#chad stop thinking about your family challenge

[lycianlynx]

✧ where the delicate stops

assassin mastery drabble.

much has been taken from you.

your fingers knit together when you think about it, trying to keep the memories from falling through your fingers. you would rather die than forget, you think, the wrongs done to you. wrongs are wrongs are wrong, and forgetting means leaving it in the dark to go unseen, unjudged. your roots, your childhood, your home: you are the only one who sees the depths of these losses, in the knowledge the lone bearer.

it was tolerable, once. easy to bury and let be, like a time capsule whispering wishes into the earth. but even mountains erode, even earth breaks. what is a pair of shoulders in the face of that kind of force? those slight things can't bear the thunderclap of the highest order of theft, the pillar which breaks the childs back. the greatest heist, the easiest theft, the most unskilled and the most devastating.

life. it's life. of course it is. kick someone wrong, can't feed a mouth right, slip of the hand. easy as that.

and the way you remember it, it was unceremonious. unskilled. unjust, unfair, unforgivable—embers left in a forest, waste dumped in the water. monsters bearing down on an unarmed man, laughing and jeering. knocking him over like building blocks. blood on the dirt. blood on your garden. blood on those tenuous things you were starting to think about holding close again, for what is sacrifice and bearing all that weight but love?

blood on his robes.

what is sacrifice but love? you love and that's undeniable. you think about burns on your hands from a pot running too hot. you think about a sack of pilfered potatoes slung over your shoulder as you run. you think about plunging the knife in and in and in to make sure that lance doesn't rise again. you think about the saints and wonder if they'd accept a dirty little thief like you, lopsided and bloodstained. does love lead to this?

then why do you still want to love? you don't know. it's selfish. it's grotesque. but even if it's an uneven scale, even if your side is tipped too far down and drenched in sin, you wanted to. you still want to. you want that bright, warm thing you knew love at its best as again, even if you feel ground-down, raw and half-dead in it. o god, why do you keep the faith? why does love lead to this?

o god, is this what happens? is love to suffer and die? is it good to keep the rage, the remorse this close for something like love? is it good for love to be having the shadow of a mourner stand behind you, ready to take your hands and mind? what will that rage make you do? what will that mourner make you do?

in that, you aren't sure you care for what is good anymore. but love is good, isn't it? you need to be good to be loved, don't you? (this thought scares you.)

o god, so give me the bitter cup. it's easier to bear the conflict in silence. easier to bury it and draw that love into anger. easier to draw that love into burdens and memories. easier to do all this than to think of the root of it as love.

so you don't think of it when you draw the blade, the dagger, the notched arrow back. you remember the things taken from you, your roots, your childhood, your home. you think of father. you think of the blood; think in anger of seeing the echo of it elsewhere and find it repulsive. think that all that red's better off on your hands than anyone else's, anyways.

so to the grieving heart, this is right. ceremonious in the skill, fair and just. perfect cut, bulls-eye. clean kill.

really, just look at that. keeled over without a damn sound. noone will find this idiot for days, here.

hah. you've really become the worst kind of thief, haven't you?

#;wc. 674 #;tell me another story | drabble #honestly this backslides a bit into where he was mentally during fe6 #also mf is such an unreliable narrator im gonna beat their ass #chad stop thinking about your family challenge #im a firm chad should never class into assassin ingame truther but at toa i think hes processed his insane grief enough to stomach it now #sorry both their mastery drabbles as of now are this melodramatic but there was NO WAY i was wringing a normal assassin drabble out of them

[czrpenters]

stupid | sam carpenter x reader

summary: maybe you just had the most challenging, yet stupidiest decision of your life.

pairings: sam carpenter x fem!reader, meeks-martin!reader.

warnings: scream vi spoilers ahead, mention of injuries, blood and death. reader is mindy and chad's older sister. english is not my first language.

word count: 1.5k words.

masterlist. | request rules.

You couldn't believe it.

You never would've know that there was still a risk when you decided to leave Woodsboro with your siblings and your friends. You thought that it was over. That it was in the past. And now, Ghostface followed you all to New York. The nightmare began all over again. You've lost 3 friends over that motherfucker and you weren't ready to lose more.

After the last attacks in Woodsboro, in which you've almost lost your siblings and your own life for, you've decided to take a few self-defense lessons. Being careful was never going to be enough. You had pepper spray, a taser and a knife that you carried on your bag day after day. It was so fucking tiring being alert all the time, but you had to. You unfortunately was never going to be safe. I guess being the girlfriend of a ghostface target came with a cost, right?

And now, you were running from an asshole in a ghostface mask again, this time in New York, in your apartament. You just lost Quinn, your roommate, to him; Anika got stabbed and Mindy got injured. All of that adrenaline and fear got worse when the killer cornered you all into the bathroom, and for a split second you thought that this was it. It was the end of the line. You were going to die with your girlfriend today, Chad would lose both of his sisters and Tara would be alone. You couldn't stop thinking about them.

"(Y/N), let's go!" Sam shouted while opening the window. You saw your neighbour Danny right at the other building, with a ladder on his hands, putting it across both buildings like a bridge. That was actually a very good plan. He secured the ladder with his hands, while Ghostface was trying to open the door that Mindy and you secured with some furniture, but it was not enough, so you were holding the furniture to make sure that he wasn't gonna pass through. Anika was crying in pain right next to Mindy, and she was trying her best to press down to her girlfriend's wound so she wouldn't bleed to death. "You go first, let's go!"

"No fucking way, Sam! You go, then Mindy, Anika and me." You replied, in an kinda obvious tone, while Sam shook her head no. "I need to hold the fucking door, Sam! Just trust me on this, okay? I'm gonna be fine, I promise you that. Now go. Don't think, just go." She kissed your lips goodbye, praying that it wasn't going to be the last time she did that.

Even though she was very afraid, she passed the ladder successfully. It got you very relieved. She was safe. She was with Danny. She was okay. Mindy was next, even though she didn't wanted to leave her girlfriend and you, she passed the ladder quickly so she could help Anika do the same. It was getting harder and harder to hold down the door, but you needed your family to be safe, you needed them to be happy, even if it meant without you. "(Y/N)..." Anika said while crying, as if you were already dead.

"Don't you do that, okay? Don't think, just go, remember?" You quickly took your jacket off and tossed it to her, so she could put around her wound while she was on the ladder. "Put this on your stomach and go. Now, Anika."

You could see Sam and Mindy crying at the other side, and you hated to worry your family like this, but you wanted them to believe you had a plan. Even if you had to sacrifice yourself for them. Anika took the longest to pass through the ladder, due to the fact that she was holding your jacket on her wound, but she finally got to the other side with no problems. Before you could think about anything else, Ghostface made a brutal push on the door, which made you tumble and lose control over it. You could hear the girls screaming in fear, but you hoped that at least one of them called the police already, and if they did, your job was only to stall that motherfucker while the cops were coming. It was a stupid idea, but it was the only one you had.

So, you finally gave in. You stepped aside from the door and the killer got in, and you had enough time to go over the window and drop the ladder, which made Sam scream at you, but you weren't going to take any chances. He wasn't going to even have the option to think about crossing that ladder.. He wasn't as anxious like 5 minutes ago, he was calm; ready to gut your whole body while your family watched. He cornered you and got ready to stab you, but you thought quicker; hoping he was a dude, you tried to literally kick him in the balls. It distracted him for a few seconds, which were enough for you to turn around and grab anything to defend yourself. But that was clearly a mistake, since you felt a sharp pain on your back almost immediately. Sam and Mindy were screaming at you, but you weren't listening. You yelled in pain, and to move your arm became quite difficult, but with your last ounce of strenght, you grabbed a ceramic lamp and broke it on his head. It was getting hard to breathe, he probably hit you in your lung or something, but you tried your best to stay awake and ignore the excruciating pain you were feeling. And before he could do anything else, some sirens and red lights could be seen through the window. Thank god, you thought. He grabbed his knife and fled the place, as if he was just an allucination, and you finally let your guard down. It was over.

You sat down on the bathroom floor, bleeding, trying your best to not lose consciousness, but it got harder and harder each minute. You thought about Sam, in how she was probably safe right now, with Mindy. They were at Danny's, you thought. They're okay. You hoped Chad and Tara were fine too, and definetly prayed that Anika would survive. You couldn't stop thinking about them; and it was the last thing you remember before closing your eyes and letting your body rest.

--

You opened your eyes, the bright lights and colours of the room were heavy on your eyes. "Am I dead?"you thought. No one was in your room, but after a minute of searching, you found a blue button to call for the nurse, which made her come into your room in a couple of seconds later. "Where is Sam...? Is she okay?" You said, hoarse, when the nurse finally got into your room.

"I will find Miss Carpenter for you, okay? Do you need anything right now?"

"I need to see if she's fine." You were so tired, your eyes and body were begging for some rest but that would only happen after you've seen your siblings and girlfriend. After a couple of minutes, the love of your life came barging into the room, with a worried look on her face. "Oh my god, (Y/N)."

She hugged you tight, making you wince in pain.

"You do know that I'm injured, right?" You joked, making her laugh a little. Damn, you missed that laugh. "Shut up, jackass. I got worried as fuck. The doctor said you were stabbed in your lung, but nothing too serious. You should be out of here tomorrow."

"Was I out for too long? How's Anika? And my siblings?" You've bombarded her with questions, so she sat down close to you and held your hand.

"Anika will be fine. She is resting right now, got through a few surgeries. Chad and Tara are fine, and Mindy got a few stitches." She kissed the back of your hand. "And you were out for at least, 8 hours."

"Damn, you got me fucking worried. You came here and hugged me like I've been in a 4 week coma, babe." She pretended to be offended and laughed.

"It felt like forever to me, idiot. But I got really worried yesterday, (Y/N)." She got serious in the last part. "What the fuck were you thinking? To face the killer like that. To fucking drop the ladder??You could've died."

"If I didn't do that, the four of us would've died. If that's your way to say 'thank you', it sucked. Try again." You joked again, making her smile.

"I'm being serious, (Y/N). That was irresponsible. You couldn't beat a killer that size without a weapon!"

"Okay, first of all, I do have weapons. They just weren't with me at that specific moment. And second of all, of course I could! I am trained in jiu-jitsu, Samantha. I could stick that guy's head in his own ass if I wanted to."

"You had THREE jiu-jitsu classes, (Y/N)! That does NOT count as training!" She said in an obvious tone.

"Whatever. You're just jealous because the instructor told you that your arms were too flimsy to practice jiu-jitsu." You teased, making her flick you on your arm. "Ow!"

"Don't you ever do that to me again, okay?"

"I promise that I'll never try to kick ghostface's ass again, even though I am professionally trained to do so."

⠀

[anitabyars]

"Make A Wish will curl your toes, tickle your funny bone, and leave you with the best warm and fuzzy feelings."–Kylie Scott, New York Times bestselling author

Make A Wish, an all-new second chance, single dad contemporary romance from New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting, is now available!

With her signature charm and sense of humor, bestselling author Helena Hunting creates a novel about love, family, and second chances in Make a Wish…

Ever have a defining life moment you wish you could do over? Harley Spark has one. The time she almost kissed the widowed father of the toddler she nannied for. It was so bad they moved across the state and she never saw them again.

Fast forward seven years and she’s totally over it. At least she thinks she is. Until Gavin Rhodes and his adorable now nine-year-old daughter, Peyton, reappear at a princess-themed birthday party hosted by Spark House, Harley’s family’s event hotel. Despite trying to avoid the awkwardness of the situation, she can’t help but notice how unbearably sexy he looks in a tutu. Add to that a spontaneous hives breakout, and it’s clear she’s not even remotely over the mortification of her egregious error all those years ago.

Except Gavin seems oblivious to her inner turmoil. So much so that he suggests they get together for lunch. For Peyton’s sake, of course. It’s the perfect opportunity to heal old wounds. Or it could just reopen them. This is one of those times Harley wishes she could see the future…

Fall in love today!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3vGZsVK

Amazon Worldwide: https://geni.us/MakeAWishZon

Apple Books: https://apple.co/3yGYlqY

Nook: https://geni.us/MakeaWishNook

Kobo: https://geni.us/MakeAWishKobo

Google Play: https://geni.us/MakeaWishGP

Paperback

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Audio

Narrated by Jason Clarke and Stella Bloom

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Keep reading for a look inside MAKE A WISH!

“Do you know where Gavin is taking you for dinner?”

“Nope, he just said wear something nice,” I reply.

“Did you pick up some sexy lingerie to wear under your dress?”

“I guess it depends on whose version of sexy we’re talking about.”

Avery’s version of sexy lingerie is upgrading from a sports bra to one with padding and black bikini briefs. London, on the other hand loves,[HH1] all things lace and satin and delicate. I’m somewhere between the two.

London stops messing with my eyebrows and gives me a stern look. “Please tell me you bought new underwear for this date.”

“Who says he’s going to see my underwear at the end of the night?” I challenge.

“Oh please.” London props a fist on her hip. “Isn’t Peyton sleeping over at her grandparents’ place?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“So he’ll be able to come back to your place and stay the night if he wants,” London says.

“Do you think I should invite him back to my place?” I glance between my sisters.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Avery rubs her belly.

“It’s our first date.”

Now it’s Avery’s turn to give me a look. “You’ve been seeing him on a weekly basis since July. It’s October[CD2] [HH3] .”

“Because of Peyton.”

“Uh, we all know that’s bullshit.” Avery makes a circle motion and points at me.

“I was in a relationship for most of the time I was spending with them,” I argue.

Avery rolls her eyes. “Chad was a nice guy, but he was a fun-for-now boyfriend, not a get-serious boyfriend. And he was way too into fantasy sports. No one should be in that many fantasy leagues. It’s not normal, and that’s coming from a self-professed sports junkie.”

“Still, don’t you think I should wait a while before jumping into bed with Gavin?” I bring my fingers to my lips then drop them to my lap so I don’t ruin my gloss or my nails.

“It’s whatever feels right,” London says. “And you want to make sure that you’re actually into Gavin on his own, rather than the Gavin-and-Peyton package.”

“How is she going to figure that out unless she gets naked with him?” Avery argues.

“Sex complicates things. You know that better than anyone,” London says pointedly. She’s referencing the way Avery and Declan nearly imploded back when they crossed the line from best friends to best friends with a lot of benefits.

“My situation with Declan is not even remotely the same as what’s going on with Harley and Gavin. Declan had major commitment issues, and I made a stupid mistake. Now we’re super happy and totally in love and having a baby.” Avery turns back to me. “I think you need to do whatever is right for you. It’s up to you whether you let him see your underpants.”

London sighs and shakes her head, then her eyes go wide, and she takes me by the shoulders. “Please tell me your underwear are not cotton.”

“There’s nothing wrong with cotton underwear. They breathe,” Avery says defensively.

“There’s nothing wrong with them in the general sense, but for a date and potentially the first underpants sighting, cotton is a no-no.”

“They’re not cotton,” I assure her.

She arches a brow and I sigh.

“They’re satin with a lace waistband and a floral print.”

“Okay. As long as they don’t have a cartoon pattern on them, we’re good,” London says with relief.

My phone buzzes on the vanity, Gavin’s name flashing across the screen. I nab the device and check the message. He’s just pulled into Spark House. “He’s here. I’m so nervous. Why am I so nervous?”

“Because you want to get naked with him,” Avery says.

“Because you like him, and you’re changing the dynamic of your relationship,” London says.

“And you want to find out if he’s got the moves between the sheets.” Avery grins. She gives me a fist bump. “Just remember, you don’t need to wait five dates before you get in the sack with this one.”

“But don’t feel like you need to rush into anything either.” London turns me around once to make sure my dress isn’t wonky in the back, and then they’re ushering me into the hall.

Add to Goodreads: https://geni.us/MakeAWishGR

About Helena Hunting

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Helena Hunting lives outside of Toronto with her amazing family and her two awesome cats, who think the best place to sleep is her keyboard. Helena writes everything from emotional contemporary romance to romantic comedies that will have you laughing until you cry.

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My Review

5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Make A Wish (Spark House #3) by Helena Hunting.

This one was by far my favorite in the Spark House series! This second chance romance stole my heart. I had been eager to get my hands on this story and it was Utter Perfection!! Page by page this book consumed me infused with Helena Huntings unique style, she delivered a love story that is entertaining, well written, full of emotion, character and a romance, with great chemistry and lots of heat like no other. A must read book and series!

Harley Sparks and Gavin Rhodes have a history. Nine years ago Harley was nanny to his daughter Peyton, until they moved away. Gavin and Peyton have recently moved back to the area and Harley is totally taken by surprise when they arrive at a Spark House Birthday party she is in charge of. But Harley is really floored when he asks her to lunch. It evident that Harley still has feelings for Gavin as well as Peyton. And soon she finds herself lending a hand with Peyton once again and growing attached to both Gavin and Peyton.

Harley has been struggling with her role at Spark House as all her duties and roles keep changing. She loves being with children and is very creative. Harley and Peyton are adorable together. And this sweet adorable nine year old steals the show as these two reconnect. But with a boyfriend already and Gavin’s mother-in-law that is not a fan of any female around her granddaughter, these two have a lot to figure out.

This one brings all the feels, it will make you laugh and it will bring you to tears at times. I love that Harley is so understanding and patient with Gavin as he struggles to fight for them. I loved every moment of this book. And you really need to read this book now. Utter Perfection!

I received an early copy and this is my honest review.

#socialbutterflypr #newrelease #netgalley #Helena Hunting #make a wish #spark house

[microphone-invasion]

Chapter 9: The Final Battle pt.2

Black Imposter: I don’t know why. 

Garcello: Please?

Black Imposter: You know what, screw stealth, we’re going in to get our powers then get him back before he has a chance.

Annie: I have the liquid. That contains my power. OOPS-

The Imitator/Edison: Hello there.

Annie: I’m screwed…

Chad: I just HATE seeing your face. Why did you kidnap Keith? You could’ve just stayed away from our town! But NO! Instead, you came here, took Keith, WENT TO DISNEY WORLD, and now, you’re here. WITH KEITH INSIDE A CAGE.

The Imitator/Edison: Oh no. That’s not your Keith, we’re just testing out a clone machine.

Chad: I hate you so much. WHY WOULD YOU WANNA CLONE KEITH? 

The Imitator/Edison: Oh no, he volunteered for it, and you know what, I’m done having you powerless, I’m giving you all back your powers, simple as that for a challenge. 

Chad: He didn’t volunteer!

The Imitator/Edison: Did too.

Chad: DID NOT! 

The Imitator/Edison: Did too, and don’t you dar—

Chad: DID NOT!

The Imitator/Edison: Look, do you want your—

Chad: DID NOT! 

The Imitator/Edison: Listen, I’m giving you a—--

Garcello: Can you guys PLEASE stop?

Chad: DID NOT!

The Imitator/Edison: I’m giving you a one time chance to have your powers back. 

Chad: I’d prefer you to shut up. Your voice is getting REALLY annoying.

The Imitator/Edison: I’m just gonna, hippity hoppity, reset.

Narrator: Then time got reset back to the spaceship.

Annie: TEA- WAKE UP- IT’S- Wait, didn’t we already go through this?

Garcello: He really just didn't reset-

Deimos: BRO- THIS IS NOT FUNNY!

Green: I can take us back to where we were!

Deimos: No, it’s not worth it. He’s gonna keep doing the same thing over and over again.

Tea: I’m pretty annoyed by that guy anyways.

Black Imposter: Yeah, same.

Narrator: Then they looked through a window and saw something shocking!

The Imitator/Edison: Hello there.

Garcello: Ah, heck naw… This guy again?

The Imitator/Edison: Well, this is really confusing to you?

Annie: YOU’RE CONFUSING TO YOU!

Taki: Heh. The classic “UNO REVERSE”!

The Imitator/Edison: And that meme is still around, anyways, here’s your powers back, bye!

Taki: I didn’t ask about the meme still being around.

Green: Oh, nice! Looks like we got a funny guy here!

Black Imposter: Well, that’s different, well, looks like he’s really gonna have it.

Narrator: Then the Imitator left, then Lucy appeared out of nowhere on the ship.

Garcello: L-Lucy…?

Lucy: Father, you have betrayed me. I don’t think you even care. We barely spend time together…

Narrator: Then the Imitator appeared out of nowhere.

The Imitator/Edison: Well, this is just sad.

Garcello: Lucy, I’m sorry, it’s just—

Lucy: I don’t wanna hear it! Now, shush!

The Imitator/Edison: Anyways, let’s just get this family bond together, cause otherwise we can’t beat the Imitator.

Keith’s Soul: GARCELLO, HELP!

The Imitator/Edison: Keith, if you can do this, you can escape by saying this: ☞❒♏♏

Keith’s Soul: Wh… What is it…? 

The Imitator/Edison: Free, and I’m not exactly you’re Imitator/Edison from this universe.

Keith’s Soul: Oh my gosh, you’re so annoying.

The Imitator/Edison: I’m helping you, do you want it or not?

Keith’s Soul: I mean, I do wanna be helped…

The Imitator/Edison: Then follow my lead.

Black Imposter: Wait, I thought you’re the Imitator?

The Imitator/Edison: Well, this is kinda a long story, you see, I’m not you’re Imitator, like at all.

Black Imposter: So then who are you?

The Imitator/Edison: Well, I’m an alternate universe version of you’re villain, so imagine this, you guys are the villains and I’m a hero, sounds weird, but you went through a time reset, and I’m pretty sure you saw enough stuff.  

Narrator: Then a white figure appears in the distance…

???? ?????: Hi! Also, Keith has a chance of dying, and if he dies then I die, so I'm here just to watch and see what happens, and how I might go out.

Black Imposter: Does anyone know who he is?

???? ?????: Actually, I don't think anyone here knows me, but I’ll keep it a secret, for now.

The Imitator/Edison: I’m really just gonna help until the next chapter, wait, -flips to the script-  There’s no more chapter? Anyways, Keith, listen carefully.

Keith: O-Ok…

(Narrator: This IS the final chapter. There's no turning back now!)

 The Imitator/Edison: Keith, this universe or multiverse depends on you, this is a lot of pressure on you, but the truth is that you're the last hope, and I’m able to recover from this.

Narrator: Then the alternate universe of the Imitator gave Keith back his time powers, and boosted his singing by 200x.

Keith: I feel… Like myself…Thank you, Edison! 

#Microphone Invasion #Book 1 #friday night funkin au #writing from the back porch #fnf au #fnf garcello #among us au??? #aaaaaaaaaa

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 2

Masterlist

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A/n: Hi!! Here’s chapter 2!!! This chapter is from Elias’s POV, the rest of the chapters will be a combo of the two (and probably one or part of one) will be from Brock’s POV eventually😁 these first two chapters are more just setting up everything. please let me know what you think! All feedback is appreciated!!!!

Warnings: A LOT of cursing (sorry...sorta), Petey not listening, might be a little cheesy (I’m not sorry), an attempt at Swedish (pls let me know if It’s wrong), I think that’s it, lmk if I missed one

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: on chapter 1

Word Count: 1.8k (this is the shortest one)

Summary: Yeah so, Elias has a “teenage-reminiscent” crush on the one girl he was terrified to like, so he makes a plan to just be her friend, it doesn’t go to well, so he makes a new one.

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

PRESENT

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

Petty had a crush on Y/N. Y/N Boeser, the one fucking girl he can't have. His best friend's little sister.

When he met her at the mid-point of his rookie year, he'd already heard a lot about her. Brock had told him so many stories and he learned so much about the infamous Y/N, and the more he learned, the more he really liked her. Then there were the other stories Brock told him, the ones that included guys. One he recalls quite clearly.

November, 2018

They were sitting on Brock’s couch, watching One Tree Hill,

“Petey, have I ever told you about Chad?” Brock started.

“No, why?”

“Chad was my best friend in middle school, all the way up to my senior year. Then he wanted to date Y/N.”

“What do you mean ‘up to’ your senior year?” His attention was taken away from the show completely at the mention of her name.

“Well, I told him I didn’t want him to go out with her, but that it was her choice, not mine. So he asked her out, and they dated for like 3 months. Then he broke her heart.”

“What did you do?” Elias was curious.

“Oh, I broke his face”

Elias was shocked, he’d never known Brock to be anything but a (slightly obnoxious) ray of sunshine. “...oh, uh... so what happened to Chad after that?”

“I stopped being friends with him, and so did the rest of my group of friends. Normally I’m not like that, but he messed with Y/N/N.”

“Yeah, I get that. My brother’s girlfriend is basically like my sister and if anyone hurt her, I don’t know what I would do.”

“Yeah so anyways-“

Elias zoned out as Brock kept talking, just thinking about what would happen if he asked Y/N out. He decided then that no matter how perfect and incredible she was, it wasn’t worth his friendship and career with his best friend. He’d just be her friend if anything. And who knows, maybe he’d never even meet her in person.

_______

Now, as he’s walking to the break room Brock asked him to meet him in, he's remembering tjrs how ignorant that plan was. Because once he met her, it was a lot more challenging than he could’ve imagined. The second he met her in person, that plan was incinerated as a possibility.

Dice and ice (February)  2019:

Elias showed up 20 minutes early, he is so nervous. This is his first dice and ice and from what people told him, he knows this isn’t his kind of event. He’s not social, he’s an awkward Swedish hockey player. Not to mention the amount of extra attention he’s sure to get tonight. Brock had told him how much attention he received when he was the star rookie, and that made Elias even more anxious. Thanks, Brock. 

He paced near the front waiting for Brock to get there, imagining all of the ways he could humiliate himself in front of everyone. He was in between “eating too much fancy food and throwing up” and “getting so nervous he forgets how to speak English” for being the worst.

Just as he started to get nauseous from remembering the rookies have to do a performance every year, he found himself unable to breathe. This wasn’t because of the inevitable doom tonight was bound to bring though. He saw the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen on the arm of his best friend. Her dress, her hair, her makeup, her legs, everything he could see was just beautiful.

“Petey!” Brock shouted. 

Elias couldn’t speak still but he made eye contact with Brock. 

“Woah bud, you doin’ ok?” He said with a concerned look.

A choked, “Uh…” was the only thing that came out. Though, he felt that was a sufficient answer to Brock’s question. Elias’s eyes made their way back to the girl now standing behind Brock, since Brock took it upon himself to grab Elias’s face and get very close. He inspected Elias, seeing if maybe he was sick or had a concussion. 

Brock must have been satisfied with what he saw since he took a step back, letting go of Elias’s face. That’s when he noticed his best friend looking at his “date” for the night. 

“Petey, this is Y/N/N, Y/N/N Petey,” Brock said, gesturing to the two of you. 

“Y/N/N?” He asked, suddenly able to speak again. He was looking at Brock with scrunched eyebrows. ‘Is it actually her?’ was all her could think.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you know, my sister that I’ve told you about at least 20 times?”

Elias nodded and looked back at her.

She waved a little, “Hi, it’s Elias right?” she asked.

“Hmm? Uh, yeah, that’s right.” if he wasn’t sweating before, he definitely was now. “It’s Y/N?”

She nodded “yeah but you can call me Y/N/N, most people do.”

He likes her first name though, he thinks it’s such a perfect name, so he decided to just call her Y/N.

All three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment. Though to Elias, it felt like it could’ve been a few hours. He was completely mesmerized and terrified by you.

Brock cleared his throat, pulling Elias back to the world, “so, let’s head inside?”

“Yeah sounds good,” Elias walked in and held the door open for her and Brock.

Walking in right behind them was Jacob, he put his hand on Elias’s shoulder.

“mår du bra? du ser sjuk ut. (are you okay? You look sick.),” he asked.

“Jag kommer att bli bra (I will be fine),” he responded with an unconvincing grin.

As the night went on, Elias couldn’t seem to relax; he kept making sure his tie was straight and he couldn’t stop fixing his hair. For a while, he had to take pictures with the fans and families, with Brock...obviously.

“You just need to relax, Petey,” he had said this about 5 times already.

“I know, I just don’t want to embarrass myself, I’m not very social. I hate these events.”

Brock chuckled, “I swear, the more I learn about you, the more and more I think you and my sister are the same person. The only reason why she’s here is cause I bought her a new fancy dress and cause she’s gonna try and kiss some ass and get a job with management.”

“Wait, so she’s moving here?”

“Oh yeah, I asked her to. Depending on if she gets the job, of course, which she’s sure to get with her resume.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Hey, I’m gonna go find her, you need to relax, just breathe,” Brock said as he stood up to walk away, “And stop imagining the worst things that could happen,” knowing his best friend all too well.

Elias walked over and sat with Bo and Holly, just trying to get through this night without having a panic attack.

The rest of the night went fine, no vomiting or forgetting English, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Because of his luck, that’s when he saw Y/N, and he couldn't look away. She was standing in the corner, looking insanely nervous. Before he could think about it, he was walking over to her. 

“You doing ok?” he asked.

“That obvious?”

He looked down at his shoes, “Hey, at least you don't look sick like I did apparently.”

That made her laugh, one of the happiest sounds he’d ever heard. “Yeah, you didn’t look too happy to be here.”

“Well, these events aren’t really my thing. I heard they aren’t yours either?” he finally looked in her eyes, which was not a smart decision.

“God, no, absolutely not. I hate these things, I don’t get why I need to dress like this and kiss up to people to get a job that I’m already very qualified for.” She took a pause, “even though I do love this dress...”

There was a little silence as Elias wasn’t sure what to say, he decided on, “If it helps, you look very pretty, and I like that dress too.” 

She blushed, “thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself, Elias”

The way she said his name sent chills up his spine, Brock introduced him as Petey, but not once had she called him that. She only called him Elias, and it sounded perfect coming from her mouth. The thing about her was, the more he looked at her, the more beautiful she became in his eyes. The way she laughed, the way she stood with her legs crossed, the way she constantly crossed her arms. To most she probably seems unwelcoming cold, and closed off but to Elias, he saw someone just like himself and-

Oh shit, what is he doing?

He’s literally doing the exact opposite of what he said he was going to, he needs to get away from her. He needs a drink is what he really needs.

That’s when Brock walked over, “hey! There are the two most unfun people in this place!”

“Jackass,” she quipped.

“I’m gonna go talk to Marky,” Elias said, trying to make his escape.

“Fine then, leave me to avoid socializing alone, I guess” she called at him sarcastically.

He nervously laughed and turned around, quickly making his way to the patio that he knew was empty.

Once he got outside he took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he sighed.  He stood there thinking of what he needed to do. He couldn’t end up like ‘Chad,’ he had to stop whatever this is that’s happening to him when he saw her. He’s never felt like this, he’s never even had a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. How the hell did he feel like this for a girl he doesn’t really know? He wished he’d never met her; when he’d never met her in real life, he could imagine she looked weird, or maybe she was really rude (not that he thought anyone related to Brock could be rude). However, that could not have been farther from the truth. She was amazing, and so incredibly beautiful, but not in the conventional way like most of the WAGs here tonight, most of them fit the “hot model, super social, 50,000 picture taking” stereotype that Elias personally didn’t find all that appealing. Shes the perfect height for him, perfect size for him, her hair color and length was even perfect, and that was the problem. She was everything he didn’t want her to be, and more. Her personality was exactly what he wished his future wife’s personality would be: sweet with a little bit of sass, would rather stay inside, doesn’t take shit from people, while still a bit awkward, witty humored, sports loving, lazy Sunday having, and just goddamn perfect. The first word that came to mind when thinking of Y/N, was just that: Perfect.

So he knew what he had to do, he couldn’t be her friend. One small conversation proved that tonight. He had to avoid her as best he could, and do the things he didn’t want to do to her: be cold, shut her out, not talk to her alone. It was going to be incredibly difficult, but he valued Brock's friendship too much.

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

PRESENT

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

As he looks back, it was the best decision. It was definitely torturous to him, but he had to. Especially after literally every one of his closest teammates was basically like a big brother to her, or a best friend, or a “cuddle buddy” whatever that meant. He can’t even imagine what would happen now. JT, Bo, Brock, Troy, Thatcher, Marky, even Quinn would have his head if he tried anything. And God if he wasn’t terrified of the rage in JT’s eyes when anyone messed with Y/N, it wasn’t human and no one can convince Elias otherwise...seriously fucking terrifying.

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

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[morning-might-arrive]

Apparently the monster high fandom is rising from the grave again, so in celebration I wrote this instead of sleeping. I will be finishing it soon. Feedback is much appreciated! A series of misunderstandings involving a limousine and Spectra’s blog lead Jackson to the realization that he has way more friends than he thought.

Monday

It was 12:06 in the afternoon when Jackson Jekyll ascended the steps of Monster High. If he was quick enough, he could at least be on time for 5th period. He took his seat in Mr. Rotter’s AP contemporary literature class just as the bell rang and pulled out his class copy of 1984. The stoic teacher gave him a nod of recognition. A few minutes into the lecture, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“You were not in creepateria this morning.” Abbey stated in her usual matter-of-fact tone.

“Yeah,” Winona added, “Ghoulia wanted to show you the new Fastpoint comic she got. She seemed really bummed you weren’t there. I can’t wait for you to read it though. It retcons the whole DeathCap Comics universe back to the way it was before the reboot. There was even-”

“Where were you, anyway?” Howleen hastily changed the subject.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. We were at the doctor’s office. Something kinda came up unexpectedly.” Jackson replied, turning to face them. This caught the attention of Rochelle. She looked up from her book.

“Doctor? Is everything alright?” Concern dripped from her voice and Jackson instantly felt guilty. 

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. We’re in a little bit of pain, but…” Jackson’s eyes both glanced upward towards his helix piercing as he spoke.”It won’t be a problem for much longer.” The four ghouls glanced at each other suspiciously and then back towards Jackson. Abbey opened her mouth to challenge his last statement.

“Ladies! Mr. Jekyll! Do not make me have to separate you!” Mr. Rotter’s stern voice boomed from the front of the room. Jackson muttered a meek apology and turned back to his book, his ghoulfriends quickly following suit. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

40 uneventful minutes went by and then finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. “Don’t forget to read the next chapter!” Mr. Rotter yelled to his students, but most of them were too far away to hear. Jackson dashed to his locker and quickly called his human friend Chad.

“Hey! I just got back from the doctor’s office. Yeah, she told me to just take some Advil and just let it run its course.” unbeknownst to him, resident blogger Spectra Vonderguist was perusing the hallways looking for her next story.

“Completely done for, they said. Apparently there’s nothing they can do.” 

Spectra perked up at those words. She quickly pulled out her iCoffin and hid a few lockers down from Jackson’s. 

“It’s true. We don’t have much time left.” 

Spectra gasped and quickly snapped a photo of the scene in front of her. Did he say he was running out of time as in...death? Having always been a ghost, Spectra didn’t know a lot about death other than that it was something that happened to humans and to some breeds of monster. Even so, Jackson seemed a little early in his life to be experiencing it. In moments like these she really regretted snooping around in other people’s business, but she definitely had her blog post.

Tuesday

At 8:35 that morning, every phone in Monster High sounded at once as The Ghostly Gossip was updated. Conversations were halted and hallway traffic came to a standstill as several students stopped to check their phones. 

Normie’s days are numbered?

Yesterday, sources caught a phone conversation of one Jackson Jekyll in which he confessed to being told by a doctor that he didn’t have much time left on earth. This story is still developing, and more details will be reported as they come in.

Deuce Gorgon’s eyes scanned the short article again. “Dude.” Was all he could come up with after a couple of minutes. “What?” Asked Clawd Wolf as he approached his best friend. Deuce handed over his phone.

“Dude!” Clawd exclaimed. “If this is someone’s idea of a joke, it isn’t very funny.”

“I know.” Deuce replied in a stern tone that contrasted with his usual jovial one. “Maybe the ghouls know something about this.”

Clawd nodded and quickly scanned the hallway. Frankie, Cleo, Clawdeen, and Draculara were all crowded around Frankie’s locker. They were looking over Cleo’s shoulder at something on her phone and talking to one another in a hushed whisper. The boys headed toward the group.

“Hey, did you ghouls see that weird blog post?’ Deuce asked the group.

“Uh, yeah,” Cleo responded. “Why would Spectra post such a far-fetched tale? And expect anyone to believe it?”

“But why would she post something like this if it wasn’t true?” Clawdeen asked. “You know how seriously that ghoul takes her blog.”

“C’mon guys,” Frankie cut in. “Spectra’s gotten a story twisted around before, remember?”

“But-” Draculara started.

“But nothing.” All eyes turned towards a fast-approaching Heath Burns, flanked by Abbey and Ghoulia. “Look, if my cousins were dying, I would know about it. That ghost writer has lost her spark.”

“Am not so sure.” Abbey responded, giving Heath the side eye. “He was acting very strange yesterday. Said he did go to see doctor.”

Draculara burst suddenly into tears, clinging to Clawd and Clawdeen. “But that means we’re gonna lose Jackson and Holt-” the rest of her sentence was cut off by sobbing.

“There there, sweetie,” Clawdeen whispered, handing her best friend a tissue. “That does it. We have to put this whole thing to rest right now.

“Yes,” Abbey agreed. “We go ask Jackson.”

“Well we can’t just tell him we know,” Cleo insisted. “What are you even going to say? ‘Oh, by the way, Spectra eavesdropped on your private conversation yesterday and now there’s a story posted on the internet about you for the whole school to read, so can you tell us if it’s true?’ He’ll be mortified.”

Frankie stared at her. “That’s actually a pretty good point. Okay, we’ll meet in the library during lunch to find what we can about human death, so we at least know what we’re looking for. Sound like a plan?” The group collectively nodded. “Good. I’ll see you there.”

At 11:30 that morning, the group re-convened in the dusty confines of the Monster High library. Ghoulia moaned as she typed away at the computer in front of her. 

“Ghoulia says that when a human dies, they’re put into a box that is measured especially for them. The box is then put into a long black car to a place where it can be buried in the ground. It’s customary for the person’s box to be decorated with flowers, and then their family and friends are invited to a gathering to watch them be buried.” Frankie translated.

“Like some sort of going away party?” Clawdeen asked. “I’m glad i’m not a human. That’s pretty morbid.”

“But that proves it!” Heath exclaimed. “I’m Jackson’s family so if he were dying, I would definitely be invited to the going away party and so would my parents. This whole story is bogus.”

The other students weren't so sure yet, but they all let the subject drop for now.

At 2:56, the music stopped. Jackson blinked, suddenly aware of his surroundings. The sun beamed down and burned his eyes, and he quickly had to side step to avoid being trampled by the massive herd of students walking behind him. He’d apparently stopped in his tracks in the middle of the front walkway of the school. He looked down and discovered the cause of this to be his dead iCoffin. He plugged his phone into his portable charger and it blinked back to life. Underneath the time display was a message from Holt.

“You got any idea why D-low hugged me holding back tears this mornin? Did I miss somethin?” Jackson opened his phone to respond

“Um, no? I don’t think so. Did she say what was wrong?” He left it for Holt to find later and put his phone back in his bag. Not a moment passed before it began buzzing with a call from his dad.

“So anyway, I was all like ‘dude’ and she was all like-” Draculara recounted the events of the day and was suddenly cut off by her best friend Clawdeen, who pushed her back behind the doors to the school, pointing in Jackson’s direction. 

“You’re going to pick us up right?” Jackson asked into the phone.

“Okay. Yeah, we spoke to the florist yesterday. We picked out this really cool arrangement of Forget-Me-Nots. Pretty appropriate for the occasion, right?”

The two ghouls in hiding glanced at each other. “Do you remember what Frankie said? About humans getting flowers when they’re-”

“SHH!” the two turned their attention back to the human in question.

“Yeah, I know. Moms will be devastated. They said they won’t be back until 11 or 12 that night, and we’ll definitely be gone by then. But we’ll be sure to take a lot of pictures before we go!” He continued to the person on the other end. “Okay, see you in a few minutes.”

The girls gasped as Jackson put his phone away. Clawdeen pulled out her phone and pulled up the group chat. They had to tell everyone what they had just heard. 

#monster high #jackson jekyll #holt hyde #frankie #clawdeen #draculara #duece gorgon #abbey bomidable #Jackson and Holt use We instead of I #this is a hill i will die on

[0aurelion-sol0]

SNK 134: Why we need to move forward.

Well...

That's horrifying...

Oh but whatever they are probably bad people in there. Thieves, greedy people, hateful mothers, men who beat their wives , liars, bullies, killers, murderers, rapist, child rapist and racist babies.

Yeah...

This is a rhetoric that has been used for ages and is currently being used in this fandom especially on reddit and 4chan.

The justification of injustice.

When George Floyd was slammed on the ground and died because he couldn't breathe anymore, conservatives and republicans at large ignored the police brutaliy leading up to that.

He was just a cocaine or drug addict who one day pointed a gun at a pregnant lady. So he was a criminal and deserved that.

Of course ignoring the racial segregation that happened from the very legalized slavery hundreds of years ago and how poor and racially stigmatized black people are being in America right now.

When the Uyghurs are being genocided by China, the world blinds itself because China is one the worlds necessary assets in economy as it basically produces a good chunk of what is being used in the world. Most made by children, " but it makes us live "... Apparently that's the only logical reason...

When Palestinians and Israelis are literally killing each other over some complicated non sense that no one ever really understands and also Israël basically doing Apartheid at this point,

When the totality of the Middle East has turned into a warzone because of the United States's violent imperialism,

When most far right or extremist group decided that Islam and Islamic terrorism are the same thing,

When xenophobes and racist always attack immigration,

"If she wasn't wearing that skirt, she probably wouldn't have been raped",

When we have homophobes, transphobes, LGBTphobes, telling us what's natural and always bragging about "\___-_-___/ God, Holy Jesus",

When you have people who tells you that poor people chose their way of living when there are a small percent of billionaires and soon to be trillionaires having such a gigantic amount of wealth,

When 6 millions Jews were genocided which was 40% of Jewish people at the time and 2/3 of European Jews,

When the prime minister of Israël is saying that the Holocaust wasn't Hitler's Idea but Haj Amin al-Husseini, (who was extremely anti semitic, don't get me wrong)who suggested it to him maiking the prime minister a revisionist but at the same time making his actions against Palestinians justified,

When around the world Christianic places of worship are being vandalized,

When entire SYSTEMS of segregations have made societies work,

When the South American continent has been attacked by the United States because of different political beliefs,

When people use their rape as a way to attack other communities of a specific religion or color,

When Black Panthers uses racism against White people because of the story of USA and are being anti semitic but essentializing a whole group,

When Nationalistic Israelis tells you what is a good Jew and what isn't a good Jew,

When dozens of groups have been forced to extinction,

Natives who were being murdered, yeah? YOU DON'T SEE THAT A LOT IN YOUR COWBOY MOVIES ?

When literal "feminist" calls for the destruction of men while they can't educate the kids about what to do and what not to do, OH, can also be transphobic apparently,

When you have entire websites who encourages pedophilia,

And pedophiles killed, left alone and live a life of endless torment while no one does nothing to help them and fight those who encourages it even in the highest places of our society,

Oh and Hollywood, that's all I need to say.

And let's not even talk about animal brutality and the destruction of ecosystems.

And there is more and more and more and more and more and FUCKING MORE,

All that because of reasons, reasons, reasons, reasons,

All stuck in a cycle of hate, violence and discrimination that just never ends.

The selfishness,

The greed,

And at end, everything is meaningless. There is just blood.

This is what this chapter represent the meaningless of it all. How everything goes to shit...

How everyone, whether it's the oppresor or the oppresed, will justify the violence, the injustice.

Society does nothing cause society right now runs for the entitled and the entitled only and creates it's own monsters.

I want to ask those people who defend the rumbling.

After everything we saw in this manga, after what the real world has commited, after how much these real events have inspired this story, how can you say it was the only way ?

After everyone hided Hange valuable informations including Eren who had information about KRUGER who was a spy in MARLEY. Who has created a civil war in Eldia and activated the rumbling while killing Eldian civilians in the way.

After seeing the mental breakdown of Bertolt, who we don't hear about anymore, Annie and Reiner's mental breakdown over GENOCIDING AN ENTIRE GROUP OF PEOPLE, by the way Reiner totally didn't develop another persona at that time to cope with what he was doing, HUH ?

After all the deaths, Carla, Grisha, Dina, Faye Marco, Levi's squad, Ymir, Erwin, Sasha, Hange, Hannes, Floch and many others, how can you go and be like "CHAD EREN, BEING DADDY, FUCKING HIS MEAT WAIFU, PHILOSOPHER FREEDOM SEEKER"

"104th crybabies... xDdDDDD Prfrpfr"

Come on...

This isn't serious at this point.

And for the H character, we're gonna come back for her but...

GODDAMNIT!

THANK YOU, DEATH.

This has sparked debates.

Some are thankful for this speech by the commander.

Others are finding it disingenous.

Others think it's too on the nose and not natural.

Others don't care.

On my part, I enjoy it but I take it with the context. Most of their airships have been destroyed and they are facing their doom upfront right now. It's more of a death plea at this point. Just like in the cave with Histor... GOD IT'S SO HARD SAYING HER NAME... with Historia who said truly horrible things at the point of an imminent death. At that moment, words like this can tell what you really are inside but even that is not enough to have a full picture.

It did have some interesting elements.

It is true, using, raising, breeding hate and shoving problems upon a group will always come bite you up the ass someday.

Marley in their extensive and violent coloniaslistic, imperialiatic behavior towards Eldia creates only weaknesses for them on an international field and create this monstruosity that is right now Eren.

Eren, a soldier who suffer from trauma and PTSD, who has terrible insecurities and everything to lose after losing so much and possibly in my book being influenced by another entity decides to kill them all.

But...

In no way does that justify Eren's actions, in fact it goes against it.

He is just as angry and hateful as they were back then but instead of destroying the system, he decides to genocide.

Essentializing the whole world as your ennemy and problem, and deciding to get rid of it is just continuing what has been started and continued for hundreds of years before.

No one ever thinks about the simple families, the innocent children, the homeless...

What about them Eren ?

What about the people who faced discrimination like Ramzi ?

What about the other groups that are almost extinct just like yours ?

What about the groups that tried to support the Eldians but were considered freaks ? HUH ?

What about the babies and innocent children ?

Isayama is even spelling it out for you this chapter.

Is he not worth it ? To stop all this ?

He was born into this world just like every other baby.

Look at that while everyone, is trying to jump off, their trying to save the baby. Even if it's probably impossible. That's humanity right there.

And... jesus christ...

I literally saw people who said that the mother was dumb to give it to the people because titans were behind them.

I can't even...

Imagine if Eren is the daddy of H's Baby and that he completes the genocide, killing his friends or even persuading them and at the end he is saying you are free to this baby.

So this baby is worth more than this baby ?

He is more legitimate to live than him.

I can't even imagine what the arguments would be like with the Eren stans:

"He's protecting his friends."

While literally challenging them to fight and right now trying to kill them.

"Well, you know the Rumbling is horrible but they got what was coming for them. They did nothing to help Paradise."

While forgetting the complexity of human nature, how banalization of these acts of violence have come to be BECAUSE...

These just like me and you are just simple people. With simple lives and not too much power who can't do anything about it.

Most of the people today sees all the suffering in the world, they just don't have the power, nor the will to go against such complex geo-political conflicts.

Would you be able to just resolve the Israelo-Palestinian conflict ? I don't think so, so shut your ass down with this argument.

These people can't change the world with power that they have and the one that has the power to change that, is killing them right now. BRAVO.

" Well, uh, the child is a child, parents might be racist and uh... child maybe is racist or will become racist..."

God...

Just because someone has done horrible shits or is an horrible shit doesn't mean he should die like this.

Here it is people, how we work as human :

Fuck redemption and possible solutions, let's kill everyone who did something bad.

Y'all would have been perfect during monarchies time.

And like... having an argument on a baby should face genocide is just fucking disgusting.

AND DON'T GIVE ME THE BULLCRAP OF FICTION DOESN'T EQUAL REALITY!

That you are interested into what could bring the Rumbling in terms of thematics and story is fine.

BUT ENDORSING IT ?

Do y'all even hear yourselves sometimes ?

You just sound like every racist, bigoted, fascist and violent person that has ever existed.

You're just excited to see someone die because he commited something wrong, sadistic pricks.

You're no different. Perhaps the guy who was talking to Grisha in chapter 97, who was a Marleyan and gave serums to Eldian is right. When he was talking to Grisha, Isayama use it to break the fourth wall and talk to the readers.

Why do we watch this, all this violence ?

" Because it's fun!"

" People take peace for granted!"

" Of course we're abnormal in society's eyes."

" We wish to exterminate all eldians!"

" Your sister did nothing wrong. Shame she was an Eldian!"

The fun fact is that this guy is a racist fuck but he dies pushed by Kruger and killed by his very own creation: a titan.

Why do people endorse genocide ?

" Because it's justice!"

" They got what was coming for them!"

" Isayama is just showing us that genocide is not really wrong if you just understand the concept of morals. Puritans."

" Humanity can die, they deserve it!"

" I'm sad for Ramzi, he didn't do nothing wrong but you know... maybe he didn't have good ideas about Eldians."

While also saying why children could deserve genocide. \____@-@____/

Of course I found most of these on Reddit and 4chan, the nazi propaganda website. Tumblr is a little free of it.

Babies....

Literally babies...

That remind me of somethin'...

OH YEAH!

QUEER NO MORE.

*put gloves on*

PUUUUUUUSSHH!!! COOOOOOOMMEEE OOONN!!!!

Breathe...

I SEEEEE THE HEAAADDD, IT'S HEREEEEEE!!!!

Natalie, bring the bucket, quick!

Of fuck she shitted on herself a little bit!

_________________________________________

So ?

Y'all like my fanfic ?

It's about how Erehisu is canon and how Historia is actually thinking about Eren right now because she is blushing.

But also about how Historia actually looks good and sexy while being pregnant and how she looks so happy!

She also is a lesbian that turned straight.

I'm so proud of my work.

_________________________________________

In all honesty...

This is... dissapointing and an insult to Historia fans. Why ? What is the purpose or the reason ? Being tragic ? To show how far Historia can go to protect her loved ones ? A female Eren so ?

I always leaned towards the fake pregnancy even if I don't know how something like that could be really pulled. I didn't understand this choice for his storytelling. The others I understand but this one...

O_o

What the fuck ?

So she really is pregnant ? But nothing leading up to it makes sense.

The character whose thematics still rings too much true for this arc is put in the background and as a breeding farm on top of that.

It even came to a point I started people to stop asking about her.

I had faith in her presence in the final arc. That she would have a role play.

But now ?

/\/\/\

For people who don't understand why this aspect of story is wrong, we have to break it down.

First off, Historia one of the first queer characters with Ymir in SNK. Others are suspected but these two are the few that holds a definitive representation as queer.

Most often in media or in real life, LGBT people have been forced into a situation that requires them to fall under heterosexuals lives. Here Historia is forced to be pregnant, yes in a way she agreed because of her people, but at the same time she didn't really want it.

For queer people, like me, this still rings true. Too much true. People literally forces you to go for your opposite sex everytime, to have a family.

No, stop forcing your view of your own life or desire of life on other people.

The fact that the fandom rationalizes that and says that she is happy and in love with Eren is just so fucking weird.

It either is blind ship following, heteronormativity or not understanding the story.

And I saw people saying she might be bisexual. This doesn't change anything. Also ignoring the fact that she hasn't shown any attraction to men other than women in the story.

If she is bisexual, it doesn't change anything, she is still queer. Not semi-straight AND EVEN IF SHE WAS A WOMAN WHO HAPPENED TO BE STRAIGHT, SHE IS STILL FORCED INTO SOMETHING SHE DID NOT WANT.

Bisexual is not semi-straight, semi-gay.

It's bisexual.

Bisexual, Straight and Homosexuality are not the same thing.

And if she was straight, that doesn't make it acceptable. It's just sick.

Just because you're a straight woman doesn't mean you are going to be more happy or have god like duty to have kids.

I just don't understand it...

A manga who was so progressive with his female characters reduces Historia to this.

Imagine...

Just imagine...

Eren is the father. I would shoot myself in the face. A forced straight relationship at the end for the pleasure of shonen readers and heteronormative readers.

" What if I have baby, Eren ?"

" Only if it is from me. I want him to live and have FREEDOM!"

" It's open bar, honey." *saying this after hearing the guy says he's going to genocide which goes against her own values and actions as queen*

Ew... Just ew...

And even worse she wasn't supposed to give birth right now, she was supposed to give birth in a few months.

She could DIE. SHE IS 19. This is dangerous.

Everyone is like this is normal.

THIS IS NOT NORMAL. *sigh*

This goes against what she is supposed to have as a character development.

The fact that she would be okay for genocide while as a queen she reached out to the most weak and in need is fucking incoherent.

No. This doesn't make sense. Even Eren said that Historia's action as a queen were to help others. How could she be okay sitting at her house ? Telling no one about what Eren was going to do ? And becoming a breeding farm ? What is the logic in that ?

Why make it suspicious than ?

The only thing that was able to make any logical sense to me was that the person we are seeing here isn't Historia.

I know if my theory is right, it's sick, even more sick.

The only times we saw Historia after the timeskip was during flashbacks, the reveal at 107 and possibly at the end of 123.

If this is her at the end of 123, I want to ask you why is she all prepared, why is she all dressed up and why is she wearing the same clothes in 134 that she is wearing 107. Something doesn't add up.

She is young, small-petite, blonde and her belly and face are hidden.

I was only able to go through the theory that this is a fake Historia. Than who it is than ?

Well, I searched for female characters who look like her or who could look like Historia right now. From all the characters that we haven't seen coming coming back and that has interacted with Historia, there is only one.

Rico Brzenska.

For those, who don't remember her : She was a Garrison Member who helped Mikasa and Eren during the Trost Arc and also helped Historia while she was exhausted during the Clash of the Titans Arc.

She hasn't appeared ever since the start of the Return to Shiganshina Arc unlike many of the older characters.

She is the only one I see who could pass as Historia I think.

I know this is still sick. But this is the only way I would be able to make Historia get out of this crappy storyline and play some relevance in the story. And if we look at Rico and Historia in 107, they kinda look the same. They have the heart shaped face, they are both small and they both have this sort of closed eyelids.

One line that just stuck with me of Rico was:

"Hiding/Lying about Eren's rampage in the report wouldn't have benefited humanity. "

This was during Eren's trial before joining the Survey Corps. What was discused was when Eren lost control of himself during the Trost Arc and attacked Mikasa.

The second line that struck was the one where she holds Historia who is exhausted in her arms:

"Wow! Who is this girl, is she okay ?"

I don't know why it just pushed that theory. And I kinda believe it now, because no one can make me believe that there is something satisfying coming out of this. Why would she sacrifice herself for Historia ? Well, I don't really know but Rico was always a little wary of Eren, even after the Trost Arc but yeah ultimately for Rico being able to give her own life for Historia. I don't know about that. But with this manga you never now. It is a very dark and twisted theory but this is the only logical thing I can see right now since no answers have been provided.

Monkey is BACK

Zeke is back and like most of us predicted, Eren dragged him with him. And I'm not gonna lie, the way he was attached to the spine was pretty badass.

He is used as a puppet which reinforces the theory for me that all three of them: Eren, Ymir and Zeke are being used by the Attack Titan.

I cannot understand Eren's illogical behavior especially after seeing the train scene where he says he wants them to live long happy lives and than having him kill his friends.

Ymir the first being free and having eyes to returning to having no eyes just like before and Eren.

And Zeke would have never agreed to the Rumbling. And we can't see his eyes either.

And...

Thank you, 104th for existing.

Because...

After how much shit they have gone through and after how much the fandom, not just the Eren stans, have mocked them. Like the fandom has been the biggest asshole to the the Alliance while they were the ones who were able to survive through the sentence " Genocide is wrong!" that so many people seems to find to be so hard to say.

I will root for them until the bitter end, I don't care. They are the one who are fighting. You can call Cringevengers all you want but I am glad they are winning.

They all suffered like Eren but they didn't prioritize their own and only feelings above everything else and they stood by for the values they fought for since they joined the Survey Corps. Even if I have to admit they have, for most of them, conflicted feelings with what they were doing and have done things like trying to talk to Eren while it's obvious he wasn't going to talk and that in a situation like this I don't think someone would try to stop Eren by just talking.

Levi, and it would be foolish to not recognize it, is being consumed by his promise but he is restraining it and still is able to think about the bigger picture.

There's one thing I really like about this is Armin asking Eren:

"Eren... I'll ask you one last time... "What part of you is free" after we rip you out from there... "

Hehe... yes... what part of you is free ?

To be honest, there's many things I don't want for the ending.

A Lelouch Ending, it was all Eren's plan. Literally wouldn't make sense. No one would be questionning his free will and he wouldn't have these weird shits happening to him.

A Code Geass ending, why would Mikasa have to kill Eren, what does that add to her as a character ? More tragedy ? No she doesn't have the scarf, it's pretty telling what place she's at right now.

Eren being the daddy. NO, JUST NO.

Everyone dies, genocide is the right thing. You know all the worst shit that can happen.

But most of all I want important plot points to be explored and moved over because ever since the timeskip, there has been no important plot points out the way. Eren's behavior, Ackertalk, Bertolttalk, Historia's Condition, Paths stuffs, answers!

Whatever... Trust me Peace is not something I take for granted. Being proud of myself and having a life with the least conflict and problem is something you fight for. Having rights, being recognized as a human.

Never lose that, fight for it. But never with injustice, be smarter and stronger. Cause at the end what unites us is not only what we have in common but what the perspective of what we have not in common can make a bigger picture of what we are as humans. We all are different and have a different story with similarities but in the end, we are human and born into this world. And in that, we must move forward. In the present, because of the past and for the future.

We all wish for the problems to go away but if it's for the solutions to be rigged with injustice, it will not work. No one has acheived with genocide and never will.

It's kinda sad that this long of a post has to say this. Did y'all see that ? Pretty inspiring what I wrote. Oh well you know what ? If they can be bigoted why can't I myself.

Here's a song I wrote:

(Fuck everyone and you.

We hate women

There are only 2 genders, the breeder and the breeded.

Everything is degenerate.

We hate brown, Arab and Muslim people.

Genocide is cool

And Hitler was too.)

I know but you know what, at least if they want a spy for Nazi Germany someday. They'll know not to give it to me because I'd laugh at the stupidity of the people just like you and I are doing with the rest of world cause for all the shits it gives us, it's entertaining.

#shingeki no kyojin #snk #attack on titan #aot spoiler #snk eren #snk spoilers #snk rant #snk thoughts #snk 134 #aot 134 #snk chapter 134 #eren jeager #historia reiss #zeke jaeger #armin arlert #levi ackerman #mikasa ackerman #the attack titan #rico brzenska #tl;dr

[mcatra]

Catra works at burger king part 2

AO3

art by quackleroys part 1

As promised, Adora had taken care of everything even though she never asked her to. Adora and Glimmer’s family as well as Sea Hawk’s parents had paid off the damage like it was nothing. In fact a sparkling new window with the Burger King logo appeared installed at her next shift, looking so pristine it almost seemed out of place in the dingy establishment. Rich people were scary. 

Catra had expected the usual beatdown lecture from her regional manager, but to her surprise nothing came. Adora took 100% of the blame and omitted Catra from the narrative, and as much as she hated to admit it she was grateful. No way she could have ever afforded to replace the door when she couldn’t even afford a whole meal at Burger King. 

Not with the $3 she had currently in her account. Right now however, she was pretending to be asleep in the back of the student council room until all of Adora’s annoying prefects left. They were currently having a meeting about the annual swimming preparations.

Usually Catra would be more outspoken to represent the students of her old school, but today she didn't want to speak to anyone. She hadn't heard a lick of an apology from the girls, who had just thrown money at the problem until it went away like it never existed. They probably expected her to thank them, and no way were they getting a thank you for something they caused.

They finished up their meeting, chatting about whether or not they should be allowed to wear bikinis or something as they shuffled out.

‘Is it really okay to just let Vice Captain sleep through the entire meeting?’ Mermista complains, and Catra tenses in annoyance.

‘Shh, don’t wake her. I don’t see you sweeping up glass until midnight from when your boyfriend smashed her workplace door.’ Adora chides, and Catra feels a little bit smug.

‘...Fair point.’

The door clicks shut, and silence settles over the classroom. Catra can hear Adora tiptoe quietly over to her.

She half expects for Adora to shake her awake, but to her surprise she feels fingers carding through her hair.

Catra freezes, trying to keep her breathing even. What was she doing?

The touch is soft, gently pushing her hair back and brushing her scalp.

She lets it go on for a few seconds, before she grabs Adora’s wrist, letting one eye lazily open. The blonde's eyes were wide, like a kid that got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

‘Stop touching me so familiarly. We’re not friends.’ Catra says, but there's no heat behind her words. She forces herself to get up, fake yawning as she gathers up her books.

Adora's cheeks are pink, her hands bunched up around her skirt. 'Do you have another shift? I’ll come.'

'No one asked you to!' Catra replies, making her way down the now empty corridor. Of course Adora memorized her work schedule. She starts power walking her way to the school doors, hoping to lose Adora on the way.

All she wanted was to finish her shift, get a few hours of study done so she could get the damn scholarship and graduate. It was for her first choice of university, and they were granting a free ride to the top student of their school. If she could just manage that, she could get a degree and finally get a good job. Catra didn't need distractions by her rival, not everyone could effortlessly get full marks on every subject. She had to struggle for it, if she was ever going to get out of this cursed cycle.

‘Are you seriously following me to work?’ Catra says, deadpan. Adora was scurrying after her like a puppy with separation anxiety. She stops walking, watching the blonde trip over herself in her hurry to catch up to her on the street. ‘Dude I’m begging you, please get a life.’

‘Why not? I want some chicken nuggies.’ She says. Catra shoots her a look of disgust.

‘You’re going to get pimples and DIE from all this junk you eat!’ Catra whaps her over the head with her textbook. Adora winces, and almost walks into a lamp post.

‘Aww, are you worried about my health?’ Adora teases. Catra goes to kick her, but the school captain dodges it, her wide grin illuminated by the setting sun.

‘Eat a damn vegetable instead of coming to Burger King everyday! You’ll ruin your perfect figure.’ Catra shoots back, hoping that Adora would care more about maintaining her sculpted body than annoying her everyday. Wait, that wording was kind of-

‘You think I have a perfect figure?’  

The brunette can feel her face heating up, and she knows she’s blushing. She shoves Adora away, turning away so she can’t see her face.

‘Fuck you and your fucking corn-cob abs, stop eating here!!! Unhealthy shite!!’ Catra curses, but Adora just laughs, clutching at her wrists so she can’t hide her furious blushing.

‘Even when you’re angry you can’t stop complimenting me.’ Adora replies, biting back a grin.

‘Don’t make me perma-ban you from the store!’  

--

The day of the swimming carnival finally arrived, colourful flags decorating the outside pool. Hundreds of students were seated on the concrete steps, waiting to compete in the relays, or currently in line to the canteen.

Adora looked good in her one piece swimsuit. It highlighted her muscled back that was currently glistening from the pool water. Her golden hair was damp, curling around the edges. She looked almost ethereal, sparkling in the sunlight.

Meanwhile Catra sat in the bleachers in her ratty t-shirt and shorts watching her, feeling like the embodiment of that one Taylor Swift song. Stupid Adora.

Adora's friends had coordinated their outfits to match their Bright Moon house colours, all pinks and purples. Mermista's house was dressed in blue, while girls from Perfuma's house fawned around the lifeguard on duty. They had even painted their faces with coloured zinc.

How nauseating.

‘You want some hot chips?’ Scorpia asks, plonking herself next to Catra. She nods and scarfs it down, eyes laser focused on Adora’s long legs.

As the day dragged on, they were doing admittedly worse than she would’ve liked. It was proving difficult to get them motivated, and doing 3rd out of 4 houses was not a good look.

‘Scorpia, you’re up for the 100 metre freestyle relay, do not let me down.’ She pats her friend on the shoulder, glaring at the other teams.

‘Aye aye, Cap’n!’ Scorpia grins, doing a mock salute.

Scorpia was against one of their biggest competitors Huntara, another girl from Perfuma’s house. They line up at top of the platforms, and when the whistle blows she dives in.

It’s close, but Scorpia wins by a hair winning the final. Catra grins at her, and Scorpia beams back. Even though Perfuma’s house lost, the blonde was all giddy over Scorpia’s performance.

A voice blares over the loudspeaker.

50 points.

The Horde was now at second place. Catra’s heart starts beating faster, ecstatic. Now they actually had a chance at beating Adora's house! She stands up and swivels around to face her own team.

'Listen up, assholes!' Catra she barks, looking at the sea of mismatched green. Their disinterested eyes blink up at her.

'We're gonna get the most points and we will win!'

She hears a group of boys- Sea Hawks old friends, probably, mutter to themselves.

We?

Why should we try when she won’t even do one race?

I know right. Who even elected her as house captain?

‘Excuse me, what the fuck did you just say?’ Catra growls, marching over to the chad looking teenage boys in her house. Instead of backing down as most people usually did, they glared back at her. The tan one with patches of facial hair named Scurvy stands up to confront her.

‘Miss Vice Captain thinks she’s too good to compete in the relay while we do all the work.’ Scurvy says, and the boys behind him all nod in unison. ‘All of us have already competed and we’re tired.’

‘Uh, does it look like I care? Get back out there so we can beat Adora!’

‘Hell no. We’re boycotting, until you can prove you’re gonna pull your weight.’ He declares, poking a finger at her chest.

By now everyone in the Horde was staring at them, and by their defiant eyes seemed to be agreeing with him. Her position as house captain was slipping.

She slaps his hand away, incensed.

‘What do you think you’re doing, undermining my authority? If I say get back out there, then go! ’

‘Why, too scared to swim? Afraid you’ll lose?’ Scurvy challenges.

Catra grits her teeth. It’s not like she was going to admit to these extras that she was afraid of water. Usually intimidation worked, but they didn’t seem to be backing down either.

As if he sensed her hesitation, Scurvy grabs her arm and his other two friends grab the other. They're surprisingly strong, Catra's arms are like twigs in their grip.

‘Get off me!’ Catra screeches, her pulse speeding up. They start walking her to the deep end of the pool, to the sound of cheering from her house like the traitors they were.

She tries to kick at her captors, but they’re laughing, like it was all a fun game.

Catra feels lightheaded as they approach the edge of the pool. 'Stop it, it's not funny!' She tries again, feeling desperate. Where was the lifeguard when you needed him?

Scurvy gives her a cocky grin, not catching on to her fear. No one seemed to be paying attention to her internal mental breakdown, they had probably thought she was infallible. Unafraid of anything. They swing her back, and then let go.

Catra shrieks as she hits the water, making a loud splash as she falls in. That proved to be a mistake, as she inhales a gallon of water doing so. She splutters and gasps, trying to scramble to the edge but failing. Instead she was sinking, her arms flailing pathetically.

Catra couldn’t breathe, the surface seemed so far away now. She had to be drowning, water rushing through her ears, clawing through nothing. There’s only a rush of bubbles and a pressure on her lungs as they fill up with chlorinated water. People were shouting from above, but it was muffled.

There was a reason why she hated water as much as she did. Their foster mother Shadow Weaver had dunked her head into the bath countless times, holding Catra’s head in place with her sharp nails. She had always said it was to clean her properly, but she knew it was her punishment for just existing in her household. The result of that was her never learning how to swim, and a crippling fear of water.

Catra could feel her legs locking up, paralysing fear coursing through her veins. The more water she inhaled, the more dizzy she got, her limbs feeling heavier than bricks.

Spots appear in her vision, and her lungs finally give out. She had to be on the bottom of the pool by now, but it was strangely calm down here. When she feels her back hit the tile, she blacks out.

--

The next thing she knows is that a warm pair of lips are pressing against her own. They’re soft, and they kind of taste like strawberry chapstick. Her head is still swimming though, like she was still underwater. The person breathes in air into her mouth, and she vaguely comphrends Oh, they’re giving me CPR.

Before she can react, someone practically body slams her chest and she chokes. Before they can do it again she pushes them off her, she was going to throw up. Catra turns to the side and promptly splutters out the entire pool’s worth of water out of her lungs.

She can feel herself being unceremoniously brought back to life, weakly coughing out the last of the offending liquid. Catra can feel herself swaying from side to side, her hands shaking like crazy.

‘Hey!’

The person’s voice is muffled, but soon her ears pop and she can suddenly hear everything again.

‘Catra!’

Everything was too loud, too bright. There were people surrounding them, blurry colours mixing together like the weirdest acid trip she’s never had.

A warm pressure is on her side, and she hazily blinks up at the loud noise in her ear. Blonde hair, a red varsity jacket.

Suddenly she’s panicking for a whole other reason. Everything hits her at full force now, the crowd, the stares, fucking Adora out of all people giving her CPR. Her greatest weakness being exposed in front of everyone. She felt like a kid again when Shadow Weaver frequently tried to drown her bathing her in front of the other orphaned kids as they watched on.

Sweat beads at her forehead, everyone is talking so loudly and her gut is twisting and she can’t breathe.

She couldn’t swim?

What’s wrong with her?

Someone call an ambulance!

‘No-No ambulance-’ Catra stutters, keeling over. Like she could afford a $400 glorified taxi to the damn hospital. She tries to inhale, but it just comes out as rasping.

Catra frantically scrabbles at her throat, leaving long red marks across the wet skin. She can feel hot tears bead in the corners of her eyes, contrasting with how cold the rest of her body felt.

‘Catra!’

It was Adora again. ‘You have to sit up, open up your airways.’ Catra glares at her, but the blonde manhandles her into a better position. She takes in another breath, and to her relief air starts flooding back into her lungs again.

‘Everyone back away, you’re stressing her out.’ Adora commanded the crowd.

'Here, wear this.'  She takes off her jacket and bundles it protectively over Catras shoulders. ADORA is emblazoned on the back in big white letters. Catra looks at it in confusion, until belatedly realizes her drenched shirt stuck to her like a second skin so it was almost see through. She grips the jacket around herself tighter, embarrassed.

The lifeguard and the teachers finally arrive, and she’s carted away from the crowd.

-----

Catra jolts awake to a loud rattling knock on her garage door. She blinks a few times, getting the grit out of her eyes. Since when did she get visitors? The only person who knew where she lived was Scorpia.

The knocking gets louder, more urgent. It vibrates through the concrete walls of the tiny refurbished garage. Catra gets up, still feeling groggy from the fever. Adora’s varsity jacket laid next to her, still smelling vaguely like the blonde mixed with chlorine. Somehow she had made home after the swimming carnival. The last thing she remembered was collapsing onto her mattress after refusing to go to the hospital.

‘Catra? Are you in there?’

What the hell? Is that Adora?

Catra forces herself to stand up, her bare feet pattering across the cold concrete. She kicks a few cardboard boxes out of the way so she can manually roll up the door. The automatic function broke ages ago, and her landlord still hadn’t gotten it fixed.

Why on earth she was letting her worst enemy in her home was beyond her, all of the water that went up her brain must’ve made her stupid.

She only has the strength to lift it halfway, the sunlight blinding her in discomfort.

‘Why the fuck are you here?’ Catra growls, however she must not paint the most intimidating picture. Probably gave the impression of a cracked up ogre in a cave.

Adora laughs a little, as she tries to maneuver her way into the garage. She ducks underneath the roll up door like it’s a game of limbo, and to Catra’s satisfaction she bangs her head on it.

‘I brought soup.’ Adora lifts up a small plastic bag full of ingredients. She looks around nervously for a kitchen, but becomes increasingly distressed as she starts to realize this whole place was only one room.

‘So- uh.’ Adora chokes out, clearly embarrassed. ‘This is...where you live.’

Catra rolls her eyes at her attempt to not insult her living conditions. Her furniture consisted of an old mattress, a sofa from someone's front lawn, a rotting table and chair from the council cleanup, and a tiny mini-fridge and a portable stove she got from the dump, all crammed into the small garage.

It wasn’t too bad, as terrible as it was at least it was her space. The landlord never came to bother her and charged half the amount of current rental homes in the area, so all in all it was a pretty good deal.

‘Not what you were expecting, Princess?’ Catra yawns, scratching her back to return to her bed. ‘Let me guess, Scorpia told you where I lived. God knows why I tell her anything, she can’t keep a secret to save her life.’

Adora nods, placing the groceries on the table. ‘I just wanted to see if you were feeling any better after…’ She flounders, looking extremely out of place in her iron pressed pristine uniform.

‘Take a seat.’ Catra gestures to the sofa. ‘Don’t worry, I got rid of the lice ages ago.’

Adora gives her a look.

‘I’m kidding.’ She wasn’t, but it didn’t look like Adora was gonna sit on it otherwise.

Adora gingerly sits down, avoiding the odd looking stains on the fabric. They sit in silence for a minute, as she drinks in her surroundings.

‘So, the boys who pushed you into the pool got suspended.’ Her school captain says, scratching her little blonde poof on the top of her forehead.

‘Good.’

‘How’s your fever?’

Catra sighs into her blanket, rolling around to glare at the other teenager. ‘Fine. How long are you planning to be here, anyway?’

‘Oh, uh-’ Adora gets up to rummage through the plastic bag she brought. ‘Also I was just gonna stick around to um, make you some soup. I brought meds too!'

She triumphantly brings out some Panadol, only belatedly realizing that there was no tap inside to pour Catra water.

‘There’s a hose outside if you want water. You have to boil it though.’

‘R-right.’ Adora says awkwardly, but makes no move to actually leave to go outside. Instead she picks up the contents of her plastic bag and makes her way to the fridge.

‘Oi, don’t touch my food!’ Catra calls out, annoyed.

Adora pauses, the ingredients that needed to be chilled still in her arms as she opens the fridge door.

‘There’s nothing in here though.’

‘Uh, yes there is. Don’t you see that stack of bread? Managed to convince my manager it was expired, so I got it for free. Don’t go touching it.’ Catra says proudly, smug that she had finessed the Burger King system. ‘Also Lonnie never notices the condiments going missing. You can’t use my ketchup and mustard packets for your stupid soup, you hear?’

‘Catra.’

‘What?’

‘How...how can you live like this? I had no idea it was this bad.’ Adora says, kneeling in front of the mini fridge like she was gonna have a first class breakdown.

Why was she the one getting upset? She wasn’t the one who lived here.

‘Kinda rude thing to say as a houseguest, much.’ Catra scoffs, offended. ‘Sorry for not living in the lap of luxury like you do.’

‘But even applying for welfare, surely the government could-’ Adora objects.

Catra could almost laugh at how naive she sounded. ‘What, so they could catch me and throw me back into the foster care system?’

‘You know what I mean. Even Shadow Weaver’s foster home was better than-’

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ Catra snaps, her blood suddenly boiling with rage. Just the mere mention of her name brings a flood of memories she didn't want to remember. Adora looks back at her, surprised at the sudden outburst.

‘I’d rather die than go back to Shadow Weaver. You know she used both of us just for welfare money?’ Catra seethes, stalking her way closer to Adora. They’re face to face now, the blonde frozen in place.

‘I..’

Years of resentment start spilling over, and Catra can’t stop.

‘Not like you care, since you were adopted out by a nice rich family with your new sister Glimmer. Must be nice to be picked out with your goody goody nice girl persona and forget all about the people you left behind huh?’ Catra grits her teeth, she’s shaking in rage now.

She still remembers that day when the tall rich lady with the pink and purple hair decided to adopt a child to fill the void in her heart left by her deceased husband.

When she picked Adora, even though she was going to be adopted by Shadow Weaver already as her favourite.

How Catra was left alone with nothing when Adora went with Angella, the abuse increasing tenfold as Shadow Weaver took out her anger at her. No one ever asked to see Catra, with her untrusting eyes and feral mannerisms.  

‘Who would adopt me, right? What a joke. Now you come in here insulting my place when I made it here on my own, with no one to help me?!’

Adora stares at her in shock, speechless. The words hang in the air, like they were a rope choking them both. They look at each other until Catra’s rapid breathing calms down.

‘I..I’m so sorry Catra. I did try to contact you...but you never replied...’ Adora says, throat tight with grief.

Catra rolls her eyes. ‘Like Shadow Weaver personally hand delivers me mail, got it.’

Adora swallows, lip trembling. ‘I really did try to go back, I did. But Shadow Weaver told me you had run away, and I couldn’t find you anywhere no matter how hard I tried. I thought...I thought-’

A tear drops down Adora’s face, and she quickly wipes it away before Catra can react.

‘So when I saw you had transferred to my school, and that you worked at Burger King, it was like a miracle to me. You were here, and you were alive, and I was so, so happy to see you. Even if you hated me coming to your workplace everyday, or that you thought I was only doing it to rub my good fortune in your face... I just missed you so much, I couldn’t help it.’ Adora exhales shakily. Her words seemed genuine, and Catra felt her heart tighten.

More tears spill out, and this time Catra reaches over to cup her face. She can feel her last remanments of her anger dissipate as she thumbs away the hot liquid from Adora’s red cheeks.

‘Why are you the one crying? IIIdiot.’

‘Mmn.’ Adora mumbles, her hand curling around Catra’s. ‘About yesterday. Seeing you go under the water like that, I just couldn’t bear to lose you again. So I found myself here. I'm sorry.’

‘I get it. I seriously get it.’ Catra pushes Adora’s nose up so it resembles a pig. ‘You big stalker.’

Adora wrinkles her nose. ‘I’m glad you know now though. Eating Burger King everyday was awful.’

‘Then don’t eat here!’

‘But I wanted to see you.’ Adora pouts, and Catra rolls her eyes. So clingy.

‘Just you wait. I’ll take first place and get that scholarship so I can finally get out of this dump.’

The blonde smiles, but it slowly turns serious.

‘Catra...I know you don't want any help but it doesn't hurt to accept some? I'll bring food to you- proper food and not mouldy Burger King leftovers.’

The offer sounded tempting, especially to her empty stomach. But Catra forces herself to resist. She had her pride, and she knew better than to rely on Adora as a steady source of help.

‘I’m not gonna rely on you again, you know. I’m not here to fuel your savior complex, or to alleviate your guilt.’

Adora contemplates for a moment. If she thinks too hard she’ll injure her tiny brain, Catra scoffs.

‘If you won’t accept it for free...How about a trade?’

Catra raises an eyebrow, letting go of Adora’s face. ‘What do you want from me? Let me guess, same thing the other dudes who propositioned me for cash?’ She makes a lewd motion with her fingers, and Adora gasps in scandalized shock.

‘N-no! Wait, did you-’

Catra blinks, before realizing the insinuation. ‘Fuck no! I've never done anything with anyone except for-’

They both recall the CPR kiss from the day before, and they look away, faces burning.

After an awkward moment of silence, Adora speaks up.

‘How about we be friends again? That's all I ask for.’

‘Hah?’

‘Also you have to unblock me and allow me to message you!’ Adora says triumphantly, her eyes suddenly burning with intensity. It catches Catra off guard.

‘What the fuck? You see me at school?’

‘And I get to message you everyday.’  

'Once a week.' Catra shoots back.

'Once every 3 days.' Adora says. She's too close, and it's frying Catra's brain.

'Fine!' Dealing with Adora was exhausting. How on earth Glimmer and Bow handled it, was beyond her.

Adora smiles, and it's almost blinding. ‘Great! I’ll start bringing you groceries then! Plus I owe you for the whole door breaking thing.’ She snatches up Catra’s old cracked phone, and starts adding herself as a contact.

‘Wait I forgot about that! Give my number back!’ She tries to swipe for the phone, but Adora lifts it out of reach.  

‘Too late! Friendship is about not tallying about who owes who! It's equal!’

‘If I wasn't sick right now I’d pummel you to the ground.’

‘Nah you wouldn't.’  She was right but she wasn't gonna say that. ‘Come on, let’s take a photo together for my contact pic.’

Adora places her arm around Catra, angling the phone to get a good picture.

The flash blinds Catra, and when they turn to look at the screen it’s a less than flattering image. Catra’s face is scrunched up, while Adora has posed, looking flawlessly photogenic.

‘Ughh, do you have to be perfect at everything?’ Catra complains, ducking underneath her arm. ‘Delete it, I look like I’m having a seizure.’

‘Well I love it.’ Adora smiles, adding Catra’s number into her own phone. She’s looking at the photo fondly, sending it to herself. ‘It’s our first photo together.’

God, did Adora need to be this embarrassing all the time?

‘Yeah yeah, you sap.’ Catra grumbles, but she can’t help but smile too.

Flash .

‘You smiled! You smiled!’ Adora crows, grinning ear to ear from behind her phone camera. ‘And I got it on camera!’

‘I’m going to break your phone!’

This new 'friendship' with Adora was going to kill her.

#she-ra #she ra #spop #catradora #catra #adora #burger king au

[sunmoonandeddie]

a vision in white

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,441

summary: Fucking Chad and fake champagne.

prompt: “And our love story? I know it may not feel like it right now, baby, but I promise you, it’s just getting started.” (This is Us)

warnings: swearing, angst with a fluffy ending

a/n: This is my first successful attempt to getting back into writing long form.  It’s also my entry for @softhairbarnes‘s challenge that was due, like September 18th.  I’m so sorry it took so long, and the prompt is bolded in the fic!

Bucky Barnes hated weddings.

Actually, no.  That’s not quite accurate because he loved Sam and Natasha’s wedding.  When Sam had asked him to be a groomsman, he’d actually cried.  In fact, he cried at least four times that day: watching Tony walk Natasha down the aisle, during the vows and the first dance, and then when he’d watched his girl catch the bouquet.

His girl.

No.

He needed to stop that.  You’re not his girl anymore.

It was that stupid bouquet toss that had caused him to panic.  It had sent him into a downward spiral as his anxiety reared its ugly head, telling him that he’d never have this with you.

It didn’t matter what the stupid tradition said.

Steve was standing near the front with Tony and Sam, mingling with your parents and having a grand old time.  He must’ve said something at least a little funny with the way that your mom had her head thrown back in a laugh.

That used to be him.  He used to be the one chatting with your family at events, his arm around your waist.  Your dad always called him ‘son’ and your mom fretted over whether he was eating enough while your older siblings gave him hell for keeping you away from them in New York City for too long.  He’d never thought he’d have a family in the twenty-first century, but yours had welcomed him with open arms.  Your brothers had become his brothers, your sister became his sister.

And then he’d fucked it all up.

And because of his fuck up, he was sitting in the back pew of a church, watching some asshole named Chad chat with one of his groomsmen while waiting for the ceremony to start.

The worst part was that it was all wrong.  This wasn’t the wedding you wanted.  He knew that for a fact.

First off, the church.  You never wanted a church wedding in the middle of August, damn it.  Everyone was sticky with sweat, even with the air conditioning on full blast, and more than a little miserable.

And there wasn’t…  There wasn’t enough flowers.  The only flowers present were two bunches of white tulips on either side of the altar.

Fucking tulips.  In white.  It was like you’d had zero hand in planning your own wedding.

Which, from the look of things, you probably didn’t.

There just wasn’t enough color.  It was all pristine white, as though trying to create some image of purity that he knew you didn’t have.  You weren’t some kind of innocent virgin like the whole church thing suggested.

The trip you two had taken to the Dominican Republic a few years ago had made sure of that.

You’d told him about the wedding you dreamed about in the middle of the night, between sleepy kisses and wandering hands.  The sheets had been kicked off at some point.  You’d tangled your legs with his, soft fingers brushing his hair back away from his face as you murmured into the crook of his neck, “I want a small wedding outside.  Just you and me and our family.”

“Yeah, baby?” He’d chuckled, drawing you even closer, if it were possible.  “Just us and our family?”

“Mmhm.  Don’t need anyone else.”

He’d hummed his agreement as he rolled the two of you over, leaning over you.  His forehead pressed against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist.  “What else?  Hm?”

“What do you mean, ‘What else?’” You had asked, his t-shirt riding up your torso.  You’d stolen it at some point, almost permanently becoming one of your so-called ‘sleep shirts.’

“Tell me about our wedding.”

Your bright eyes crinkled as you giggled, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.  “Our wedding, huh?”

His fingers attacked your sides in retaliation, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“Okay!  Okay!”  You had allowed him to lie on your chest, his head resting right above your racing heart.  His weight was a welcome one, grounding you and keeping you in the present.  Just as Bucky had his demons, you had yours, too.  Your voice was soft and sweet, barely audible, as you continued, “It’ll be outside… in June…  And there’ll be flowers.  We’ll have so many flowers that no one will know what our color scheme is supposed to be.”

A laugh from your fiancé, your soon-to-be husband, pulled him out of his memories.  God, the smug bastard.

Part of him wondered if he even knew about your past relationship.  Granted, he had to.  You were together for so long, it would be strange to not at least mention him to your new lover.  Your fiancé.

Right?

Without a second thought, he stood up from the cold, hard pew and went through the double doors that people were still filing in from.  He didn’t care that he received more than a few dirty looks after bumping shoulders with a few people.  He didn’t recognize more than half of them.  Some of them he can vaguely remember from one of your family reunions.

He had so many questions that he needed to ask you.  He needed answers.

His invitation was crumpled in his hand as he searched the church, looking for any hint that might lead him to where the bridal party was getting ready.  He knew that he’d find you wherever that was.  Wanda and Natasha, too.

“Bucky?”

The familiar voice stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to see your older sister standing standing behind him.  Josephine, or Jo, as she preferred, was your only sister, the second born of five.  He had no doubt in his mind that she’d bawled when you’d asked her to be your maid-of-honor.

“Hi,” he said with a bit of a wince.  He knew how he looked right now.  Crazed.  Desperate.

She had a glass of what appeared to be water in her hand, but he could smell the vodka from where he stood.

Some liquid courage for the bride?

“She doesn’t like vodka,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Jo rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and crinkling the silky gray material of her bridesmaid’s dress.  “Yeah, well, she used to not like guys named Chad either, but here we are.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to respond at all, and just stood there with his mouth hanging open like a codfish.

“Come on,” she said, nodding further down the hall.  The first few feet were completely silent, their footsteps muffled by the old carpet covering the floor.  There was no way this church had been renovated since the seventies.

“She misses you, you know.”  She kept her eyes forward, refusing to look at him as she admitted things she’d sworn secrecy to.  “She won’t admit it to anyone but me, but she does.  We all do.”

His blue eyes drifted down to the cardstock in his hand.  It was white, just like the rest of your wedding, with you and your fiancé’s names embossed on it.  It was worn from the amount of times he’d folded and unfolded it in his anxious state.  “I didn’t expect to get an invitation.”

“She didn’t send it.  I did.”

It was said so matter-of-fact that he didn’t even register her words at first.  But the second he did, he tripped and almost fell flat on his face.  “You what?!”

“Oh, come on, Bucky,” she said, stopping in front of him.  “This…  This whole thing isn’t right.  I know you feel it, too.”  She motioned back down the way they came.  “This isn’t her.  She’s settling for someone that isn’t right for her because she thinks you don’t want her.  And I…”  Her eyes, the same brilliant shade as yours, drifted to the ground.  “I knew that if you came, it would mean that you still love her.”

“I—”  He ran his hand over his face.  “Of course I do.  But she deserves more than me.”

If Jo’s eyes could’ve rolled to the back to her head, then they would’ve.  “You’re both absolute idiots.”  She grabbed his hand and set the glass of vodka in his hand before pushing him towards a closed door.  “This is your chance to fix it.”

He looked at her once more before turning back to the door, knocking once.

“Come in.”

God, just hearing your voice in person for the first time in three years sent waves of affection through him.

The first thing he saw when he opened the door was your back.  You were sitting at the vanity in the room, toying with one of the pins your hair.

“Jo, can you help me?  This just… isn’t right.”

But Bucky was frozen by the door.  His mouth was suddenly dry and he had to fight the urge to down the entire glass of vodka in his hand.

“Jo, really—”  You turned in your chair, freezing when you saw him standing there instead of your sister.  “Jamie?”

You looked so… so shocked.  Hesitant.  Maybe even a little scared?

“Uh…  Hey, sweetheart,” he said, swallowing down the lump in his throat.  “It’s, uh…  It’s been a while.”  When you just stared at him, he held out the glass.  “Jo gave me this to, uh, to give to you.”

But you didn’t take it.  Your fingers were white from how hard you were gripping the back of the chair.  “What are you doing here?”

His heart was beating so hard he was sure his ribs were going to break like glass.  “You…  You look beautiful.”

And he wasn’t lying.  You were truly a vision in white.  The veil covering your hair was trimmed in delicate lace, framing your features in a way that made you appear almost angelic.

Your fingernails were digging into the palms of your hands as you finally stood up.  “James, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Jo invited me.”

You cursed under your breath, your eyes drifting up towards the ceiling.  “Fucking Jo.”

He took a step forward, a little scared of how you’d react.  His hands were trembling.  “I…  I…”  He cleared his throat as he desperately tried to gather his thoughts.  Rolling his shoulders back, he willed himself to have some fucking courage, damn it.  After what must’ve been an eternity, he finally allowed himself to meet your gaze.  “Listen, I could say a lot of shit right now about how sorry I am, and it’d be true.  Because I am sorry.  I was stupid and dumb and, and a lot of other words that I can’t think of right now because fuck, you’re right here and I…  I miss you.  I miss you more than anything in the world, and if I could take it back, I would.”  When you didn’t retreat, he took a few more steps towards you.  “I love you.  I love you so god damn much, and I never should’ve pushed you away.”  The vodka was rippling, his hand was shaking so much.  “You’re the love of my life, and I’d be willing to bet anything—in fact, I’d bet Steve’s life—that I’m the love of yours.”

“James—”

“Tell me that you love him,” he said, now standing just mere inches from you.  He set the glass on the vanity without breaking eye contact.  You could feel his breath gently fanning across your face.  “Tell me you love him and I’ll leave.  I won’t ever bother you again.  But, sweetheart, there’s no way he can ever love you how much I love you.”  His hand, calloused and rough, tenderly cupped your cheek.  “I don’t have any right to you, I know.  But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t even try to make things right.  And our love story?  I know it may not feel like it right now, baby, but I promise you, it’s just getting started.”

Even though your eyes were watering, you didn’t step away from him.  Your cheeks had just gotten hotter and hotter the closer he’d gotten to you.  “What are you asking me, James?”

“Come with me,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.  His voice sounded pained, his metal hand grasping yours.  “We can get out of here, go home.  Please.”

You took in a shaky breath, a million thoughts running through your mind.

“Say you’ll run away with me, sweetheart.”

“I…  I can’t.”

Bucky jerked away from you, feeling like a pot of boiling water had been tossed onto him.  “What do you mean?”

Nose scrunching as you sniffled, you reached out to him.  “Jamie, please…”

He backed towards the door, shaking his head.  “Don’t ‘Jamie’ me.”

Wiping at your eyes, you rushed to explain.  “I can’t just… just leave him at the altar, Jamie!  I can’t hurt him like that!”

“Why not?!”

You looked at him like he’d grown a second head.  “What the hell do you mean, ‘Why not?’  I’m engaged to him.  I promised to spend the rest of my life with him, and—”

“You don’t love him!”

The words died in your throat.  Your chest was heaving against the confines of your dress.  “I’m engaged to him.”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” he said bitingly.  His arms waved around dramatically as he spoke.  “You’re sitting here in a dress, about to give the rest of your life to an asshole—Which, by the way, really?  Chad?  You decided to marry an asshole named Chad of all things?—because you can’t hurt his feelings?”  He really wished he’d downed some of that vodka right about now, even though it wouldn’t really do much for him.  “Are you really going to throw your life away like that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to keep yourself from crying.  You were supposed to walk down the aisle in less than thirty minutes, and your makeup artist would kill you if you’d ruined her hard work.  “I…  I love him.”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, hoping that you would realize what a mistake you were making.  But when it didn’t come, he let out a huff of air.  “You keep telling yourself that.”  He took one last look at you as he opened up the door, ready to leave.  “Have a happy life, sweetheart.  I’ll…  I’ll see you around.”

He allowed the door to shut behind him before the waterworks started, forcing himself to not go back in when he heard you crying.

Stupid super soldier hearing.

“Bucky?”

He looked up to see Jo standing there, the hopeful look in her eyes quickly diminishing.  “She, um…  She says she loves him.”

He knew that she could hear you crying even without a super soldier serum coursing through her veins.  Without even giving him a second look, she slipped into the room and out of his sight.  Your sobs seemed to get even louder when she entered.

Not able to withstand the torture that was being so close to you without being able to call you his, Bucky ran.

He left the church, grabbing a bottle of champagne that was sitting on the catering truck outside.

It would seem that your reception was to be in the basement of the church, of all places.

He didn’t even bother to tell anyone he was leaving.  After all, he’d ridden with the team to the church, and he didn’t want to have to beg one to drive him back to the Tower and miss the ceremony.  They’d actually been invited.

You wanted them there.  But not him.  Not after how badly he’d fucked up.

It wasn’t like any of them actually expected him to be able to make it through the vows, or even into the sanctuary.

He aggressively wiped at his eyes as he walked down the crowded streets of New York City.  “Don’t you have places to be?” He wondered aloud as yet another person bumped into him.

His feet knew where to take him before his mind did.

The 50 Street Station on Broadway.

The night you first met, you’d just finished a shift at Ellen’s Stardust Diner.  Your roller skates were sitting by your feet as you waited for the subway.  Bucky had just been wandering around the city and had somehow ended up across Manhattan.

He’d instantly been smitten with the girl working her way through university, and it had been history from there.

He sat on one of the benches, uncorking the bottle with little difficulty.

If anyone was curious as to why an Avenger was drinking in a subway station at noon on a Saturday, no one asked.

And in his nice suit, too.

“Oh, buddy, how the hell did you end up here?” He asked himself before taking a long swig from the bottle.  Some of the bubbling liquid dribbled down his chin and he wiped it on his jacket sleeve that definitely cost more than his childhood home back in the twenties.

He would kill for some of Thor’s Asgardian mead at the moment.

But he’d just have to settle for some second rate champagne that, honestly, probably wasn’t even real champagne.

“Probably made in America,” he muttered to himself as he inspected the bottle.

Sure enough, right there on the back under all the nutritional information, it said Made in California.

“Can’t even get real champagne for her,” he said to no one in particular.  No one in the station was paying him any mind, choosing to let him wallow in misery on his own.

Seven trains had passed by before he heard it.

“James?!  Jamie?!”

He imagined that right?  The wind from the trains was playing tricks on him.  Making him hear your voice.

An exquisite form of torture, really.

“Jamie!”

But it sounded so real.

Curiously, he lifted his head, the almost empty bottle dangling from his fingers.

And there you were.

Still a vision in white in your wedding dress.  Your veil was half torn off, your hair falling.  The hem of your skirts was dirty from the muck that covered the streets of New York City.  You held a suitcase in your hand, rolling your shoulder back to accommodate the weight and pressure of carrying it through the city.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he got to his feet, the champagne forgotten.  He wiped at his eyes, desperately trying to appear more put together than he felt.  “You…  You are here right?  I’m not hallucinating or anything?”

“No, you’re not hallucinating,” you said as you set the suitcase down with a huff.

He blinked slowly at you, almost afraid that you’d disappear if he closed his eyes.  “I mean, you never know with fake champagne.”

“Shut up.”

He watched as you sat down on the bench he’d been occupying for a little over an hour and a half, crossing your arms over your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here?”

“You’re getting married to Chad.”

With an eye roll that reminded him a lot of Jo, you kept your eyes on the approaching subway.  “Clearly not.”

He snuck a peek at your left hand, heart pounding when he realized that you didn’t even have your engagement ring on.  “Oh.”

You two sat in silence for a few minutes, not speaking.  It was so peculiar to be in the exact spot that you two had met seven years before.  So much had changed but at the same time, so much was the same.

He was still crazy about you, for one, and it would appear that you felt the same.

“I hate that you’re right all the fucking time.”

His heart skipped a beat and he finally turned to look at you.  “What was that?”

And despite how much you fought it, a small smile was tugging at your lips.  “Shut up.  You know what I said.”

“I’m not right all the time,” he said slowly, inching his pinky closer and closer to yours.  “I wasn’t right to leave you.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“I should’ve just told you that my anxiety was getting the better of me like you told me to.”

“Yes, you should’ve.”

He inhaled sharply as his finger finally brushed yours, and you allowed his fingers to intertwine with yours.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his.

The silence between you was loaded with tension.  And the both of you knew that you had a lot of things to discuss, things to figure out if you were going to work in the long run.

But you were here and he loved you and you loved him.

And that was enough.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #shb3000wc

[misssilencewritewell]

Overall review of wizards. Spoiler warning. This is just my opinion. If you enjoyed it, I’m happy for you. I think it was far too rushed.

Five episodes in we finally started to get introduced to interesting characters. But the pace never slowed down long enough to understand their role, their personalities, purpose, etc. It was a quick flash of ‘Oh that’s cool-and they’re gone...but I wanted to see more and understand...’ The quick glimpse of Angor Rot (my boy 😭) Why did he fish Morgana from the river? He hates humans...I’m confused??? He has magic. Did he learn from the evil magic squad?

The graphics are incredible. It looks amazing but I feel like for me to have a connection to this part of the story it had to have been longer. Another ten episodes of us getting to know Douxie in Arcadia would’ve been nice. When you dump as much information and new things on viewers it’s just too much for us to handle. I was so distracted by going “the heck is happening” to ever bond with Douxie. This makes me sad because I was enamored with him in Trollhunters. Also, he went from super suave bad boy to derpy bard boy. Not necessarily bad...but personally, I enjoyed his confidence in Trollhunters. Straight up hit a gum gum with a guitar. Not a magic one...just a regular guitar. Chad move. But this...felt weird. I personally think it would’ve been a much better plot twist had he been Mordred. Would’ve given him a darker edge, a vendetta, an interesting character arc. His goal to be to avenge his mother Morgana and kill Merlin/Trollhunters. Instead we find out that he’s basically a edgy, awkward bard. Which isn’t bad but not enough character development for me to be excited about any apparent growth or newly discovered powers.

Steve Palchuk (while I love his character) was unnecessary to this plot. I would’ve preferred Eli. His brains would have been helpful and I think his comedic relief would’ve fit better than Steves. Steve’s jokes just didn’t seem to land. The comedy relief was not timed right. Again, I absolutely loved Trollhunters and 3 Below...but there was never a moment to stop and catch your breath to know the world and characters which made it difficult to enjoy.

I still don’t fully understand how magic works. Douxie taught Claire for a minute and that was it and now he’s her teacher? Morgana and Merlin walk to the other side and say that sorcery dies with them but Claire and Douxie are left. Magic is...emotion? Kinda? Idk they never explained. 🤷‍♀️

Arthur’s character was...confusing to say the least. He misses his love and hates “dark” creatures because they killed her. But he comes back from the dead...to atone for his sins...by being evil? That didn’t make sense to me. Same with Morgana coming back and him being like sup sis! Know I tried to kill you but we are blood family! His super quick switch to asking for trolls help and loving his sister again was unexplained and made 0 sense. Just make him a dislikeable character and leave it at that. Sometimes it’s better to keep things simple. Over complicated plots can be messy and unenjoyable.

Morgana going from villain to hero was expected but executed poorly. She would flip like a switch and I just couldn’t sympathize with her as much as I did when she was a villain. I enjoyed her passion while being dark. Her redemption arc could’ve been handled so much better. Her having a romantic thing with Merlin and Merlin betraying her becoming the true villain while she is thirsty for revenge would’ve been top tier world building. We got butt jokes from Steve instead.

Strickler and Nomura. I want to see them. Especially back then? Oh they would be so evil and dark and I LIVE FOR IT. Especially since we love them now. It’d be cool to be reminded of their past. Back to the Jim smelling of human without being a changeling. Could’ve seen more on that and an interaction with him. They’d be fascinated I’m sure. Morgana created changelings but that could’ve easily been explained that she was working behind Arthur’s back the whole time. Working with Gunmar and creating changelings to infiltrate the castle while pretending to be submissive in court to Arthur and Merlin. It would explain why Changelings value cunning even more so and it would’ve been more believable than her talking to Claire one time and saying “yes! I’ll just tell my bro he crazy and needs to stop! Thank you kindly foreign hand maiden with dark magic!” Like there’s no reason for Morgana to trust her. Use her...sure. She would want Claire power, but Morgana’s character was far too rushed to make sense. I miss it when she was just a villain.

Also...Jim gets stabbed by a blade and they don’t call his mom? They don’t let her know her son could be dying? She’s a doctor. She doesn’t know much about the dark Magicks but she’s so smart and Strickler is her boyfriend. She should’ve been told. She should’ve shown up. I love her character and she adds a lot to the dynamic. Steve was the focal point far too often.

Bular. (Inhaled deeply). I missed him so much. It was cool to see Gunmar and Bular again. Bular I feel could’ve been interesting to build more too and I’m grateful for what we received. He obviously was more impressionable than his father. Morgana saved him and he immediately vouched for her while touching his fathers shoulder saying softly “she spared my life.” Like...Bular is an excellent character because even when fighting Jim in his final moments, Jim talks to him about dad issues and you can see Bular think about it and ultimately decide his fate. Just...ugh yes I missed the angry tall charcoal man.

Confusing part though...Gunmar and Bular declare that forest their own. Jim and Deya are there and watch as they scare off Arthur. You’re telling me they just let them go??? When they’re trying to recruit trolls for the war? They just go welp...see ya. Nah. There should’ve been dialogue there. The strange troll that smells of human but isn’t an impure. Cue the changelings. Could’ve been an awesome Segway into the life of the gum gums because honestly...Arthur was a douche and I sided with the Gum gums. Like yeah they eat people but Arthur was so...weird and uncomfortable to watch that I’d rather see the Gum gums who make no qualms over what they want or who they are.

The...giant dragon that’s the familiars dad. No reason for him at all. An attempt at a quirky dad character that landed flat. He went from oh lemme get you a cup of tea to DONT ChALlenge Me BoY I KnOw KaRAte!!! And I was like...ummmmm excuse me??? And then he went on to give a lesson on grief and show pictures of his son and I was like Soooooo we aren’t burning Douxie to a crisp? We are just going to throw in a quick ill timed lesson on grief?

The fight between Krel, Claire and the gang vs evil Jack Frost, eye ball raven, and evil Arthur electric boogaloo. Instead of showing the fight they did a recap. That fight would’ve been so awesome to watch and instead we got a recap of them getting their booties kicked. It’s an effective time saver but lazy story telling.

The fawn earth bender woman is important because she was part of the secret magic club and decided she didn’t want to kill people anymore...or something. As if her club ever lied to her about what they were about to do. Like Oh we are killing people? I thought you were joking for millions of years.

They all need her back to do...something evil that I can’t remember which I assume the movie will be about. I want more lore on evil Jack Frost and eyeball raven. They just were like “Congrats Morgana! We are the cool super old magic squad. We are the dopest thing in this show and we won’t say anything about ourselves besides a vague description in under 3 secs that leave our viewers confused and disappointed because they want more.”

Like seriously. They were the best part. Their intro was on a flying castle and I kinda hate that their intro was Merlin yelling “Oh no! Them!” Like we are supposed to know what and who they are. Build up is so important for an aundieces understanding. Like who they are? What they want? What they are? I spent the first half of the show mostly confused and the last half moderately confused and bewildered.

In conclusion, not my fave. It lacked the charm and quirkiness of 3 below and the depth and character development of Trollhunters to deliver a mediocre segway to a film. I really want this film to do well...but they will be on a time crunch and I was not impressed with how they handled this one in ten episodes. Fingers crossed the movie does better.

#trollhunters #blinkous galadrigal #jim lake jr #claire nunez #angor rot #3below #wizards #review #krel #steve palchuk #arrgh #bular #gunmar #morgana #merlin #king arthur #barbara lake #walter strickler #nomura #changelings

[hibiscusangel15]

Why Tragedy Exists

An angsty @ichirukimonth 2020 fic this time.

Summary: When you spent your whole life fighting, what was there to do when you had nothing left to fight for? What purpose did Kurosaki Ichigo even have in this world anymore?

Ichigo’s life during the seventeen months without Rukia. For Day 7 of Ichiruki Month 2020.

Rating: Teen

(Belated) Day 7 Prompt: why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief.

Also crossposted to FFN and AO3!

When you spent your whole life fighting, what was there to do when you had nothing left to fight for? What purpose did Kurosaki Ichigo even have in this world anymore?

“Hey, bleached-hair kid! I’m talkin’ to you, asshole!” Another faceless thug snagged his collar. Yet another nameless gang gathered to back up their cookie-cutter character of a leader.

He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t want to be here. But where else did he have to go?

Another meaningless scuffle. Another bruise, another scrape, more blood to be cleaned later.

Flurried fists and tiny pocket knives and screamed obscenities never seemed so dull before.

Other boys his age often picked fights with him. Had done so as far back as he could remember. All over trifling, inconsequential matters that seemed so laughable to him now. His hair, his attitude, his existence was all wrong.

Only now he had the strength to take them all on by himself. Only now did he choose to fight them for no reason at all.

Chad interfered in one of these fights once. For a moment, they were a team again. They fought side-by-side without the burden of death or the balance of the worlds looming over their heads. This was just a brawl on the street. Nothing more, nothing less.

Once Chad called an ambulance for all the knocked-out thugs, he offered to treat Ichigo out to some food.

Ichigo said nothing. Didn’t even thank him. Just spat out coppery blood on the concrete and stalked off without looking back. Chad wouldn’t chase after him or insist, he knew. Knew all too well how to take advantage of his friend’s inherent kindness.

He never felt more disgusted with himself.

Time moved on. Everyone around him recovered. They all got over the horrors they’d just barely survived. Only he remained stagnant, falling behind, grasping at something forever out of his reach.

He never thought that saving the world would be so thankless.

Tatsuki once invited him to watch her karate team practice and give them a few pointers. None of the upperclassmen were all that stoked about it, but they’d heard about Kurosaki’s reputation. One of them even challenged him to a fair match to test his skills.

He nearly refused. Until the guy went on and on about how Ichigo’s only fighting experience came from fights in the street. How a punk like him couldn’t possibly have learned the discipline or technique a real warrior possessed.

Tatsuki told this smug upperclassman off, stabbing him with reminders that he didn’t even qualify for nationals last year. The upperclassman—Ichigo was never very good at remembering names—snapped something at her, and it was only then he stood up and accepted his challenge.

Ichigo took him down in a few minutes. Then another upperclassman claimed he cheated and demanded a match with him, and another one after that. Their pride as one of the top karate teams in the nation was staked on this.

Unfortunately, these guys were all weak.

None of them would last a day being a Shinigami.

They begged and begged him to join their team despite all their injuries. Despite how afraid of him they all were. To them, to normal humans, Kurosaki Ichigo was little more than a monster.

So he refused. Such things simply didn’t hold his interest anymore.

And then they offered to pay him.

Ichigo hadn’t had much need for money before. Though his father didn’t make much running the Kurosaki Clinic, his family lived comfortably enough.

Now those bills waved in his face meant something else. Something new to latch onto.

With enough money, he could move far, far away from Karakura Town. He could leave everything behind. Go to a university where no one knew him. Start fresh. Start anew.

Ichigo could forget last year ever happened. He could finally forget her.

He took the deal, but made his own conditions as well. This much would only pay for the week. He wouldn’t ever be considered an official member of the team, so they couldn’t ask him to participate in competitions.

They were not comrades. They were not friends.

Word got out about Ichigo’s “services” to the other sports teams at Karakura High.  Soon enough, he found himself making weekly and bi-weekly contracts to help them out during practices.

It was a decent way to make money, he supposed. Looking into how much apartments cost outside the city, though, he knew it wasn’t enough.

He’d have to find another job soon.

Ichigo was out with the track team when he spotted Ishida alone in the park. No, not alone. He couldn’t sense the enemy, but the pocks in the grass and suspiciously trampled playground equipment more than spoke for itself.

He didn’t know what he was going to do when he took off. Instinct never really left much room for rationale, after all.

He leapt high over Ishida’s head, grunting in surprise when his foot connected with an intangible figure. The earth rumbled underneath as a plume of dust kicked up a few feet away.

Definitely a Hollow. A big one.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kurosaki?” Ishida snapped. His arms were extended before him, holding a bow Ichigo couldn’t see anymore.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m helping you! The least you could do is thank me.”

Idiot! I’m not going to thank you! The echo of her voice rang so unbearably clear in his mind. He wished he could cast it aside, wished the memory of her would not linger in every little thing he did.

Ishida's eyes flickered away, and he leapt a distance much wider than any normal human would’ve been able to cover. A fist-shaped crater bloomed before him. Ichigo raised his arms to block the debris flying past, choking on the dust swirling in the air.

As a habit, he reached behind him for a sword that did not exist anymore. Would not exist ever again.

Fate was once again the millstone, he the grist. It turned relentlessly, endlessly onward, further away from her and back again.

Powerlessness. Normality. Both synonymous with complacency.

Both equaled death.

“You’re only getting in the way, Kurosaki! Just back off and let me handle this for once,” Ishida yelled.

Ichigo watched him mimic pulling an arrow back, deliberate and steady. Watched Ishida fire that shot above his head. There was no fanfare, no sense of accomplishment to accompany it. He didn’t even know where the Hollow was.

“Is it...dead?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Ishida lowered his arms. “Yes.”

“I see.”

Silence weighed in the air far heavier than any reiatsu ever could.

“Hey, do you ever feel bad about the Hollows you kill?”

Ishida frowned at the question. “What do you mean?”

It was pointless to ask him this. It was pointless to continue.

“Quincies completely destroy souls with their arrows, right?” Ichigo clenched his own shirt in a fist. He had to stop talking. “Don’t you ever feel bad that any random Hollow you killed might be some lost soul in pain?”

Ishida studied him for a wary moment then shoved his glasses further up his nose. “It can’t be helped. If it comes down to saving a Hollow or an innocent soul, I’d choose the innocent one without hesitation. Surely you’d do the same, Kurosaki.”

“I could save both of them.” The words were so quiet, so riddled with hollow confidence. “I’d save them both without even thinking about it.”

“Funny, you once said to me that you knew you couldn’t protect everyone.”

His friends didn’t always have the right words to say. He couldn’t expect them to understand.

And yet….

“But I did save everyone! I saved Karakura Town. I saved the entire damn world as we know it. What makes you think I couldn’t save two souls at once the way I am now?”

His chest ached. The strain was unbearable. He was drowning.

“Are you calling me weak? Do you think I’m so incapable of protecting anyone that you’d rather cast me aside than even let me try?”

Ishida looked away. “Quit putting words in my mouth, Kurosaki. I never said any of that.”

“Oh yeah? I’m in the way? I should back off?” He trembled with directionless rage. “All of you guys think I’m some weakling that needs to be protected. That I can’t fend for myself anymore. And I’m so fucking sick of it!”

“Uh, h-hey, Kurosaki, are you okay?” the captain of the track team asked behind him.

Any idiot would know he wasn’t.

Ichigo turned away. “I’m fine.”

The captain paled at the sight of his scowling face. “Um, you can finish your conversation with your friend—”

“We’re not friends.”

Ishida sucked in a sharp breath, but said nothing. Did nothing. Again.

“Kurosaki!”

Ichigo didn’t turn back. How could he? They’d all turned their backs on him. It only seemed fitting he return the favor.

The wheel continued to turn.

Finals were a pain to deal with, especially with all those remedial classes he had to take for missing so much school before. Though difficult and boring, they weren’t entirely unmanageable.

He hadn’t really talked much to the others in a while. Better to distance himself now. Better they all learn to let him go so he’d have no further reminders of the last year. Of her.

It was stupid to think they’d ever go so quietly, though.

“Ichigo!” Tatsuki called to him on the street.

He stopped walking but refused to look back.

Several sets of footsteps scraped along the concrete behind him.

“You’ve been avoiding us for weeks now, Kurosaki,” Ishida said. “But now that Finals are over, you can’t hide from us anymore.”

“I wasn’t hiding from any of you. We’re all in the same class,” Ichigo replied, keeping his tone unaffected.

“You know that’s not what we mean, Kurosaki.”

Fate was cruel in each revolution. In each turning of the wheel, he would always be crushed under its power.

“Kurosaki-kun,” Inoue piped up, her voice wavering just a bit. “You’ve been acting very strangely since...that day Kuchiki-san left.”

Her name. The mere sound of it dragged him down when he’d tried so desperately to claw himself to the surface.

He hadn’t said her name in months. Didn’t even dare to think it.

“Ishida-kun and Sado-kun and Tatsuki-chan told me everything that’s been happening with you. And...we’re worried.” Her voice bubbled and warped, and he was drowning again. “We don’t know why you’re pushing us all away, Kurosaki-kun.”

They didn’t know? They really didn’t know why he couldn’t bear to be near them?

“I can’t stand the way you all look at me.”

Such a disgustingly petty reason. Such a terrible excuse. When even he couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore.

“Ever since I lost my powers, you’ve all been acting like I'm fragile and useless!”

Enough.

“I can’t stand it!”

Shut up.

“I don’t want your pity!”

Please stop.

“I can’t wait to get the hell out of Karakura Town so you all can finally leave me alone!”

The rain would follow him, though. That cursed rain would always follow him.

He was drowning. Why couldn’t they see?

Tatsuki was the first to speak. “You’ve always been like this.”

“...What the hell did you just say?”

Even now he refused to look at them.

“What, does being mad all the time make you deaf, too?” she snapped. “I said you’ve always been like this, Ichigo. You don’t know any other way to express your grief outside of lashing out.”

“Is that right?” Ichigo stood up straighter. “And what makes you think I’m grieving, Tatsuki?”

“Don’t you dare act like I don’t know you, Kurosaki Ichigo!” Her voice rippled through the water. “We’ve known each other for so long—we’ve been friends for this long—and you couldn’t even bother to tell me what was going on with you from the beginning. I had to learn about all this Shinigami stuff after the fact! And not from you, either! From Orihime! From Chad and Ishida! But you didn’t tell me anything! Not when you left to rescue Kuchiki-san, not when you went to save Orihime…. I know you’re grieving because this is the exact same thing you did when your mother died!”

Ichigo finally whirled on them, eyes burning with so much fury it was difficult to look at him head-on.

Ishida stepped in front of her, arm outstretched like a shield. “So you’ve become the sort of person that would attack your friends over something like this? Do you think Kuchiki-san would be happy if she knew she’d left you in this sorry state?”

They kept saying her name so freely. As if she was so commonplace. As if his heart could bear that burden.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Didn’t she tell you she’d be watching over you, Kurosaki? Do you think she’d approve of anything you’re doing now? All your fights. Your rage. And for what?”

Ichigo gritted his teeth. “I don’t need her approval! I don’t need anything! I’m happy without her! I’m happy I’m finally normal!”

Ishida’s usual calm demeanor cracked, and his face twisted into a scowl. “What you’re doing isn’t normal, Kurosaki! Constantly picking fights with strangers, ignoring all of us, butting into simple Hollow fights—”

Inoue sucked in a breath. Clearly there were some things the others hadn’t told her.

“Does it make you feel strong, Kurosaki? Does it help you forget that, just for a moment, you aren’t completely pathetic?”

Ichigo punched him square in the jaw. His glasses flew off. A sickening crunch sounded under his foot when he took a bewildered step back.

Inoue ran to him immediately. “Ishida-kun!”

Tatsuki grabbed his arm, tried to pin it behind his back and get him to submit. Ichigo wrenched his arm out of her hold and turned to shove her away.

Chad stepped in between them. There was that awful pity reflected in his eyes again.

Ichigo wanted to wipe it away.

Chad took blow after wild blow to the chest, to his stomach, each one more frustrated than the last. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but he did not move. The pity in his eyes did not change.

Ichigo shoved Tatsuki to the ground when she tried to intervene again. There was yelling. So much yelling. None of it was enough to pierce through the rain. It wasn’t enough to save him.

His hand suddenly bounced off an invisible barrier, bruising the knuckles and his pride all in one shattering blow.

“Kurosaki-kun…” Inoue muttered, her voice cracking.

She flinched when he glared back at her. That look on her face made him hate himself all the more.

It was the same look she wore when he first protected her with his Hollow mask. It was that look every other human threw his way.

Monster.

“Please...stop this.” Tears spilled down her face. Ishida wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, and she folded into the embrace. “We’re your friends! So please….”

Ichigo couldn’t take it anymore. All his sorrow and grief and aimless rage collapsed around him and he screamed.

Chad caught him before he sank any further. “Ichigo!”

“I can’t…. I don’t….”

He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning. He was dying.

A steady hand squeezed his shoulder, another placed flat on his back. They held him above the water. They lent him their strength.

The rain still echoed around him. He still struggled to stay afloat. But maybe now he would rely on his friends to protect his heart.

A single tear crashed to the ground as bright as a falling star.

“I’m sorry.”

                                                        * * *

Quiet mornings were practically nonexistent in Karakura Town.

“Maaaaan, I can’t stand not talking about this anymore! Doesn’t it drive you insane?” Keigo screeched while walking alongside Mizuiro.

Mizuiro scrolled through social media on his phone, only half-listening. “I’m not sure what you mean, Asano-san.”

“Don’t you ‘Asano-san’ me again, Mizuiro! I’m talking about all the weird stuff Ichigo and the others did a while ago! I mean, I know Ishida and Chad and all the others said it’s better if we don’t talk about that stuff with him, but c’mon! How’re you not supposed to talk about ghosts and monsters and Shinigami after finding out they exist? It’s impossible!”

“Considering your track record, I’m surprised you managed to hold out for this long.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean? I can be sensitive to others’ feelings!” Keigo insisted. “But it’s been forever. Ichigo might be okay if I talk to him about it now.”

“Might be?”

“Don’t make me second-guess myself, Mizuiro! I’m gonna talk about this so much, even I’ll get sick of hearing about it!”

Mizuiro finally looked up. “Everything that happened to us was pretty unbelievable. Sometimes I want to believe it was all some weird nightmare I had. But...I don’t really want to talk about it. There isn’t much left to be said anyway. Not if reminding Ichigo of it all will just depress him.”

At this, Keigo’s enthusiasm deflated. “Well, yeah, I guess. But don’t you wanna know what he thinks about Rukia-chan not coming to visit all this time?”

What a tactless idiot.

Mizuiro’s smile was more polite than genuine. “I think she’s the main reason he’s been feeling down.”

“What? So you’re saying that they—”

“I’m not saying anything, Asano-san.”

His cold facade nearly fell at Keigo's childish pout. Honestly, if he wasn't able to pick up on these things after all the time he'd known Ichigo, then there really was no hope for him.

Keigo didn’t get a chance to talk to him until lunchtime.

“I wonder what Rukia-chan’s up to.”

Ichigo nearly spit out his juice. “What’s Rukia got to do with anything?”

“I’m just saying, would it kill her to pop in and say hello from time to time?” Keigo flopped about on the floor like a fish. “Don’t you think it’s cold of her to not show her face even once since then?”

Yes.

“It’s not cold,” Ichigo replied.

Liar.

“She’s not in charge of Karakura Town anymore, so it’s completely normal for her to not hang around.”

Keigo squinted up at him. “You don’t miss her?”

More than anything.

“No reason to.”

He rattled off the same bullshit excuse he always did whenever anyone brought this up. He always wanted this slow peace. He didn’t need his powers anymore.

He didn’t need her in his life.

Before today, when was the last time he’d spoken her name aloud? When did Rukia become someone who never left his mind?

Ichigo stared up at the sky. Dark clouds blurred through a once-clear blue.

A black butterfly fluttered past. His absent hand trailed after it, chased it in the hopes it would perch itself on his finger. It flew up higher, further than he could reach, and he slowly let his hand fall away.

Fate turned on relentlessly. It would not falter, would not pause even for them. He had wished, foolishly perhaps, that he could go back to the moment Rukia disappeared from his eyes. Go back just to tell her everything he could not say.

He loved her.

He loved her with every fiber of his weak human heart.

The wheel kept spinning. The butterfly grew more distant.

Rukia would not come back to him.

The wind picked up, and he finally turned away.

I wonder if I can keep up with the speed of a world you’re not in.

#ichirukimonth #ichirukimonth2020 #Ichiruki #OTP: Black Sun and White Moon #Kurosaki Ichigo #Kuchiki Rukia #Bleach #my fanfiction

[kickingitwithkirk]

Happy Coincidence Chance Discovery

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Piper, Jared Padalecki x Piper,

Characters: Dean Winchester /Jensen Ackles, mentions of Chad Michael Murray 

Word Count:4367

Warnings: cursing, kissing, nudity, implied sex/genital fondling/teasing 

 *Jared and Jensen are single.

A/N: for @idreamofplaid​  Thanks for the Memories Challenge #plaid and the memories  HAPPY BIRTHDAY JARED🎉

Prompt: Season 11, episode 4, Baby

A/N: Baby is my favorite episode but every time I’ve watched it I kept wondering; Sam’s hook up with Piper the waitress? So this is my fill in that blank with a Jared twist.

Divider: created by @writeyourmindaway​

*No beta all mistakes are mine

Dean drives into the parking lot of a roadhouse just after dusk and Sam looks at the marquee shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you serious? Dean, it's late, I’m exhausted and..and.. and starving.  And this place. I mean, even Swayze wouldn't come to this roadhouse.” Sam groused.

“First of all, never use Swayze’s name in vain, okay. Ever.” Dean chastises his brother for such a sacrilege, “Second, you don't remember this place? You don't remember Heather, the hunter we worked the wendigo case a couple years ago?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam partially smiles, remembering that night of fun.

 “Yeah, exactly” Dean taking the same trip down memory lane.

“What, she’s here tonight?” Sam asks, perking up a bit.

 “I texted her, she's working a rugaru case in Texas.” Dean says.

“Actually, she never texted me back. That's not the point, the point is that we have a ton of driving left to do just to go to a town where it's not probably a case.” Dean points ahead, “But in there, good times.”

 “Uh...” Sam hedges looking at the building.

 “But time heals all wounds, especially good times. What do ya say?” Dean looks at his brother hopeful.

 “I say... knock yourself out.” Sam answers with his usual reply and Dean looks away, “I'm gonna find a diner and dig into the lore like Cas did, see if anythings ever happened where we’re headed.”

“Ah man, you really got to learn to have fun.” Dean’s reply was full of disappointment in his little brother.

“Seriously. It’s pathetic.” 

They both climb out of the Impala. Sam grabs his bag from the backseat and starts walking back towards town as Dean heads into the roadhouse. 

***

Sam had walked over a mile looking for somewhere to eat. Being Saturday night he thought there’d be more open but that’s small town living, the streets roll up at noon on the weekends. 

He was about to give up and hike back to that mom & pop gas station he passed for a microwave burrito, preferably bean to get back at Dean, when he happened upon a small, local place, Mak’s Diner. 

Hitching his bag up, he pushed open the door expecting the usual greasy spoon Dean's unerring sense navigates towards and stops just inside the front door.

It was an older establishment, obviously one of those passed down from generation to generation places but to his surprise it was well maintained, despite the C on the marquee being burnt out.

“Evening, have a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice called out from the kitchen. Sam walked past the counter smiling at only other occupants, an elderly couple having coffee and dessert, heading towards the back where family seating was located. 

As he passed the next to last booth he noticed a closed laptop, several open books with notes scrawled around their margins, highlighted paragraphs and a few notebooks scattered on its tabletop.

He dropped the bag on the seat and shed his jacket before sliding into the booth, fishing out his laptop and the legal pad that he had started making more notes on earlier.

“Hey there, what can I get you?” 

Picking up the menu laying by his elbow Sam glances through it, “Coffee and the Cobb salad, thanks.” He orders closing the menu and looking up to hand it to the waitress. She is differently not what he would have expected to find in a backwater burg like this one. 

Her makeup is understated, nails painted a neutral color and her copper hued hair is pulled back in an elegant chiffon, not a high ponytail or hastily bobby pinned up-do, held in place with a real silver clip, the type that’s handed down as an heirloom.

“Just the Cobb salad?” She asked looking under the tabletop, taking in Sam’s long legs somewhat stretched out under it, boots bumping against the other side of the circular booth. Her blue/grey eyes slowly travel up appraising his body till they meet his.

“Big boys like you need more than a few leafy greens for stamina.” 

Sam felt himself blushing like he was seventeen again. Waitresses blatantly flirt with Dean and vice versa all the time so he’s taken aback by this woman's more than blatant appraisal of his physique.

“I, um, yeah, ju..just the salad.” Sam stammers out.

“Okay, be back with that coffee.” Her smiles genuinely, not that faked for the customers sake one he’s used to.

Sam appraises her retreating figure like she did him. She’s not wearing the nurses white or black rubber soled shoes that’s usual waitress gear he’s seen but a brand of tennis shoes he knows are out of the typical income of career restaurant staff. 

The fifties style, yellow uniforms color is completely unflattering, not fitting her right, way too tight around her bust and hips and far shorter than it should be, her mile long legs on display.

Sam shifts in his seat and tries to discreetly palm down his spontaneous erection but not so little Sam is putting up a fight, making it known it's been way too long since he’s gotten wet and he wants to enjoy her junoesque attributes. 

***

While he is waiting for a page to load Sam hears the elderly couple preparing to leave. He watches as the husband helps his wife into her jacket and gently takes her hand, resting it in the crook of his arm as they slowly make their way to the exit, feeling the pang of loneliness that’s his constant companion.

“Mr. Reynolds’s, hang on a sec,” the waitress calls from the kitchen emerging with a white cake box tied shut, “Auntie wanted me to make sure you got this before leaving. She’s sorry she missed your anniversary party.”

“You tell her we missed her, needs to hurry up and get well.” Mrs. Reynolds remarked as her husband took the box with his free hand. She glanced back towards Sam, “Sweetie, you gonna be okay here with the likes of him?” 

Sam kept his expression neutral, waiting to see how this plays out. He knew people found him intimidating because of his size and being a stranger in a small town, he definitely stands out but not many were that blatant about it.

“He ordered a Cobb salad, I think I can handle him,” she jested winking at him.

The couple bid her goodnight and she went back into the kitchen, Sam realizing they were now all alone. Sighing, he starts reading the info again trying to figure out what exactly their hunting is. Or not.

He was so focused on his research like usual he didn’t acknowledge the waitress standing there with his order.

“Kmm hmm,” Sam’s head snapped up, “must be something really good if you don’t notice the likes of me.” She chided him setting down a coffee decanter and cup.

“Sorry, guess I was kinda caught up.” Sam moves the laptop and notepad over as she sets down his salad and two types of dressing. “Figured you might not be a ranch type of guy so I grabbed the vinaigrette too.” 

“Thanks, I prefer vinaigrette, don’t usually get offered it.” 

“I’m pretty good at reading people which is why I also brought you this,” she set down another plate with a lettuce wrapped, curiously colored and, by the smell, not meat burger with all the fixings, a generous helping of baked sweet potato fries and a green colored milkshake.

“I didn’t order this.”

“I know but it cooks night off and I’m trying some new recipes. Seeing as you're the only other one here, you've been conscripted as my guinea pig.” She slid into the other side of his booth where an identical plate rested, “I wasn’t kidding about you needing more than just a salad. Besides, I hate eating alone, you wouldn’t believe how often it happens. Fuck, where’s my manners, I’m Piper.” She stuck her hand out across the table.

He takes her preferred hand amazed how it fits perfectly in his, “Sam.” 

“So Sam, figure out what you're hunting yet?” She asked nonchalantly as she picked up her burger, “Cause, not being judgey, but that’s some really random shit you got there.” She takes a bite, watches as his expression bounces between startled and incredulous.

“How…”

“Saw your Tarsus 99 when you took off your jacket. I had one as a kid, then daddy got killed on a hunt and I got sent here to live with Auntie, she doesn’t cotton to hunting.” 

Piper picked up a fry pointing it at him, “But what I really wanna know, where the hell did you get that demon blade, ‘cause I’ve never seen one like it before.” 

Sam hesitates, “That’s a long story.” 

“Don’t close till one and I’ve got nowhere to be after.”

Sam decides to deflect instead of answering. “So what is it you do, because you're definitely not a waitress.” 

“Officially, I’m an antique appraiser. Unofficially, I’m helping a wayward hunter who graced my door with something he can’t figure out.”

***

Sam and Piper, after closing the diner, stayed another three hours hashing out the research for his case were now taking their time walking back towards the roadhouse. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask, what’s with that name tag?” Sam noticed early it read Maggie.

“Came with this god awful uniform. Auntie insists that we all adhere to how her daddy ran the place. So when I came back to temporarily help out after her surgery, Maggie decided she was not gonna take orders from someone younger, quit and I got stuck with this. I told Auntie it wouldn’t fit, even with letting out the hem. Maggie was like five-four and I’m over five-ten! 

Ugh! I keep popping these stupid top buttons and can’t freaking bend over without showing everyone my C U Next Tuesday.” 

Sam smiled that nervous smile he got when unsure how to respond to an answer he wasn’t expecting.

“I normally wear this to cover it,” moving her pocketed hands in the light weight, knee length sweater she had put on when they left the diner, “but I have to confess,” Piper turned around, walking backwards, “I took it off when I saw you come in, thought what the hell, been long time since a really cute guy has walk through my door so...” She bit her lip, turning back around as they continued down the lane in companionable silence.

Sam mused over her confession admitting to himself he was interested in her too. He enjoyed sharing different theories and bouncing ideas of what they might be hunting back and forth with her, surprising him with her unique take on things.

Piper might not have been the type he consciously steered towards since Jess but she was comfortable to be around, didn’t feel his usual awkwardness he normally had around most women. 

They arrived at the roadhouse a few minutes later and Sam led her towards the Impala.

“Damn, you brother is a fucking artist, how many times has he rebuilt her?” Piper asked walking around the car, running her hand over the Impalas pristine exterior. 

“To many.” Sam replies, putting his bag on the front seat. “Can I have a look?” He turns to see Piper standing by the trunk. “Um, sure.” Strolling over he unlocks it and lifts the interior wheel well exposing the car's hidden armory.

“Is that a grenade launcher?”

“Yeah, Dean found it at the bunker.” Sam laughed remembering how excited Dean had been when he discovered it. 

Piper shook her head shutting the trunk and hopped up on it, “What’cha wanna do now, go in,” gesturing at the bar, “or hang out here for a while longer?”

“I think I’m good hanging o...”

Piper grabbed his jacket dragging him between her spread legs and kissed him.

It took Sam all of five seconds to process what was happening before his hands grabbed her hips and tugged her to the edge of the trunk, her short skirt riding even higher as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.

Sam jerked back as headlights flashing over them, a patrol car drove into the parking lot. He lifted Piper off the trunk and led her to the car's back door dragging  the green cooler out of their way.

Piper climbed in as he hauled it to the trunk and grabs the army blanket Dean keeps then gets in depositing it and his jacket over the front seat.

“Where were we before being rudely interrupted?” Piper asked, sliding onto Sam’s lap and leaning in to resume kissing him. 

Sam tangled his long fingers into her now loose hair pulling to halt her, “What about that patrolman?”

“Won’t be back till closing, around six A.M.”

“That means Dean won’t either,” he says closing the space between them, heatedly attacking her lips.

***

Piper ran her hand over his bare chest, “How long is your refractory period?”

Sam shifted to look down at her, “umm, around twenty minutes.”

“Hmmm, I’m gonna have to see what I can do to shorten that ‘cause we are so doing that more than once again.”

“And how are you gonna do that?” 

Piper stared at him slowly trailing her hand down his torso. Sam’s breath hitched as she lightly teased her fingers across his lower stomach, running through his treasure trail and over to his hip.

Shifting further down his body she continued running her fingers over the top of his left thigh feeling the hard muscles flexing under the skin. She placed both of her hands in between his legs shifting his left one off the seat and bending his right leg back placing his foot flat on the bench seat. 

Piper kneels in the space between Sam’s spread legs continuously moving her fingers in random patterns over the insides of both tights, touching him everywhere below his waist.

Sam closed his eyes groaning loudly, dropping his head back against the window as her fingers played over his balls feeling her other hand travel behind them teasing over his...

“You fell asleep in the fucking car!”

His eyes snapped open startled. Blinking rapidly he sees Dean leaning through the open car window looking at him. 

“Dean what...where’s Piper?”

“What’s a Piper?” He growled out, “Dude, we wrapped twenty minutes ago and I’ve been looking for you, got worried cause you weren’t answering your fucking phone Jay!”

He took a good look at Dean. His foggy brain finally realizing its mistake, taking in the headset hanging around his neck and the ball cap he likes wearing when directing. “Jen, sorry, guess I’m still in Sam headspace, got disoriented for a sec.”

Jensen laughed, “You find one grey hair and suddenly you're getting memory loss and needing naps? I’ll have to remember to have you in bed by nine, old man.” 

“Your fucking hilarious Jack.” Jared shoots back sliding across the seat getting out, “Man, I had the weirdest dream.”

“From the happy noises you were making that was far from weird. And speaking of happy,” Jensen's eyebrows went up as he pointedly looked down.

Jared glances down thinking he’s drooled all over himself only to see the prominent bulge in his jeans.

“Bob’s called a meeting in five but I think we’re gonna be late.” 

***

“I’m telling you it was so real! She was tall with coppery blond hair, tasted like chocolate peppermint and has this tattoo above her...” Jared paused grinning, keeping that specific location to himself, “I’ve never in my life had such a vivid dream like that.”

“Dude, you like petite brunettes.” 

“I know..so why would I make her a redhead?”

“Hell if I know, it’s your giant melon. Maybe all that sugar ribbon you eat is finally getting its revenge.” Jensen snarks as they enter the meeting room.

They were greeted by Bob’s gruff voice, “About time you two showed up. Alright, now that everyone is finally here, we need to get everyone up to speed. We’re having to make changes to the filming schedule.” He pauses looking at him notes, “Jared, don’t need you to come tomorrow for those new promo shots with, what was that new character again?” 

“Y/N Y/L/N, Sam’s new love interest.”

“Right, anyways, writers scraped that idea. As some of you heard, several of our exterior locations got flooded with that last storm and it’s taking time to find new locations so instead of doing blocking we're gonna do a quick read through of the new episode.”

Jared opened his copy of the new script to episode 4: Baby.

Reading the opening scene he experiences deja vu, quickly scanning the first two pages: bunkers garage: Dean washing the Impala, Sam having a possible case in Oregon. Next scene: interior shot Impala, Sam gets a protein shake out of cooler, Dean wants to know about the beer. Next scene: pulling in roadhouse parking lot, Dean trying to get Sam to join him, goes to eat instead, shot from Impala view watching Dean walking. Next scene: daybreak continuing from the view of the car...

“Fuck me.” Jared whispers, catching Jensen's attention. “What’s wrong?”

“This is how my dream started.”

Jensen pulls a yeah right face.

Jared shifted in his chair leaning closer to Jensen, looking directly into his green eyes, “I’ll prove it. Next scene: Dean gets in the car at daybreak and a naked waitress pops up in the backseat with a voice-over from Sam. Dean gets out peeping in the driver's side back window at her getting dressed. Cut to next scene: Sam climbs into front seat buttoning his flannel as he apologizes for having sex in Dean’s car. Dean, happy his brother finally got laid drives off quoting Bob Sager lyrics, playing Night Moves and Sam changing a lyric. 

Jared continued to lay out the entire episode from memory as Jensen flips through the script following.

“Bullshit Jared, someone snuck you a copy of this script, you're totally fucking with me.” 

“Jensen, not this time.”

***

Jared walked back to his trailer aggravated that Jensen won’t believe he didn’t get an advance peek of the script. He can’t shake this unsettling feeling that he was forgetting something important.

He was two steps into his trailer when his phone vibrated. Chad left a voicemail instead of texting, weird.

“Jay man, you gotta do me solid. A friend of mine got the part of Y/N on your show and I don’t know what the fucks happening up there but she flipped the fuck out on me! Need you to check on her, she’s outside one of the guest trailers. And have her call me back after she’s calmed the fuck down!”

Jared snorted, another woman pissed off at Chad, shocker. “The fuck you getting me into this time Murray.” Jared mutters to himself as he heads over to the guest stars trailers and hears a somewhat familiar voice outside of one.

“What do you mean there’s nothing you can do? I get here and now they're telling me they’ve dropped the story line.”

There was a pause in conversation as Jared walked closer to hear more clearly over the lot's noises and was shocked when he saw her sitting on one of the trailer's steps.

“But I signed a contract...what? I don’t remember seeing that in there. So they can just arbitrarily drop the part with no notification, that’s bullshit! I’ve never had a clause like that in one before. I gave up my job and apartment for this!” She gets up and paces around not noticing him. 

“They're giving me the bit part of the waitress in this episode, have a five am call for hair, getting a blonde rinse so I look more like a Dean type girl. I don’t know what the fuck is with these writers, it’s like they don’t get Sam, should’ve left him like Kripke originally created him.” She paused, “paying me what? At scale! That’ll just cover my petrol for the drive back to L.A. Wait, what about my six month lease? Could you check on it.” 

“Oh, giving me two nights at the Hilton. How magnanimous of them,” she sarcastically replies, “can I still get that part on Arrow...cast someone else.” She abruptly ends the call and sits back down on the step slumping over her knees.  

“So, how much of that fucked up conversation did you overhear?” She asked not looking at him.

“Um, almost all of it.” Jared confesses, “I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping but I got a voicemail from Chad,” she looked up staring in disbelief at Jared, “he’s worried and wanted me to check on you.” 

“Fanfuckingtastic, can this day get any better? I’ve completely humiliated myself in front of Jared Fucking Padalecki!” 

Jared can just make out her blushing in the still dimming light. “I wouldn’t say completely, I mean, you could drop your pants and yell Pudding.”

She blinked at him before doubling over in laughter, “Alright, point taken. Still, it’s a crock of shit you don’t need to be bothered with.”

“Chad’s kinda made it my problem. Look, I don't know all the details but maybe I can help, I can call casting..”

“Oh hell no! Thanks but no thanks. Bunch of assbutts on social media were already speculating about how someone like me got the part in the first place. Last thing I need is more ammo for the haters, they’ll tweet something like I had a three way with you and Ackles because I was desperate to get the part back.” 

Jared cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair embarrassed to feel turned on by the imagery she conjured up in his mind. 

 “Mmm, that’d be my wet dream come true, but not the point, they’ll just come up with some random shit.”

Jared understood being all too familiar with the anti whatever’s having been the target himself.

“Okay, how about we go to my trailer,” she gave him a skeptical look, “where you can have some privacy to call Chad back. I’ll get de-Sam’d and we can talk some more or grab a bite if you're hungry.”

“You don’t know me from Adam, what if I’m some psychotic serial stocker nut job?” 

“If your friends with Chad, you absofuckingloutley are Ms. what's your name.” Jared sarcastically remarks given her a mischievous grin.

“Touché, and it's Piper,” Jared froze at her name, “and you’ve been friends with Murry longer than me so I know you’re straight up batshit crazy.” She smarts back standing up, “lead on, oh gallant knight.”

***

Jared walked out of the bath toweling his wet hair sees Piper lounging on his couch still on the phone with Chad.

As he crossed over to the kitchen's fridge he couldn’t help but notice her low rise jeans had ridden lower, revealing the top half of the tattoo just above her..

“Dude, should’a told me Padalecki has a tattoo kink,” Jared tripped over his feet before catching himself embarrassed at getting caught, “Yeah, that was your boy.” She winked at him, “No way in hell I’m ever showing it to you perv.” Jared loudly laughs at that. “Hey, when I get back I’m PA’ing for you till I get another gig. Don’t you dare argue, you got me into this so it’s that or I’m on your couch for a month,” Piper rolled her eyes at Chad’s response, “Yeah, yeah, talk to you later.”

“Is that how you met Chad, working as a PA?” Jared inquired coming over to sit down next to Piper handing her a beer. 

“Yeah, paid the bills while doing auditions, was starting to pick up a few bit parts around LA.” Piper starts nervously fiddling with the bottles label, “I heard about the casting call for a new Sam girl and Murry talked me into trying out for it, so I figured unless I kiss Crowley I don’t have a shot in hell and holy fuck, I got it.” 

She stopped talking but kept playing with the label. 

“Hey, whatever it is you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Jared says gently touching her shoulder in a reassuring manner.

She took a long pull of her beer before continuing. “My Auntie died and I inherited everything, including her debts. I negotiated a smaller settlement but it wiped out all my savings.” She paused draining the rest of her bottle. “I figured it was serendipity..”

Jared is half listening, feeling that uneasy sensation again at that last word.

“...gonna be Sam Winchester’s...”

“If we’re meant to meet again,”

“.. weren’t killing her off after three episodes but then they decided to drop that story line...”

“we will.”

“...I should be going. Thanks for the beer and letting bending your ear, I’m gonna get out of your hair.” Piper gets up heading for the door.

Jared finally remembers.

“I believe in serendipity..maybe you can too.”

He quickly jumped up moving between her and the door blurting out, “I know you said you didn’t want my help but you can’t go, not yet.”

“Okay, why not? ‘Cause any other time I’d be up for some wham bam thank you ma’am but so not in the mood right now.”

Taking a deep breath he goes for it, “So, get this, after we finished filming today, I fell asleep in the Impala and had this dream…” 

***

Jared sat on the couch nervously chewing on his thumb watching as Piper paces back and forth mulling over his story.

She abruptly stopped and sat down on the table in front of him. “So here's the deal, I will believe everything you've told me,” Jared opens his mouth to say something but Piper reached out laying her fingers on his lips, “if you can answer one question.” 

Jared took her hand remembering how it felt so right in his, “Okay.”

“Since you’ve seen it in your dream, what does my tattoo mean?”

“In Japanese, it means happy coincidence,” Jared confidently says sitting back as Piper climbs onto his lap, “but that's the first line, the second one is chance discovery.”

Jared pulls her in, brushing his lips against hers, running his tongue across them so she’ll part them , allowing him access. He can taste the beer they’ve been drinking but there’s that sumptuous flavor of her underneath he finds intoxicating..chocolate peppermint..thinking to himself..

Serendipity.

#plaid and the memories #Baby #sam winchester x piper #jared padalecki x piper #SPN Supernatural #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #Jensen Ackles

[partyanimal167]

Bodyguard AU

Hey everyone! I am not new to the Bleach fandom, but since I’m rewatching the anime I decided to try my hand at some GrimmIchi fanfiction since the ship has caught my eye (and I’ve bingeread a bunch of fics the last couple weeks). I have no idea if this story will continue or any plans, but hey, I wanted to try writing them. I hope you enjoy :)

He got on his nerves. He was always there even if he couldn’t see him. He knew there was something about him that made him want to fight.

Grimmjow spit out the bloody gauze from his mouth and that signature grin was smacked on his face. “Shit, I can still hear the crowds. They love me!” he snickered. 

“Well the victory was well earned. You looked like you were in trouble there for a minute.” Grimmjow’s trainer, Shawlong, replied and finished cleaning up Grimmjow’s wounds.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez was currently undefeated for last year and was looking to take the Middleweight title. He was a cocky bastard who was nicknamed “The Panther” for his fast moves and stalking actions when looking for an opening. Things were looking up this year as endorsements and side gigs were coming his way. However, he wanted, no needed, to secure that championship title. It would be the cherry on top.

Grimmjow kissed his teeth. “Tch, shut it. I was doing fine.” he grumbled. He heard a chuckled and glared at the source.

The only complaints Grimmjow had besides no title was the orange-haired brat named Kurosaki Ichigo who was currently paying more attention to the game in his hands and the chocolate piece in his mouth. 

“Why is this bastard here again?” Grimmjow complained.

Aizen chimed in. “For your protection. You know you have some rowdy fans and plenty of enemies. I don’t want anyone hurting you outside of the octagon.” he explained all too calmly.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. “If someone tryna pull a fast one on a UFC fighter they can just get what’s comin’ fer them.” he stood up and put on his shirt. “Besides, are we sure this brat can even do his job properly? He ain’t even paying attention. Can he throw a decent punch?” Again there was a cocky chuckle.

Ichigo stretched and pocketed his game into his suit pocket. “I promise I can hold my own against you. That’s why I was hired.”

“Bullshit. Me? You’re biting more than you can chew, Strawberry.” Grimmjow pressed.

“Watch your mouth or you’ll be needing Shawlong to add some bandages to that pretty stupid face of yours.” Ichigo threatened and the typical scowl was plastered on.

“I appreciate the compliment. Unfortunately for you, I plan on getting a chick tonight once this is all over.” Grimmjow shot back.

Aizen finally stepped in. “Guys enough.” He tossed a set of keys at Ichigo. “Take him home tonight. Grimmjow, no clubbing”

“What!” the men shouted. “Doesn’t he have a driver?” Ichigo argued. “Why can’t I go out?” 

Aizen only smiled. “We only have three matches before Grimmjow challenges for the title, and I don’t want anything happening to him. The driver can go on a vacation, and I know you want the cash. You’ll get a raise.”

“That’s a low blow...” Ichigo mumbled and pocketed the keys. 

“And Grimmjow, I don’t need you out making a bad image for yourself. There’s a limit to how much of a bad boy people want to see.” Aizen explained. He stood up and fixed his suit cuffs. “See you gentlemen in a couple weeks. Good night.” he left the room.

Ichigo rubbed his neck. “Guess you’re not getting laid tonight.”

Grimmjow thew a towel, but Ichigo caught it.

~~~

Apparently, Aizen wanted Ichigo as a live-in driver/bodyguard because Grimmjow found the boy was always closer than he thought. Thankfully, his bachelor pad was big enough for a family, and there was a separate building that was almost the size of a single home itself. Ichigo took up temporary residence there. Grimmjow was annoyed at first when Ichigo’s friends had rung his doorbell instead of going to the other building. He gave them as much attitude as he could muster, but they didn’t seem too troubled. 

He was shocked to see one of his bodyguard’s friends show up in training clothes with a pair of kickboxing gloves on. Then, the one benefit of Ichigo’s presence came in the form of Mr. Chad Yatsutora. Grimmjow was surprised to learn that his bodyguard did in fact take up some physical training and sparred. Chad was willing to spar with Grimmjow but insisted that he was still and up-and-coming fighter and nothing compared to the undefeated celebrity. 

Grimmjow should have called bullshit. 

Grimmjow chugged his water bottle and looked over as his bodyguard and his best friend chatted away after the two had gone at it for about an hour. Chad still needed some help with speed, but his blows were powerful.

Chad returned to Grimmjow and did a little bow. “Thank you.” 

Grimmjow shook his head. “Ah, don’t worry about it. You’re more fun than going to the gym. They’re too uptight.”

Chad simply nodded and looked over at Ichigo. “You don’t train with Ichigo?”

Grimmjow was a bit surprised at first and laughed. “The Strawberry?” he howled. “You’re kidding.”

Chad shook his head. “He’s good.” That was all he said before bowing again then leaving with his things. 

‘He’s good.’ That rung in Grimmjow’s head for a few days. Now, that he thought about it, Ichigo did seem to keep up during the endurance training the fighter did at home. Grimmjow would run miles in the neighborhood, and Ichigo would be only trailing by a few yards saying that he needed to keep an eye out for his surroundings. Ichigo would occasionally spot for Grimmjow in case he thought the man was pushing his boundaries at home with no Shawlong to watch him. Grimmjow was sure that Ichigo was fit well enough to have some of his own fights, but the man would never step into a practice ring with him. He wanted to change that.

Grimmjow walked down stairs and spotted the young man in his kitchen--the other building didn’t have everything. Ichigo felt his presence and turned. “Do you believe in clothes?” addressing Grimmjow’s nowhere-to-be-found shirt. 

Grimmjow wanted to get annoyed, but he had a mission. “Shut it, you like it.” he mumbled. He watched as Ichigo fixed himself a bowl of cereal. “Fight me.” the words came out before he could stop.

Ichigo lazily looked up at him before shoving a spoon in his mouth and shaking his head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Kinda stupid for a bodyguard to hurt the person he’s meant to protect.” Ichigo answered before going back to enjoying his cereal as he leaned on the counter.

Grimmjow wasn’t going to budge. “Oh what protecting? I’m fine.”

Ichigo raised a brow before placing his bowl down and reaching into his basketball shorts for a phone. He unlocked it and pulled up the gallery before tossing the phone. “Those are photos that vary from stalkers, paparazzi, suspicious vehicles, and the occasional bold fan that thinks they can climb a wall.”

Grimmjow swiped through them while Ichigo went back to his cereal. “How come I never knew this?”

“It’s my job to make sure nothing crazy happens. You train and fight, and I keep the weirdos away.”

Grimmjow didn’t want to admit it, but he had a point. He handed back the phone. “I don’t care about that right now. I want to fight you. I need a challenge, and your buddy has his own fights to prepare for.” he paused. “What’s the problem, Strawberry? Ya scared?”

Ichigo glared at him. “Watch it. Aizen, isn’t here to protect you.”

“I think you’re forgetting which one of is an undefeated professional fighter.”

“And one of us has the job of protecting said fighter.” Ichigo then grinned. “I also ain’t the one begging for a fight.” 

“Oi, I don’t beg Kurosaki.”

Ichigo chugged his cereal milk and wiped his mouth. “Keep that pretty face of yours in check. I don’t want to be the one who messes it up.” And with that he walked away and left out the backdoor. 

Grimmjow wanted to chase after him. His instincts were ringing loudly that Ichigo might be the challenge that he needed to get ready for his next fight. He was annoyed and irritable. He obsessed over a challenging contender, and Ichigo might have been what he needed to satiate his desires.

~~~

Ichigo was back in a suit and sat boredly as he watched Grimmjow tore through his training. He went through drills, exercises, and sparring opponents. He was having a bad attitude day. Ichigo thought about his proposal from the other night. Old man Urahara recommended he take the bodyguard position as a way for him to get some type of career going. The old man also said he was tired of patching up Ichigo from his fights with local gangsters, and that he could at least surround himself with some legal fights. 

Ichigo wasn’t so keen on the idea, but he wanted a change of pace where he could help his sisters save for school. Aizen came along after Urahara suggested him. Aizen happened upon a video of Ichigo putting in some work on some thugs who had tried to rob an old lady. Once Aizen learned that he also trained with Chad, he took on the candidate. Of course, Ichigo had to go through vigorous security training and could tell you more about doors and windows than you knew existed. He kept up with the sparring and took on some other fight training to keep him sharp.

He did enjoy watching Grimmjow’s fights, but he knew the man for the attitude and temper he had. They clashed and argued all the time, and that only settled a little since Chad presented as a chance to get some steam out for both of them.

Ichigo caught a water bottle tossed his way. “Take your clothes off.” Grimmjow growled at him breathing heavily and sweating.

Okay, Ichigo did blush slightly at that. “Take me to dinner at least first.” He ducked from a flying glove. “What the hell man?”

“I ain’t taking no for an answer, Kurosaki. You can fight. I know it. I’m tired of waiting. So get in that damn locker room or take me home and we’ll do it there.”

Ichigo was stunned at first, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it this time. He tossed the keys out from his pocket and twirled them around his finger. “Alright, pretty boy. Don’t complain if you get hurt.”

“Hell yeah, Kurosaki.”

~~~

So some gentle flirting. Maybe a part two. Who knows? Let me know what you think. I appreciate the read and hope to contribute more to this fandom. 

Thanks! 

#bleach #bleach anime #ichigo kurosaki #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #grimmichi #ichigo x grimmjow #grimmjow x ichigo #au #fanfic #bodyguard au #partyanimal167 #mine

[writethehousedown]

When the Sun Sets on Us: Chapter 1 (Scyvie) — Phryne

A/N: Hey y'all! So I came up with this idea a couple days ago, and being my dumb self, decided I was going to write it as a whole, multi-chaptered fic for a wthd challenge. So here’s the first chapter of When the Sun Sets on Us, a summer romance featuring romantic cynic Scarlet, and cynical about romance Yvie, absolutely enamored with each other upon first sight and trying to figure out where to go from there — or if there even is something worthwhile beyond immediate infatuation. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Summer opened and spun around Scarlet like a ballerina in a porcelain music box — timely, rigid, delicate, something she constantly found herself swept up in — before it closed again, only to open once more when the sands were hot, the ocean tender, the boardwalk crowded with families and tipsy college students, and she was once again zipping between packed tables.

She pulled a couple of ones out from under a sweaty Miller Lite bottle, trying not to look displeased at a two-dollar tip on a thirty-six-dollar bill. Especially considering the family she’d been serving had been less than pleasant: the spoiled child, the disinterested mother, and the father who’d been staring at her tits every time she’d visited the table. She crumpled the ones and stuffed them in her apron before gathering cups and flatware.

Across the way, a group of girls crowded around a table, stealing chairs from nearby tables to fit everyone under the sun-faded yellow umbrella. They’d caught her eye, pulling Scarlet away from brushing Coca Cola soaked french fries into a bin, mainly with all the chairs scraping against the concrete and one of them swearing as she finally situated herself at the table, only for her phone to fall through the table slats. Mainly, that noise caught her attention. That was, of course, before the woman next to her, all glistening and bright in a stark white bikini top, let out such a course, raucous laugh, holding Scarlet’s attention like she wished that woman would hold her hand. Firmly, unequivocally, like it was only hers.

And then she looked over at Scarlet, met her gaze, and Scarlet swore she smiled at her before looking back down at her hands, fiddling, fidgeting, before her blonde friend threw a menu at her from across the table.

She could have sworn it was a smile. That was, of course, unless Scarlet was deluding herself, which she apparently had a tendency to do. There was something about summer here — the whirling breeze, the ocean air thick in her lungs — that made her feel like every pretty girl was some sun-struck romance waiting to unfurl.

She also could have sworn she’d already wiped up the ketchup smiley face that little brat had left for her on the table, which his parents didn’t feel was their job to wipe up. But feeling her elbow dip into the ketchup, she realized she was wrong before and could be wrong again. She grabbed a napkin to wipe off her elbow, watching as A’keria delivered fruity mixed drinks and a round of shots to that table, losing track of how much time she’d spent cleaning herself off.

As A’keria folded her tray under her arm and walked off, the noise and shared laughter from that table swelling, Scarlet got an idea. She stole one more glance over at the woman, who threw a wicked smile toward the girl next to her before raising her glass to toast.

“To the end of the semester, not failing shit, and finally getting some damn sleep!”

“And cheers to getting that security deposit back,” the girl next to her added, raising her cocktail. “That landlord scum ain’t getting any more of our money.”  

Another girl chimed in, “I ain’t cuttin’ no checks, Mary.”

The woman, who, with every word, Scarlet felt herself becoming hopelessly enamored with, added with a laugh, “To the end of capitalism!”

“To the end of capitalism!” They all clinked glasses before throwing back the shots, eyes wide from the burning liquor.

Feeling a small smile pull across her lips, Scarlet cleared the table quickly, swiping the baskets and beer bottles into her bin haphazardly. She wiped down the table before heading to the back, where she hoped A’keria would still be.

And she was, throwing her tray down on the bar haphazardly before asking for another soda to fill her styrofoam cup. Scarlet came up behind her, gently resting her hand on her arm, trying not to startle A’keria, but her bubbly demeanor gave her away.

“Scarlet,” A’keria drew out, banging her straw against the bar top until it opened. She retrieved the straw from the paper with her teeth.

“So… whatcha drinkin’?” Scarlet began nonchalantly, reaching over to pick up A’keria’s tray and a cloth to wipe it off.

A’keria turned and observed for a moment, nodding as though she were confirming her findings.

“I smell a scheme, Scarlet.”

“What?” Scarlet pushed A’keria’s tray back toward her. “Why would I be scheming? That’s crazy. I never scheme.”

A’keria looked her up and down in disbelief, surely noticing the quirk of a smile spread across Scarlet’s lips, the pleading eyes. She supposed she never was too good at hiding feelings.

“I smell it.” A’keria punctuated every word, poking Scarlet’s arm.

“Oh, that’s just ketchup. It’s like, all over me.” She laughed faintly, weakly.

A’keria tilted her head.

Damnit, she was good.

“Okay, so there’s a girl I really like over at your table—”

“No,” A’keria replied flatly, stirring her soda. Scarlet felt herself fizzle.

“I just really want to talk to her,” Scarlet pleaded. “Please, please, please just give me table four. I’ll make it up to you.”

A’keria paused to sip her soda, though still making time to roll her eyes at Scarlet. “So you’re telling me you want my table of nice girls, who are drunk enough to give me their full, Christian names upon meeting me, who are definitely gonna order three mixed drinks each, probably another round of shots, some food to share, and then leave me a thirty-three percent tip because that’s what nice drunk girls do?” She stared into Scarlet. “You think I’m gonna give you that table?”

Scarlet swallowed. “Did the one in the white bikini top, with the braids in a bun give you her name?”

“You’re getting off topic, Scarlet. And no. We got Silky, Nina, Brooke Lynn, and something so slurred I couldn’t make it out, but your girl wasn’t talking, she was just staring off somewhere, like a deer in the headlights or something.”

Your girl. It had a gilded ring to it.

Scarlet nodded, wondering if it was conceited to imagine she hadn’t given her name because she was still stuck on the look they exchanged. Scarlet warmed at the thought.  

“But I really like her, A’keria.”

“You always do.” A’keria sighed, placing her soda behind the bar. “Come on, we gotta get back to the floor.”

“Wait.” Scarlet grabbed her arm loosely, forcing A’keria to meet her gaze. “I’ll switch a table with you. I’ll give you my table of trust fund Chads. Please, Ki, please,” Scarlet pleaded.

A’keria softened, considering this for a moment.

“They already ordered a pitcher each and just put in food, and they’re definitely gonna drink more. And they talk like they’re rich.”

A’keria let out a chuckle. “How does someone talk like they’re rich?”

“They talk like they hate me and want to fuck me at the same time,” Scarlet deadpanned.  

A full laugh this time. “You’re too much. Also, gross.” A’keria rounded the end of the bar.

“Half the tips from those girls!” Scarlet called after her, causing A’keria to stop in her tracks. “The table of Chads and half my tips.”

A’keria quirked a brow. “Really?”

“I just want to talk to her.”

She nodded before continuing to walk out to the outdoor seating, Scarlet’s heart weighted, sinking through her stomach and legs, straight through the waxed floor. She followed A’keria out.

But A’keria turned, wordlessly heading toward Scarlet’s section, collecting an empty beer pitcher from her table, turning to bring it back to the bar. She came up to Scarlet, who stood still in disbelief.

“You’re welcome,” A’keria said with a cutting sincerity.

Scarlet pulled her into a hug, holding her close as she tried to squirm out, holding the beer pitcher out with a straight arm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“If you don’t get her, it ain’t on me.”

Scarlet nodded, releasing A’keria and accepting her blessing. “You’re the best.”

“Correct.”

Scarlet surveyed the table, the emptied drinks and shot glasses, the menus folded neatly, the rowdy din that she could still hear feet away, though now the pounding of her heart felt far louder.

She smoothed down her apron. She wished she didn’t smell like ketchup. She steeled herself and walked toward the table.

“How are we doing everybody? I’m Scarlet and I’ll be filling in for A’keria from now on.” She glanced around the table, trying to catch the gaze of the girl without seeming too suspicious. “Y’all are on vacation? Who all do we got here?”

Not suspicious of course, Scarlet reasoned. Simply trying to reason that it was good customer service to get to know them. And also, she wanted to know that girl’s name. For good customer service and also romantic reasons.

The small Latina girl to her right answered, taking Scarlet aback with her gruff voice and hand gestures thrown about. “I’m Vanjie, and that’s Brooke Lynn,” she pointed at the blonde next to her, who had her arm lazily hanging over the back of her chair, fingers draped over Vanjie’s shoulder. “Then we got Nina, and Silk, and then Yvie.”

Yvie. Scarlet let it settle in her mind, burrow deeply, let the name root itself there. Yvie. Even in Vanjie’s rough tone it sounded gentle, the sounds spun together like lace trim. Decadent. Exquisite. Yvie.

She snapped herself out of her pondering, hoping she hadn’t drawn any stares while she twirled Yvie around in her mind.

“Awesome! Well I’m Scarlet—”

“Yep, we got that,” Brooke Lynn added, Yvie joining in with a twinkling little chuckle.

God she was so stupid, forgetting something she’d just said moments ago, sure she was going to analyze and reanalyze Yvie’s chuckle at her. She’d analyze for at least twenty minutes, maybe more.

“So, uh,” Scarlet stumbled, fishing around for her pen. “Are we ready to put in some food? Or maybe some more drinks?”

“Another round of Patron!”

“Silk, no,” Nina warned

Brooke nodded. “I’m not going to drink that.”

Silky folded her arms playfully. “Fine then just me, Vanj, and Yvie, since y’all clearly aren’t looking to have fun.”

“I’m personally looking to have a very un-fun time so…” Yvie smirked, her words potently sarcastic. “No, I’m not having another either.”

Scarlet nodded, deciding to play along with the group’s dynamic, trying to recover herself from forgetting she already said her own damn name. “So, what I’m hearing is two shots, two party poopers, and one… well I don’t know what to do with you,” Scarlet trailed off, tinging the end with a light laugh directed toward Yvie.

“More like two idiots and three people who care about, like, not melting our livers with that battery acid.” Nina laughed, stirring the melting ice in her drink.

“Yeah, imagine like a gross liquified organ where your liver should be like it’s just sloshing toxic soup inside you,” Yvie continued, pointing at Silky. “That’s what your tequila does to people. It gives you the soup liver.”

Scarlet tried to hold back a laugh as the rest of the girls grimaced. “Ugh, imagine it’s broccoli cheddar, but inside a bread bowl, but inside of you.” She lowered her voice once she saw no one else react. “But yeah no soup liver, uh, Yvie.”

She said it thoughtlessly, but tentatively, as though she didn’t have permission to say her name. But it did feel wonderful to say out loud; it felt wonderfully spoken from her mouth. And it was wonderful to feel Yvie’s eyes on her once more.

“So, any other drinks or food?”

Scarlet jotted down some mixed drinks and a couple plates of appetizers, just as A’keria predicted — though she wouldn’t tell her; A’keria already knew she was always right — and headed to the back to put the order in, hearing Vanjie begin a rant about why the fuck seaweed exists and who allowed it to touch her foot. Prickling, red warmth spread through Scarlet’s chest as she heard that same laugh from Yvie. She’d like to hear that laugh as many times as possible, for sure.

When she came back with their next round of drinks, she noticed the table quieted as she approached, and remained silent as she placed the plastic cups down silently. And Yvie, she sat with her hands folded, chewing her lip, looking up at Scarlet, then looking down again, then stealing another look, like she wasn’t supposed to be looking, like it was really something she had to steal.

She laid out four straws on the table before realizing her miscount, handing one to Yvie directly, holding her gaze for only a second too long before Vanjie cleared her throat, causing Scarlet to release the straw. The straw fell through the slats and onto the ground. She scrambled to pull another out of her apron.

“Here, here’s a new one.” She placed it firmly on the table.

“So, Miss Scarlet,” Vanjie began. “What do you do around here?”

“Well…” Scarlet pondered, crouching down to pick up the straw, using the opportunity to ponder what exactly she did around here before coming back up. “I just, you know, work here and serve you food and stuff. And I like the beach, of course, so…” She shrugged, finding herself on uneven footing trying to answer that question. Really, she didn’t know what she did around here.

“Like, when you’re not doing this,” Silky elaborated, pointing her glass at Scarlet.

She could talk about school, Scarlet reasoned, shifting her weight onto her hip. That was some way for her to approach the subject of what she does when she’s not at work, getting yelled at by frat bros or being underpaid.

“I go to school for advertising design, and I’m in my last year, so that’s really fun, and also, like, terrifying, because like, what am I gonna do next, you know? I don’t know how I’m gonna turn making flyers for Wednesday Wing Explosion Night into a career, but a girl’s gotta try.” Scarlet feigned a laugh, knowing she was doing a poor job at poking fun at the sheer horror of adult life with an adult job, or really, figuring out adult life and having an adult job.

Yvie perked up, setting her drink back on the table, a smile spreading across her lips. “That’s really awesome. What do you use to make them?”

“Oh, just like, Illustrator, Photoshop. And I have to photograph the wings with our shitty point-and-shoot camera from like, 2004.” Scarlet fiddled with her hair. “So, it’s like a whole process just to get one picture of the wings looking edible.”

“Oh, I had to use that shit for my digital class.” Yvie rolled her eyes. “Photoshop is a little bitch.”

“That’s not true!” Scarlet acted as though she were scandalized. “You just have to treat her nice and she’ll work for you, I promise.”

“Yvie’s just pressed because she almost failed that class.” Brooke pointed out.

Vanjie nodded and took a long sip of her drink. “So pressed, like a panini.”

Yvie opened her mouth to respond but ended up just shaking her head. “It’s just hard.”

“For you,” Scarlet teased back, earning some light laughter from the table.

“So, Scarlet, you got a boyfriend?” Vanjie shifted her gaze to Yvie. “Or a girlfriend?”

“Vanj,” Brooke warned.

“No, no it’s totally fine.” She stole a glance at Yvie. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Of course, Scarlet wished she did, if for nothing but a little bit of joy in her day, someone to enjoy, who enjoyed her, or even someone to indulge in the intoxicating mix of saltwater breeze, sweat-struck kisses, and being in love. She pushed it aside, as she knew she should.

“I’m going to go check on your food,” Scarlet said abruptly, walking away from the table, sure she heard her name tossed around as she left. Or maybe she only hoped she did. She couldn’t trust her senses, especially when she had the image of Yvie looking up at her with those gorgeous wide eyes and flush lips clouding her thoughts.

She delivered their food quickly, normally, trying not to seem as distracted as she knew she was. And then she picked up the empty plates and cups, carefully balancing them on her tray. And then Nina had asked for the check, so Scarlet tried to seem like she wasn’t disappointed when she brought it out and collected the check presenter.

She studied the receipt as she rang them up. There was a hefty tip, written in tight, neat numbers, which she promised she’d share with A’keria. She took her time swiping the card, drawing out the transaction as long as possible, pulling the customer copy of the receipt out slowly. She clicked her pen a few times.

Fuck it.

She scribbled her phone number and a little smiley face at the bottom, placed the receipt and the credit card in the check presenter and folded it quickly, like she couldn’t bear to look at the receipt any longer.

The regret mounted as she placed it in front of Yvie, wishing them all a wonderful time here before scurrying off to the back of house. She couldn’t bear to see them open it and read her receipt, read her number, react to her including it, react to her imposing herself. And even worse, she couldn’t bear to see it laying on the table, rejected.

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She pulled it out, letting it sit in her hands, face down.

It was probably nothing of course. Maybe just a Twitter notification. Maybe her roommate asking another question about where the bag of bags was kept. She let out a shaking breath and looked at her screen.

An unknown number.

A text.

Hi Scarlet xx

***

Tags:  rpdr fanfiction, scyvie, scarlet envy, yvie oddly, vanessa vanjie mateo, brooke lynn hytes, silky nutmeg ganache, nina west, phryne, beach au, when the sun sets on us, lesbian au, concrit welcome, summer lovin 2020, day 1: bathing suit, submission

#rpdr fanfiction #scyvie #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #silky nutmeg ganache #nina west #phryne #when the sun sets on us #beach au #lesbian au #concrit welcome #summer lovin' 2020 #day 1: bathing suit #submission

[wordywarriorwrites]

Chapter 15: Imperfect Union

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn  A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration with the prompt, “Why did you do it?” & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge with the prompt, “Show me. Prove that you can handle me.” Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

Miles of pink sand beaches, palm trees, and the stunning blue-green waters of the Atlantic. Opulent accommodations, accompanied by lavish surroundings, and meticulous Five Diamond service.  

There was a lot they needed to accomplish, but they’d all put the business on the back burner because the meet on the South Shore was about more than just settling accounts and signing bottom lines; it was also about mending fences, giving Nick Fury a proper sendoff, and ensuring the torch was passed into safe, capable hands.  

Dinner had been set up in one of the resort’s waterfront event rooms, and it would’ve been a stilted affair had everyone not partaken in the generous platters of fresh seafood and imbibed nearly a dozen bottles of Mitcher’s Bourbon Whiskey and Screaming Eagle Sauvignon Blanc.

Wanda, Natasha, and Carol got tipsy, giggled, and gabbed like long-lost pals. Fury, Scott, and Rhodey definitely got drunk, and they somehow persuaded Thor, Clint, and Tony, who were all plastered, to join them for a game of high-stakes poker. To an outsider, it looked like they were a group of friends just blowing off some steam, but in actuality, they were all trying to distract themselves and find their bearings.

Bucky maintained his composure throughout the evening and Steve was just as civil. Though nobody dared to point out the elephant in the room, they were all very well aware that the two of them were not exactly copacetic, and needed to be given a wide berth. Steve chose to occupy himself by making the rounds and chit-chatting. Bucky, on the other hand, opted to hide out on the balcony, and he’d just decided to call it a night when Natasha stepped outside and joined him.

She handed him a fresh drink and gently nudged his shoulder, “You okay?”

Bucky took a sip and shrugged, “Why do you ask?”

“Because you seem worried. And you’ve been eye-balling Steve for the past two hours.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he countered. “And I’m watching everyone.”

“How about you cut the bullshit and tell me what’s really bothering you?”  

He shook his head, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” she shot back.

Bucky turned away from the room and stared out at the view, but the sounds and sights of the waves brought him no comfort this time. If anything, his mind churned even harder than the waters of the ocean, and he wasn’t sure how to explain what he was thinking, let alone how he was feeling.

Steve had only returned to Brooklyn to do a job. He’d been set up, betrayed, and nearly killed, but still, he stayed, and he’d remained loyal. He’d brought in the traitors; handed over Fury’s business and crew; gave the Families more than enough intel to set them up for several decades to come. He’d struggled and fought tooth-and-nail for months to put things right and make a clean break.

Bucky could’ve pulled rank, put his foot down, and given Steve’s seat to Natasha, but he didn’t. He knew being put in charge of the West Indies wasn’t what Steve wanted, but instead of giving him his well-earned freedom, Bucky had taken it away, and he didn’t do it because it was just good business, or because he wanted to make the transition more palatable.

He did it because he wanted Steve to stay, and it was easier and less messy to force his hand than to ask him to stick around. He wanted him to stay because whether Steve liked it or not, this was where he was meant to be, and this was what he’d been groomed to do since before he could walk.

Bucky wanted Steve to stay, because even with all the enmity between them, even after everything they’d done to each other, there was still nobody else in the world he trusted more than him.

He wanted him to stay because he’d already let Steve go once, and he’d regretted it. He wanted him to stay because despite what Steve had told him, it had meant something, and Bucky hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since the moment he’d fled Jamaica.

He wanted him to stay because what Maria said before Natasha put her down got under his fucking skin. He wanted him to stay, because no other man had ever fit so well in his life, or would ever look so right in his bed, and Bucky just couldn’t let it go…

But he couldn’t admit to any of it. Bucky couldn’t say any of it aloud, because that would make it too real, and he couldn’t allow himself to be honest or vulnerable or display anything that resembled human frailty. They’d reasserted control, but their grasp over both Brooklyn and their new real estate was still tenuous, and he needed to keep his authority, dignity, and backbone intact.  

“Do you love him?”

He snorted, “Love is one vice I can’t afford to indulge in.”

Natasha frowned, “That’s not an answer.”

“Well, that’s the answer you’ve been given,” Bucky retorted before he polished off his drink. “And on that note, I’m going to bed.”

On his way out, Bucky politely bid everyone goodnight, and then made his way to the elevator. It arrived promptly, and after he stepped inside, he selected the top floor. The doors had nearly closed, but someone shot out a hand and halted them. When Scott’s face appeared, Bucky stepped aside to make room for him, along with Steve and Rhodey, who followed quickly behind.

“I told you that you shouldn’t have dealt him in,” Rhodey groused.  

“A Royal fuckin’ Flush on the first hand,” Scott groaned in defeat. “How’s that even possible?”

Steve grinned and clapped them both on the back, “You can pay up in the morning.”

The three of them busted each other’s balls for several floors, and because Bucky’s suite was at the top of the high-rise, he got to be a spectator to all their antics. There were also several stops along the way, and one of the passengers kept readjusting his luggage until it fell right on top of his foot. The owner of the baggage didn’t even apologize, and Bucky was about to go off when he realized the person who had scuffed the toe of his Salvatore Ferragamo was too busy gawking at Steve to even realize what had happened.

Slapdash vacation ensemble of flip-flops, board-shorts, and a white t-shirt. A toned body, sharp jaw, and sandy-brown hair. He blushed and looked positively besotted, but all that doe-eyed innocence was counterbalanced with a flash of a sly smirk and the reveal of a tongue ring when he talked.

The elevator signaled it had arrived at the fifteenth floor, which was where Scott and Rhodey disembarked. If they said anything to him before they departed, Bucky didn’t hear it, as soon as it was just him, Steve, and the dude with the bad manners, the haphazard flirtation began.

It was way too much and far too obvious, which meant he wasn’t a pro, and the way he tried to subtly slip Steve his phone number suggested he was just a horny guy looking to get laid. Steve didn’t engage, but he didn’t exactly shut him down hard, either. Though his tone suggested he was very flattered, he was tactful, and even somewhat contrite when he said he wasn’t interested. To his credit, the guy took the rejection like a champ, and didn’t press the issue further.

Bucky knew he had no right whatsoever to be invidious of “my-name-is-Chad-and-my-room-is-1801-if-you-change-your-mind.” But he couldn’t deny that he really wanted to kick the guy’s teeth in, and he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t relieved that Steve didn’t change his mind decide to go with him.

He couldn’t recollect how many men had propositioned him in the past few months. He couldn’t remember their voices, their faces, or what they said to him. Bucky also couldn’t recall how many times he’d woken up alone, sober and extremely frustrated, because as much as he wanted to fuck Steve out of his system, he hadn’t been able to get it up for anyone else in months.

The automated voice chimed, “Floor Twenty,” and the doors parted. Steve got out and turned right. Bucky was supposed to go left, but he didn’t. Instead, he pursued Steve all the way to the end of the hall and right up to his door. The lock beeped and Steve reached for the handle, but Bucky got to it first. Even though he hadn’t been invited, and knew his presence was entirely unwelcome, he entered Steve’s room, and turned on the light.

As soon as Steve stepped over the threshold and the door clicked shut, Bucky turned around, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and slanted his mouth down hard over his.

None-too-gentle, deep, and possessive – it was a kiss that contradicted his words, shot his best intentions to hell, and betrayed his so-called indifference. It was a lip-lock that produced an instantaneous erection, which proved he wasn’t impotent, but also verified there was only one man he could and always would get hard for.

Bucky growled, pinned Steve up against the door, and bit down hard on his neck. Steve chuckled and Bucky knew – he knew that Steve knew was jealous – and he didn’t care. He just reached for his belt and yanked it open. As soon as the zipper was lowered and his boxers were pushed past his hips, Steve brought his hand to his mouth, and dragged his tongue over his palm and fingers. The hot, spit-slicked grasp around his dick made Bucky’s eyes roll back, and as the pressure increased, so did Steve’s grip.

It was all hot and frantic, but any thoughts of trying to reciprocate flew out of his head the moment Steve started to use both hands. He cupped and fondled with his left and maintained a steady pace with the right. He swiped the pad of his thumb repeatedly over the tip until Bucky was nice and slippery, and the sound of Steve working him over was just as filthy as it was erotic.  

“Is this the real reason I’m here?” he asked with a pointed squeeze. “Is this what you want me for?”

When Bucky didn’t answer right away, Steve jerked him harder, and picked up the pace.

“I gave you everything you wanted, but that wasn’t enough, was it? You want me under your thumb. You want me to follow your orders. You want me to call you Boss, don’t you?”

He moaned against his throat, “I want… Fuck, Steve, I want…”

“What? What do you want?” he demanded lecherously. “You want to fuck me into obedience? Screw me into submission? Is that what you want, JB? Do you just want a hole to stick your prick into, or do you actually want me?”  

“Don’t stop,” Bucky begged as he thrust his hips. “Fuck, whatever you do, don’t stop.”

“Say you want me. Say it and mean it,” Steve breathed into his ear. “Just say it, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I can handle it – that I can handle you – and whatever else that gets thrown at us. Say it, and I just might let you come someplace else other than in your pants.”

Bucky should’ve been a man and owned up to what he felt, but he didn’t. At the same time Steve ripped the orgasm from his body, the word “No!” was also roughly torn out of his throat, and there was absolutely no way to take it back.

He knew he deserved it when Steve released him harshly and shoved him away. Bucky also knew Steve was more than justified in his actions when he spat in his face and wiped his cum-stained hands off on the sleeves of his suit jacket.

“I’m not some fuck-toy for you to play around with,” he snarled as he threw the door open wide.

Bucky pulled up his pants and met Steve’s rage-filled eyes, “I can’t. We can’t and I’m--”

“Just shut the fuck up,” Steve interjected coldly. “And get the fuck out.”

Chapter 16: Exsanguinate 

Everything: @jennmurawski13​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth​ The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard

#stucky fanfic #stucky drabble #stucky fanfiction #stucky oneshot #stucky imagine #stucky smut #mob boss au james barnes #mob boss au bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers x bucky barnes fanfiction #steve x bucky fanfic #steve x bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #the boss of brooklyn #wordywarriorwrites

[seblos]

there’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach - ch 2/10

chapter title: let’s stop swirling, and start twirling

word count: 3,351

[one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine (coming soon)]

read on ao3

Carlos now has a hall pass to miss the last 15 minutes of study hall so he can get to rehearsal early. He probably would have been allowed to leave without one, considering everyone in the cast had been excused half an hour early for costume fittings, but he has Mr. Mazzara to thank for the small yellow paper he clutched in his hand now.

Miss Jenn was already in the bomb shelter by the time he gets there, quickly typing away at her phone until she notices Carlos standing in front of her.

“Carlos, perfect, just in time!” Miss Jenn says as her phone made a fwoosh noise, confirming some order that Carlos couldn’t see. “I left the box of scripts in my office, so can you set up the desks and name cards for the read through? I’m thinking a circle for all the named roles, plus me, you, and our stage manager, and then the ensemble and the rest of tech can just be grouped together behind.”

He was about to ask why not just put everyone in a circle, but Miss Jenn had already made her way out the door towards her office. He shrugs, not caring enough to argue with her judgment. Miss Jenn knew what she wanted; he might as well follow her agenda.

Carlos arranges the desks the way she had asked, then quickly slides over the top of one as he begins putting down the name cards for everyone. He starts with his own choreography card (keeping a mental reminder to take a photo with it later) then director, stage manager, Chad, Troy, Gabriella, and Taylor.

The next card stops him though. Carlos reads over the neat printed “Sharpay” as the conversations he had with Seb from auditions washed over him, warming his heart.

 He glances over at the desk he had left off on, almost directly across from where he was sitting. Instead of putting it there, though, he bit his lip and turns, dropping the card on the desk next to his instead. 

With that, he kept going around the circle acting as if nothing happened. He makes sure to put the Ryan card next to Sharpay just in case anyone decides to ask why Seb was all the way on the other side of the circle from the other leads. Miss Jenn came back in a few minutes later with the box full of scripts.

“Oh that looks perfect!” she tells him, looking at the arrangement. Carlos sucks in a breath, expecting her to say something about the out of place Sharpay name card, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

The theatre kids begin filing through the door just as the bell rang for school to end as Carlos swipes through the few notifications on his phone as Miss Jenn calls for everyone to take their assigned seats. Nothing important, just a new post from Ashley Tisdale on Instagram, a few new twitter followers (he was surprised to see EJ Caswell was one of them) and-

Carlos groans, showing Miss Jenn the text he had gotten from Natalie.

“Who is Natalie Bagley and why do I care if her glands are swollen?” she asks.

“Our stage manager. Guess she’s not coming,” Carlos says, switching off his phone.

Miss Jenn immediately called out Ricky’s friend, Big Red, and asked him to read the stage directions. Part of Carlos is upset that she didn’t just ask him to do stage directions since it wasn’t like he had any lines to read, but it was fine. They needed more tech kids anyway, maybe this would convince him to join backstage.

Or so he thought, considering the next near-hour and half was spent painfully listening to Big Red read the stage directions. Carlos at one point had shot Miss Jenn a pointed look, who looked stressed out of her mind as she asked him to read the punctuation. Unfortunately, Big Red had taken that seriously, and no one had the heart (or the energy) to correct him after he started reading “Sharpay comma heads for class period.” This, plus Carlos’s ADHD made him feel like he needs to take a lap around the school. Maybe around all of Salt Lake City before he’s ready to come back to this.

Instead, he chooses to glance over at Seb to his left, who looks just as spaced out as everyone else did. An idea pops into Carlos’s brain, and he quickly scribbles down an SOS on the blank sheet of paper he had been using to take choreo notes (in which there were none, yet. He couldn’t focus like this anyway.) He then folds up the note and tries to make eye contact with Seb.

Unfortunately, the farm boy was still spaced out as ever, staring at the pages which he turned while everyone else did, although his eyes weren’t moving along the words. 

The universe decides to apparently help him out, though as while Carlos was trying to get Seb’s attention, he doesn’t notice his pencil rolling off the table until it was too late. It clattered on the floor, not catching the attention of anyone except for the boy sitting next to him. 

Seb breaks from his trance, reaching down to grab the pencil before handing it to Carlos with a grin, and Carlos uses it as his shot to quickly hand the boy the note as he takes his pen back. 

He takes the piece of paper in surprise, cocking his head at Carlos for a moment as he unfolds the paper as quietly as possible. For a moment, Carlos wonders if it had been a bad idea.

Until, Seb reads the note and a smile grew on his face, grabbing a pen from his backpack nonchalantly so he wasn’t writing back in highlighter. Carlos noted that it was cow print and wrote in shimmery light blue ink, which, aw. 

He passes it back a moment later, and Carlos grins as he reads the response. Underneath his SOS in round, loopy writing is Seb’s bubbly ikr? big red is the sweetest but this plus my adhd my brain is GONE.

Carlos grins when he reads it. He didn’t know Seb had ADHD too (it’s not exactly something he advertises either, to be fair) but it’s always nice to see someone who can relate. He quickly scribbles back same! im all for new tech kids but i think miss jenn should just let me read from here on out. and i hate reading out loud. (and i have adhd too, crazy lol)

He passes it back to Seb, who’s brow furrows he writes, passing it back a moment later. It now reads she really should. why didnt she? i mean, youre capable of anything, even reading out loud. (and that’s cool! i mean, not cool, but cool that you can relate :) ) 

Carlos smiles. It’s sweet that Seb thinks that about him. He writes not sure. perks of being the unpaid choreographer i guess. 

When Seb gets it back this time, he smiles. well, someone should pay you then. btw have you done the chem hw yet? mr mazzara is killing me

They continue passing the paper back and forth, veering off topic from the show and just talking about school and their families. It’s never been this easy for him to make friends, but something just seems right when he’s talking to Seb, even if its through a piece of paper.

They end up covering the paper, only pausing when Seb has to read lines. They have to move onto the back at one point before Big Red finally reads the last sentence of Act I, and Miss Jenn calls for a break. Carlos is about to scootch his desk closer to Seb’s when Miss Jenn gestures for him to come talk to her. He shoots Seb an apologetic look, who just waves him off with a smile before adjusting his jacket and instead moves to talk to Ashlyn, who looks surprised when he drops down in the seat next to her.

As he follows Miss Jenn over to a corner of the bomb shelter, he worries for a second that she’s going to call him out for not only not paying attention to the script but distracting one of the leads in the process. Thankfully, it seems she didn’t notice and instead starts asking about Ricky and Nini. (As if Carlos has any idea what’s going on between them. Again, hetero drama that he doesn’t completely care about.)

“Should we think about recasting?” Carlos offers. 

“Absolutely not, my instincts are impeccable.” Miss Jenn replies, then adds, “and I’m not scared of a challenge.”

“This one might be impossible. She won’t even look at him.”

“Don’t underestimate me. I come from strong stock. My mother bounced back from an autopsy.”

Okay, not the reply he was expecting, but Miss Jenn was already calling them back together, which meant another hour of listening to Big Red read Act II. 

When he sits down, though, Seb smiles at him again, and Carlos pulls back out the paper.

—

Carlos was packing up his backpack after they ended early rehearsal that day. Ricky stormed off, and maybe it wasn’t necessarily Carlos’s fault that he was quitting the show, but he could feel his chest getting tighter the more he tried to ignore it. If he had just pushed Ricky a little less or cut all the dance talk and tried just a little harder to get him to stay, they wouldn’t be in this mess. 

“Hey, do you need a ride home?” Carlos hears footsteps approaching. He hadn’t realized that anyone was still in the bomb shelter, but when he turned around Seb was standing there. They had talked before rehearsal and in classes, but during rehearsal, Carlos was barely able to spare a glance at the boy playing piano while he tried to teach choreography. Not that rehearsal was about interacting anyway.

“Don’t you live on a farm?” Carlos asks, even though he knows the answer. It’s more of a question of why are you offering a ride if you live so far away?

“Yeah, but don’t worry! Your house is on the way!”

Carlos squints at him, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “You don’t even know where I live.”

“No, but I’m sure it’s on the way,” Seb is grinning at him, and Carlos doesn’t want to say no. Besides, he told his mom they would be done at six, and it’s barely even 5 o’clock, so he nods.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. That would be good,” Carlos returns the smile and Seb beams. He finishes zipping up his backpack, swings it around his shoulders as Seb finishes sending a message on his phone, and the two walk out the door of the bomb shelter together. 

“By the way, I like your shoes,” Seb says without even looking down, and Carlos feels the slightest bit of heat rushing to his face. The shoes in question are cow print, and even though he bought them before his conversation with Seb at the read through, he did think of the boy this morning when he put them on. 

“Thank you,” Carlos says. He’s quiet for a moment, before asking “how are you so happy all the time?”

Seb looks surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re always so smiley and nice, even when everything is crazy stressful, like right now. I feel like I’m just snapping and brushing people off.”

“Well, first of all, you’re definitely more stressed than me,” Seb says, turning his head towards Carlos as he speaks. “I barely played today, considering how much everyone has been arguing with you about the moves. I mean, just because Miss Jenn isn’t there all the time doesn’t immediately give them the right not to listen to you.”

“I think it’s that, plus being an underclassman,” he sighs, pushing open the doors to the main entrance of the school. “I mean, Gina respects me but she isn’t exactly the friendliest with everyone right now either.”

“Well, it’s not fair of them,” Seb says, and Carlos bites his lip. He already knew deep down what Seb had said was true, but just hearing someone say it out loud made it so much more real. 

When Carlos doesn’t say anything else, Seb continues. “Besides, it sort of seemed like you weren’t having the greatest time, so I was hoping if I was a little happier, you would be too. Is that stupid?” he asks.

“No, it’s not stupid. It helped. Thanks,” Carlos smiles, because it did genuinely help. Well, either that or the venting. 

Seb smiles again, and Carlos feels his heart flutter just a little bit. Something about Seb’s smiles always made him feel warm. They never feel fake, and they’re always just as bright as the last.

They stop in front of a car, and Carlos opens the door to the back while Seb goes to the front seat. Behind the wheel is a girl a few years older than them who he presumes is Seb’s sister.

“Carlos, this is my sister, Georgie,” he introduces, and the girl turns to smile at Carlos. She has the same blonde hair and blue eyes as Seb.

“Nice to meet you, Carlos,” Georgie says. “Seb texted saying you need a ride, so where am I going?” 

For the most part, the car ride is silent. There’s music playing, a mix of old 2010’s pop and musical theatre, and Carlos can’t tell who’s playlist it is as both Seb and Georgie sing along. It’s not uncomfortable though, and he smiles as he watches the two of them together. He only has step siblings, and he’s not nearly as close to any of them as Seb is. 

“Do you have other siblings?” he asks out of nowhere, and both Seb and Georgie laugh.

“Too many to keep track of,” Seb shakes his head. “I’m a middle child of seven.”

Carlos’s eyes widen. “Seven? And they’re all fully blood related to you?”

“Yep. four sisters, two brothers. Josephine is the oldest, then our brother Cohyn, then Georgie, then me, then Sophia, Paisley, and Isaac. We’re all two years apart, starting at 21 with Josie, except for Isaac who’s 5 and was a bit of a surprise,” Seb explains, and Carlos feels his head spinning.

“How do you remember all that?” he asks, causing both the Matthew-Smith’s to laugh again. 

“Years of practice. To be fair, I don’t know like, half of their birthdays,” Seb says, earning a punch in the arm from his sister.

“Do you have any siblings, Carlos?” she asks.

“Two stepsisters on my mom’s side, both older. Isabella and Victoria,” Carlos says. “Isa is in college and Vic is about to graduate, but she goes to West High. I have a lot of cousins though, which are basically my siblings.”

“Us too,” Seb smiles softly. Carlos is expecting the look that people give him when they realize his parents aren’t divorced, but there’s no change in his expression. It’s nice to not have people ask about it for once (not that he remembers a time before they were divorced anyway. He was three, it doesn’t really affect him anymore.)

Georgie pulls into the driveway of Carlos’s house, and Carlos opens the door. 

“Thank you for the ride,” he says.

“Anytime, Los.” The nickname hits Carlos harder than he’s expecting it to, and he stops for a second, registering it into the mind as his heart swells. Only family members had ever used that nickname on him before, and hearing Seb use it felt… different. But good different.

“See you tomorrow,” he says, closing the door and waving goodbye to the two before running up the steps to his house. He can see them driving away as he closes the door.

“You’re home early,” his mother steps out from the kitchen, and Carlos turns. 

“We ended early. Sort of a dramatic day.”

His mother laughs. “Always is in theatre,” and Carlos can’t help but laugh too. “How did you get home? You could have texted.”

“A… friend gave me a ride. Seb Matthew-Smith, he’s our accompanist and he’s playing Sharpay.” 

He can see a twinkle in his mother’s eye as she nods. “Got it,” she says, stretching it out as she gives him a look.

“Not like that, mamá, just a friend,” he rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re making friends. Dinner will be ready in an hour, I’m going out to play bunco tonight, so make sure you and Victoria clean up,” she tells him, and Carlos nods, taking that as his cue to go upstairs.

As he reaches his bedroom, though, his phone dings with a text from Seb (they had swapped numbers at the end of the readthrough) about the chemistry homework. Carlos sets down his backpack, pulling out the homework in question, and sets it on his desk while he texts back. 

His mother’s voice rings in his head. I’m glad you’re making friends. It’s the first time in a while that he’s had a close friend, and it fills his chest with warmth. 

—

“Where do you sit during lunch?” Seb asks Carlos out of nowhere, plopping down on the seat next to him during study hall. He’s in the library, researching other school’s performances of High School Musical so he can try and get inspiration for their show. When Seb sits down, though, he pulls out an earbud.

“I mean, here, usually,” Carlos glances around the library. “Why do you ask?”

Seb shrugs. “Dunno, I’ve never seen you at lunch before and I was wondering who you sit with. I thought we might be in different periods, but we have gym and chem together sixth and seventh, and you mentioned to me yesterday that you have algebra fourth, so the only option left was fifth unless you take an extra class like some kinda psycho.”

Carlos blinks. “You kept track of all of that?” he asks.

Seb suddenly blushes slightly. “I mean, I don’t know the rest of your schedule, I was only really paying attention because like I said, I was wondering who you sit with. But I guess you sit with… no one…?” he trails off.

Now it’s Carlos’s turn to blush. “I mean, my mom plays bunco with the librarian so she always let me sit in here. The only other person I really talk to is Gina, but she has seventh period lunch. And I guess I could eat in Miss Jenn’s office, but sometimes she stresses me out and I can watch videos in here. Plus it’s a lot quieter than the cafeteria, although I did run into Ricky today-”

Seb cuts him off. “Would you want to sit with me and Natalie? It’s only us at our table.” 

“I- uh. Yeah. Sure,” Carlos says.

Seb nods with a smile. “Okay, cool,” he says, then turns in his seat and logs into the computer next to Carlos.

“Why do you keep inviting me to things?” Carlos asks suddenly, gnawing on his lip.

Seb turns back to face Carlos again. “What do you mean?”

“You offered to drive me home, now you’re inviting me to sit with you at lunch.”

He cocks his head, smiling, although still clearly confused. “Because we’re friends, dummy,” he tells Carlos.

“Oh,” Carlos smiles. “Okay. Cool.”

Seb nods. “Cool.” 

They both go back to doing their work silently until Seb turns around again. 

“Did you say you saw Ricky in here?” he asks.

“Yes! You’ll never believe what he did.”

“What?” “He told me he’s joining the show again! And then, he started dancing. Like, in the middle of the walkway!” They both laugh.

As Carlos continues filling Seb in on all the details of his previous conversation with Ricky, he can feel his heart fluttering. He doesn’t know what is with the other boy in the long run, but hey, at least they’re friends.

#seblos #carlos rodriguez #seb matthew smith #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #my writing #not a star