of them talking over each other:

- Eliot: Don’t comment and say that kinda stuff. You don’t know us at all.

- Hardison: Woah, you’re overstepping here

- Parker: You don’t get to call me adorable. You don’t get to say that.

basically the boys jump to her defense and I love it

also SOPHIE CANONICALLY TOLD TARA PARKER WAS ADORABLE THATS SO SWEET

- - - - -

Hardison: Whoa, whoa, hold up. Mnh-Mnh. Hold up, hold up. What is this?

Tara: Oh, it’s a bill, for my cut of the inheritance. Hey, I’m not a candy striper. This is my job.

(Eliot, Hardison and Parker look at Nate, who nods)

Tara: There. See? We're getting paid already. It's gonna be fun.

#leverage #leverage season 2 #season 2 #leverage 2.09 #leverage 2x09 #notable moments #mine

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starkerparkerpony · 4 years

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AU where Tony (44-45 y/o) meets an aged up (23-24 y/o) Peter after Civil War, Tony is broken up with Pepper and all kinds of sorry for himself. Peter is a ESU graduate and currently has an internship with Oscorp and is a photographer for the Daily Bugle he is also spiderman and therefore perpetually exhausted and has very little patience.

(It's been a while since I wrote something, please consider reblogging)

I scold because I stan

Tony was starting to get sick of himself.

The self hatred and self pity were starting to crescendo, which was shedding a lot of light on how he got to and where Tony currently was in his life.

Spangle's betrayal shouldn't have hurt as much as it did.

The breakup with Pepper shouldn't have been as painful as it was.

He shouldn't miss the team as much as he did.

Vision injuring Rhodey shouldn't have felt like a personal failure but it did.

Speaking of personal failures, the accords shouldn't have scattered more than half of the planet's protectors in the wind all while labeling them 'war criminals' but they had.

And Tony was sick of himself because his centrally heated penthouse shouldn't be haunted by a Serbian cold but it was.

Because his heartbeat shouldn't feel like someone trying to jackhammer the arc reactor into his sternum sometimes... but it did.

So he decided to go out because his inner 'self hatred' voice was starting to sound too much like his father and that was about the last straw for Tony.

A baseball cap, coat and muffler later, Tony Stark was roaming the streets of New York but then it was too fucking cold for that so he quickly ducked into a cozy looking Irish pub.

He quickly scanned the place for a place to sit, it was pretty packed except for a booth which was occupied by one person who had their head down on the table and appeared to be, best case scenario, dozing off or worst case scenario, passed out.

Appropriate company for the kind of evening he was having he thought to himself as he made his way to the booth.

A waiter came to take his order and Tony took it upon himself to order a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. If he was gonna get hammered in a public place against all good sense then atleast he was gonna do it with some company... even if said company was seemingly unconscious.

When the waiter put down the glasses, his boothmate woke up. And Tony was confronted with a gorgeous guy with stunning brown eyes, he was sporting a rather sizable shiner over his left one but it did absolutely nothing to detract from his attractiveness.

"Jesus Christ... are you actually Tony Stark? Or am I hallucinating?" The guy asked quietly.

"I was hoping you wouldn't recognize me." Tony wrinkled his nose as he admitted.

"That's either a scathing comment on your perception of the general public's intellect or humility which absolutely does not go with the reputation that precedes you," the guy scoffed.

Huh... he's sharp and quick Tony thought.

"A little bit of both. The hat usually, miraculously works." Tony explained

"Don't judge me but I've had an entire wall dedicated to your face ever since your first Rolling Stone cover... the hat wasn't gonna work on me."

"That's a lot to unpack from a stranger"

"I'm Peter Parker."

"You know who I am."

Peter's face split into an overjoyed smile when Tony said that. It was a ridiculous 'only in New York' kinda thing to find yourself in the same booth as Iron Man in your local pub and Peter really needed this after the day he'd had. He was still completely terrified that at any moment Tony would accuse him of being Spiderman and make him sign the accords but he was also gonna let himself relax and enjoy meeting his hero a little.

"I'm not a billionaire expert but shouldn't you be drinking at a much upper scale place than this?" As amazed as he was, Peter was also perplexed by Tony's presence in the pub.

"There's a lot about me that absolutely does not go with the reputation that precedes me. You just admitted to me that you have a wall dedicated to my face and then brushed past it like it was nothing..." Tony said, incredulous.

"You're pretty, you're an amazing scientist, you build robots and are a superhero because of a badass armour you made that can fly. I'm a nerd and bisexual, it's is nothing, just nature basically," Peter waved him off as he started to pour the whiskey for them.

Surprisingly enough Tony's cheeks were a little flushed by the time Peter looked up, which made him think that maybe there isn't much accurate about the reputation that precedes Tony Stark.

"Hmm... who did that to your face?" Tony asked about the shiner Peter was sporting.

"Umm... a girl was getting mugged, I tried to play hero, you should see the other guy as the saying goes" Peter shrugged.

"Wow good for you... could've ended badly though." Tony's chest was unexpectedly and rather worryingly tight hearing about the danger Peter had been in.

"I know... I lost a loved one to a mugging gone wrong but the girl needed help, I didn't really have a choice."

It was like hearing those words was the straw that broke the camel's back for Tony. Because he completely understood what Peter meant. Tony never really felt like he had a choice either and whether or not Peter was ready to have a lot of information about the Avengers and his 'face wall' buddy Iron Man's wretched life choices, he was gonna be vented at like there was no tomorrow. Because Stark men don't go to therapy, they drink and speak very fast at unsuspecting civilians.

So Tony talked and Peter listened, about how the star spangled man with a plan is a fucking douchebag, how fucking hurt he felt that Nat, Clint and Wanda would still choose him over Tony, how he hasn't been able to look Rhodey in the eye since Germany and probably never will be, how easily things fell apart with Pepper even after he tried so hard, how the winter soldier fucking killed his mom and fucking spangles hid it from him, how he probably deserved it because that poor kid that got killed in Sokovia because of him... and as Tony talked he also drank so he was feeling pretty buzzed by the time he was done talking thankfully Peter was drinking right along with him.

It wasn't really a conversation, rather Iron Man just venting to him... he did notice a pattern though, everything Tony complained about, he tied up the line of thought with ultimately blaming himself for it.

Peter had always felt a certain kinship with the guy... but this man telling him how helpless his power had made him to the massive responsibility that came along with it, hit too close to home.

"Are you always this self loathe-y or is this just a today thing?" Peter asked when Tony stopped talking

"What? I don't... what?"

"Buddy... Captain America, if he really did to you what you say he did... then who gives a shit? He's an asshole. And I'm not even a supporter of the accords but even I think that the Rogues could have handled it in a better way...

No seriously, there's way more enhanced folks in this country than just the Avengers, some of them are minors, there's a dude in Hells Kitchen who is gonna sue the government and the UN so that the registration thing is scrapped, Charles Xavier and his team are even collaborating on the lawsuit.

Those people could have really used Captain America with them on this but he was too busy playing Rambo and violating other countries' sovereignty and beating the living shit out of Iron Man apparently.

I mean for a genius, you're a dumbass because you let the people who once tried to nuke Manhattan convince you that you're more dangerous than they are but you had 'dead-kid-in-Sokovia' guilt. So I get it but c'mon cut yourself some slack."

Tony was a bit flabbergasted by the kid's performance.

"Of course you'd say it... you stick my pictures on your wall," Tony grumbled

"Oh hell no! You will not use my stan status against me. I know exactly how problematic my fav is. I know your family made their fortune selling weapons and not just to the US Military and I know you only gave a crap about the under the table dealing with terrorists when they threatened your life but I'm sorry Mr. Stark if you deny yourself the credit for learning from your mistakes then every human everywhere is going straight to hell.

Intellicrops prevented famines... the arc reactor technology is saving the planet from global warming...

I saw that video of Helena Cho with those acid attack victims in India and openly weeped in a Starbucks...

You really did privatize world peace... there's a reason the biggest threat to us now is "evil aliens" you know... cause' what the fuck chance does ISIS have against War Machine? Even that Mandarin thing turned out to be a hoax.

I have 3 patents because of my Maria Stark Foundation grant and I didn't even get the MIT-full funding ones... one day one of those kids is going to cure cancer and it's going to be because of you.

So of course I'll defend you man... but you don't seem to realize that any decent person would." Peter was pretty pleased with himself after that and shot Tony an eyebrow raise as if daring him to disagree.

"I got nothing."

"Of course you don't." Peter grinned.

Maybe Tony had just isolated himself too much from people who didn't consider him a complete and utter asshole.

But with Peter it didn't even feel like praise... it was like the guy was scolding him for being too mean to himself.

It felt nice nonetheless.

Before Tony had even recovered from Peter's glorious rant, the younger guy handed him a business card with the words "Daily Bugle" embossed on it.

"Don't hold my gossip rag workplace against me... it's easy money and I'm only doing it till Norman Osbourne starts paying me for the work I already do for him." Peter shrugged

"You're with Oscorp? What do you do? Why not SI?" If he had scored an internship with Oscorp and a grant from his own foundation then he must be good enough for SI.

"I'm R&D chemical engineering and I'm not at SI because your recruiters are assholes who demand 3 years experience for a beginner position..." said Peter matter of factly.

"You should apply with us again." Tony insisted, the guy had 3 patents and very sharp, after tonight the least Tony could do was get him a job.

"You should call me." Peter countered

"I- wait are you hitting on me?" And much to Tony's chagrin, he found himself blushing again.

"Yeah duh Mr. Stark."

"I'm old enough to be your father." Tony sputtered and that hurt to admit.

"And I have insane daddy issues- you'll love me. I'm not even gonna ask you for a selfie... you don't look your best right now but definitely call me." Peter winked as he started to leave.

"You're fucking negging me?!" said Tony looking up at the ballsy kid as he slid out of the booth.

"Hey you miss 100% of the shots you don't take. Gandhi said that." The kid called over his shoulder as he walked away.

"Gandhi absolutely did not say that Peter." Tony yelled back.

God he was gonna call the guy.

Read part 2 here, part 3 here

#starker #starker fic #tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #Peter Parker #precious Tony #badass Peter #spideriron #iron spider #i scold because i stan #starker au #aged up peter parker

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veridium · 4 years

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stolen

Well, friends, what kicks off a weekend better than a College AU update? Titled after one of my favorite songs of all time, and definitely one of the best kinds of love songs to describe Cass and Liv, the dashboard confessional classic. :)

Fall Carnival fun pt. 2 commences now!

last chapter // fic masterpost

There’s walking on glass and eggshells, and then there’s the week Olivia has leading up to the fall carnival. Ellinor deserves a medal of service for dealing with her each and every day, hour by hour, every time something unsettles her anxiety. She had told her everything was fine when they were shoving sushi into their mouths and laughing about fish puns. If only she could hold onto the same kind of half-optimistic, half-resigned sensation she felt then.

It’s not that Cassandra is mean, or even insensitive. Despite Olivia’s incessant ranting and brooding, she can’t really say it’s because of cruelty.

The day after her and Ellinor’s sushi date, she texts to check in. Cassandra replies, answering her questions, and nothing more. Olivia once again restricts herself from prodding, and comes back to her dorm to complain to Ellinor. That night she receives texts from friends insisting that they meet up at the Carnival at some point to take a fall aesthetic selfie. The dread grows.

Then it’s Thursday. To her surprise, Cassandra texts her first.

Cassandra: Hey, will you be around at 12? I have office hours, I thought we could have lunch.

The cup runneth over -- too bad her request collides with a final project meeting, and by God, Liv will not give her team more of an opportunity to disappoint. She was the one who scheduled it, set up the shared Google Doc, and delegated responsibilities. If she ducked out, the whole thing would come apart. So, as much as it makes her want to cut four of her fingers off, she tells Cassandra no. Of course, Cassandra isn’t one to give grief.

Cassandra: No problem, just thought I would offer. Have a good meeting!

Later that night, Olivia takes some initiative. The Carnival is the next day and if Cassandra isn’t feeling it, she would rather go alone or not go at all than try to force it. Cute pictures would never be worth it, and Olivia has grown up experiencing enough cringey, orchestrated “outings” to last a lifetime. She paces the floor of her dorm after sending the text, expecting one of dozens of possible reasons. After all, who wants to endure a Carnival with an ankle boot on?

Apparently, Cassandra does.

Cassandra: Yeah! Cullen and the team have been looking forward to it for weeks. I don’t see why not.

Olivia stares perplexed at her screen. Okay. Okay? Okay. That’s it, then. They’ll go, and it’ll be great. Except it won’t be, because in that split second, she’s already charted in her head all of the awkward and potentially conflictive situations that could happen. What if Cassandra gets there and her mood changes? What if she wants to get on a ride, but can’t because of her injury? What if she loses at a Carnival game and it sets her off? What if someone makes fun of her? What if she trips and falls?

As if by divine providence, she gets a phone call during her spiral. And it’s none other than Theia, finally getting back to her after over a week of radio silence. Olivia doesn’t waste time asking what happened between her and Josie, but Theia doesn’t have much to offer:

“It’s a break. That’s all I can really say,” she says, voice going low while she’s on speaker phone. “It’s a long story. I’d rather not get into it tonight.” There’s a loopy sound, like the swig of a bottle.

Olivia, scrunching her face while she sits on her bed, figures she should change the subject. She tells Theia she needs to vent to someone else besides Ellinor about what is going on with her, and Theia is the only other person who’d understand. The only other person who would be able to provide any insight as to what is upsetting her so viscerally.

When she gets to the bottom of it, Theia doesn’t speak immediately. The quiet pondering scares her, like the ominous stillwater before a gator attack on those Discovery channel shows.

“Liv,” Theia finally says, reluctant like she’s a Doctor about to break some terminal news, “you’re gonna hate me for saying this.”

“What? No!” she disagrees. “Not at all, please, help me out here. I’ve been stewing all week.”

“Well…” she chuckles nervously, “you sound just like you did when I first met you.”

Theia doesn’t have to elaborate. The phrase is code for “a couple years ago,” which comes with its own subtext, one everyone who’s gone through what she has can understand. The phrase has grown from “a few months,” to “last summer,” to “last year,” and now she’s here. Time sucks ass. At least in Theia’s use of it, it doesn’t come with the same feigned accepting grief that Olivia’s Mom has when they’re at “gatherings” with “loved ones” who Olivia hasn’t ever seen before.

Her cheeks go hot and she tosses the phone onto the comforter and looks away, as if she’s eluding the discerning gaze of a close friend. Theia knows better.

“I know you hate me,” she says, vindicated. “But, you know. The fretting, and the worrying about things that haven’t even happened to her. You’re trying to figure out her needs before she even says them. That’s how you sounded every time I’d be on the phone with you during break. You’d just...completely turn everything on for him, then your Mom.”

Olivia criss-crosses her legs, and picks at the tufted fabric of her old pajama bottoms. “Yeah.”

“Hey, you good?” Theia is quick to check, her tone more concerned. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

“Warned me for what?” Olivia smirks and rubs her neck. “Trigger warning: your own damn life?”

“I mean...yeah. That’s kind of how it works.”

“Not always,” she replies, and picks up the phone. “It’s fine, Theia. I appreciate your honesty.”

Theia lets out a discomfited sound. “Maybe you should...I don’t know. Maybe it’d be best to tell her. Unless you think you can figure this out on your own. It’s up to you.”

“Yeah, it is,” Olivia nods, trying to convince herself simultaneously. All this time she’s been so worried about getting to the bottom of Cassandra’s issues, she’s scarcely thought about the consequences of her own. As if only one of them had baggage to bring around. No shit, Olivia owns her own baggage terminal. Silly for her to believe it would just go away if she just cared enough about someone else’s problems. No matter how many times she tried that trick, it never worked.

Her and Theia manage to wrap up their talk on kinder, easier terms. Both of them acknowledge they aren’t in a place to be fully open. Agreeing to be patient with each other, they hang up, and Olivia collapses back on her bed to overthink things while staring off into the ceiling.

This can be a really happy time, if you just let it. She thinks it, over and over, like a song lyric. Just let it.

The next day, Ellinor’s glee and the prospects of fun lighten her up. She puts on one of her favorite dresses, a tea-length button-up dress with short sleeves and a ribbon around the waist. It has a print, blue and white small flowers, and flows at every little move she makes. When Ellinor sees it, she damn-near tips over.

“You’re wearing that?” she asks, slipping her coat on. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Olivia smirks, and the back of her throat stings with nerves. She locks the door to her dorm and then drops them into her black denim jacket. Just a little touch of the normal aesthetic.

“It’s the carnival!” she replies, “gotta dress to the occasion.”

“Hah, well, Cass will probably...hey,” Ellinor tries to say something funny, but seeing the immediate change on Liv’s face, she stops herself. “Everything okay?”

Olivia blinks. “Yeah! Yeah. Just distracted by something. Um,” she checks her phone. No messages. “Let’s hurry, parking will be a nightmare.”

Whatever Ellinor meant to say about Cassandra’s reaction, she was likely spot on: the minute they see each other in their kitchen, it’s like the world freezes. The first time she’s seen her all week, and Cassandra looks just as beautiful as she looks in Olivia’s memory. Black leggings and a knit, sangria-colored sweater with a dress shirt underneath, all neat and fresh looking. They stand facing each other silently while Cullen and Ellinor are off somewhere making various happy noises, giggling and joking.

Olivia feels the strap of her string purse slipping and adjusts, her grip on it atop her shoulder turning deadly. The way Cassandra is acting confirms it: she knows its strange, too, that it’s been this long. But, as she always does, Olivia finds the words.

“Y-ou ready?” she asks, offering a smile.

Cassandra returns it. “Yeah! I just have to go and get my jacket.”

“Oh, you want me to--”

“No, no, don’t worry,” she says kindly, “I’ve got it.” She’s walking easier than she did the first day. Still an uneven sway, but she’s about as fast as she would be without it. She goes and comes back from her room, a fresh new team jacket over her arm. Shit, they must have got their team jackets?

She’s met in the living room with Cullen and Ellinor, who are also ready to take off. And so, with grins and happy laughs from all, they head out.

The entire drive Olivia is trying to walk herself back off the mental ledge. Now that she’s aware of what she’s doing, or at least more aware, it’s almost worse. How can she tell her new girlfriend that she’s lapsing into something that’s taken her 3 years of on-and-off counselors for her to know is even real? When she’s not thinking about that, she’s thinking about how she should have been more honest with her, especially when Cass was raw about her own issues. Then she feels unreasonable for her expectations, and then…

In the middle of it, her gaze wanders to the center console, and then to the left, where Cassandra is seated. She’s sitting there, and then she feels Olivia’s gaze and looks over, and she smiles. She’s smiling, and she’s looking so happy in the sunlight shades changing so fast as the car goes fast downtown.

Hands gathered against her waist like a kid on a school field trip, she grins back.

Next thing she knows they’ve arrived, and Ellinor and Cullen are romping in the parking lot like spring yearlings, egging each other on for donuts or something. They’re so happy it almost rots her teeth. Ellinor tries to stick with the group, and before Olivia can ask her to stay, Cassandra surprises her and waves them off. That’s all the lovebirds need to fly off.

Olivia takes a stiff breath and slips her aviators on. Who would have thought being alone with Cassandra after the week she’s had would be the exact opposite of what she wanted?

“Well, we better catch up, right?” Cassandra smiles again -- she’s smiling so much -- and slides her hands in her jacket pockets.

Olivia looks over, nods, and goes forward. “Yeah! Yeah.”

“Everything okay?” Cassandra asks as she starts walking. “You seem anxious.”

“I...I am, a bit.”

They’re near the entrance when Cassandra stops. Olivia jerks and turns around, immediately admonishing herself. “Am I going too fast? I’m sorry, shi--”

“No,” Cassandra shakes her head. She’s reaching into her pocket. “My wallet is just stuck in the pocket. Give me a sec.”

Oh. That’s...that’s okay. Ok. Everything’s good.

“You don’t have to worry about getting your wallet out,” Olivia says, grabbing her purse. “I got us!”

Cassandra furrows her brow and meets her gaze. “What? You sure? It’s not a big deal, I…”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Olivia puts in the effort for a sweet smile. She already has her wallet out and ready by the time Cassandra gives up grabbing hers.

“Oh, okay then.”

They get in through the ticket stand without trouble. Once they’re in, it’s a marathon for the senses: spices and sugary treats freshly made and slathered lace the air, groups of people in bright autumnal hues exchanging cotton candy and stuffed animals. Music plays low and abundantly on speakers staked throughout, echoing the party of the open dance floor and festival stage somewhere through the fray. Machines and games ring out their sirens, with all the bells and whistles. Far beyond the front is the ferris wheel towering over the rest of the park yard and its sea of striped spotted tent roofs. It’s paradise for a bunch of young hearts with sweet teeth and salty energy levels from a semester nearly concluded.

Olivia and Cassandra walk at a glacial pace. Cassandra looks just as endeared, scanning slowly from side-to-side, a carefree expression on her face. She looks so much more content than the last time Olivia saw her in a celebratory crowd. She’s cooler than cool. They walk beside each other so closely their shoulders bump, and ever so often one glances over and the other smiles in reassurance.

Then, because of course, they are hollered at by familiar faces.

“Cass! Liv!”

Lysette is walking over -- no, sauntering -- complete with what looks to be a giant inflatable hammer under her arm, and an ember-colored soda bottle in the other. She looks like a fabulous lumberjack, flannel, belt, boots and all. And a smug face of victory.

“High Striker champion strikes again?” Cassandra asks with a clever laugh.

Behind Lysette, a man looking like Rylen...or, sounding like Rylen, the way he’s cussing, is taking his turn at the game. Surrounded by several other bros, all chuckling and gesturing towards him as if to give pointers. Pointers he’s definitely not taking.

“Agh, what can I say,” Lysette shrugs, looking over her shoulder. “He’ll be the last to call himself a loser.”

“That’s for sure.” Cassandra tilts her head, brow raised. “He’s lucky I’ve retired.”

Olivia gapes a little at the tall machine. “You played that?”

Lysette laughs and hits Cassandra playfully on the shoulder with her balloon trophy, which Cass brushes off while smirking. “Cass taught me the magic,” she corrects proudly and takes a swig, “it’s from her that I inherited this heavy crown.”

Olivia’s brows lift into outer space as she looks over at her girlfriend, thinking of course she would, and Cassandra looks modestly self-satisfied.

“Eh, well--” Lysette is interrupted by Rylen’s roar. They all turn around and see him, huffing and puffing like the wolf from the three little pigs story, strike hammer in hand.

“Lys, you get your ass ov--h-hey! Liv! Cass!”

Olivia waves a little sheepishly. Cass nods. Lysette takes another glug of her beer. Poor Rylen couldn’t be gesturing toward a more unimpressed crowd of women. But, never one to be discouraged, he struts over swinging the thing like a baseball bat.

“Either of you wanna take me on for the Striker?” he asks it generally, but his eyes stay on Olivia. The petite dancer, of course. Easy target.

“Almost didn’t recognize you in the dress, Liv. C’mon,” he says, holding it out to her. “Take a swing!”

Olivia lets out a cautious laugh, and gently pushes the hammer away. Before she can give an excuse, Cassandra inches closer to her, until their sides are up against each other. It sends an excited chill down her spine.

“Don’t get her caught up in your losing streak, Rylen,” Cassandra defends her.

“Yeah,” Lysette snickers, “no need to pull innocent lives down with you, dude.”

Rylen looks sincerely confused at this disrespect, spreading his arms out wide to puff out his chest. “Ya’ll just don’t want to mess with the hometown glory!”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Olivia giggles, taking the opportunity to slide an arm around Cassandra’s waist. Cassandra is steady and warm. Irresistable.

“We’re going to walk around some more before getting looped into games,” Cassandra says to Lysette, who happily nods and side-steps toward Rylen.

“Come on,” she says, nudging him, “I’m not done with my streak.”

Liberated, Cassandra and Olivia turn to the left and walk on, her arm staying around her and Cassandra sending hers over Olivia’s shoulder. It’s one of the first acts of public affection they’ve done in a place like this. Well, that is, as a definite couple. The milestone is not lost on Liv, who for the first time since waking up in the morning has started to let the anxious “what if’s” slide. Cassandra isn’t dodging her, nor is she ignoring her. She’s here, she’s cheerful, and they’re here, together. The way Olivia’s head fits against the crook of Cassandra’s neck is perfect.

“He was right about one thing,” Cassandra says as they walk down an aisle of stands. “You in a bright blue dress feels like a rarity.”

Olivia smirks and folds some wisps of hair behind her ear. “I live to shock and amaze.”

“That you do. You hungry?”

“Actually, kinda. I was hoping we could go to--”

“--the funnel cake stand?”

Olivia freezes and pulls away just a bit, just to be able to look up at her with eyes wide and mouth open. Cassandra looks back at her, a bit surprised.

“Yes…” Olivia says slowly, “but the only flavor that is valid is…”

Cassandra, catching the hint, chuckles softly. “Strawberry.”

“Agh!” Olivia lays her head back and smiles, leaning into her some more like before. “See, babe, it’s the little things that get me.”

Cassandra’s chuckling continues to bubble as she wraps her arms around her. As she pulls her in, she mumbles a soft caution: “careful, easy on me.”

Olivia is eyes closed and latched onto her like a koala when she hears it, and immediately backs off like they’re suddenly magnet ends.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! Ugh, I forg--”

Cassandra tilts a bit in reaction to the sudden shift of weight, and takes hold of Olivia’s flailing hands before they make her airborne. “Hey! Easy!”

Hands secured and attention obtained, Olivia once again freezes in a state of stress.

“Liv, I’m okay,” Cassandra comforts with confidence. “I’m not a piece of fine china.”

Olivia can feel the embarrassed blush as she relaxes her arms. They stay linked, Cassandra rubbing the back of her hands with her thumbs.

“I...I know that, I so know that,” Olivia repeats, “I’m sorry. I’m s--”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Cassandra adds, further dispelling the worry.

“No, yeah. Yeah,” Olivia shakes her head fast, almost dizzying herself if not for Cassandra’s close presence. “Um, listen. Uh, hm…”

Cassandra blinks. “You okay?”

She looks so open, so understanding. Liv could tell her, she could just say it. Or, she could have a bit more mercy for her and not unload all of this on what is supposed to be a good, lighthearted night out. But would it help the stone in her gut, or the noiseless but deafening sensation in her head, between her ears? Will it make the dull but deep sense of dread subside?

“Cass, I…” her voice shakes a bit. Now she’s starting to become overwhelmed by all of the sensory overload and busy energy around them. Her cheeks go from hot to cold.

“Olivia,” Cass says softly, coming closer. There’s a new look in her eyes, one that is least lost and confused. “We should go over to the picnic tables, okay? Just hold onto my hand and follow me.”

Olivia follows the instructions to the letter. After all, it isn’t exactly an unthinkable task holding onto her and letting her take the lead. Cassandra leads them over to where a few picnic tables form a semi-circle facing the venue, all but one taken up by people. It’s as if the last empty one was reserved especially for her unpredictable episode should she need it.

But this isn’t an episode, right? God, she hopes not.

“Have a seat,” Cassandra requests. Olivia, ever the dissenting queer, sits on the edge of the picnic table rather than the bench seats on either side. Her hands clamp on the wood while Cassandra stands in front of her, taking off her prized new jacket.

“W-what are you doing?”

“The thing that happens in every teenage romance film pre-dating 2005,” Cassandra replies. She then loops the jacket up and around Olivia’s shoulders. It’s a size or two bigger than she would wear, which makes it perfect. Olivia’s spine goes straighter than she’s ever been in her life, and she clutches the ends of it against herself like a blanket.

Cassandra rubs up and down Olivia’s arms, slow but vigorous. The athlete is showing. “There.”

Olivia, feeling so sheepish she could be cast as an extra for a Charlotte’s Web remake, stares and rolls her lips shut. She feels better, but if she doesn’t let herself breathe, it’ll all surely get worse.

“Are you in a place to tell me what’s going on, or should I just distract you?”

Olivia’s fast becoming enthralled in just how prepared Cassandra is. If only she could say marveling at her was distracting enough without sounding corny. Yet, she’s asked the million-dollar question: can she say it, or should she? Without thinking, her gaze flashes to either side of Cassandra’s shoulders toward the crowds. Cassandra notices and immediately hooks a finger under Olivia’s chin.

“Olivia, don’t worry about them,” she says and guides her attention back to her. Butterflies.

Olivia parts her lips and lets herself sigh. “I can’t.” She takes hold of her hand and guides it to rest in both of hers in her lap. “I wish I could, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Not here. We’re supposed to be having a good time.”

“What we are supposed to be doing doesn’t matter.”

“I know, but, I’m okay. I just need a second. I promise.” She says it honestly. She can enjoy this, if she just gives herself permission to without scolding at every turn for mistakes she had no intention of making. “Just a minute to cool down.”

“Okay.” Cassandra turns and slides onto the table right next to her, for which Olivia gladly scoots over. She lets go of her just so she can hold onto the jacket again. The sun is heading toward the mountains in the distance, but the evening is still far out.

After a moment’s silence -- well, silent as one can get amid a fall carnival -- Olivia takes her first solid breath. The feeling in her throat is cooling down, and the tension in her chest is releasing. Her wandering eyes go across from the horizon to the next tallest thing: the ferris wheel, where it looks like a couple very similar to Ellinor and Cullen are in one of the carts. If only she could see past the obstruction of a giant stuffed animal.

Knowing them, that probably confirms that it is, in fact, them. It makes her snort.

Cassandra picks up on the reappearance of good humor. “Feeling better?”

In return Olivia looks over and gives her perhaps the first real and relaxed smile of the entire day. “Yes, a lot. Thank you.”

Many yards away, near a ring toss stand, two people begin to wave. Olivia zeroes in and sees that one has a beautifully-crafted side-braid of black hair and a fabulous ruffled coat. The other is a less-familiar face, but not a stranger’s.

“Oh, Josie!” Olivia says, and waves back. Josie is holding a smaller stuffed animal, bright pink, looking like a teddy bear. The other person says some words to her, looking like a question.

She looks happy. That’s good.

“Where’s Theia?” Cassandra asks, sticking a pin in the moment without even knowing.

Taking another breath, Olivia leans her shoulder into hers and groans.

“Am I missing something?”

Olivia sighs. “You and me both. I’ll explain later.” Her phone dings from her bag. She looks up and sees Josie and her company gone, only to look down at her phone and have an answer:

Josie: I hope we can link up before either of us leaves and take a pic! You both look adorable!

She hums in speculation, and replies:

Olivia: Yes please!!

With one click and toss, her phone is back in her back, and her sense is back in her head. Ariana Grande’s song “Tattooed Heart” has started to play on the Carnival DJ speakers.

“I love this song,” she smiles, and sways a little to the beat. “How are you feeling?”

Cassandra rolls her shoulders as she leans back a little. “Great, I have no complaints.”

“Really?”

She takes one look at Olivia’s hopeful look and bites the side of her lip. “I mean, I still have my expectations. Firstly, the funnel cake. Secondly, I do want to see you take a swing at the High Striker. Third, I--”

“Oh, what!” Olivia scoffs playfully, “That hammer looks taller than me and about as heavy!”

Cassandra smirks. “With me coaching you, Love, you can’t lose.”

Butterflies, part two. “I...suppose you have a point. But if it’s gonna happen, I’ll need that funnel cake to help hold me down.”

“Deal.”

Love. I like that nickname. Hell, I’d change my name to it, why not?

She hops down with her spirit anew, and helps Cassandra back onto her feet. Just a little help, as a treat, since Cass is right: she isn’t fragile, and Olivia doesn’t have to worry. Watching the people she depends on for strength deal with physical limitations doesn’t always have to be a crisis. It might have been in the past, but the here and now is what matters. And she is allowed to believe that.

They hold hands that gently swing as walk back into the crowds. It goes from feeling like a minefield to that scene in Rapunzel where she and Eugene are frolicking among the city folk. Friendly faces turn and offer smiles and “hello’s,” and they wave back. It’s easy. It’s effortless and thrilling at the same time. The popping and bell sounds are no longer menacing. The heat of the day is no longer suffocating.

And, at last, they find their way to the main event: that beautiful funnel cake truck, with its beautiful plates bigger than her faze of fried dough, strawberries, and whip cream. After dousing it in powdered sugar because, of course you douse it in powdered sugar, she approaches Cassandra with a bit of purposeful mischief.

Smart to the look, Cassandra raises a brow, holding her fork in ready. “You pull anything, Sinclair, and it’s war.”

“Whaaat?” Olivia asks coyly, pinning her own fork between her teeth and smiling. She’s holding the plate in both hands like a holiday pie.

“You know what. Don’t even think about it.”

“I just thought maybe you could do a little taste test a--AAH!” she can’t even get the tagline out before Cassandra strikes the first blow, scooping a dollop of cream onto her fingers and smearing it across Olivia’s nose and cheek. She squeaks in a pitch nearly at Ellinor-level, and stands there, shocked and holding the pie while her fork falls from her mouth onto the plate. Eyes wide, mouth agape, and face whipped.

She can’t believe it. Cassandra, standing there, smug and unable to run. But it’s not like she would, anyway. The woman stands and is judged for her crimes just as she is for her wins.

“I…” Olivia huffs, “Did you just seriously…?”

Cassandra, folding her arms with one hand going to her mouth as she only half-conceals her kind of playful grin, only plays dumb: “What? I have no idea what you are referring to!”

“Is this revenge for the ice cream?”

“I would prefer to call it a preventative measure.”

“Preventative...for what? I was only going to feed you the first bite!”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow. “Sure, Olivia, sure.”

“I was! Dammit, I was being a nice girlfriend! I swear!”

“I suppose we will never know, now,” Cassandra laughs and takes the napkins Olivia has in her hand, the ones she’s forgotten about during this heinous act of assassination. Carefully she unfolds it and hooks her finger under Olivia’s chin like before, only now she tilts it to the side so as to get the prime angle.

“Hold still,” she’s still laughing a little as she wipes off most of the whip cream. Olivia’s eyes are adrift to the floor but she can’t resist glancing. Glancing turns to staring. A brief moment in time where everything is messy, but everything is wonderful. Cassandra looks so thoughtful, so kind.

Such a pity, since she’s in for it.

Striking just as quick, Olivia leans her cheek in and rubs it across Cassandra’s mouth and tip of her nose. Most of the mess is already off her face, but they can still share in the stickiness.

“Ha!” She beams, bouncing back. “Rules of engagement are rules of engagement, Pentaghast!” She grabs her fork and points it at her like a defensive weapon.

Cassandra chuckles and folds the napkin she had in half, looking down at the floor modestly like she knew it was coming. She isn’t mad, though. Far from it. And she definitely isn’t mad when Olivia offers to take the napkin from her and pay her due, cleaning off her face.

“You know, sometimes,” Cassandra says more quietly, as Olivia finishes with one last brush along her chin for good measure, “I...I can be very bad at allowing someone else to take care of me.” The silliness has slipped from her tone.

Olivia goes still, her hand full of scrunched, stained napkin still caressing Cassandra’s jaw. Their eyes meet, and in the hazel hue she can see it. She can see the recognition, the apology for the amount of little things that have become a pile of a bigger thing. She knows. She knew in the kitchen earlier that day, and she knows now. And for some reason Olivia, who has always been team “an apology means saying the words,” this feels like it means something deep. Something trusting and vulnerable.

Something definitely forgivable.

And so, tossing the napkin to the trash a couple feet from where they stand, Olivia grins wide and cuts into the plate of precious funnel cake until she skewers a perfect bite-sized piece of cake, cream, and berries. Then, holding it up for just a few seconds, she then stuffs it into her own mouth. She then holds the plate out to Cassandra, who grasps the plate edge with one hand.

“Don’t worry,” Olivia says with a mouth half-full, “I suck sometimes at letting others care for themselves. Maybe we both need to learn when to just stuff our faces and let things happen.”

Cassandra, looking relieved and with fondness, begins to dig in with her own fork. “You might be onto something, there.”

Though she can never not overthink things, Olivia is happy to think ahead with this one: their edges and sharp points aren’t what they used to be. The intuition she had to just ride the wave and let things play out proved vindicated. It’s uncertainty that isn’t tragic. It’s hopeful. Is this what it feels like, then, to be falling in love?

Bring it on, Hammer Strike.

#college au #modern thedas au #olivia sinclair #college!olivia #ellinor trevelyan #friends fic #chapter update #fic update #CARNIVAL FEELS

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chrysolina · 6 years

Text

Clinging to you

Asks - Hiii! How’re u? I was wondering if you could do an imagine where the reader is dating cevans, and over hears I’m saying that she’s too clingy and he might break up with her? Then she avoids him for days. And the reason she’s clingy is bc she thinks she’s going to lose him? But chris didn’t know that and realizes how much he misses and loves her? Love ur page btw seriously - anon

Hiii! Can you do a fic with cevans x girl reader. She overheard him saying that she’s too clingy and sometimes he just wants to be alone and is thinking abt breaking up w her and so she ignores him for days but he doesn’t know why but they get into a fight about it after ? Basically angst to fluff? -

Thank you both for this amazing ask!! Here it is, hope you enjoy 💕

Summary - Chris is getting tired - tired of your clinginess to him. So much so, he wants to end your five year relationship - but how can you with a massive obstacle soon to be in the way?

Word count - 2.6k

Warnings - angst, swearing, fluff, mention of sex

M A S T E R L I S T

Photoshoots, Chris hated them. As much as he was a kind soul and wasn’t one to complain, he wasn’t having any of it today. A humid, gripping air hung around LA the whole day and the studio was no different, the air-con was trying it’s best to cool everyone but with the recent heatwave that had just passed, it just wasn’t enough.

Ever since he was a baby, Chris never liked the heat - period - it still made him as cranky, snappy and generally frustrated at the most mundane or innocent of things even now, thirty six years later.

Through all the hair styling, outfit changes, prop swapping, flashes and clicks of the camera, he was continuously keeping his cool - until you, literally, stepped through the door of the studio. He didn’t understand why but as of late, you had been rather clingy with him - far too clingy, if Chris had further words for it.

He hadn’t dared to say it to you yet but your incessant clinginess only made him want to tear away from you and call it quits. He was a lone spirit, an independent one at that and he just couldn’t stand the cramped feeling you gave him whilst you were around him.

You smiled, waved and said hi to him whilst the hairdressers were sorting his hair, like most would, you expected him to smile back and either tell you to come see him or say hey back but no, Chris just glared daggers into you, making your happy go-lucky smile drop in an instant. You didn’t digress too much over it however, you shrugged it off and went off to the lunchtime buffet that had just opened on the other side of the studio.

After a while, things weren’t adding up. The head photographer had called it time for lunch just over twenty minutes ago and Chris hadn’t showed up. With a huff, you asked his and your manager if he knew where he went, to which he replied ‘I think he went to his dressing room darling’, you thanked him and paced quickly to Chris’ room.

Halfway through your walk, a god-awful gut feeling stabbed your insides like a katana ‘what if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he’s mad at me?’ You shrugged off the thoughts, clenched your now incredibly valuable handbag closer to you and kept walking.

The dressing rooms were deadly silent bar your heeled sandals clicking on the tiled floor, a cool air whipped past your neck and made you hold your body whilst it shivered. Although it was from afar, you could hear Chris’ voice bellow through his dressing room and seep out of the flimsy door and its gaps, making you puzzle at the anger in his voice.

You didn’t want to knock the door and ask how he was, as bad as it was you wanted to listen to what on Earth had got him so riled up and moreover, who he was talking to.

As best as you could, you stayed pressed against the wall next to his door and steadied your breathing so you could hear what he had to say. “You have no clue how fucking ridiculous she’s being right now man,” who was he on about? “She’s driving me fucking insane with her constant fucking neediness!” He wasn’t talking about you..was he?

“Chris I’m sure it’s just a phase,” you knew who’s voice that was on the speakerphone, Scott. “Y/N’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Believe me when I say that bro,” wait...was Chris venting about you? Neediness? Your head began to spin with all the accusations.

“More like the worst thing to happen to me.” You could almost visualise Chris’ face when he said that about you. Unbeknownst to you, tears began to cascade down your cheeks freely at the painful words that Chris kept spewing out about you. “She really does make me want to run to the fucking hills Scott.”

“You don’t mean that Chris.”

“The fuck I do, Y/N’s just become too much for me and I can’t stick it anymore...how much will mom and dad hate me if I came back home without Y/N?” No, he wasn’t thinking about this now, of all the times right now he was choosing to do this now?

Before you actually let out a sob, you bolted straight out of there and straight to the ladies toilets to basically bawl your eyes out. You sat on the toilet seat and looked at the pristine photo that sat in your bag, waiting to be shown to the world and more importantly, to Chris; you couldn’t bare to look at the image after hearing what he had to say about you - his fiancée, his supposed ‘rock’, his ‘everything’ - was it all a lie?

After a twenty minute cry alone in the full toilets, you cleaned yourself up, refreshed your makeup and wandered out to an awaiting Chris and your manager. To your disgust, Chris smiled at you like as if you had come back to life from the grave and went to go and hug you but you ducked away from him with a coldness you never thought you’d have.

“Right then Y/N, are you ready?” Your manger asked you kindly, you were to feature in the magazine shoot alongside Chris - due to your own stardom - in some very pleasing photos.

“Actually, can I reschedule it for another day?” You smiled sadly at him and watched out the corner of eye Chris’ brows furrowing in question.

“I think I must’ve eaten something disagreeable and I kinda threw up in the toilet just now,” you partly lied clean through your teeth and smiled weakly at your manager, your colourless parlour catching his eye.

He was the first to know about your recent stomach bug that had lingered in you for the longest while now and was quick to understand your position right now, being sick in this heat must be awful.

“Of course, how about I bargain for this Friday? It’ll give a bit of time then,” he smiled and ignored Chris head moving from you to his manager a flurried way. Three days to get well again and do the appropriate precautions, a squeeze but perfect.

“Wonderful, thank you so so much Charles.” You sighed, waved your goodbyes to everyone bar Chris and paced off to your car in the parking lot.

Without notice, a large hand caught your forearm and pulled you back a step of two. “Where’re you going Y/N/N?” Chris partially snapped at you and tried to look you deep in the eye but the facade you put on prevented him from doing so.

“I’m going home Chris,” You snapped and yanked your hand out of his vice-like grip with such a strength, it made him look twice. Chris panicked, he needed to talk to you and ask you where you were going.

As quick as he could, his hand caught yours and held you still. “Why? Y/N what’s going on?” Chris whined and pleaded to you like a child who wanted his favourite candy. You clicked your teeth and yanked your hand away again, this time taking a step away for precautions sake and kept your handbag close to you.

“Nothing that’d concerns you.” You snapped furiously and steamed away to your car around the back of the studio, your hand holding the side of your stomach protectively.

What a mess the supposed best day of your life had turned out to be.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Instead of holing yourself up for the rest of the afternoon and evening, you chose to be as productive as possible with your free time before Chris came back home to your shared LA home.

You out all your clothes in suit protectors int he wardrobe and kept everything neatly together in case the worst came to be tonight, you cleaned the house, baked a chocolate cake for all times sake, took Dodger for a walk around the local trail and emptied your valuables from your shared safe in your dresser.

By the time the photo shoot was finished and they were packing away, you were all set for the worst and was calmly watching the evening lights flicker in the distance, your feet dangling peacefully in the pool, Dodger laying next to you and your phone.

Like the devil’s calling, you could hear the said actor’s car pulling into the driveway, the engine stop and the door slam shut with a loud slam that jolted Dodger out of his dazed slumber. Before Dodger could get up and run to see Chris, he had already come through the door and likewise, slammed it shut with a fury that made you sick to stomach.

“Y’know you can sometimes be a real bitch Y/N Y/L/N!” Chris yelled and echoed through the entire house, his footing more like stomps as he neared your form by the pool. Dodger jumped out of the way and paced back in the house, as if he already knew to leave his parents alone.

“It’s part of my speciality.” You deadpanned and kept your head forward, refusing to look at Chris who stood beside you.

“Sixteen times Y/N, sixteen times I called and you never answered. Lord knows how many times I text you.” Chris ranted and raved and paced back and forth behind you. You didn’t budge though, you just stared off into the distance holding your tongue from saying something real bad.

“Look who’s being the clingy one now, Christopher.” You chided with a dead-like face and smiled internally once the pacing stopped and you could feel Chris’ eyes on your head. Chris’ heart dropped mike and miles at your words and immediately thought back to the heated conversation he had with Scott earlier.

He couldn’t articulate any words and only looked at you stunned. “No words now, hm? You seemed to have plenty earlier, didn’t you Christopher?” This time your urned to look him dead in the eye with a glare that could easily freeze over hell and its counterparts.

Slowly, you rose to your feet and stood only a few inches away from Chris’ sullen form, eyeing him up as of you were going to murder him.

‘How did you hear...” Chris trailed off and let his mouth go slack at the sight of you, red eyed and pale as a dead person - he did this to you, he knew it.

You scoffed at the Bostonian as if he had said something utterly ridiculous. “C’mon Chris, anyone at leat ten foot away could hear you slagging me off!” You snapped and pushed past him back into the house, your feet getting especially wet.

“I wasn’t slagging you off!” Chris suddenly shouted from the patio doors, making you stop dead in your tracks.

“Weren’t you? Cause it sure fucking sounded like that Chris.” You snapped him off again and began to walk to the staircase.

“I had every right to do so Y/N!” Chris’ voice echoed around the house and made you stop again, this time with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You’ve been so clingy and up in my business lately, it’s driving me fucking insane. ‘Oh Chris help me here. Chris can I come with you here. Can I come with you there. Can you tell me this, that and the other. Come with me here Chris. Do this Chris. Do that Chris.’ Do you get what I’m saying Y/N?” Chris yelled at you shaking form and didn’t let up, not like he saw your shaking anyways.

“You’re clingy Y/N, admit you did wrong and apologise.” Chris demanded and it made your blood boil in rage. Apologise? Apologise for being unwell? Apologise for being pregnant with his child? Your stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.

Instead of doing the usuals yell at each other gimmick, you turned around and sulked towards him as if you were sorry, as if you had a lot to apologise for. Chris’ cold glare never left you whilst you stood before him, your eyes plastered to the floor. “Tomorrow is coming Y/N. Anything would do.”

Without any second thought, you stood straight and slapped him straight across the face, sending him stumbling back a step or two. “Give me a fucking break Evans! Five years we’ve been together and you were willing to throw it all under the bus and run away just because I’ve been a little clingy lately?” You screeched at him, not daring to hold back.

“I hope you’ve got a big heart because I’ve fucking over this bullshit. You wanna throw away us, fine but just remember, you’ll also be throwing away a possible son or daughter too.” Your voice broke into a sob near the end of your speech. You couldn’t stand it anymore, to stand here in his presence was making you feel light on your feet in the worst possible way.

You didn’t bother to look back at Chris and bolted for the stairs, cradling your small bump and holding your head in the process. Your ran to your once-shared bedroom and shut the door tight, your legs giving away and crumbling from beneath you once your back hit the thick wood.

It could’ve been minutes or hours later, you felt yourself being hoisted off the floor bridal style and placed gently on your bed. Your eyes fluttered at the sudden feeling of wet salty lips on your own, you didn’t know what to do; reciprocate the kiss or leave it?

Reciprocate or leave?

No matter how cumbersome his words were on your mind, Chris was your one love, your fiancé, your everything and you couldn’t imagine anyone else filling that role; ever.

Just before he was going to pull away, your smaller hands flew to his bearded cheeks and pulled him back down to kiss you like never before. It was a kiss that neither of you had ever shared before, it was so powerful, so loving and so apologetic you couldn’t help but allow Chris’ frame to slide in between your legs and his arms circle around you like a warm blanket.

Once you opened your eyes, you were met with the face of a scared, broken and elated Chris who looked like he had been slapped square in the face with - oh wait, he had.

You tentatively touched the bright red area and watched him wince at the touch, much to your horror. “What did I do to you..” you mumbled in a breath and rubbed his other cold, wet cheek with your thumb.

“No baby, what did I do to you?” Chris’ forehead leant against yours lovingly and stared into you Y/E/C eyes longingly.

“Where shall I start?” You tried to lighten the mood with your joke but it seemed to be taken the other way once Chris’ lips met yours again in a steamy, passionate kiss.

“Let me make it up to you Y/N...” Chris sighed into your mouth, hooked one of your legs around his hips and ground his forming erection softly against your core, giving you the precise idea he had.

“So long as you don’t go a-wall on us again, then yes. Love me, Chris.” You sighed at the motion down below and slowly under the belt of Chris’ jeans.

Tags - @patzammit

A/N: if anyone’s up for it, I’m thinking of doing a small smut following this watery ass ending lol. If anyone’s interested ofc * (:

*A/N: since school stuff has got mega crazy all of a sudden I may put a future smut off until I can get around to it!! So sorry everyone!! )):

#chris evans #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans headcanon #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans imagine #chris evans smut #chris evans x pregnant!reader #imagine steve rogers

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taffysannotatedsonichu · 6 years

Text

The Most Pointless Character in Sonichu

Taffy here. This was a post I made for the Kiwi Farms forum on the most pointless character in Sonichu in late October 2017, and I took up the challenge to prove every single character has no point. This was kind of my beta version of what would become Taffy’s Annotated Sonichu, so I thought it would be worth reprinting here (also I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to get more CWCDefense or GitM up, I’ve been really sick for the past two weeks and I’m just now trying to get back in the swing of things).

Chris's comic persona and fursona are pointless because he could have just lived vicariously through Sonichu and not have an in-comic presence.

Sonichu himself became pointless after Chris took over as main character but was already pretty pointless since really Chris could have just written a straight Sonic fanfic with Sonic as the lead in the first place. Besides the occasional electric attack and the complete lack of an original personality he's basically Sonic.

That said, all the characters ripped wholesale from Sonic or Pokémon (Sonic himself, Perfect Chaos, Robotnik, Giovanni) are pretty pointless as they were dropped not long in as Sonichu grew to have its own canon with its own crazy cast of characters.

In addition, any character ripped wholesale from any other franchise (Beavis & Butthead, Bugs Bunny, Meg Griffin) exist solely for "fan service", or rather fan disservice.

Rosechu is extremely pointless, all she does is A) be a token girl, B) prove Sonichu is STRAIGHT, and C) occasionally face rape someone. That said The Incredible Lioness is probably the closest we get to a real character with a point, rivaled only by the Voltorb that kills Simonla. They have simple purposes (to brutally maim and murder) and they do them to a T.

Kel is pointless since Rosechu could have just been Chris's Pokémon to begin with and she didn't need to exist as a middleman.

For that matter, any character best known for being a Moon Pal (Bill the Scientist, Metal Sonichu, Yawning Squirtle) or just as a meme in general (Inos), while being great for laughs, are all pretty irrelevant background characters.

Reldnahc Notsew Niatsirhc exists solely for Chris to physically obliterate his sexual insecurity.

Any Jerkop or Manajerk exists solely for Chris to vent his frustrations with real people who were just doing their jobs. Same goes for Hanna.

Blake is too inconsistent to have a point to existing. He was a pointless villain-of-the-week at first and then he was a pointless supporting character.

Sarah Hammer and Wes Iseli are particularly pointless because Chris' relationship with Sarah was already waning when he wrote Sonichu 2. Since the reincarnation plot point was dropped not long after, you can honestly skip Sonichu 2 entirely and not miss anything.

Mary Lee Walsh, while being awesome, is like the jerkops and manajerks just there essentially as a comic book voodoo doll. Maybe the point of her was to show that Chris can in fact write an interesting and badass female character? We'll never know.

Count Graduon is pretty redundant with Mary, power wise. Other than to vent frustrations with his graduation he's really pointless.

All of the Chaotic Combo are basically team filler filling out some elements that the rest of the team lacks. Specifically:

Wild Sonichu doesn't really have a personality. He's pretty redundant with Sonichu himself, other than, of course, we need a green Sonichu. The one thing that possibly could have made him interesting, the struggles of being a single father, are really rushed over so Chris can get back to the murder spree. His only notable father-daughter bonding experience was drilling a man to death.

Bubbles Rosechu, aside from being the token blue Sonichu/water type, finds one Sonichu ball and then returns to being a moron.

Angelica Rosechu, although I imagine her original purpose was to be a pacifist voice of reason and a token religious character, well, that got thrown out the window pretty quickly. The things that differentiate her from Bubbles besides their powers are few and far between.

Punchy Sonichu is just the token red character and the token Asian. Seriously I don't even know what "fighting type" means. In fact, why not make him fire type? It's the one element missing from the Chaotic Combo (Bubbles is water, Wild is earth, Angelica is air, Magi-Chan is ether/heart/mind, no one's fire!) (Note 26/11/18: I now know Fighting-Type is a type of Pokémon, but nevertheless “Fighting-Type is one of the weirder types. The Pokémon types are elements, supernatural creatures... and martial arts. And yes, the Fighting-Type icons in the series are red while Fire-Type is orange, but from a team balance perspective fire would have made sense).

Magi-Chan, especially after being paired off with Silvana taking away his sole unique trait of not being driven around by his penis, is just Chris's round the clock surveillance system.

Boulder Dropping Whale would have been useful if he actually killed Bubbles's mother but since he failed he's just a great meme.

Why does Flame the Sunbird even exist? He's literally just Kazooie from Banjo-Kazooie and his role could have easily been filled by Wild or Bubbles or anyone because that stupid Sunstone doesn't even matter, except it does make everything grow like Norma, whoever she is. Norma is the most relevant character in that whole issue. (Note 26/11/18: Yes, I named Nadine’s mom after this typo.)

Again, Darkbind and Zelina are crimes against nature. (Note from an earlier repost): I am referring to a previous post complaining that Darkbind and Zelina were the combinations of not two but four franchises (Sonic, Pokémon, Zelda & Darkwing Duck) and came off as clunky because of it.)

Crystal the sister is especially irrelevant now that Chris is a girl (why not make her a trans man to mirror Chris' own transition? Oh wait JERKS.), but she was always redundant with Rosechu and Chris himself.

Sailor Megtune - why didn't he just draw Megan herself? We know he's okay drawing her.

Megagi - Already kinda redundant with Megtune and she really had no reason to exist after Chris & Megan had that falling out.

Jamsta and Lolisa speak for themselves at their uselessness. I mean, they are just bit characters anyway. But as someone else mentioned before their radio station is particularly shitty.

Patti-Chan, while her story is cute, just exists as a way for Chris to hold on to his beloved pet and not fully cope with her loss.

Allison Amber, although being one of the better characters, wouldn't need to exist if Chris would just do some work for once. That said if the point of her character was to be an audience surrogate (I mean, until she shoots a man in cold blood) then for once Chris succeeded.

Bionic the Hedgehog as previously mentioned is just there for the sake of having an orange Sonichu, even though he isn't one.

All of the specific characters of Chris's "real life" "sweethearts" (Pandahalo, Blanca, Ivy) as well as their OCs (Jiggliami, Blazebob & Chloe, Layla Flaafy) are pointless because they all just disappear almost immediately after they're introduced after Chris finds out they were a troll or they "died".

Likewise any rendition of one of Chris' real life trolls (Jason Kendrick Howell, Clyde, Jack Thaddeus, Alec, Evan, Sean & Mao) are again just there as pen-and-paper voodoo dolls for Chris to take out his frustrations on. The trolls in particular almost work against Chris' point in including them because no matter how much Chris paints himself as the hero his violent murder sprees always end with him looking like the villain. (Justice for the Asperpedia Four!)

Beel is just Satan and a secretary for the 4-cent-garbage building. Pretty pointless.

Zapina is just there as a token "cute" character.

Simonla is just Wild's token sweetheart and then later the lynchpin Chris needed to justify executing his enemies.

Silvana, while another fairly interesting character, is just a villain-of-the-week with an added dose of Chris's sexual insecurity.

Sarah & Rita Jackarass - These two are both stupid minor characters, but why on Earth did there need to be two of them?

GodJesus exists solely to heap praise onto our beloved autist.

Those stupid Samurai Pizza Transformers are stupid. I hate them so much. I hope they burn in the Earth's lava core.

Sonichu & Rosechu's children are initially just there to be cloyingly cute and then once they're grown to be Chris's LGBT mouthpieces, forgetting that we won't listen to anything they say because we already hate them. Of special pointlessness is Cerah, because while Robbie is the most punchable he's at least the focus character of a lot of the newer stuff (even though we hated him as a Sonee, we hated him as a Sonichu, and we'll hate him as a Rosechu), and Christine is vapid she gives credence to the idea that Magi-Chan is giving it to Rosechu behind Sonichu's back which is way more interesting than canon. Cerah does jack squat besides be a lesbian.

The Asperchu cameos are just there for Chris to try to force Alec to give him what he wants and the Basement Rosechus are just there to slander Alec's name.

Sandy is particularly irrelevant since Simonla's back, she was never anything more than a replacement goldfish for her.

Kevin the Jew - I knew it! I knew it all along! Peppermint Patty is a boy!

Bananasaurus - Don't listen to your Patreon backers Chris.

Lastly, Russel & Cynthia are just there to fill the Sonee/Rosee void left when Cera Christine & Robbie evolved, a void no one in particular wanted filled.

Edited (27/10/17) to include all the MLP characters and Chris's ponysona - We hate them and we want Sonichu back.

#cwc extras

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