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sheinthatfandom · 2 years

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How I see tonight’s full Gear going this is gonna be a long one. Also TK a damn liar cause it still went to 13 matches so far not 10 and yes I count the buy in matches. We really not going to bed til after midnight and I wish everyone in Newark a safe drive home and anyone watching in movie theaters a safe ride home.

Nw lets start with the buy in or zero hour. My choices for how the matches will be scheduled is just me guessing and its only for these 3. Blue is who I want to win red is who I see TK picking

1) Ricky vs Brian

One of the few times tonight who I want to win will match who Im guessing is actually booked to win. Ricky and Brian have history and I can’t wait to see Taz’ reaction to his two former team members/ftw champions go at it. Ricky all the way.

2) Eddie vs Jun

I want Eddie because I want him to live his dream to basically beat his hero and idol and just ugh this match on its own us everything to me. But, Eddie also said he could walk away after beating Jun like that’s his dream so I can see Jun getting the win and setting up another match maybe next forbidden door? Or a match for Eddie in Japan and tk booking this in a way that aew will have a foot in to travel and go somewhere else with this.

3) best friends vs the factory

Last match before the show and the match that will be looked at as the one to get people to pay for the PPV. We are getting horrorhausen/whorehausen/darkhausen whatever you wanna call him. It would be beyond stupid booking to have him lose when this has been building up. Its like having demon king balor lose you don’t fucking do it and if you do youre a dummy. Plus champ orange is in there you don’t want a champion losing even if hes not the one getting the pin. No reason for factory to be booked ahead.

For non title matches (and I was really going back and forth if Toni counted since its interim but then decided any physical belt will count)

4) Jungle Boy vs Luchasaurus

This shoulda been in the buy in or not at all. In all honesty is anyone still hyped for this feud genuinely id like to know. With the back and forth injuries its gone cold for me. I want jungle boy to win get a new gimmick and move on luchasaurus can stay a Dino and id very much like to see Christian in a loincloth. Tk would probably have luchasaurus win to keep the feud going until Christian is cleared.

5) Britt vs Saraya

This could really go either way. Honestly im just scared as fuck for saraya getting injured because she was never supposed to wrestle again and its nerve wracking. That said I want Britt to win I want Britt as a tweener I want her to be the legend beater while everyone claims ring rust for saraya and this pissing Britt bad and lengthening the feud. But I can also see saraya beating Brit and being that legend that can’t go down.

6) sting/Darby vs jeff/lethal

I do not care couldn’t even guess what tk would choose I do not care bathroom and snack break

For title matches and we had more than I realized

7)tnt championship Wardlow vs Jo Vs Hobbs

Now with this it can really go anyway. I would like to see Hobbs with gold but I realize they have not focused on him enough to where I think that’s where the booking is. With wardlow i can see him retaining beating both men and then basically stating t hhh at he has in fact NOT lost his momentum so fuck the wrestling tabloids

8 ) womens interim Toni vs hayter

Its Jamie’s time she needs that belt she deserves that belt its hers the crowd is hers the moment is hers the spotlight is hers just give it to her. Tk wants Toni vs Rosa so shell probably retain to combine the belts later

9) ROH championship Bryan vs Claudio vs Chris vs Sammy

Bryan has yet to have gold but honestly hes booked to lose and put over young talent so often I don’t see him winning Claudio should have his fucking belt back we are no where near the roh tv show gibe him back his mf belt. Jericho will probably retain they most likely have a big name ready to take the belt off of him and supposedly he has the belt because they’re shopping the company around to different networks. Homicide and jay briscoe are not names known enough for tv execs, Cody Kevin and Seth aren’t leaving wwe (not that most will realize Tyler black is Seth freaking Rollins and Kevin steen os Kevin owens) so most likely the plan is for Adam cole to take it back or someone new and homegrown. That said if the homegrown is Sammy I will get a plane ticket and fuck everyone up. (Yes I know they’re in nj and i can drive down but it’s Saturday and I don’t wanna go to jail in jersey id rather get arrested in Florida for fucking tk jeriblow and Sammy up) So Chris retains most likely to fuckery

10) tag team belts the acclaimed vs swerve in our glory

I have no idea and I don’t know who I want it could really legit go either way but someone fantasy booked if bowens is injured billy fighting in his place and retaining and keeping the feud alive and like fucking yes please

11) tbs championship Jade Vs Nyla

I know its supposed to be kris and that jade will probably retain but like Nyla has been doing so well and killing it with the stolen belt like gimme more

12) trios world championship Death Triangle vs The elite

They were suspended had an investigation and are still evp’s you don’t get rewarded for bad behavior. Plus death triangle and are really building something here between the heel pac story and then busing up the belts that honestly outside of elite fans no one was excited for cause we ALL knew it would just go to them the whole fucking tournament. Let the belts float freely and give others a chance to do something with it. IE death triangle, best friends, hob, BCC, the firm its way more exciting knowing anyone could lose it at anytime. Elite win cause its their show.

13) world championship Moxley Vs MJF

I love Jon hes had a fantastic several reigns and has carried the company on his back pretty much the whole year. Let that man go on vacation be with his daughter and wife and chill out so he doesn’t break. Mjf has earned this just keep him heel we love to hate him. And regal stays with the bcc.

#aew #aew full gear #aew full gear predictions #loren rambles #I am not tagging each wrestler its basically the whole company #long post for ts

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

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DCxDP fan fic Idea: Danny Fenton's Ex

Danny wants to know that he did not go looking for a fight. He merely wanted to have some of the best hot dogs this side of the USA, in Tucker's words. The human world had changed a lot across differnt timelines but his best friend had assure him, this one was particually tasty.

He planned to pop in, hunt down the street cart filled with buns and meat, then pop out of Gotham. He was meant to visit for less than an hour at most.

He just happened to be at the wrong place and time. It really wasn't his fault! Danny had been minding his own business, using a paper map on the edge of a tall building (his phone had broken in the last ghost fight. Not that it would do any good since it wasn't connected to any living towers), squinting at the streets below, hoping to figure out where he was. The next thing he knew, an angry child leaped out at him with a sword.

Of course, he defended himself! The kid was doing some insane slashes in the air, and Danny had fought enough samurai ghosts to know not to underestimate how powerful a katana indeed was. He had been able to beat the child, encasing his arms in ecto-chains, after a full half hour of combat.

Danny had been dead tired- pun not intended- but just as he thought he was done, a second child had leaped out at him. This one carrying a bo-staff. It took another thirty minutes to beat this one, and just as he was gearing up for a lecture, a third child appeared.

She was wearing all purple and seemed to favor strong kicks. Danny had the bruise to prove it, but just as he could take her down—and stop the other two from escaping since they were attempting to do so—he was attacked by an actual shadow and her red bucket-head friend.

Now, those two were difficult to beat, especially when it was two vs. one. Shadow reacted as if she could predict all of his moves before he even made them, while Bucket Head made incredible shots with his guns covering her attacks.

Danny had already been expelled from his other two fights, so it was a miracle he was able to trick Shadow by allowing more of Phantom to bleed into his fighting style. She couldn't predict the dead!

He ended up on a roof with five children- okay, more like a child, two teenagers, and what could be the early twenties, but they were all young to him. Each was tied up securely with some of his own ecto-chains and glaring- he could feel the hate in their eyes even behind their masks- trying desperately to catch his breath.

"Oh boy, I'm not as young as I used to be. " He gasps between huffs. Maybe Sam was on to something when she lectured them for not having enough greens, normal exercise routines, or even taking vitamins. They really weren't teenagers anymore. "Ugh, I think I pulled something. I need to lie down..."

Just as Danny is allowing himself to slide to the floor, two more shadows jump at him. This time he's far too tired to dodge, and the blue one manages to land a drop kick to his chin. The force has Danny spinning in place, losing his balance, and slamming hard against the roof.

The tied-up children cheer, and if he wasn't a walking bruise right now, Danny would be half tempted to show them all a round two.

"Great Gatsby!" He cries out of reflex, rolling onto his back, ready to take a swing-

"Danny?" a new familiar voice cuts in. The sound is something Danny will never forget, even after all the years they have been apart. He used to fall asleep to that voice, muttering into his hair and warm arms wrapped around him, making promises never kept.

Danny whips his head around to see a man in a bat costume. He squits, studying the strong curve of a very familiar jaw and his voice-

"Wayne?" He blinks. Those lips- so familiar and different all in one- curve into a surprise, but please smile. Yes, that is definitely Bruce.

"Danny, I haven't seen you since-"

"You broke up with me through a letter on the hotel note-pad? A note-pad that I had to pay for since you touched it!?" Danny hisses, suddenly energized with pure, unadulterated rage. The man freezes.

"I, uh, see you're still upset about that." Wayne winces, shuffling on his feet- Bruce Wayne, the little human he found wandering the Infinite Realms, rescued, helped, trained, and had become human again to have the man dump him to "find himself."

Danny knew he found a lot of ladies on his self-discovery trip. He never forgave him. It has been embarrassing to have to return to the Realms to his friends' knowing eyes and his sister's sad shrug.

You knew a human could never understand or live with beings like us. We aren't like them anymore. She had told him. It was bond to end in disaster.

"What is happening?" The bow-staff kid asks

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Blue tells him.

Danny ignores them to glare at the man. "What the hell are you doing here, Wayne?"

Wayne frowns. "You used to call me Bruce."

"I used to do a lot of things, Wayne." Danny stands, gesturing to the group of people he has captured. "Can you kindly disappear again? I'm in the middle of something."

The man makes no move to leave. Instead, he tilts his head. "Those are my children."

"Of course they are." Danny rolls his eyes. "Tell them to not attack innocent tourists-"

"Are you here on vacation? Would you like me to give you a tour?"

The familiar words- the ones from their first date- make rage boil in his core. "Oh, go burn in the worst levels of hell!"

He doesn't stick around for a reply, twisting in a tight circle and ripping a hole into the Realms. He ignores Wayne's call of his name; it's too late- fifteen years too late- and shifts back into Phantom.

He prays he never sees that deadbeat again. Or the family his wife gave him. Not that Danny cares; it's been years, and he could care less what Bruce Wayne and his stupid kin got up to.

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

"Bruce, I say this with all my heart, what the fuck was that?"

"That was the one I let get away."

There is a moment of silence before Damian speaks up. "I demand to be taken out of my misery. Mercy, kill me now, Drake."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny Fenton's ex #Part 1 #spirit halloween #Bruce fumbled Danny #Ghost king who is more other then human #Danny was just vibing before the bat clan came swinging #Damian mistook him for a villian #his siblings were trying to save him #Danny is stronger but they gave him a good fight #Bruce misses Danny

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stvrchaser · 5 months

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𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

( pairing ) : clarisse la rue x fem!reader

( words ) : 2000

( note ) : noticed that clarisse has her nails painted in the show and… well this came out of that. reader is heavily aphrodite coded but i don’t think it’s explicitly mentioned anywhere what cabin she’s actually from? only that she’s not from apollo’s and she’s on clarisse’s side for capture the flag

also don’t we just love that every fic i’ve ever published is literally 80% pining? honestly can’t tell you the last time one of my fics didn’t have a scene that goes on for like three paragraphs about how much admiration reader has for their love interest

oh and happy new year!!

Summer days can last for a lifetime and a fulfilling one at that. There’s so much to be done when the world wakes, engulfed in light and warmth, nurturing possibility. There’s so much to look forward to. But today, that anticipation has chosen to work against you.

The sun is setting now, approaching dinnertime, and Clarisse is nowhere to be found. For all of her spontaneity and occasional recklessness, it’s unlike her to abandon routines. That is, routines she shares with you. And walking to dinner together happens to be one of your longest-running practices.

You tried to ask around, careful not to sound too concerned so as not to spark rumors. See, Clarisse La Rue has never been publicly caught in a state that warrants concern. Clarisse La Rue is untouched by the fears that plague the rest of them. But you know better.

It isn’t until you come across a few Ares kids, very obviously overworked and looking nearly faint with exhaustion, that you come to your senses. It isn’t infrequent that Cabin 5 becomes victim to one of Clarisse’s drills, training until fatigue overpowers their fear of her authority. As predicted, you find her in a clear patch of the forest overlooking the strawberry fields. Some days she likes to train here, away from watchful eyes.

The setting sun casts her in golden light, bronze armor glistening alongside golden skin. Clarisse liked to train in full gear — a fruitful habit to get herself accustomed to the added weight of leather and metal. It allows her to move with ease, swinging her spear with grace despite the strength of her whole body being evident in every step. With her head held high, spear raised, and the incredible speed at which she moves, she doesn’t look even the slightest bit mortal, but rather a god amongst men. A warrior and hunter. She is the perfect picture of divinity if you’ve ever seen it.

You let your feet drag against the dirt, a fallen branch snapping beneath your weight. It informs Clarisse of your presence from a safe distance, although the remnants of her focused state aren’t any less intimidating. Her eyes burn bright like the electricity that charges the tip of her spear.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Clarisse realizes her error with a glance at the horizon where the sun is setting and you smile warmly, dismissing any indication of displeasure. You watch her demeanor change, the rigidity in her posture fading with an apologetic tip of her head.

“I’ve been training. Those idiots would know that if they’d stuck around to join me.” Something tells you that that isn’t entirely true. Anyone could assume that she’d been training, but the matter of where was an entirely different question. As far as you know, this particular spot is something only the two of you are familiar with — a small refuge away from everyone else.

“Well, we don’t all have your… passion for these things.”

“You think I’m ridiculous,” she says with a sigh.

“Babe, you’re training for capture the flag. Not war.” Clarisse only shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in arguing. She thinks this is something the two of you might never see eye-to-eye on. While you like your fair bit of competition, Clarisse takes every victory with great significance. As she does with every loss.

“Here, I’ll help you,” you say, approaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ears. Your touch lingers at her cheeks, flushed from physical exertion and maybe something more by the way her gaze settles on your lips. Every intake of breath is louder now that you stand toe to toe and the adrenaline has started to wear off. She’s too worked up to have done this all for a game of capture the flag. “I hope you’re not doing all this to get back at Percy.” Her eyes still linger on your mouth and you think she might’ve not heard you until her brows furrow in confusion.

“Since when are you on a first-name basis?”

“Oh, come on,” you say with a disapproving shake of your head. “He’s just a kid.” You reach for the leather chord at the edge of her breastplate, undoing the knot with ease.

“He’s full of it.” She refuses to look at you now, her head turned upward as if she’d developed a sudden interest in trees. You can’t tell if she’s trying to maintain her composure to keep herself from saying something she’ll regret or if your gaze and proximity was distracting her from the discussion. Maybe a bit of both.

“He’s a baby. You could body-slam him into next Friday. It’s hardly a fair fight.” You untie the last knot keeping her breastplate in place, tugging upward to slip it over her head. Clarisse doesn’t even seem to realize that you’d freed her of her armor until the weight vanished from her body.

She looks at you then with an expression you can’t quite read. Something warm, like gratitude, but reluctant. When she speaks, it’s unexpectedly solemn.

“Do you really believe he killed The Minotaur? Him? Gods, everyone here trains themselves to death for that kind of stuff and he gets all the glory? He doesn’t even know how to shoot.” Now that you’ve been made aware of the gravity of the situation, it’s suddenly harder to find your words. This isn’t the petty rivalry you’d assumed it was, and you had to handle it as such.

“Well, I’m sure a few things have been exaggerated here and there, but that’s not his fault. People love to talk about him, but nobody’s really talking to him. I don’t think he’s had a say in anything that’s been said about him. You know how rumors spread around here.”

“But he’s—”

“Look,” you start, taking her hands into yours. “I’m not asking you to make him friendship bracelets. Just… try not to drown him in the lake, okay?”

You know the exact moment an idea hits her by the mischievous glimmer in her eye. It takes a lot of strength not to bury your face in your hands, afraid that you’ve now planted an idea that would get the poor boy killed. Or worse.

“Clarisse, please.” She surrenders, albeit reluctantly.

“Fine,” she says. Still, you’re not entirely convinced.

“Good. Now say it.”

“What?”

“Say you won’t drown him in the lake.” Clarisse laughs, but it dies down when she realizes you don’t plan to join her.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not.”

“I swear not to drown Percy Jackson in the lake,” she agrees through gritted teeth. You don’t say anything about the way her hands tighten around yours as if it physically pained her to say the words.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you tell her, ignoring that it did, in fact, seem hard. “Now, what are we gonna do with those nails?” Clarisse stares blankly at your joined hands. Chipped black nail polish alongside your perfectly pristine, perfectly preserved set of nails.

“Why do we need to do anything about my nails?”

“Honey, I painted these like two days ago. What do you even do to get them chipped like this? I mean, are you fighting with the back of your hand? I don’t understand.”

“I have to train, you know?” she says, like it’s meant to explain anything. You know better than to ask her to elaborate.

“Shame. You have very pretty nail beds. You should spend less time fighting puppy dog-eyed middle schoolers so you can actually keep them pretty.”

“You think I have pretty nail beds?” You shrug.

“Among other things.”

“Well, tell me about these other things.”

“Hm, and people think I’m vain.”

“Come on. What other things?”

You take a moment to look at her — to really look at her. To dissect every inch of her face and the features that create the picture of beauty you know and love. There are far too many pretty things to point out, but you find yourself drawn to one in particular.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Shut up. I’m not finished.”

“Of course. Don’t let me stop you.”

“And you have the most gorgeous smile.” Clarisse beams with pride. “Yeah, that one. And it doesn’t even matter if it looks like you’re just about ready to tear someone’s throat out with your teeth. I just like to see you happy. I like hearing you laugh even better.”

And laugh she does. Low but sweet, like honey. She looks like the teenage girl she is, deeply infatuated and with a capacity for love she has only ever shared with you.

You indulge in the temporary amusement it brings you to think of how horrified Clarisse might be if anyone else were around to hear her giggle. Clarisse La Rue, Daughter of Ares, infamous for waging war on whichever unfortunate soul so much as breathes in her direction — producing a laugh so gentle and beautiful it could give Orpheus and his songs a run for his money. And you might be the happiest girl alive to have been the cause of it.

“You’re sure you’re not Apollo’s kid?”

“Are you calling me a talented poet?”

“I’m calling you a sap,” Clarisse insists with a sour expression, but her voice is saturated with mirth, eyes too bright, and you know she isn’t entirely opposed to your antics.

“I think the term you’re looking for is romantic.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I’m right, but thank you for the confirmation.”

“I know the nail polish fumes are getting to your head,” she mocks. You feign defeat, retreating with an exaggerated sigh.

“Maybe.” Two steps to your left and you’re concealed by a tree, its trunk twice as wide as either of you. You peak your head, locking eyes with Clarisse. “Or all that training is slowing you down. Honestly! If you’re gonna try to insult me, at least try to come up with something original.”

“Oh, you think I’m slow?” Clarisse asks, every word a thinly veiled threat — a challenge, and one you’re willing to accept.

“Unless you want to prove me wrong.” Clarisse lunges at you without warning, almost too fast, but you’re able to gather your senses. The tree had bought you just enough time to keep her whole body from slamming into yours, the force of it undoubtedly capable of launching you both to the ground.

You dash through the woods as fast as your legs can carry you, your only advantage being that Clarisse must have tired herself out from training. But you know she’s hot on your trail.

From here, you can see the bonfire, flames burning high. You turn, prepared to declare that your victory is just seconds away. You’re tackled to the floor before a word can leave your mouth.

“Oh, come on! That’s not fair, I was distracted!”

“Distracted by what?” Clarisse laughs hysterically although taking a much more graceful tumble to the floor than you had. She’s covered in fallen leaves and her jeans are brown at the knees where the denim fades.

“The pretty girl chasing me.” Clarisse is beside herself with joy, clutching at her stomach and close to tears, and it takes her a minute to calm herself. When the two of you have settled, she speaks again. Or tries to, that is.

“Oh, you are so—“ You place a kiss on her lips, short and sweet, but enough to leave her speechless. Clarisse turns a violent shade of red and you think she might need another minute to calm herself. You take that time to revel in your victory.

You stand, offering your hand to help her up.

“Come on, let’s get dinner and you can rest for the game tomorrow. If you’re gonna lead us to victory, you’re gonna need your strength, captain.” She smiles, intertwining her hand with yours.

“You’re gonna be there? Right beside me?”

“La Rue, you’re crazy if you think there’s even a chance I’d ever leave your side.”

•°. *࿐

reader: pls don’t drown percy in the lake

clarisse: ok fine

clarisse: *tries to drown percy*

reader: what did i say about drowning people??

clarisse: …

clarisse: you never said the toilets were off-limits

also i'm like brand new to the pjo fandom but i’ve been kindly informed of clarisse x silena (and their tragic ending but i turn a blind eye to that so i can preserve my sanity) but when i get there you WILL need to physically restrain me from writing fics about them

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjotv x reader #pjo tv adaptation #pjo tv series #clarisse la rue fluff #pining #but they’re already dating #they’re just horrendously down bad for each other and it’s kind of embarrassing #x reader #healthy bit of banter #and trying to convince clarisse to let percy live to see another day #breaking news: summer camp gets awkward when ur gf has beef w the middle schooler #you can’t say she didn’t try to help him ok

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starkidmunson · 2 months

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glitter & crimson

Steve comes home from his first post-injury workout drenched in sweat and throws himself onto the sofa on his back. Robin winces as she watches him go, raising an eyebrow.

“That bad?” She asks, to which Steve groans in response.

“They want me to wear a bubble.” Steve responds, digs his hand around inside the gym bag still attached to his side and lifts out the full face mask.

“Wouldn’t be the worst idea, protect your face at least.” Robin observes, only to be met by a glare from Steve. His facial expressions are making a triumphant return as he regains more control over his face as the wound heals, and he’s taking full advantage of his bitchy looks whenever he can.

“Says the one not blowing hot air back into their own face as they work out.” He grumbles, flopping back and dropping the mask onto his stomach. “Everything hurts. You’d think I’ve been out for months, not just a few weeks.”

“How’s the headache?” Robin predicts, and Steve gives her another look before he sighs.

“It’s not bad, don’t overreact. It’s not the concussion.” He insists, ignores the way her eyebrow rises again and instead pushes himself up again. “I’m going to shower,” Steve announces, making a quick escape from Robin.

It’s not exactly that he’s lying, because he’s not. He doesn’t think anything he’s feeling is concussion-related. The soreness in his muscles is from suddenly being weighed down with his hockey gear again, after weeks without. It’s a similar feeling to the first workout of the pre-season. The headache is a little trickier to convince everyone around, so he’d avoided mentioning it and done his best to hide it at the rink. It’s no surprise Robin can just tell he has one, though.

He lets steam fill the bathroom before he steps under water so hot his skin turns pink. He lets the shower spray target the middle of his back, shifts so it settles between his shoulder blades, and rests his forehead against the cool tiles in front of him.

Eventually, he emerges back into the apartment in sweatpants, his hair air drying. Robin is setting a cup of hot tea down on the coffee table, her own tucked onto an end table beside her on the sofa. Steve smiles softly and mumbles his appreciation as he sits and takes a sip.

As he drains the cup, the headache eases a bit and he feels a bit more human than he had after returning home from his workout.

“You got mail from your parents today,” Robin eventually offers over the New Girl re-run neither of them are particularly paying attention to but have on for familiar background noise. Steve just grunts, uninterested, and instead busies himself checking any messages he may have missed from people he actually cares to give the time of day.

Dustin had demanded a “family dinner,” which Steve agrees to and warns Robin when to expect a full house. Max, traveling with the Blackhawks for a game tomorrow night, had sent him a detailed threat to not push himself too hard while working out. He responds with a video clip the trainer had taken of Steve nailing a series of wrist shots.

Steve tries hard not to be too disappointed that he hadn’t heard from Eddie. They’d texted about their plans for the day, Steve knew Eddie had said he’d be spending the day in his studio working on a few new tracks he was putting together. Still, though, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping he’d have found a text or two from the other in the time he hadn’t been looking at his phone, something that was quickly becoming a standard for the pair.

Biting back his pride, he decides to send the first text, figuring the other will answer whenever they’re wrapping up in the studio.

Steve: Hope you’re having a good studio session.

After a long few moments, Steve can’t help the little sigh he lets out as he buries himself into the throw pillows filling out the sofa beside him. Robin nudges him with a foot, eyebrow raised, and he shrugs back at her, turning his attention to the television. It isn’t long before he zones out, though, thinking and overthinking.

His injury has given him a lot of time to think about a lot of things; primarily what landed him off the ice. He’s only mentioned it to Robin, but he has been considering coming out to his coaching staff and league officials to give background on what seems like an otherwise unprovoked violent streak from Billy Hargrove. Steve learned, in the days he spent in LA after the attack on the ice, Billy had taken to calling him names and slurs with press and on social media. The trash talking had landed him another fine from the league, but it wasn’t slowing him down. It was more than enough to prove the attack was premeditated, if everyone who needed to know the background was read in on their history.

And while Billy was staying on the attack, his teammates were apparently squared up and ready to defend Steve in a way he probably should have expected but hadn’t seen coming. Each of the players who had gotten physically involved in fighting Billy after Steve had taken a stick to the face had made comments with press about how Hargrove plays dirty and mean. Several had also spoken out about Steve’s leadership and sportsmanship on and off the ice, throwing their support behind him through his recovery.

Coming out to the league and his coaches also had the potential to alleviate some of the anxiety he was feeling around his personal life. There had always been concern about coming out, getting kicked off the ice and ending up without the one thing he knew best. Long before he’d joined the league, his father had impressed upon him that he would have to settle and make sacrifices if he wanted to stay with the sport, but Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep his sexuality bottled up and hidden away from the public.

In large part, it was easy to place blame on Eddie. The rockstar blew into his life and changed his perspective on what it was like to be a public figure, out and proud. Steve knew their status didn’t translate equally. Sports fans were different from fans of a band; Steve had joined a team with supporters who would cheer him on so long as he wore their colors and made them proud. Eddie’s fans had sought him out, decided to listen to his music and support him on their own. But for Steve to see Eddie carrying on with his life, not having to hide any part of himself or worry about not posting certain photos from their days in LA on social media (because what if they looked too suspicious and got people talking and asking questions?) was what Steve longed for.

Chicago was a pretty open-minded town; it’s why he and Robin had first moved to the city to begin with. But it still wasn’t a guarantee that everyone would continue to support the team if he did publicly come out. And Steve was working to reconcile that in his mind; to gauge how much he should even care about it. A part of him knew the greater majority wouldn’t give a shit as long as he still scored goals and played a clean, fair and exciting game whenever he hit the ice. But the thought of those few who might push back too hard and how it could impact his teammates - his friends - in the long term is still what ate away at him.

“I can hear how loud you’re thinking over there.” Robin eventually says while he’s deep in thought, and he shoots her a small smile in response. “Look, Steve, you have to do what you think is best for you. Who gives a shit about anyone else.” She says.

He wishes it was that easy. He knows it could be, but he cares too much about the fallout to stop overthinking. They fall back into silence again, until Robin eventually closes her laptop and leans close to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s hair.

“You’re the best at what you do and if people can’t see that around the fact that you like guys, then that’s their loss.” She says, gently, before excusing herself off to bed.

Steve lounges around in the living room for a while longer, before he turns off the tv, grabs a blanket and makes his way out onto the terrace. He wraps the sherpa around his shoulders and drops into one of the loungers out there, looking out toward the skyline. It’s cold, but not as cold as it’s been, and he’s always found comfort in the winter weather, anyway.

His phone buzzes, catching his attention, and he smiles softly at Eddie’s name. When he answers FaceTime, he’s immediately met by chaos. It sounds like three voices are talking over each other, Eddie’s closest to the phone, making a loud ‘shhh’ sound until everyone around him is silenced.

“Did you mean to call me?” Steve asks around a smile, and watches as Eddie’s face lights up as he draws his attention.

“I did!” He insists, though Steve isn’t entirely convinced. “Want to hear what the track I’m mixing right now?”

Steve raised his eyebrow, only half sure he knows what Eddie’s talking about, before he nods. “Let’s hear it.” He agrees.

“Told you,” Eddie hisses at someone just out of the camera’s frame; probably one of the Corroded Coffin boys. Eddie taps a few buttons below the phone, then a soft guitar tune starts playing. It’s not like anything Steve has ever heard from the band before, gentler and softer. Other instruments crash in, in a more typical Corroded Coffin sound, for what Steve assumes will be a chorus once there’s a vocal track, but it slows back to just a guitar for the next verse. Eddie pauses the song and lifts the phone up again. “Thoughts and opinions are encouraged.”

“It’s different.” Steve says, still a little in awe.

“But not in a bad way!” He hears Gareth’s voice from somewhere in Eddie’s studio, and Steve nods in agreement.

“I don’t think it’s in a bad way, either. Just different. It still sounds like you guys in that middle part, when all the instruments join in. But the guitar, that’s… it’s soft and sweet and gentle. It works nicely, not that I know anything about music,” Steve laughs, and Eddie gives him a little smile.

“I appreciate your opinion,” he says, seeming to inspect the screen. “Your face looks a little less colorful. How was practice?”

“Fine, I’m sore now, though.” Steve admits, shifts and cracks his back.

“Gross!” Jeff cries from somewhere around Eddie, and Steve can’t help but laugh again.

“You should get back to working, I’m gonna head to bed soon anyway. We can talk tomorrow?” Steve asks, and Eddie nods.

“Night, Stevie.”

~~~~

He hangs up the FaceTime, steals a pizza roll off Jeff’s plate, and re-opens the notes app on his phone. Scanning over the rambling notes he’d made himself about how he imagined the song would work out, he starts a new paragraph.

And he stares at the blank line before him.

“You’ve composed, like, 4 tracks and you can’t come up with a single lyric for any of them?” Freak asks, takes a pull from a joint burning in an ashtray near the sofa, and blows the smoke out away from the group.

“Very helpful insight,” Eddie grumbles, and Jeff leans forward.

“Do you want us to help? Like, do you have a theme for the songs, or is this just going to be your own little pet project?” He asks.

“Well, I guess it depends. If you want to drop a surprise EP or double album after the one we’re putting out, I’m probably going to need help. But if you’re cool with letting me sit on it, I can probably figure it out on my own.” Eddie offers.

Gareth twirls a drumstick between his fingers. “I think we let Eddie handle the love songs about Steve Harrington, and if he comes up with enough to make into something to drop, we drop them whenever he’s ready, and if not, we throw them onto the next album or whatever when he’s ready to release them.”

Eddie sighs and drops his head back against the rest of his swivel chair. “Can we stop calling them love songs about Steve?”

“Guess you have extra incentive to write lyrics to them, then,” Freak teases, and Eddie groans back, making the other boys laugh.

It isn’t much longer before they all excuse themselves to the rooms they claimed around the house. Eddie spends a few extra hours in the studio, working on as many lyrics as his brain allows and even sorts out bridge for the song he’d played for Steve before he heads off to bed.

He isn’t surprised to wake up the next morning to a text from Steve, who routinely gets up hours before Eddie and is always the first to send a text wishing him a good day ahead.

Eddie: Go easy on yourself on the ice today, you were up too late listening to headbanger music.

It’s a while before he gets a response, which isn’t uncommon. They both have their own lives which responsibilities to get up to. But Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting not-so-patiently for Steve’s next response. Freak flew out this afternoon, heading back to visit family in Ohio, leaving Gareth and Jeff at Eddie’s. They’re playing video games in the living room when Eddie’s phone rings with Steve’s name and ID photo.

“Hey, how was today?” Eddie asks immediately, launching himself off the sofa and away from the boys and the noise from the television.

“Well, that’s part of why I’m calling,” Steve says, sounding a little out of breath and hair damp with sweat, glancing off camera before he flashes a charming smile down at Eddie. “What are you doing Tuesday?”

His brain short-wires for a second, thrown off course by the response. Is this Steve, asking him out on a date? That can’t be it, right? There’s no way, not with the back-and-forth they have going on. There would be more to it than that, and Steve seems like the kind of guy to give more than 4 days notice for a date that requires at least one party to travel several states. So Eddie does his best to quickly calm and compose himself, hoping he hasn’t taken an alarmingly long time to answer, before he responds. “I don’t know, what am I doing Tuesday?”

“I think you’re coming to watch the Blackhawks play the Predators in Nashville. I’m allowed to travel and suit up, but I probably won’t play just yet.” Steve is grinning, and Eddie can’t help but smile back.

“Hell yeah, I’ll be there!” He agrees, already pulling up the link to buy tickets for the game. “If I get shamed for wearing my Harrington jersey to a Preds game, you get to take the blame for me rooting against my home away from home.” Eddie teases, and Steve lets out a breathy laugh.

“Bring it on,” he challenges, finally seems to Eddie like he’s caught up and gotten back the quick wit and sharp humor which had been on a slight delay since the injury. A sign of recovery, Eddie’s sure and it helps to see him returning to normal.

They catch one another up on their days, and Eddie lets Steve listen to a few more of the tracks they’ve been working on over the last few days, but stops before the lyrics start in the only one he and Jeff have crafted words to so far, not ready for Steve to hear it yet.

As they’re talking, Eddie gets a notification he almost swipes away without reading, but Steve’s name catches his attention, so he drags it down and reads over the words.

“You okay?” Steve asks, and Eddie realizes the face he must be making is ridiculous.

“Oh, uh. I just got a notification about you?” he mumbles back, and texts the link to Steve.

Now it’s Steve’s turn to look confused as Eddie reads over the headline again.

Hockey Legacy Harringtons to Host Joint Fundraiser

Steve reads the words and seems to immediately understand them in a way Eddie can’t, and he closes his eyes in a heavy sigh. “I promise you, my life is not usually this dramatic.”

Eddie hates how miserable Steve seems all of a sudden; regrets passing the link on but knows he would have found out eventually and gotten upset anyway. “Dude, really, I don’t even know what that means, so it’s not a big deal.”

“It is, though. This is my parents, deciding that I’m worthy of being their son again because I’m getting a bunch of positive press after the injury. So my name gets to be included in the gala invitation, which I have been excluded from since juniors, by the way.” It’s still piecemeal, the information Eddie is able to take away from Steve’s explanation, but it’s enough to get the general gist of the issue.

“Ah. So, the dad who convinced you to self-sabotage is now trying to take credit for your sportsmanship?”

“Something like that,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie can see how he’s holding the phone differently, typing out a text. “I think I have to get Robin and we need to figure this out, sorry to jump off like this. But, I’ll see you at the Preds game? We can grab dinner after?”

“It’s a date.”

Eddie physically can’t stop the words before they’re out of his mouth, and immediately waits for a hole in the ground to open up and suck him in and put him out of his misery. But Steve just raises an eyebrow, smiles and shrugs. “Not yet, but. Sure.”

Then, Eddie stares at himself in the reflection of his phone after Steve ends the FaceTime call and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do with Steve Harrington, who keeps finding new ways to catch him off guard.

#glitter & crimson #starkidmunson writes #it's a little longer as an apology for how long it's been #steddie #rockstar!eddie munson #hockey player!steve harrington #simultaneously the slowest of burns and the most obvious flirting #anti-steve's parents

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witheredoffherwitch · 2 months

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Y'ALL CAN EXCUSE RACISM?

Let's get one thing straight: I have no part in this chaotic mess (infact, I have blocked all the accounts mentioned below), but it's grinding my gears how it's devolving into another petty fanfic drama: case 607. I know this drama is getting the attention for certain individuals who are demonstrating mean girl behaviour and gossiping about other writers behind their backs. However, I am solely focused on addressing the racist and discriminatory remarks made by these individuals in the leaked text messages.

For those not in the loop, there's been a huge drama in the fanfic community involving leaked text messages from a group chat of four prominent members. In these messages, two users - Fae and Bel - have admitted to sending hate anons and talking smack about other writers behind their backs. Two other members left the group after it was revealed that B tried to make amends with someone who these two, Em and Ange, don't particularly care for. As a move to clear their names, Em exposed all the texts, trying to prove that Fae and Bel are the real villains here.

But wait, there's more! In these same chats, Bel not only mocked fellow non-English speakers but also bragged about sending rat emojis to an 18-year-old Pakistani writer who was already receiving racist anons. While everyone is focused on getting back at these two women for being shady af, it's mind-boggling how Em and Ange are suddenly jumping on the anti-racism train.

These two ladies stayed in the same chat as a fellow Pakistani writer was driven away because of racism, knowing full well that one of their own was contributing to it, and said NOTHING! Zero discouragement, no condemnation - they only hopped off when things got personal.

So here it is… I've had it with all of you hypocrites. You praise and encourage these women at every turn, feeding their egos like they're the second coming of Beyonce. But let's not forget who's always stirring up drama in this fandom - hint: it's these same people with a sense of entitlement the size of a planet. The issue is groupthink and y'all have all jumped on the bandwagon. You're worse than HBO's marketing department because just like their shitty teams, everyone involved here SUCKS ASS. You don't have to pick a side because they are all petty, mean losers. Bel and Fae are facing the consequences of their actions, which they rightfully deserve.

However, Em's exposé on Bel's racism seems more like an opportunistic move and it's disappointing that so many of you are supporting it. It's a predictable cycle now; there will be a half-hearted apology, an announcement of a hiatus, and then tons of people will flock to their inboxes to shower them with praise and excuses. It's ridiculous! I know there are many who feel the same way as me but are afraid to speak up because they don't want to upset the "village elders" and risk losing their connections and engagements. It's a joke atp!

Instead of taking responsibility for their own wrongdoings, they will come up with a list of 10 different cyber crimes by others to divert attention from their own nonsense. These very same women have confessed to creating multiple fake accounts, secretly stalking servers without mods noticing, and constantly harassing individuals through anon messages.

Yet, we are supposed to consider them as examples of moral integrity and ethical behavior? 😒

#fandom racism #fandom critical #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd #asoiaf #anti hotd #anti hotd fandom #fandom drama #racism #daemon targaryen #hotd fandom #fandom bs

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alotofpockets · 7 months

Text

My jersey | Katie McCabe

Pairing: Katie McCabe x Reader

Prompt: "You're wearing my jersey."

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | words: 1k

When Katie asked you to come back to Ireland with her to visit her family, you were very excited as it was a big step in your relationship. However, now that you had landed in Ireland, you were only feeling nervous. “They are going to love you.” Katie reassured you one more time before entering her childhood home. Your girlfriend had a big family but the following week it would be mostly her parents and her younger sister Lauryn at the house.

As Katie predicted, her parents loved you, and you got along great. They made Katie’s favorite meal for her coming home dinner, which according to Sharon was a tradition they created years ago. You thought it was a very sweet tradition and were happy to participate with the amazing food that was served. The first day of your stay was short, since you landed pretty late, so after dinner you played some games with her family before calling it a night.

The next morning you wake up before Katie, you get up and look around her childhood bedroom, something you didn’t get to last night. Her shelves are full of trophies and medals, and the wall above her dresser is filled with pictures of her with her family and friends. Your eyes land on one with her and Lauryn, both decked out in muddy soccer gear, paired with big smiles. “Good morning, baby.” Katie says from behind you. “Good morning, darling.” You quickly make your way back to the bed for some morning cuddles, placing soft kisses on her lips once you’re under the covers again.

Katie has a meeting with her national team coaches today, which she was currently getting ready for. “Are you sure you’ll be fine here? I would take you with me if I could, I promise.” Katie asks for the fifth time this morning. “Yes, darling, I will be fine. Now go, you’re going to be late.” You say while practically dragging her out of her bedroom.

Once Katie was out the door you realized that her sister was looking a bit sad, you sat down on the couch with her. “Hey, Lauryn, is everything alright?” You ask her. “It’s fine.” She quickly shoots back but you could read on her face that it wasn’t. “Okay, I won’t push but know that you can talk to me if you want to.” You were about to stand up to give the girl some space, when she started to confide in you. “Katie promised to help me practice but now she’s here but is in meetings, and you’re here. No offense of course, I’m very glad that Katie has found someone, and you’re really nice, I just meant that I know she will want to spend time with you.” You nod along to what she shares. “Well, two things. First of all, Katie has been talking about you the whole week. How far you’ve come with soccer already, how proud she is of you, and how excited she is to play with you.” You give Lauryn a moment to let the first part sink in before you continue. “Second of all, I know family is very important to Katie, and I would never stand in between that. I want you to know that my relationship with your sister does not change anything for your relationship with her. You need her, and she will be there, that will never change. Not that she would in the first place, but I would never let her break any promise that she made to you.” You managed to get a smile back on Lauryn’s face. “Thank you, y/n. I needed that.” You share a quick hug.

“Hey, I know I’m no Katie McCabe, captain of the Ireland national team, but I’ve got some experience being on the England national team and all.” You joke, “Would you like to go to the field and kick the ball around?” You both head to your rooms to change, meeting back downstairs.

When Katie gets back she only finds her mom there. “Hi mum, have you seen y/n?” Her mom smiles, knowing her daughter had found a good one, having overheard your earlier conversation with Lauryn. “Yeah, y/n and Lauryn went to the field a little over an hour ago.” Katie thanks her mother before heading to the field.

She realizes that neither one of you had noticed her yet, so she took that time to admire the scene in front of her. You were running drills with her sister. Showing Lauryn a technique and then helping her perfect it. The interaction with her sister wasn't the only thing she was admiring. She was also admiring you in the jersey you were wearing. An Ireland jersey with her name and number on the back.

She snaps a quick picture before she shoots the ball that had come rolling her way back your way, successfully hitting the back of the net. Both you and Lauryn turn around to see who took the shot, you smile when you see Katie. “Show off!” You yell her way.

You meet her half way, while Lauryn continues working on the technique you just showed her. “Hi darling. How was your meeting?” You say before placing a kiss to her cheek. “It was good, they wanted my opinion on some potential new recruits.” While Katie talks about the meeting, you notice she keeps looking at your outfit with a doped grin. “What's got you smiling like that, darling?” You ask pretending you don't know the reason.

"You're wearing my jersey." She states, still checking you out. “I like it.” She quickly pecks your lips, before running off to join her sister on the field. Seeing you wearing her national team jersey felt so special to her, especially since you play for a different country.

You spend the rest of the afternoon on the field with Katie and Lauryn, only heading back when it was time for dinner. The food was amazing, once again. All the nerves about meeting Katie's family had dissolved after meeting them, they made you feel right at home.

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a tip 💗

#pockets celebration #katie mccabe #katie mccabe imagine #katie mccabe x reader #awfc #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #arsenal wfc x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #irewnt #engwnt #lauryn mccabe

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writerslittlelibrary · 5 months

Text

I will help you

masterlist

summary: when your parents went to jail, you started your life in the foster system. it was never very great, and you ended up with an amount of bad coping mechanisms. to help you, you were put in a psych ward, and who happens to be your personal nurse? the woman who will stop at nothing to adopt you…

pairing: Dark!Natasha x foster teen reader

warnings: mentions of self-harm, mentions of abusive foster families, hints of kidnapping, mention of murder, mention of abuse, drugs, reader is basically not very happy…

genre: fluff, angst

words: 2884

a/n: this fic was inspired by @xanthreee thank you lovely for the suggestion and I hope you enjoy it 🫶

(please note I have no idea how psych wards work, so if anything is incorrect, I’m so sorry)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You don’t remember much from that night. You suppose that’s how your brain protected itself from everything that happened.

You remember the sirens, and you remember the police that invaded your home. They carried guns and were dressed in full protection gear. It was scary. That’s what you do remember. The feeling you had the moment your entire life was ruined.

Sure, your father was never a great man, and sometimes he’d hit you, but he did it because he loved you. He needed to discipline you, because he cared. That’s what he told you.

You never thought he was capable of something so vile, so sickening. And you could’ve never predicted your mother helped him.

You knew your father was aggressive. You knew he had sickening thoughts, but the fact he’d murder someone, just for his own enjoyment? You would’ve never thought your father was capable of such a thing. And the fact your mother helped him hide the body? You couldn’t possible process all this information at once.

When you were put in the interrogation room at the police station, a man and a woman kept asking you questions. Had you known? Were you told to keep certain things a secret?

You hadn’t told them much. How could you? You were never allowed to tell anyone you were being hit at home. You were never allowed to tell anyone your father had some weird powder lying around.

You were only 9 when it happened, but it had made an impression on you.

The foster homes weren’t better than your home had been. At least you loved your parents, but now? These foster homes had people even more aggressive than your dad had been. They didn’t hit you to discipline you, they just did it because they felt like it.

After being in the foster system for 4 years, your mental health started to go down hill. You never really visited your parents.

You were mad at them, and you refused to let that anger slide.

After the police found a certain document, and you were called into the station to discuss it, you finally broke. That was the last straw.

The police had found plans to pay off a debt your father had with some high important drug dealer. Apparently, he had wanted to use you as payment. Had the police not found the body when they did, you would’ve surely been in a much worse place then you were now.

After learning that new piece of information, you broke. Your mind became darker than it already was, and your wrist became daily stained with fresh red blood.

You had no control over your own life. Decisions were made for you, and you were thrown around from foster home to foster home with no care in the world. You didn’t have anyone that cared about you, and you needed a relief.

Self-harming gave you back some control. After not having any control for so long, you gave yourself control over at least something, the pain.

Controlling the pain worked, until you turned fourteen, and you became suicidal on top of it.

You started skipping school and laying in bed all day. You never did anything anymore. Your days consisted out of self-harming and scrolling on tiktok.

You don’t exactly know how it happened, or when, but at some point, your foster parents had notified your case worker, and she had come to pay you a visit. Apparently, when foster children in your situation experienced mental health issues, and started showing signs of depression, you were immediately put in a mental health facility.

You didn’t really care when they came for you.

The ride in the ambulance was pretty peaceful. The man that was driving with you was very kind, and he had put up some of your favourite music to entertain you, and mostly keep you calm.

When you arrived at the psych ward, you were terrified.

You didn’t know what was going to happen, and you didn’t realise what you were supposed to do. The intake was one of the worst experiences you had ever had.

It had been embarrassing and incredibly dehumanising, and when you were given paper clothes to put in, you nearly lost it.

Luckily, after a few hours, that was over, and you were taken to your room by an old lady.

She told you shortly how everything worked, and she gave you five minutes to change into the clothes provided for you before your personal nurse would come to assist you.

Because you were classed as a high risk case, you were given a 24/7 nurse. She was supposed to keep her eye on you at all times, and make sure you never did or tried anything to harm yourself.

The moment the old nurse left, you quickly changed into the sweatshirt and sweatpants that were laid out on the bed.

They weren’t the warmest clothes you had ever worn, but they were comfortable enough, and definitely better than those paper clothes you had been forced to wear.

You changed fairly quickly, and after finishing you decided to just sit on the bed and wait.

Your entire room was empty, and you weren’t allowed to bring anything in to entertain yourself. You had brought a bag of clothing, but apparently all of that was checked by some nurses, so you were left alone with your thoughts.

You tried to open the window, but it would barely open more than a few inches.

You sighed and sat back down on the bed, staring out the window. You wished you could go home, but what did that even mean now? You had no home anymore. Your parents were gone. You weren’t going to see them in a long time, not that you wanted too, and your foster home basically got rid of you when they put you in the mental hospital.

You were truly and utterly alone…

Soon, you were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. A red-headed woman walked in. She had a kind smile on her face, and she was dressed in a nurse outfit.

“Hello, y/n. I’m Natasha. I’m here to keep my eye on you,” she explained, smiling sweetly at you. That was quite straight forward…

You simply nodded, letting your gaze fall to the floor.

Natasha took a few steps forward, crouching down to your level and placing her hand on you knee.

“I know you have been through a lot, but I promise you, I will do anything in my power to help you get better,” she explained, smiling sweetly as she gently rubbed your knee.

You simply nodded, giving her a small, awkward smile before looking back to the ground.

Natasha didn’t take any offence, instead just standing up and lending you her hand. “Your room seems kind of boring. Maybe we should go and see if we can find some colouring supplies, and we can maybe try and decorate it a little,” she suggested, and you didn’t take long before you took her hand.

She helped you up, not letting go of your hand as she walked to the door, leaving the room, dragging you along with her.

She led you through a few hallways, explaining where certain things were, and explaining how you didn’t need to do anything if you weren’t comfortable with it.

To say you were relieved would be an understatement. You had heard horror stories of people in mental hospitals, where they were forced into group therapy sessions, and if they didn’t comply they’d be punished by having to stay longer.

You were quiet as Natasha led you around, not once letting go of your hand.

After showing you the main hallway, she led you to some kind of common area, where there were tables filled with other kids.

All seemed a bit older than you by at least a few years, but they didn’t even acknowledge you as Natasha led you through the tables, to a closet by the wall. Some of the kids greeted Natasha, clearly having met her before and taking a liking to her.

When you reached the closet, Natasha let go of your hand, opening the doors and letting you see all the art supplies the closet carried.

There was yarn, crochet hooks, glue, paper, crayons, tape, and even more.

There were also pencils and scissors, but those were in locked boxes. You figured those were only taken out when there was supervision. Natasha grabbed a blank sketchbook, asking you if you wanted pencils or crayons.

You gave her your preference, and you watched as she took everything from the closet.

“Let’s go back to your room. It’s a bit calmer there,” Natasha stated, and you nodded as you anxiously glanced around the room. You were never a big fan of people, but right now, you were already freaked out, and all the people you were surrounded with didn’t help in the slightest.

Once Natasha had balanced everything in one hand, she grabbed yours again, squeezing it reassuringly as she gave you another kind smile, leading you through the tables and all the way back to your room.

Once you were back in your room, Natasha set all the supplies down on the small table, pulling a chair out and taking a seat.

You followed her example, pulling the other chair out and accepting the paper Natasha handed you. As you started drawing, Natasha started drawing too, probably to make it less awkward and confronting.

She asked you multiple questions about yourself. They varied from your favourite colour, to how you felt about your parents and their actions.

You answered most of them, and tried to answer them as honest as possible.

You liked Natasha. She made you feel safe, and she talked as if she truly cared about you. You like how she made you feel. You felt at ease around her. Besides, she told good jokes.

After finishing your drawing, Natasha hung it up for you.

You asked if her drawing could be hung next to it, and Natasha agreed as she picked her own drawing up, hanging it next to yours.

You smiled at the drawings, and Natasha smiled at you. Maybe staying in a psych ward wasn’t the worst thing ever.

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

You had been in the psych ward for a little over a week, and until now, you were pretty much enjoying yourself.

It was a little boring at times, and you had definitely had better things to eat in your life, but with Natasha around you almost all the time, you felt safe and cared for. You heard other people in the psych ward complain about their nurses, and about how they wanted time to themselves.

You, on the other hand, had never felt more content.

Wherever you went, Natasha was always there, helping you, talking with you, or just staying silent and keeping you company.

You had grown quite fond of Natasha, and even though you didn’t know it, Natasha had grown quite fond of you too. She didn’t even want to think about the moment you would have to leave, and she would have to pick up a new patient.

She had grown quite close to the little girl she was supposed to take care of. She cared about you, and she knew she was the only person in the world that ever would.

No one would ever care about you the way she did.

After taking care of you for only a week, she had applied at multiple adoption agencies, wanting herself and her home to be cleared for fostering and adoption. She was told the process would go fairly quickly, seeing as though she was a licensed mental health nurse.

If anyone was capable of adopting, it would be her. She just hoped the entire process was done before you go out.

You had told her multiple times how much you enjoyed spending time with her, and Natasha had always told you how much she enjoyed spending time with you as well.

She had told you what a great kid you were and how you were a very nice person to be around. You were more than grateful that she was the nurse assigned to you, and you had told her that. Natasha had merely smiled and told you how nice she though that was.

You didn’t need to know it wasn’t a coincidence…

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

After about two months in the psych ward, you showed massive improvement. You were almost cleared to be released, and Natasha was a bit upset.

The adoption agency had cleared her, and she was cleared to take you in.

She had already pitched the idea to you, that after were released from the psych ward, you would come live with her for a period of time.

You didn’t need to know she meant forever…

You were overjoyed with the idea of spending more time with her. You had explained to her on multiple occasions you didn’t want to get out, as you would not get to spend time with her anymore. That’s when she told you, and you had hugged her and told her how happy you were.

She simply kissed your head, holding you close as you two sat on the bed.

Natasha was a bit upset, though. In the psych ward, she got to spend every moment with you, but if you were to come live with her, you would have to go to school, and she would have to- you would have to miss her half of the day.

She didn’t want that, and so she started setting up her place in the mountains. You trusted her, and she would make sure that trust would not be broken.

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

When you were finally released from the psych ward, Natasha had made sure it was one of the best days of your life. There was cake, and presents, and all sorts of things you had not been given in a long time.

After that day, Natasha had told you she was planning on moving up into a cottage in the mountains.

You didn’t need to know what country she meant…

You asked her if there would be snow, and she promised you there would be. You were more than happy to pack all your stuff, excited with the idea of living somewhere peaceful.

Natasha had called in a favour with her parents, arranging a jet to take you and her to the location. You had asked her where the house was located, but she had told you not to worry about it. It would be perfect.

You fell asleep pretty quickly on the jet, which was perfect, as Natasha didn’t have to explain why you were flying over the ocean.

When you arrived, Natasha carried you inside, tucking you in the nice bed that was already prepared for you, before going back downstairs and getting all the stuff from the jet inside.

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

You woke up from the sun shining through gaps in the curtains. When did you go to bed?

You stretched slightly, laying in bed for a few minutes to process waking up, before getting up and looking around the room.

The room was absolutely beautiful, and it matched your interests perfectly. It didn’t take you long to spot the two drawings on the wall. The were hung up in frames this time. It were the drawings you and Natasha had made the first day you were in the psych ward.

You smiled at the memory, soon recognising the pajamas that were hung over the desk chair.

You changed into them and left the room, finding the stairs quickly and making your way downstairs. The entire house smelled of pancakes, and it obviously was in the kitchen where you found Natasha.

“Hello sweetheart,” she greeted you as she gave you a small side hug, giving you a kiss on the head.

“How did you sleep?” she asked as she handed you a glass of orange juice.

“I slept fine,” you told her as you gave her a smile and took the orange juice, taking a few sips before sitting down at the kitchen island.

Natasha smiled at you, getting the last pancake from the pan before placing two plates on the kitchen island. She sat down on the barstool next to you, handing you the syrup as she took a bite herself.

“The house looks very nice,” you told her as you started eating your own pancakes.

“Only the best of the best for you,” Natasha told you and smiled softly at the slight blush that stained your cheeks.

“Is there a school nearby or something?” you asked her, but Natasha just shook her head.

“I figured homeschooling would fit you a lot better. There are a lot of benefits, and I think it would do wonders for your mental health,” she explained, and you nodded.

You could almost cry at how thoughtful Natasha was.

You didn’t need to know it was purely in her own best interest…

You were finally home. You were finally safe. You were finally loved. Natasha would finally be your mother, and you would finally get the chance at a normal life.

Somewhat normal…

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000

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tcshi · 1 year

Text

BLUE LOCK YANDERE : mikage reo

⚠︎ : dark content ahead ! obsessed!reo, noncon/dubcon, hints of kidnapping, drugging, fingering, reo is an absolute creep in this one, lmk if i missed anything, minors do not interact.

reo loves you most like this.

docile and putty in his arms.

well... he knows it's because it had been 9 months since you've touched, conversed or seen any other people besides him. but this thought lies trivial in his head because reo had already made himself believe that it's certainly not the case.

his pretty doll... you're here because you want to, right? you're here staying with him in his impractical, grandiose manor an hour and a half away from the city because you love him, yes? you love him. and nothing could change that irrefutable fact.

not even when there are certain days where you would stare at him, dark glaring eyes and frowning face as if telling him without needing to open your mouth that you disgust me and i fucking hate you as you're sat on your side of the bed, chained to the ceiling of the room while he slips on his training gear. not even when you would utter the words that you knew reo loathed, especially coming from the same mouth who blabbered incoherent proclamations of your love for him when you're all dopeyㅡall because of a special drug concocted just for him to use on you, something that his multi-million dollar name can provide and can hide from the public just like how his name managed to manipulate the case of your disappearance.

so when you take your own initiative to seek for him and his comfort, reo takes more than what you're offering. it's because it's rare. it happens once in a blue moon and who's to predict when this'll happen again? right? right.

so when you start pushing his hands away from wandering underneath your (his) shirt, his cold fingertips dragging against your skin until they're fiddling with the hem of your cotton panties, he's ignoring your pleas of stopping. your voice is nothing but a soothing melody that reaches his ears, warms his heart and sends a bolt of shock that makes the length in between his legs throb with want.

reo ignores the way your tears cascaded beautifully on your cheeks and although he takes more than a necessary second to watch your crying face, he dips a finger inside your panties with comforting words that weren't at all comforting.

you continue to writhe against his hold but to no avail, you were still too weak from the events that took place not even a full 24-hour ago and instead continue to voice out your pleas for him to stop.

reo doesn't stop of course. you're in no place to tell him what to do. he loves you, very much so but he will never take your word for anything except when you're trying to convince yourself (and him) that you love him.

he traces the sheer arousal that coated your pussy lips, planting soft kisses on the side of your head before he finally slips a finger in, expertly maneuvering his digit to the spot that had you moaning and finally temporarily ceasing your annoying cries for him to stop.

thank fuck that you did. reo really doesn't want to resort in plastering your lips with duck tape again because he loves to shove his tongue inside your mouth while he's fucking you. he also loves hearing you whine and moan for him but he can't exactly do those things when you've got your lips sealed right?

reo makes a quick work of easing down his own shorts with one hand, slipping it off from his ankles and letting the fabric fall down the bed while he's busy finger-fucking you.

he traces the outline of your breast through your shirt, palming your chest before he's pinching and rolling your hardened nipple in between his fingers.

“god... so fucking pretty...” he groans in your ears, rubbing his dick against the skin of your plump ass. he licks the tears that fell down from your eyes, moaning at the salty taste as you gasp and trash in his hold, mouth pleading for him to go fasterㅡstop, please but you're very much evidently grinding against the flat of his palm, rubbing your engorged clit against the rough skin.

reo chuckles darkly, raising your shirt up and bunching it in his palms before he's shoving it in your mouth. he cups your bare breast with his free hand, continuously pumping his finger in and out of your cunny before he’s pushing two more fingers in, one that had you sobbing.

“reo please... i need itㅡplease..” you babble incoherently. gone completely was your cry of asking him to stop, oh so sweetly whining his name and pleading with him while you're busy grounding yourself against his hand.

he gives your temple another kiss, eyes glazed over as he watches his fingers covered in your slick disappear in your pussy.

“yeah?” reo challenges, other hand tweaking your pebbled nipples. “gonna let me take of ya, my pretty baby?”

when you nod your head erratically, he knows the newest version of the drug in your system was more than a success and was more than efficient enough to hold its effects. he'll just have to observe the longevity of this one, then he'll be back into slipping one of the same pills in your drink and watch as you tether between your morals or succumbing to him completely. you'll come around, and it won't be for far too long.

#☆ . ༄ marked : blue lock #☆ . ༄ marked : yandere!blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #yandere!blue lock x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader x nagi seishiro #reo x reader #yandere!reo #yandere!mikage reo #blue lock smut #mikage reo smut #yandere blue lock #yandere reo #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock #mikage reo #reo mikage #reo mikage x reader

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 6 months

Text

No longer yours to keep

summary: what happens when you and Xaden bond with mated dragons but you're already dating Garrick?

warning: pretty suggestive, some iron flame spoilers.

Kind of part II

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

For as long as you could remember it had been you three against the world. Your families had been extremely close so it was inevitable for your three to end up being best friends. And it was like that until you all started to grow up. And once the teenage years kicked in so did the desire to explore and learn new things.

You mingled in this relationship with no boundaries, no labels for a bit. Until Xaden had to uphold his duties. Had to agree to be engaged to a girl just for the sake of power. That of course meant that you and Garrick had been slightly pushed to the side. Xaden was barely free to spend time with you, barely there for your usual nights out. Meaning that you and Garrick fell into this easy rhythm. This bonding over losing a friend you two loved dearly. And without any big gestures. Without any grand signs had fallen in love.

Garrick had always been made of sharp edges, similar to Xaden. Just Xaden used that as a form of self-defense when he needed to be out in the public and Garric... He had always been on the rougher side. Had always been harder to read. To predict. But he was an amazing lover. There wasn't a moment where you felt unseen or unheard. Yes, he had his moments but once he stewed over them, he would always come to apologize. To make it right. And he was so protective. Boy, was he protective. It was both a charming thing because it empowered you even more but... it was frightening too because Garrick's heart was in your hands, he had let you in deeper than anyone else. And you had planned to keep it forever. Had planned but...

But then threshing came. You three were at the top of your squad. Ready to grasp the best spots in the section. Garrick and Xaden were already waiting when you emerged. They had remained close friends throughout the years. Lost had changed and in all honesty it was you who bitched to Xaden the most. "We can do the next shipment after we bond with dragons", Xaden said quietly. There was a revelation brewing. And surprise, surprise Xaden was at the top of it. "I'll get the boys to take the boxes tonight", Garrick said, as his arm sneaked around your waist, "Hey", he muttered pressing his lips to your temple. "Everything's okay?", you asked, earning a nod from them both. "Excited to bond?", you looked across the field as the wind picked up.

"I have my eyes set on a dragon I want", Xaden said firmly. "Of course you do", you rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling the urge to cling to Garrick as if this might as well be the last time you two were gonna see one another. "You're okay?", Garrick wrapped an arm over your shoulders, you hesitated for a moment but... they were your childhood friends after all.

"I just have this weird feeling", you breathed out, "Like something is about to change". Xaden snicked from beside you and Garrick threw him a glare. "We will be bonding with dragons today, princess", Xaden mused. "Might be. Don't be too full of yourself", you bit back, Garrick instantly brought you closer to him, hands on your hips, "Don't bite his throat out, baby". Xaden pushed away from the wall, "I'll see you two there".

You huffed out a breath. You didn't want to be a bitch but that man was grinding your gears at times. He was also putting himself in so much danger and for what? A fucking title? "Tell me about what's worrying you", Garrick cupped your face. Your eyes met his. God, you loved this man. "I just have a bad feeling", you muttered, "I don't think that anyone is dying today but... I think that things are going to be different. Really different". Garrick tilted his head to the side as he watched you. "All I care about is that you come back to me", he muttered, "with or without a dragon, I just want you back by my side". His words clenched at your heart because somehow deep down you had an inkling that that was exactly what wasn't gonna happen.

You had crossed paths with burnt flesh multiple times. Guess this year's threshing theme was roasted cadets for dinner. You were so tired. Sure, this had to end soon and you would have to admit your defeat. And just... A puff of hot air hit your back making you still. You could feel its presence behind you. You took a deep breath in before turning around. And here it stood. The biggest black dragon you had ever seen. "Holly fuck", you breathed beneath your breath.

Your head was buzzing. Every fiber of your skin was on fire. You could believe that you had bonded with a dragon. A black one at that. Black dragons rarely bonded. Lower your ego he snarled in your mind. You slide down his leg ready to give your dragon's name so you can be officially linked when an overwhelming sense of emotions hits your chest. You faltered slightly. Gripping the edge of the table a huge scroll will names was placed on it.

You hand fell on your chest as the edges of your vision blurred. You let out a pained breath as your eyes snapped up and here he stood. On the other side of the field. A blue dragon by his side. Eyes burning holes into you. Hands in fists. What the fuck... you felt an arm wrapping around your waist. Oddly enough wanting to pull away because it just didn't feel right only to find Garrick inches from you, cupping your face. And then everything went black.

Your eyes snapped open with a jolt. The moon was casting faint light over the room. Garrick was passed out beside you. His hand wrapped around your middle. You brushed your fingers through his messy hair when a wave of need rushed through you. Need that wasn't however in any way related to the man that was next to you. Come to me. The voice rang in your head making you jolt. And even if you didn't want to. And even if you tried to fight it. Tried to fall back asleep. Tried cuddling into your boyfriend. Not even fifteen minutes later you were padding through the quiet corridors.

You didn't even have a clue as to where you were going and yet here you were, standing right next to the person that had taken over your mind. "Why the fuck do I feel you in every fiber of my body, Riorson", you said through gritted teeth. Your body grew warm just from the sight of him. "Our dragons are mated", he said bluntly, puffing out a cloud of mirth-root. You instantly crossed the distance between you too, snatching the blunt and taking a hit yourself. The overwhelming feeling eased slightly, but your body still yarned for him.

"We need to sort this out, get this fixed", you muttered, brushing your fingers through your hair in frustration. "How do you plan on doing that? They have been mates for centuries. Fuck, we hadn't even been born back then", Xaden huffed out. "I'm with Garrick, I won't leave him, I...", you muttered in panic, but Xaden's hand that sneaked up your throat made your voice die down.

"They are fucking", Xaden said through gritted teeth, eyes hazy as he looked at you. You could feel it too. Gods, even the smell of him. "We can't... I can't do this to him", you pushed back, trying to keep distance between you two. "Do you think it's not eating me alive?", Xaden growled, cursing under his breath, "I watched Garrick falling head over heels for you. You're it for him, and now...", Xaden turned around, bracing a hand on the wall as he breathed. Please hold your pleasure to yourself you snarled at your dragon. But it's like your words didn't even reach him.

You took in a shaky breath, right as your eyes met Xaden, and within the blink of an eye you were pressed against the stone wall, legs wrapped around Xaden's hips. His teeth buried in your neck as you dug your nails into the back of his neck. It felt as if your body was on fire. As if only with him near you could finally breathe. "We can go back to having an open relationship", Xaden breathed against your ear. You shook your head, "Garrick will never share, we're in too deep", you muttered. Xaden let out a growl, "If he'll want to keep you, he will share, baby". His hands moved up your shirt, Garrick's shirt, and that was a reminder enough for you to push against Xaden's chest. You wiggled till he finally lost his grip on you. "If you'll challenge him for a claim of me, I swear to everything I believe in, I will suffocate you in your sleep", you pointed a warning finger at him. Xaden only chuckled, "You'll be crawling to me", he breathed out. Dark eyes watching you. "Fuck you, Riorson", you huffed, "You'll do that to baby", he mussed right as you turned around. Practically running back to your room. Heart beating in your chest so loudly that for a while it was all you could breathe.

#garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis x you #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis fourth wing #garrick tavis iron flame #garrick tavis x oc #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson x you #xaden riorson imagine #xaden riorson four wing #xaden riorson iron flame #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x you #iron flame x reader #iron flame

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chaoxfix · 8 months

Note

tails + "how long do you think you could hide that" perhaps

The Sonic Boom really should have been warning enough. However, growing up around them meant that Tails had more or less tuned them out. Sonic coming and going at his own speed (Mach 2) was simply a fact of life.

Plus, Station Square had always been pretty noisy. There could have been a thousand reasons that the sky suddenly shook. Especially since Extreme Gear had just crossed the speed of sound, and plenty of teenagers were using them more often despite them being restricted. (But like, who was going to catch them at that speed? Sonic? Even if the mayor asked him to, he’d just give them a high five.)

So no, Tails did not react. He’d learned to tune them out when working years ago; most of the time, he could even sleep through them.

Fatal error number one, really.

But Tails would never have expected Sonic to turn up here.

After all, despite being gifted a New Station Square penthouse, Sonic never came here.

At best, it was a place for Sonic to store all the Sonic-The-Hedgehog-themed gag gifts his friends gave him over the years.

(And yes, Tails is a little creeped out by the sheer amount of it, despite being the one to purchase at least a third of it. When he arrived at night, he’d tried keeping the lights off so he could pretend it wasn’t as decked out as it clearly was in the daytime, but the glow-in-the-dark shower curtain jump-scared him. His tails had stayed bushy for a full half-hour after. Ugh.)

Sonic hadn’t been able to get out of legally owning it, either. So despite still being a nomad in name and practice and worldview, Sonic T. Hedgehog officially had an apartment in New Station Square. Which meant to save face he would absolutely, never, under any circumstances, come here.

And he especially wouldn’t come here looking for Tails.

That’s what Tails thought, at least, until, a minute after the Sonic Boom, the door burst open.

Tails, clad in an oversized Sonic Sez T-Shirt, blinks up at him. As embarrassing as the shirt is, he’s glad he’s wearing it, because what’s underneath is way worse.

“Way to check in,” Sonic says, in lieu of hello. “‘Yeah, I definitely am going home after this,’” he mimics. “‘I’ll just be working on some software updates for Tailsblr, don’t worry, you can go check out the Spagonia ruins, I’ll be fine!’”

“I don’t sound like that.”

Sonic arches a brow.

“I don’t!” Tails, embarrassed, scrunches his face up in a pursed-lip pout. It’s incredibly tough-looking, he knows. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

Sonic glances around at the Sonic-themed apartment. “...Are you going to make me say it, or-”

“Never thought you’d call this ‘your’ apartment,” Tails mumbles.

“Okay, point.” Sonic leans in the doorway, effectively blocking Tails’s only exit, unless he busts open a window. Which he doesn’t want to do. The Sonic-themed-stained glass would be almost impossible to duplicate, and Amy paid good money for that birthday… ‘gift’. “You gonna tell me what you’re doing here, though? And why you haven’t checked in with anyone?”

Tails crosses his arms over his chest. He definitely doesn’t look petulant. Wincing ruins it, but he does his best to play it off, putting on an annoyed expression he’s not sure Sonic totally believes. “...no.”

Sonic, predictably, eyes Tails. And the shirt he’s wearing. “I came all this way though?” he says, faux casually. “Nice digs, by the way.”

“I figured it would be good camouflage.”

“Hiding from me got that serious, huh?”

What is there to say to that, exactly? Tails huffs, but ruins it with the way he toes his foot against the ground. Unsocked, because his usual ones are washing – and he couldn’t, surprisingly, find any Sonic-themed socks among the mess. He could’ve found slippers, but his paws were big enough as it was.

Sonic, as always, takes it upon himself to fix it. He steps closer, unsubtly poking around him trying to find an injury.

Tails turns away, trying to avoid Sonic getting too close, but it’s a losing battle with a decisive defeat when he winces again. Sonic sees it, because of course he does, and capitalizes on it immediately.

“We really have to do this the hard way?”

It sounds almost petulant. Tails huffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“It can’t possibly be more embarrassing than hiding here of all places.”

“Who said it was embarrassing?”

“Then you’ve got to give me an explanation, because otherwise that’s what I’m going with, bud.” Sonic intentionally challenges him, maybe knows deep down that it’s something else. When Tails doesn’t offer an explanation though, Sonic just sighs. “Alright, guess I’m just gonna assume you’re hiding out here licking your wounds…”

Tails grimaces. There’s no putting it off or getting out of it, is there?

With a sigh, Tails finally stops squirming away, though his tails continue to swish in annoyance. But the battle is over, and he knows he’s lost. So with a grand, over-dramatic sigh, he lifts the shirt, which loosely conceals bandages, and more importantly, a back brace.

“I have to wear it for another week,” he grumbles, lowering the shirt back down, because an oversized Sonic Sez Stay In School! shirt (...did they even ask Sonic before they made that slogan?) is way less embarrassing than the medical brace. “More, in theory, but by then I’ll be mobile enough to make myself a cool exoskeleton so I can go back to helping.”

Sonic raises both brows. “I, uh,” he starts, looking for a moment at a loss for words. He stares.

Tails decides to cut him a break. “I’ve been using the sketch pads here to draft out all the important parts of the exoskeleton,” he continues, “And honestly, I’ll probably keep using it for a while after this heals, because it’ll be useful for heavy artillery. Similar to what I used around the time we met Shadow, just with actual support, because it was pretty uncomfortable-”

“Okay, that’s great, but, I fail to see why you’d… hide that?”

Tails’s whiskers twitch. “It’s hard to move. Meaning I can’t help with anything going on.”

“Yeah? And that sucks, but it’s not– you should’ve told me.” How long did you think you could hide that, anyways? It's not a big deal, not to be on missions, but- I mean, there's more than matters than just that."

“It's not a big deal, injuries just suck,” Tails cuts in, cutting Sonic off from any other unnecessary worry, or so he hopes. Sonic stares at him blankly. “Besides, you would’ve felt like you needed to check in a ton, and you- you’ve been itching to go and do things again. And it’s important to stop Eggman’s newer plans. I’d just have slowed you down.”

“Slowed me down.” Sonic tilts his head to the side. “I guess, from a certain kind of view, I could maybe, sort of, see that logic.” Tails almost feels relieved, before Sonic adds, “You know, if I was heartless. Which you know I’m not. So I'm serious, please tell me it's something else.”

Tails squirms under the scrutiny. He shrinks in on himself, crossing his arms tightly over himself despite the ache it causes. All the while, Sonic is still looking him over, puzzling it through. Letting Tails’s silence and inability to refute that speak for itself.

Tails sees the exact moment Sonic notices. He cringes. This was exactly what he was hoping to avoid.

Because the thing is, Sonic always hid away when he was injured or sick or dealing with too much. Sonic was all about the power of friendship, sure – but that was for Eggman. When it came to interpersonal problems, or god forbid physical weakness, Sonic was suddenly a cool loner. He’d always make some offhand comment about seeing a part of the world he hadn’t seen before (a dwindling number every day) and then they wouldn’t see him again for days, weeks, or months.

And, well.

It wouldn’t be the worst trait to pick up on. The whole world agreed that Sonic was a cool role model – the whole apartment around him agreed! Why would he be a bad role model here, too?

And if Tails was ever going to be a hero in his own right, too, well… Shouldn’t he learn to take care of himself?

“Ah,” Sonic says, eloquently. He opens his mouth, presumably for a speech, and comes up short again. He shifts a hand to his chin, clearly thinking hard.

“I think I smell something burning,” Tails says.

“Does no one trust me to do speeches anymore?”

“I honestly think you’ve gotten worse.”

Sonic levels a half-hearted glare, but the tug at the corner of his mouth tells Tails he’s not actually offended. Sonic reaches for his bangs, half-heartedly ruffles them. “Yeah. That’s why I’m trying to take my time and think this one through.”

Tails doesn’t duck away from the affection. But he can’t help but shrink into himself, just a little. Not in a bad way – but he hasn’t felt shy in ages. He feels like a kid again, which is exactly what he was trying to avoid.

Sonic must pick up on it, because he frowns a little. Then, punches Tails’s shoulder, light enough not to jostle his back. “Growing up doesn’t mean not leaning on your friends anymore,” he finally says. “We’ll always be around. You know that, right?”

Tails has a lot he could say to that – about being around.

He wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Sonic reads into it, sighs despite himself. Of course Tails should’ve guessed it was written on his face. They’d managed years without words. “Okay, yeah, but that’s an extreme circumstance – and you could’ve… should’ve had our friends around,” he says. “If I had actually kicked the bucket – that’s what I would’ve wanted. Our friends looking out for you.”

The unfairness of it all burns. “It's not an extreme circumstance when you already almost died again.”

Sonic rakes a hand back through his quills. “I really have gotten worse at speeches,” he mutters. “I don’t know. I’ve always been like this, though, keeping... issues to myself – but you haven’t.”

On account of being four years old, Tails chooses not to point out.

“Yes, okay, don’t look at me like that, I know you were a kid and kids need help and that’s okay! Good, even! But I always thought it was nice you didn’t get mad when I did stuff for you, even when you got older.”

Tails scuffs his goes against the floor again. “Because you like doing nice things for other people.”

“Sure,” Sonic agrees. “But it’s not like… -I always chose to look after you. Could’ve stopped whenever. Vanilla offered, sometimes. But I didn’t even let Knuckles babysit you unless it was like, an emergency-emergency.”

Tails’s face feels hot at the mere idea of being babysat at all. Impossible standards, he knows, for being four.

“I didn’t think you even minded being looked after, since we were always friends, not just… you know.” The word that doesn’t exist, Tails thinks, for their exact kinship. Siblings is closest, but there’s both more and less there, that the word doesn’t always fit. It's a puzzle piece that only mostly matches. “But then you were getting so good at things that had nothing to do with anything I taught you. Doing your own thing, being your own you,” Sonic continues. “...I guess I just never thought you’d take after me so much. I'm surprised, that's all.”

Tails ducks his head. The shirt is in his field of vision though, and it strikes him as the most absurd thing about all of this. Having a heart-to-heart, after all these years, in a room absolutely suffocated in Sonic merchandise.

Tails clearly isn’t the only one with a hero worship problem. The whole world seems to agree that Sonic's a role model.

He can’t quite find the words to say, ‘How could I have possibly taken after everyone else?’

“You’re giving yourself a lot of credit,” Tails says, managing a small smile, despite everything. “...Deserved credit, but still.”

He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, where he knows a gigantic Sonic head plush (six feet tall and just as wide) is looming. A gift from Vector.

“Saying I’ve got a big head?”

“I think they actually made it to scale,” Tails says with a grin. “But the important thing is… You don't need to think it's all you. You said it yourself, that I have all my own good traits. So I can’t let you act all guilty for my bad traits. Maybe I would’ve been like this anyways, who knows. But you don’t need to take credit, okay?”

Sonic blinks at him.

“I’m growing up. And maybe I didn’t need to hide away, or at least I could’ve told you where I was going,” Tails acknowledges. “But those are my mistakes to make. Okay? Not your responsibility.”

Sonic still looks surprised. But he seems to chew on that, still deciding whether or not to agree.

But Tails is older now. About as old as Sonic was when he set out against Eggman.

It’s only fair to give him a little leeway, right?

So Sonic finally nods, still looking contemplative. “Just remember you’re not on your own,” he says. “You’ve got your own thing to figure out – I respect that. But I don’t want you to forget that we’re here because we actually care. What I was saying earlier… the thing is, we’re your friends. It’s not babysitting or looking after you anymore. Even then, we liked you and wanted you around. But now? You’re with us because you’ve got skills, and we want you there. I want you there. So remember that, okay?”

Tails’s chest feels warm. Pride, he thinks. The pride of knowing he’s made Sonic proud.

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little more confident.

Sonic smiles, lopsided. The same smile on most of the trademarked merchandise around them.

It’s such a perfect match for the poster behind him that Tails has to suppress a laugh.

“What?” Sonic asks, turning to follow Tails’s eyes. “What’s- Oh, very funny. I can't help that that's my good side. I'm not even doing the thumbs up!”

Tails grins, but there’s no malice behind it. “Thanks for coming here to check on me,” he says sincerely. “I’m okay though, just sorry for worrying you.”

Sonic ruffles his bangs again. “You’re never going to have to be sorry for worrying me,” he promises. “I’d miss it too much if I stopped.”

An hour ago, Tails would’ve felt worse, hearing that. But it doesn’t sting. Sonic can both worry about him, and know that he’s growing up and can make his own choices.

“C’mon,” Sonic says, officially ending the heart-to-heart. “I put some sonic-shaped cereal in here the other day when I saw it in a store. Five rings says it turns my tongue blue?”

“You’re on,” Tails agrees, knowing it’s a losing bet.

#chaoxfix chaoxfics #sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox #miles tails prower #chaox writes

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months

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more limited cards for book 7??

Ortho has his Cerberus Gear card, Lilia has his Right General card, now Sebek is getting his Eternal Knight card… I’M SENSING A PATTERN HERE 🫣 Dropping every so often with book 7 updates… Plus, these appear to be linked to the player titles you can earn by owning 10 of a particular character’s cards. Ortho’s is Guardian of the Underworld (Cerberus is the guard dog of the Underworld and Lilia’s is Seeker of Cradles (referring to how he found Silver all those years back). The composition of Sebek’s Knight of Lightning invokes imagery of his UM (which we learned last update), and he appears to be wearing the armor of the night fae soldiers and is using a polearm (?), which makes me think he's going to participate in an important battle in the next update. A high definition version of the artwork shows that he seems to be wet from rain, as it’s all over his skin and weapon. You know what else???? We see half of his face... and the other half obscured by a mask... his hair is down (which is only ever down in the mornings when he has just woken up and is still in a more vulnerable kind of state). Is this symbolism for Sebek finally coming to terms with his mixed heritage 😭

Y’all think… Idia, Malleus, and Silver are also going to get limited time cards in relation to future book 7 updates and those player titles??? Ain’t no way they’d only do it for half of the relevant characters in book 7 and leave it unfinished… (Maybe TWST will even get to doing them for the full cast eventually?? Though I don’t know when they’d find the time to squeeze in releases for the rest of the boys 💦) fbdjvwjsnzkww I wonder what they’ll be???

Just to quickly speculate on Malleus, Silver, and/or Idia’s potential cards:

King of the Underworld (Idia) — Idia finally wakes tf up and gets off his ass to contribute to the rescue 😂 Perhaps he reconnects with his family to figure out the situation and goes full mad scientist/hacker mode?? Not sure what the outfit would be but I’m picturing he’s looking deranged and dressed mad cyberpunk-y.

Knight of Dreams (Silver) — This one, I think, is the most easily predicted. Many Silver cards mirror Sebek’s, and since Sebek’s card seems to feature him in the armor of the night fae, Silver’s may feature him in the armor of the Silver Owls. (Maybe Silver will even magically get his blonde hair back for the brief shot of the initial card art www) This may be tied with Silver fully accepting his royal lineage (ie his old family) while also embracing those he has sworn to protect now (his new family). It may or may not also be associated with Silver “waking” Lilia and/or the spell on him finally breaking thanks to Lilia’s true love. I would genuinely be shocked if this guess was wrong or not close—

Ruler of the Abyss (Malleus) — Two thoughts: either this kicks off the series of OB boy cards people have been speculating about for years OR this will kick off the start of the OB boys “fully realized” series, since the other OB boys have similar titles. However, it should be noted that these same titles are also very close to, if not the same as, the book titles (1-7), which may not be as triumphant in context given that they serve as the main antagonists for their respective books. So either we’re getting Malleus Full Crazy Mode or Malleus maturing a bit and finally learning to let his loved ones go. In both cases, I see him dressed up like the prince he is, looking regal and yet lonely.

Do you guys have any ideas??? (They don’t necessarily have to he for Idia, Silver, and/or Malleus! One of my friends suggested merform Jade and Floyd for potential Undersea Advisor and Undersea Marauder cards—) If you do, feel free to share them ^^

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