#hate that square put me in a situation where i have to defend killing my most beloved character

[icharchivist]

i completely relate to your feelings for the ff7 remake. its so crushing when you love something and then the remake/sequel/whatever carries its name but butchers the themes so thoroughly that you feel like they didnt understand what made the original so great to begin with. it just feels like a lazy cash grab. looking at every disney remake specifically. or i love this manga that has been going for 1000+ chapters and i wish it would end. i love it dearly its so nostalgic and it was like the first manga i ever read but the characters have become 2d caricatures of themselves and have lost their personality and it just kind of makes me sad. and i agree that a choice like killing aerith hurts because you love the character but it was meaningful and gave characters depth and raised the stakes and just not doing it in the remake because shes so beloved is missing the entire point. i just completely get it and while im not that attached to ff i completely get how youre feeling and why youre so annoyed. it looks great but whats the point if the story doesnt match? themes are so so important and your explanation of how ff7 is about the conflict between nature and industrialization and how aerith represents the planet itself sort of makes a lot of sense. its a really deep story with a lot of thought put into it and her death is so symbolic and important to the story itself. yes shes adorable and beloved but killing her feels like the only right move. its so integral. so yeah jail for square enix for disguising their fanfic sequel as a remake. jail for 1000 years.

aaah nonny thank you 😭💞

while i'm sad the feeling is all too well known it is reassuring at least to find people who relate to it, so thank you for sharing that thought.

the Disney remakes are also a huge pet peeve of mine in term of missing themes or fixing things that don't need to be fixed, but honestly i've given up caring about them at least, and the original always still stand very well on its own even now that it's just *shrugs* whatever yknow, if some people want to connect with the remakes so be it.

for the ff7 remake it irks me a little more since i know people tend to not like getting into older games in general. and with 7 having had many entries to the saga, the original game clashed in gameplay and designs, which threw a lot of people off from playing it.

And it's wild bc i can't exactly call the remake lazy, the amount of work is seen everywhere, but it does feel extremely cynical. Like idk the moment you bring a meta textual level criticizing the fans for wanting to keep the story like it was before, it ends up feeling personal rather than an actual thoughtful approach on the story.

As for like, super long sequels that ends up ruining the spirit of the original, gooood yeah. sometimes it's good when a series can properly end. Fans can do the "keeping the story alive" part just fine we don't need to milk it until the characters are no longer enjoyable...

I am also glad that my POV on Aerith's death and its thematical importance makes sense to you also 🥺 It's a death i feel strongly about because it's genuinely way better done than people give it credit for and i've seen too many takes missing the point that it's something i've been ruminating about for years. (i've read takes about how it's fridging women again for Cloud's manpain and it irks me a lot bc this is not what fridging is and while yeah Cloud suffers from it since yknow, he's the protagonist so we follow his own journey through pain - it's not about Cloud, not just about him anyway. There was also how in ff15 Lunafreya's death was compared to Aerith's by the lead developer and to me it really gives the perfect counter example on how meaningful Aerith's death was to ff7 if you compare it in details to Luna's.)

and of course Aerith is fantastic and i wish, on an emotional level, for her to be alive, but it's not the narratively satisfying ending imo, and any scenario where she doesn't die undo most of the story moving forward.

and honestly it's just. idk kinda sad, that they took back the original dev team from ff7 for this remake, and yet they went into this direction. I do remember that there were tons of interviews about doing right to the fans and honoring the characters the fans came to love so much (it was especially a Kitase's interview where he was especially talking about Sephiroth and Zack, two characters who shouldn't have appeared in the remake at the time, and that i found extremely noticeable bc i have an interview of Kitase in a magazine dating from 2015 where he mentions how much he was always pissed off by Zack's popularity and didn't understand why fans loved him so much.). And so it's like. is it really just fanservice for the sake of fanservice, wanting so much to please the fans you ignore the themes you put in the game? or were all of the themes genuinely accidental??? or the fact it was 25 years ago means it's too far away for them to be remembered as such??

Ad i do think it's even sadder considering how relevant the OG's themes are to our modern days in general.

So yeah, i'm sad the remake went in such a different direction, i feel a bit cheated, but especially i'm bewildered how much it betrays the original themes more than just being different yknow? like i said with the whole "the whole game was about coping with the denial that makes you rewrite your own life and be easily manipulable as a result, so why make the whole remake about "let's rewrite this timeline actually""

but HELP yeah that's definitely a fanfic alright *mumbles* and i've read better ones.

jail!!! jail for a thousand years!!!!!

thank you for your understanding nonny <3333

#hate that square put me in a situation where i have to defend killing my most beloved character #like come on Square i really wish i could just lash out like 'how dare you kill her!!!' #it was a rhetorical question joking about my distress it wasn't a challenge to undo it!!! #tragic... #but thank you so much <333 #ichareply #anonymous #ffvii spoilers #ichasalty #ichafantalks ffvii

[sour--disposition]

Bad Girlfriend

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harry lewis x fem!reader

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@ketamineharry suggested a harry imagine based off of Anne-Marie’s Bad Girlfriend and voila

please check my pinned post for request/prompt info and my masterlist

You cancel plans for me - I cancel ours on you - Say I'd be back early - I don't get in 'til 2 - You ask me where I've been - I tell you something vague - Think I messed up again - What can I say

You were sick and tired of Harry and his behaviour. When you first got together, you chalked his actions up to being young and dumb. And then to getting used to having more money. Then you blamed it on having to deal with so much at such a young age. 

The excuses piled up, one on top of the other. You knew one day it would all come toppling down around you, drowning you and Harry in a sea of problems that you doubted you’d be able to survive. You’d excused cheating, been by his side during hangovers from hell and comedowns that took too long to make Harry realise that the high really wasn’t worth the pain. You’d rubbed his back and handed him bottles of water and paracetamol and nursed him back to health, only for him to go and get in the same state the next weekend and expect you to help him gather the pieces back together again.

You’d tried to patch things up. Every time that you went to Harry to air all your concerns, tell him that if he doesn’t get his act together that you’d leave, and he always promised that things would be better this time. But something would always happen. There’d be plans he’d forget or cancel. He’d get too drunk and end up with hands over another girl’s body. 

“Ooh, you look nice”, Harry commented as soon as you answered his FaceTime call. “What are you doing?”, he asked you.

“I’m off out with some girls from uni tonight”, you told him as you stood up from the sofa and started gathering your things together.

“I thought you were coming over?”, he said, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Sorry”, you said nonchalantly. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah”, you told him half-heartedly.

“Yeah, whatever”, Harry huffed. “Come back here after?”, he suggested.

“Sure”, you said, a small smile on your lips. “I’ve gotta go, their taxi just pulled up. Love you”, you rushed out, hanging up and shoving your phone into your clutch, along with your keys, card and some cash.

Harry 💕: where are you it’s 11?

Harry💕: y/n c’mon i miss you

Harry💕: am i waiting up for you or not?

Harry💕: its 2am

You didn’t read the texts until you were swaying on the spot in the lift of Harry’s apartment building. Your vision was fuzzy as you tried to find the right key for their front door. “Y/N?”, Harry asked, opening the door.

“Hey”, you slurred, stumbling towards him. “I couldn’t see your key”, you told him.

“Where’ve you even been?”, Harry asked, voice dripping with distaste and disappointment.

“Here, there, everywhere”, you giggled. 

“Come on, go to bed”, Harry said sternly. “I have a shoot tomorrow and Josh will kill me if I’m late or lacking”, he told you.

“Oh, I am so very sorry”, you drawled, exaggerating all of your words, much to your own amusement.

“I’m not being funny, Y/N. Go to bed or go home”, Harry said sharply.

Your face dropped, the small square inch of your brain that was yet to be drenched in vodka and whatever else you’d been drinking lit up with anger. “Fine”, you snapped. You stormed down the hallway, sure of your footing this time and not stumbling once.

“Where are you going?”, Harry called after you.

“Home!”, you shouted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind you as hard as you could.

You shivered in the cold, late night wind of London as you waited on the curbside for your taxi. As soon as the car pulled up, you slid into the backseat and rattled off your address. The street lights and neon signs of London passed by in a blur of alcohol and anger and regret. “Thanks. Keep the change”, you muttered, handing a note over to the driver and getting out of the taxi.

Once you’d got back into your apartment, you changed into some pyjamas and took your make-up off as quickly as possible. You crawled under the covers, pulling them around your body and getting comfy in the middle of your bed. 

Part of you felt a little guilty for how you’d treated Harry, but a bigger part of you couldn’t find the effort to care. You’d put up with Harry acting like this for 6 years, he could tolerate you doing it once or twice.

-

You wanna meet my friends - I say another day

“Another day, Harry”, you sighed, heavily, turning back to the work you were trying to get done for your classes.

“You always say that. You’ve been on this course for, like, a year”, Harry whined.

“I know but I really need to focus on work at the moment, Harry”, you told him. “I started my degree later than I wanted to anyway and then I didn’t commit to it like I should have last year because of…”, you trailed off.  “Another day”.

“Because of what?”, Harry asked, voice taking a combative edge as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I don’t want to get into this again”, you sighed heavily, slumping into your chair.

“Well, you started it!”, he argued. “So finish your sentence. Go on!”, he goaded.

“I couldn’t commit to my degree because I was too busy looking after you!”, you shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Me to lash out? Fucking well done”, you spat. You gathered up your things as quick as you could, closing your book and shoving things into your bag.

“Where are you going now?”, Harry asked frustratedly.

“Home. I have an essay to do for next week”, you muttered as you shoved past Harry.

Things between you and Harry were only getting worse. You knew about the other girls, but the both of you just pretended that you didn’t. All of his friends saw Harry as some sheepish kid with a loud mouth girlfriend, but they never got to see the Harry that you were seeing more and more. The Harry that held things from years ago against you, the Harry that was becoming more controlling by the day, the Harry that would raise his voice when things went even slightly not his way… The Harry that wasn’t the same Harry that you fell in love with.

-

'Cause I'm one in a million - More like in a billion - I don't think it's cheating if I'm kissing other women - I do some shit you can't forgive - And you better get used to it

The more you and Harry argued, the more his friends didn’t like you. They hid it well, especially Simon and Josh since you were such good friends with Talia and Freya. But you noticed the side glances you’d get anytime you laughed a little louder than usual, any time you’d say something that would make Talia or Freya cackle. You’d notice the looks that they would send Harry when you had the audacity to go and dance and your own, or when you’d be on your phone whilst everyone else was fighting to keep you out of the conversation.

You had no doubt in your mind that Harry was telling them bare-faced lies about you and hiding the truth about himself. You knew that they had no clue about Harry’s cheating, about how bad his drinking and substance abuse had truly been, how much he actually relied on you for day to day functioning. All they knew was that you were loud, argumentative and didn't give Harry the time of day when it came to uni work.

“Do you think she knows she’s punching?”, you heard Ethan ask JJ.

“I mean, it’s so obvious. Harry’s miles out of her league. C’mon man!”, JJ laughed in reply.

You looked to Harry to see his reaction. You knew he’d heard what was said, but based on the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. You didn’t need the validation from your boyfriend’s best friends, but it would be nice if your boyfriend would at least defend you or reassure you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave the table, heading towards the toilets. You were facing the mirror, touching up your hair and make-up, when Freya and Talia walked in. “What happened?”, Talia asked.

You told them what you’d heard and watched as their faces contorted into looks of horror. “Oh my god!”, Freya exclaimed. “What did Harry say!?”, she asked, coming closer to hold you hand supportively.

Your silence answered their question perfectly. “I can’t believe him”, Talia huffed, wrapping her arms around you.

“Things haven’t been great, but I never thought he’d just sit and let his best friends slag me off practically to my face”, you told them. Your eyes were watery.

“Hey, babe. Don’t let your mascara run”, a dark haired girl told you, handing you a tissue. “Whoever is letting someone slag you off is stupid”, she assured you.

“My boyfriend”, you said sadly. 

“I hate boys”, she laughed darkly, rolling her eyes, before rejoining her group of friends.

You, Talia and Freya emerged from the toilets around 5 minutes later, once you were sure that your tears had dried and weren’t going to restart. The three of you walked towards the table, Freya and Talia immediately sliding next to Josh and Simon.

“Where’s Harry?”, you asked, not seeing him anywhere. Ethan gave you a look and pointed towards the dancefloor before turning back to his conversation with JJ and Vik.

You glanced over towards the dancefloor, hoping you’d see Harry. Thankfully, he was towards the edge, back turned towards you. You watched as he turned around, ready to try and grab his attention. His eyes met yours, briefly filling with panic, before darting back down to the girl in his arms.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, as Harry’s friends and Freya and Talia all watched as he tried to assess the situation and what to do.

He watched as you walked closer, looking ready to send the stranger away. Harry’s eyes followed you as you sailed past him and towards the middle of the dance floor. You could feel eyes on you as you began dancing to the music, letting the beat mix with the alcohol and take over your body.

“Did you sort things with your boyfriend?”, a female voice asked. It was the girl from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully at her.

“No”, you snorted. “I came to speak to him and he was all over another girl”, you told her. Your eyes darted over to where you’d last seen Harry. “That’s him there, sucking face with the blonde”.

“I hope he’s your ex-boyfriend now”, she told you, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated”, you admitted, looking down in shame. It wasn’t news to you that you were letting Harry treat you like a doormat, but you had yet to muster up the courage to leave him. Just as you looked up, ready to offer to explain it over a drink, someone behind you shoved you, sending you catapulting into the girl’s arms.

“Careful there, can’t have you falling for me already. I’ve not even started flirting yet”, she told you with a smirk. “Martha”, she said politely, holding out a hand.

“Y/N”, you told her with a shy smile as you accepted her outstretched hand.

“Care for a dance?”, Martha asked you, pulling you closer with the hand that was still in hers.

You didn’t care if Harry and his friends watched as your bodies rolled together. Harry had never danced with you on a night out like this, never held you shamelessly in a club for everyone to see. Harry had never held your face so securely as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of everyone around you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”, you heard beside you.

“Is this the boyfriend?”, Martha asked once she’d pulled back and let her eyes flutter open, eyeing Ethan up and down as soon as she had.

“The boyfriend’s best friend”, you told her, preparing to step out of her hold.

“Last time I checked, the boyfriend was preoccupied with someone else. Get him to come and find me when he wants his girlfriend. We’ll be right here”, she said, voice powerful and allowing no argument as her arms held you closer.

Harry never came to find you. The two of you left the club in separate taxis and you left with a new number saved in your phone.

-

You should be with someone else - Someone who is not myself

“Harry, you deserve so much better”, you heard a voice say as you walked into Harry’s apartment. You walked down the hallway quietly, lingering just behind the door frame to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“We’ve been together for so long, though”, Harry sighed.

“Did you not see what she did the other night? She was all over some other chick!”, a voice, Simon’s, exclaimed.

“Maybe it was just a mistake, y’know”, Harry tried to reason.

“She’s not good for you, Harry”, JJ, this time, said.

You’d heard enough. You turned the corner, coming face to face with all 7 of the boys. “Y/N…”, Harry trailed off.

“No, no. Carry on talking about me, it’s fine”, you said, voice lathered in artificial sweetness.

“Damnit, Y/N, it wasn’t like that”, Harry snapped, surprising everyone but you. “What are you doing?”, he asked as you started gathering a blanket off of the back of the sofa and plucking a hoodie off of the back of a dining room chair..

“Getting my shit and going”, you hissed.

“You’re being dramatic”, Harry scolded.

“No, Harry. I’ve put up with your bullshit since we were 18. I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve put my life on hold for long enough. You need someone, but I’m not that someone anymore. I’m sick of looking after you and letting your friends hate me just because you’re too much of a coward to tell them the truth”, you spat.

“We know everything, Y/N”, Ethan said smugly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“So you know that I started my degree late because I had to get Harry sober? You know that he’s cheated on me more times than I can count? You know that I’ve tried for 6 fucking years to get him to love me as much as I love him and it’s never fucking worked!?”, you all but yelled, shocking everyone in front of you.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked, voice frustrated and angry.

“I know that you don’t love me as much as I love you”, you told him simply. “You cancelled 3 anniversary dates to go on nights out with the guys. You made me cancel a weekend away because you wanted to go to Dubai. You get annoyed when I try to do my uni work. You let Ethan and JJ slag me off, practically to my face, and didn’t say a fucking word”, you told him.

You looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear my boyfriend’s best friends, people I’ve known for 6 years, say that I’m punching and that you deserve better? Did you think about how much it hurt me when you didn’t even flinch at what they said?”.

Harry’s face lit up in anger. “It’s not like you’ve been a good girlfriend!”, he spat.

“Because being a good girlfriend to you is like a full time job. It’s a full time job and I haven’t had a day off in over 5 years. So yeah, I’ve been a bad girlfriend… Boo fucking hoo”, you grumbled.

Harry remained silent, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We can try again”, he suggested quietly.

“We have! Over and over again!”, you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m tired of looking after you when I’m just as hungover as you. I’m tired of not making plans because I literally can not afford for you to cancel on me anymore. You don’t value me or anything that I do. Your friends hate me and you don’t care. I’ve been your last priority for years and I’m sick of it. We’re done. I’ll put your stuff in a box and bring it round”, you told him, voice losing more and more strength as you spoke.

“Y/N…”, Harry tried, reaching for your arm.

“Don’t”.

#harry lewis #w2s #wroetoshaw #harry lewis imagine #harry lewis x reader #harry lewis oneshot #w2s imagine #w2s oneshot #w2s x reader #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw x reader #wroetoshaw oneshot #sidemen #sidemen imagine #sidemen oneshot #sidemen x reader #song imagine #lyric imagine #uk youtube #uk youtube imagine

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Guiltrip

So, my week has been hell. In addition to working night and day on final essays for my classes, I've been really busy at work lately, and the second COVID vaccine shot really took a lot out of me this week. And that's not even getting into the bureaucratic nonsense that comes with applying for the MTEL which is slowly making me wonder if I actually want to teach in the first place.

But, despite all that, there was a single light of hope this week that almost made it all worth it.

STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH, BABY!

OH MY GOD, THIS SHOW IS AMAZING! I ALWAYS LOVED THE CLONE-CENTRIC EPISODES OF THE CLONE WARS, AND NOW WE GET AN ENTIRE SHOW ABOUT AN ELITE TEAM OF THEM? KICKASS! AND IT TAKES PLACE AFTER ORDER 66 WITH GRAND MOFF TARKIN AS THE MAIN VILLAIN? SWEET MOTHER OF GEORGE LUCAS, I CAN'T WAIT! I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT THEY TRADED IN THE COOL SNIPER CLONE FOR SOME LITTLE GIRL CLONE, I ALREADY WANT TO SEE MORE THAN THE TWO EPISODES WE GOT SO FAR! GOD, I LOVE THIS SHOW!

Oh yeah, there was also a new episode of Miraculous Ladybug that aired on the same day too, I guess. It was pretty good. Hell of a lot better than the past three episodes I've sat through.

Let's get into the fifth (chronologically the eleventh) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Guiltrip

We start off in the middle of class where we see Marinette looking at Adrien lovingly.

Because the writers are still trying to push the Love Square on us as if they were trying to sell us some death sticks. And yes, expect a few Star Wars jokes in this review. This episode did premiere on May 4th after all.

Rose suddenly gets a headache, and asks to go to the nurse, saying that “Miss Dora” is back. While walking there with Marinette, she explains that it's a code name she gives when her head hurts and can tell Miss Bustier without letting everyone know. She probably felt a name like “Maya Grain” would just give it away.

At lunch, Juleka gets a text that really upsets her, so Marinette tries to cheer her up. Keyword being “tries”.

Okay, yes, this is referencing the previous scene, where Rose refers to a certain snack at the nurse's office she eats to recover her health whenever “Miss Dora” visits called “Mr. Coffee”, but it's just bad timing. I get Marinette has a habit of not reading the room, but why did she have to use the term “Miss Dora” when she knows what it's being used for? Sure, she doesn't know that Juleka knows, but did she really have to say “Miss Dora”? She couldn't have used any other name instead? It's like making a chemotherapy joke when you just found out someone close to you has cancer. Even putting the context aside, what is this joke's punchline supposed to be? That “Miss Dora” will visit Juleka if she eats her lunch? Even by the humor standards of this show, the joke fails spectacularly.

Marinette bumps into Adrien, and although she stutters a little with a little exaggerated body movement, she does manage to take things seriously so she can have an actual conversation with Adrien about Juleka, who wants to be alone. She explains that the text she got was from Rose, who was sent to the hospital because of her sickness, and the entire class finds out because Marinette texted everyone to come to check on Juleka.

Goddamn it, Marinette. I usually defend you for getting screwed over by the writing, but you really aren't on your A game today.

Juleka explains that Rose got this sickness when she was little, which naturally worried everyone else. To make things worse, Juleka also says Rose made her swear to not tell anyone about her to worry her. Everyone else swears to not let Rose know that they know, and the act of support is actually enough to drive away an Akuma targeted at Juleka.

Unfortunately, nobody ever said anything about being overly affectionate to Rose, so everyone in the class tries to do things for Rose like carry her bags, giving her a pillow to sit on in school, helping her take notes, letting her cut in line at lunch, and giving her apples.

All of this makes Juleka remorsefully tell Rose that she told everyone else, which worries her because she hates all the special treatment, so she goes to tell them all about her illness. While they seem to accept her, the next time she sneezes, they overreact like, uh... how can I make this joke in a tasteful way?

Rose says she's had enough with all the treatment, which makes Juleka feel guilty. In the bathroom, she gets akumatized into Reflekta (yet again) with a Sentimonster named Guiltrip. And then Reflekta immediately gets sucked into the Sentimonster, which will cause it to go out of control. Nice job, Shadowmoth.

While it might not look like much, this is easily my favorite Sentimonster by far. Granted, that's not saying much, given all we've gotten so far for Sentimonsters is bootleg Mothra, sentient candy, a robotic doll, a frog with a body count, yet another evil doppelganger, and an eye, but my point still stands. Rather than actually confront the heroes, it's basically a portal to another world where it can trap people in bubbles that represent their regrets and despair, and turn them into copies of Reflekta.

It's a really strong metaphor which reminds me of the villains from Kamen Rider Wizard, who tried to drive their victims to despair in order to turn them into monsters. Ironically, that show's main villain is also some asshole in white who was risking countless lives just to save someone close to him. In general, the area inside of Guiltrip is visually stunning, and easily the highlight of the episode. It's just so surreal, and it really sets the tone the episode's going for.

Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, and also get sucked into the portal, seeing some of the victims before they also start to fall into despair. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is one of the few times where Angstdrien Depreste is thematically appropriate. Cat Noir points out that if they had simply defeated Shadowmoth by now, none of this would be happening, which is a good point. He even attempts to kill himself using his Cataclysm, but unlike RWBY, they don't try to glorify it.

This also leads to Rose managing to fight off Guiltrip's powers with her optimistic personality (so I guess you could say she's A New Hope for the heroes), inspiring Ladybug to compliment Cat Noir. While I'd normally be pissed that this is yet another way to boost his ego, it does fit in with the episode's theme of positive thinking. Well, with the exception of one line where she points out what her time as Ladybug would be like without Cat Noir...

BEING A SUPERHERO IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUN. Yes, there are certain benefits to being a superhero, but it is not a fun game you play when lives are on the line. Why are the writers so dedicated to validate Cat Noir's beliefs that being a hero is just a fun extracurricular activity? Has there ever been a superhero who shares a similar mentality and isn't treated like a complete jackass?

So Ladybug and Cat Noir break free of the bubbles, and after summoning her Lucky Charm, a pickaxe, Ladybug realizes she needs more positivity to break free from Guiltrip. As such, she pulls out the Pig Miraculous and gives it to Rose, who transforms into Pigella. Funny how she forgot her little headache condition when she bangs her head like a death metal singer while transforming.

The design is... wait, she's not wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit? She's actually wearing something different?

Yeah, I really like the Pigella design. There's a good mix of pink and white, and the skirt really brings the whole thing together. It really reflects Rose's optimistic and bubbly personality.

So the three heroes find Reflekta, who has been consumed by tons of bubbles. Pigella uses her superpower, Gift, to show Reflekta what her heart wants the most right now. So it's basically a more specific version of the Fox Miraculous? In fact, what do pigs have to do with optimism?

Whatever reason, it works, which helps Reflekta to break free of Guiltrip's influence, letting Ladybug de-evilize her. But because we need to have a fight scene in this episode, the Reflekta clones start to attack the heroes, but Ladybug uses the pickaxe to climb out of Guiltrip and purify the Amok.

So Rose hands the Pig Miraculous back to Ladybug, and the episode ends with everyone treating Rose normally in class, realizing she isn't as delicate as she thinks she is.

So yeah, I really like this episode. Aside from a few stupid things Marinette said this episode, I honestly don't have a lot of problems with the episode here.

I also really like the lesson this episode is going for. It doesn't shame Rose for rejecting the help, and it doesn't shame the class for being to overprotective of Rose either. It tries to find a middle ground, which is an important lesson to learn, not just for dealing with a loved one who has an illness, but for disabled people and other kinds of situations where someone has a disadvantage. Even as much as I ragged on Marinette for the text, it's clear that she isn't the only one to blame. In fact, nobody really gets blamed for anything this episode. It's more of a misunderstanding, and both sides find a balance on how to treat Rose.

It's overall a really good episode, and the second best one so far this season. And you know what? This episode taught me the importance of staying positive, so with that in mind, maybe I shouldn't be dreading “Queen Banana” when it comes out this week.

Wait, what? It got pushed back two weeks? Oh, THANK GOD! Now I feel like dancing. And I know exactly what song to dance to...

#immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #rose lavillant #pigella #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #hawk moth #shadowmoth #shadow moth #juleka couffaine #reflekta

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Post-Finale Fanfiction (Angst, Rated Teen) Part 2 of 2

Part 1 is here:

She never knew it would hurt this much when the person she loves is right in front of her, but she can't reach out and touch him; when she is still her, he is still him, but everything else has changed, like an invisible lever in an old theatre changing the scenery in the background, bringing them both to the part of the play where they are hopelessly lost.

[[MORE]]

All it took was one single moment, one single decision, and everything feels irrevocably broken now. It makes her contemplate on the true nature of relationships, how fragile they are, and how easy it is to shatter them- and her.

The smoke is slowly clearing, and all that seems to be left is a man who is doing his best to keep his distance from her, physically and emotionally.

She can tell from the way he stands with his arms crossed, or his fists clenced when his hands are by his side, that he really doesn't want to hold her hand. How can something so simple as the touch of his fingers be so vital to her existence that it feels like something has been ripped out from inside her?

She wants to reach out and touch him, but she is scared that if he pulls away outright, any hope of reconciliation that she still has left will shatter into pieces.

And she really needs this hope. It's the only thing she still has left. It's the only thing that keeps her going.

---

He looks like a man with a mission.

They spent quite a long time together, running from the TVA, running towards the citadel at the end of time, hoping to achieve their goal of bringing down the one behind the curtains.

But that was her mission, and he was there for her. She was the one behind the wheels, he was the one keeping the sails afloat.

Now it's different. Now he has a defined goal, a glorious purpose.

She's seeing him in a whole new light now, and not just because he has switched to Asgardian leather and metal armors.

As far as she is concerned, she is better off doing it all alone. One woman army, nobody to get in her way, nobody to screw up her plans. Nobody to blame her if it all goes to shit.

Or so it was, until two months ago, when Mobius decided to enlist her help in fixing the multiversal madness.

She has never really worked with people before, and it's weird, to say the least. She never considered herself a team player, but she is finding herself hating the idea less and less lately.

And she swears it has nothing to do with him. Not the fact that they are working together, and seeing his face first thing in the morning brings her a sense of calm that she quite can't explain. Or the fact that their rooms are next to each other and it makes her feel secure enough to finally get some rest at nights. Or that this whole arrangement has kept them on talking terms, when they had gone their own separate ways otherwise.

Nothing to do with that at all.

---

Humans are stupid, and the biggest evidence of this is how they decided that two extremely powerful Gods skilled at magic, enchantment, and defeating an evil extra dimensional cloud that swallows everything it touches, should be delegated to the role of research. "You're clever. You're good at reading people. You can put yourselves in the shoes of the bad guys, no offense", they said, but really, what they meant was, "We can't trust you out in the field much." She knows it, he knows it. She just doesn't know why he's complying.

That's how they find themselves researching every single day.

She likes to think he's not the only reason why she's studying in the library instead of in the comfort of her room, but that'd be a lie.

At first, he chooses to sit at a separate table. But she keeps going over to his to "get his opinion" on something in the file she's reading, and finally, he gives in. Their current arrangement consists of him sitting in the chair in front of her, to the left, prim and proper, while she hoists her feet up on the table.

He falls asleep on the desk one night, face smacked against a file, the tiniest bit of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. It would be a hilarious sight, if her heart wasn't feeling what she can only describe as longing.

They should probably talk about it, like mature adults, but neither of them know how to do that.

All she can do right now is gather the courage to run her fingers through his hair. The touch is hesitant at first, as if one wrong move would make him wake up and push her back to square one. Slowly, she relaxes, letting her fingers dance on his scalp.

He stirs in his sleep. "Please Sif. I'm sorry. Don't cut off my glorious locks, please."

Now this is a story she must hear when things are better.

If things are better.

---

Doctor Strange joins them very briefly, very rarely, but the tension between him and Loki is hard to miss. It's worse than the current situation with her, and that's saying something.

"You don't really like Stephen, do you?"

Something inside him seems to shift, but he masks it behind a non-chalant look immediately and just arches an eyebrow at her. "He's Stephen now, is he?"

"Well, that is his name." She shrugs. "What do you call him?"

"Strange", he spits the word out with an amount of irritation that indicates there definitely is a story there. "That is his name", he mimics.

She can't help the smirk that spreads across her lips. "What did he do to you?"

"Nothing", he lies, ignoring the horrifying flashbacks of thirty minutes of endless falling. Not a single soul must ever know a mere human got the best of him. "What can he do to me? I'm a God among those mortals. He just irks me because he is so pompous, and arrogant, and he ceaselessly uses magic to toy with others."

She pretends to think deeply. "Now where have I seen that before?"

He scoffs. "You mock me, but I am nothing like him. For one, I am not rude."

"He seems fine to me", she declares decisively.

It's the first time in months that he gives her a cheeky grin. "That's because you're rude too."

---

They are still just containing the threats to their world, instead of finding a way to fortify the barriers between worlds and stop the threats from coming.

"Shouldn't we have a plan to seal off the other worlds from ours?" She asks him one day.

"They are working on it." He tells her, and then with a look of worry, adds, "I hope."

There are debates on what to do at the Avengers tower and at the TVA. Nobody seems to agree on what the best course of action is, but everyone seems to be following the general instructions of Doctor Strange.

During one such meeting, a Minuteman makes the mistake of voicing out loud how she wondered if things would be better if they were running according to their old boss's plans.

Sylvie feels the guilt wash over her once more.

"No", Loki tells them all firmly. The determination in his voice takes her completely by surprise. "Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling, makes no difference. The degree is arbitrary. The definition’s blurred." She catches him steal a glance at her direction. "We couldn't have left a dictator in charge just because it's convenient. Listen, I'm the bad guy. I've done horrible, unspeakable things. I thought humans needed to be ruled. I wanted to rule. But even I know that it's not right to take away a person's life completely. These are innocent people. You are innocent people. You have families back home, parents, children", a pause and a softening of his features, "-love. A whole past, a whole future. That man had no right to take it away from you."

His powers of persuasion are foreign to her, and it's mesmerizing to watch. Her enchantments cannot hold a candle to how he is able to just talk people into doing what he wants, thinking what he thinks, seeing what he sees.

"He who remains had a plan. One, singular plan, from one, singular man." There is absolute conviction in his voice. "It's not the only way. We'll find another way. A better way."

She has never known what it is like to have someone see you for who you are- broken and flawed, and defend you- even your well-intentioned actions that yielded different results than what you expected and hurt them in the process. She suspects it has been the same for him, a lifetime of not having anyone have his back.

The warm feeling inside her is brand new. What is the name of this? Comfort? Relief?

Happiness?

---

This will be their first time out in the field in a long time, and she feels a little sick to the stomach.

He notices. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his voice tugs at her heartstrings. She nods. She has faced way worse, she shouldn't be so nervous about this, but she is. "I've never done this before."

"We can always just kill him and blame it on the Chitauris", he suggests with a serious face.

"I heard that", Peter yells from the other room, where he is doing whatever it is that teenagers do to prepare for battle.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe we're babysitting."

"I've done this before", he assures her, and it surprises her to picture him being entrusted with such a serious task. "The trick is to conjure up illusions that keep them distracted enough to not cry."

She laughs. "You're thinking of infants. This one is a little older."

"I'm over a thousand years old, Sylvie. They're all infants to me."

Peter joins them, mask covering his face so that he doesn't reveal his identity. "So what do I call you? Loki and Loki? That's confusing. How about Loki and Lady Loki? Or is that offensive? I'm not suggesting women are inferior, because they're absolutely not..."

"Does he come with an off switch?" She whispers in horror as Peter rambles on.

Loki grins. With one wave of his hand and a flash of green, Peter's own webbing shoots out and seals his mouth shut.

---

Things are fine but not fine at the same time. He's right there beside her, but not there at all. They have their banters, they have their stolen glances, but they haven't had a meaningful conversation since that first day when she got back. She's been putting it off for a long time, but she knows they really do need to have the talk.

She corners him in his room one evening while he's tinkering with a temporal collar. She takes a seat in the chair next to his bed and rests her hand on the table, leaning her head against her palm, before switching position and crossing her arms and legs. Everything about her posture screams uneasiness. If he notices- he probably does- he doesn't say anything.

"You defended me that day."

He briefly looks up from the task at hand and gives her a soft smile. "Of course."

She blinks. "I don't understand." Her hands involuntary rise up to rub her temples. "If you can justify my actions to them, then how can you still be mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you", he says without missing a beat.

"Rubbish", her words come out angrier than she intended. This frustration is the result of the months of status quo they have had. She has to know now, one way or the other. "You're distant. You're guarded", she accuses. Then her voice breaks, as she feels a part of her break all over again with her next words. "You don't hold my hand. Why? Tell me."

He abandons the collar and focuses his full attention on her. Staring straight into her eyes, he answers her. "You know why."

"I wouldn't be asking if I did. Look, if it's because I chose the mission over you-"

"-Of course it's not that." He says decisively. Then a sad smile clouds his face. It's the same look he had when she accused him of conning her to gain the throne. "Do you think I'm the type of man who would want a woman to abandon her life-long ambitions just because she has met someone?"

She knows he isn't. But it still doesn't answer why he is so cross with her. "What is it then?"

He pauses for a moment, trying to decide whether he wants to bare his soul out to her once more or not. There are two ways he can go from here- choose to not let her in again and save himself from the hurt, or trust her again and open himself up to potential pain.

Who is he kidding? Pushing her away- keeping her away- doesn't hurt any less.

There were a thousand things that had to go wrong to bring two Lokis from two universes together. A connection like that, it doesn't just happen.

And it doesn't just go away. The pain is constant, it's a part of him, pounding like a second heart every second he has to stop himself from reaching out for her hand.

This has to come to an end.

He takes in a deep breath, bracing himself. "You didn't have to send me away, Sylvie. I wanted to stop you from making the same mistakes I did. But in the end, I didn't care what you chose. I just wanted us to do it together."

She never even imagined this could be the reason for his hurt. All these months spent thinking he hates her for her choices, and now it turns out he is hurt simply because she chose to do it alone? "I'm sorry." She says sincerely. "I just wanted you to be safe."

"And I just wanted to be there with you till the end." He confesses. His eyes shimmer with the emotions he has kept bottled in for so long. "You go, I go."

She doesn't know what to say to that. She has never been good at articulating her feelings. Tears stream down her cheeks at the realisation that even after everything, he is still there for her.

She didn't cry even back at Lamentis when they thought they were going to die. She doesn't let anyone see her cry when she is sad or scared. That's all she has known her whole life. She's used to it by now.

This is new. These are tears of relief. Comfort.

Happiness.

Tentatively, she crosses over to the bed and sits by his side.

It's quiet for a few minutes. But unlike the months of tension so thick she could cut it into splices with her daggers, this is comfortable silence. The kind they had before it all went wrong.

"Did you even miss me?" He whispers.

"What kind of silly question is that? Of course I did." Her shaking hands grab his, and oh how she missed this.

He intertwines their fingers. His eyes draw closed. Bliss. That's the only word for this feeling.

He opens his eyes again and studies her. She's staring back at him, teary-eyed, but with a hopeful smile. "Really? Because you have a really unique way of showing it. You didn't even come looking for me."

"I didn't know how to face you", she tells him honestly. No tricks, no enchantment, no treachery. Not with him. "I didn't know if you even wanted to see me." Her voice grows quieter, dropping to a timbre that perfectly encapsulates her deepest fear. "I thought you hated me."

"Hate you?" He is shocked that she thinks that is even possible, specially after seeing him these last few months. "Sylvie, I'm working with the Avengers. The Avengers. Do you know how much I hate them? They are my nemesis. They're self-righteous, condescending, and so completely dull. Every second with them makes me want to rip their hearts out. Why do you think I'm here with them?"

She thinks she knows. But she needs to hear it anyway.

"It's because of you." He lays it all out on the table. All cards on deck, win or lose. "You've been running away. I have been the one who has been here, trying to hold down the fort, working to fix everything. Because that is what one does when one loves-"

Shit. The word slips out before he realises it.

Their eyes go wide in unison.

"Sylvie, I-"

"-Don't you dare take it back now." She warns him. "I-" She doesn't know how to say it either. They make such a great pair, both equally daft at saying how they feel, like they are teenagers, not Gods who have lived for centuries. "I've been running because I didn't think I could bear the burden of knowing I found you and then I lost you. I don't want to lose you. Not now, not ever."

He kisses the back of her hand, before letting it go. He cups her face, gently caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. "I don't want to lose you either."

She leans in closer, until their foreheads touch. She can feel his breath on her face, warm and soft. That is exactly how she feels inside. "You won't", she promises. "You go, I go."

---

(Quote on Lesser Evil from The Witcher. Thanks for reading!!)

#fanfiction #fanfic #loki #loki disney+ #loki x sylvie #sylki #sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie x loki #pro sylki

[maddiwrites]

Gut Feeling

Pairing: John B Routledge x Routledge!Reader (Sibling Dynamic)

Summary: (Requested) As your older brother, John B tends to decide what he thinks is best for the two of you. Disregarding your concerns about Ward Cameron, John B decides it would be best for the two of you to accept Ward’s offer to be your guardian. Later, John B learns that he should he really trust his sister’s instincts.

Note: I linked the request in the summary. I’ll be honest I don’t think I did your request justice but I tried really hard to put my head where yours was at! Hopefully you like it! Let me know!! 

Word Count: 3.8k

You and you brother are closer than most siblings. You think it’s because of how you were raised. Your mom abandoned you at a young age and your dad was inevitably neglectful from working back and forth between two jobs and spending most of his free time researching the Royal Merchant. That left you and John B to mostly fend for yourselves. With John B being a year older, you looked up to him as your best friend and protector. 

Due to the spike in conflict between you, the Pogues, and the Kooks, and now the square groupers coming for blood because of your dad’s compass, you’re constantly seeking comfort in your brother’s side, feeling unsafe whenever you’re not around him. It wasn’t always this way. But now that you know your dad most likely didn’t disappear on his own, and people are looking for you and your brother for the compass, you felt scared and alone. The police won’t help because they think you’re nothing but a couple of trouble makers living on the Cut. Now you’re spending the summer fearing every day for you life. 

It didn’t help that John B found himself in a scuffle with Topper and his girlfriend. Fighting with a couple of teenage Kooks should be the least of your problems, yet here you are, sitting on the edge of John B’s hospital bed.

Sarah’s here too and you wonder how deep her connection is with your brother. From what you know, they’ve only started hanging out a couple of days ago. And she’s still in a relationship with Topper, the kid who almost killed your brother. 

“John B,” You say sheepishly, feeling weird and shy with Sarah being in the room. Like you feel forgotten. “We should go before DCS finds us here.”

John B nods. “Okay, grab my stuff in the closet over there.”

You nod and turn to grab his clothes that the nurses stuffed in a transparent plastic bag. 

“Wait, maybe you should...” Sarah tries stopping John B out of concern for his well being. He was just diagnosed with a severe concussion and a broken wrist. She didn’t know how well he would do on his feet. 

“Hold on there, sport,” Ward Cameron walks in with his hands tucked into his pocket and a smirk on his lips. 

“Mr. Cameron...” John B says apprehensively and glances between him and Sarah. “What are you doing here?”

Ward explains that Sarah told him everything - how John B landed in the hospital because he was defending Sarah. How he was wrong for firing John B when he was honest with him from the get-go. 

“I’d like to make up for it if you let me,” Ward says, peaking your interest. “I talked to Sheriff Peterkin...and I’ve offered to be your legal guardian if you’ll have me.”

You swallow nervously and turn to John B for some insight as to what he was thinking. Something unsettling rolled in the pit of your stomach. Your instinct has always been to never trust a Kook. They only look out for themselves. It’s just how it goes on this island. Therefore, you can’t help but question Ward’s intention. Why would he take in two more kids when he already had three. 

John B looks between Sarah and Ward, but not you, and smiles at the offer. “Yeah, sure. Uh, sounds good.”

“John -”

“Okay,” Ward claps and cuts you off. “Then it’s settled. Welcome to the family.”

Sarah smiles excitedly down at your brother who offers the same grin. You feel Ward’s eyes on the side of your head as you look at the ground, suddenly feeling anxious about your new situation. Something didn’t feel right. You had a gut feeling. And usually, your gut is never wrong.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Ward sets the two of you up in a room on the first floor. Until his second guest room is ready, you were asked to share a room with John B for the time being. Of course, you had no problem doing this. In fact, you wanted this, afraid of what might happen if you and John B were ever separated. You already felt a wall slipping in between you two. And that wall was Sarah Cameron. You didn’t want to thicken that separation even further. 

It sounds crazy, but that’s just how scared you were. 

“I don’t know about this, John B,” You say softly as the two of you unpack most of what you were able to bring from the Chateau. 

“Why? It’s a roof over our head, in Figure Eight, no less. The guy may be an arrogant douche, but he’s not evil,” John B says. He didn’t understand why you were so hesitant to move in when the other alternative is to keep running from DCS. 

“I don’t know. I just have a feeling...” You trail off when you come across a picture of you, John B, and your dad in a frame you tucked into your luggage. You focus on your dad’s smile and wonder what he would think of this - living on Figure Eight, pretending to be a Kook. “Just don’t leave me alone with him.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Little did you know, Ward was eavesdropping right outside the room. He was about to check up on the both of you when he heard you talking. 

He clenches his teeth together and curses to himself. He didn’t like that you were apprehensive about his intentions - wondering just how far you were willing to divulge into your gut feeling. 

He pulls out his phone and texts the people working for him that are responsible for getting your room together, asking them to speed up the process for a bigger pay. Getting the two of you apart would be better for him, thinks.

After he sends the message, he walks into the room and greets the two fo you. He notices your small side step closer to John B, hiding half your body behind his back. You were shy, he notes, which makes him feel a little better about the situation. But how long until you convince John B or your other friends about him?

“Good news,” Ward says, looking at you. “Just got word from the interior designers. They think they can have your room ready by the weekend.”

“Oh,” You say and glance up at your brother. “That’s okay. I don’t mind staying in here.”

“Oh come on. What teenager doesn’t want their own room?” Ward says. When you open your mouth to defend yourself, he cuts you off, deciding to use the guilty trip instead. “I think you’ll like it. These people spend a lot of time and effort into making it perfect. Rose and Sarah even helped.”

Of course that did it for you. You didn’t want to come off as ungrateful or rude by saying you still didn’t want the room. After all, so many people were involved in getting it perfect for you. And it’s probably going to be the best room you’ve ever had. 

“Okay...” You say quietly. 

“Great,” Ward claps his hands, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders. The quicker he can keep you two apart, the better. “I’ll leave you two to unpacking. Dinner should be ready soon.”

When he walks out of the room, John B turns to look at you and says, “See? Harmless.”

Ward hears this and smirks to himself as he walks down the hallway.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

First night in your new room and it’s exactly how you expected it to be. Huge, beautiful, and filled with an abundance of new clothes and high tech furniture. In any other home, you’d be basking in the new luxuries presented to you, but right now, it felt like you were laying on a stack of needles. 

You couldn’t sleep, constantly feeling like you were being watched. You kept looking at the ceiling, checking every corner for cameras or microphones. You flinch with each creak in the hardwood floor, even though it was probably only Sarah and Wheezie walking down the hall to use the bathroom.  

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you began to sweat. Something didn’t feel right. You didn’t care if anyone in this house called you crazy. You knew something was wrong. 

So you pick up your pillow and quietly open your door. You check the dark hallway for any sign of late night stragglers, then quickly tip toe downstairs to your brother’s room. 

You tap on the door almost silently before opening it a crack. John B picks his head up, squinting at the light peaking into his room. 

“Johnny...” You whisper. 

“What?” His voice is groggy with sleep. 

“I can’t sleep.”

John B grunts and rolls over to the opposite side of the bed and pats his hand on the open mattress next to him. “Get in.”

You quickly close the door behind you and hide yourself under his covers. A shy blush rushes up to your cheeks in embarrassment, hating how dependent you felt on your brother. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t hog all the covers this time,” John B smirks in his pillow, making you kick him playfully in the thigh. “Ow!”

“Shh!” 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Later that week, you, the Pogues, and Sarah found the gold in a hidden well tucked under the Crain house. Excitement and glee overwhelmed you. You finally felt like you were getting somewhere and finishing what your dad started. 

On your way home - home being Figure Eight - Ward walks out to greet the three of you after overhearing some of your conversation. Immediately the three you stop talking and pretend like you didn’t just make the biggest discovery of your life. 

“Hey,” Ward greets them. “Where have you guys been?” He didn’t expect you guys to tell him, but he wanted to see just how far he was able to push you. The plan was to get you to trust him, well, maybe not you. He figured you were too far confident in your decision not to trust him. John B’s visions, however, may be a little clouded still.

He listened to Sarah and John B lie about spending the day on the beach and visiting Kie at the Wreck. He observed the way you wouldn’t make eye contact with him and how you hid yourself behind Sarah and John B. You still didn’t trust him. And that put him on edge.

“You know, I was thinking about taking the boat out early tomorrow morning. Why don’t you join me? My buddy brought home a thirty pound striper just the other day.”

“Tomorrow?” John B scratches his head awkwardly. Tomorrow, the six of you were supposed to pull out the rest of the gold. “I don't know...”

“Oh come on. What else you have going on?” Ward smirks. “I’m sure Sarah and Y/N can survive a couple hours without you.”

“Um...” You say quietly. You don’t know how your feel about Ward taking John B out with nothing but open water surrounding them. 

“We’ll celebrate your freedom from DCS,” Ward says, again using the guilt trip, reminding John B of what Ward did for them.

John B sighs, knowing he did owe Ward everything. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay. It’s settled then,” Ward smiles, feeling a sense of accomplishment that his neck plan was in motion. “I won’t hold you up any longer. Go on and do whatever you kids do.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The next morning, you wake up to John B’s alarm on the nightstand.The clock reads 3:15 A.M. and you heart immediately races with anxiety. You squeeze the covers around you in your fists and sit up as soon as John B does.

“Johnny -”

“You’ll be fine, Y/N,” John B sighs. You don’t know if he sounds tired or annoyed, but it makes you cower into yourself. 

“What if I came with you?” You whisper. 

“He didn’t ask you. He asked me,” John B says, somewhat enjoying the idea of being alone with Ward. It would give him a chance to really bond with his girlfriend’s father. To be more than just an employee to him. “Why are you so afraid of him?”

“There’s just something about him...” You trail off. “I don’t trust him. And I don’t like that we’re going to be apart.”

“You’re going to have to learn to live without me by your side 24/7 eventually. I can’t baby you all the time.”

“Baby me?” You repeat with a glare. The pit in your stomach grows with swirling nausea.

“Yeah. I get that I’m your older brother and all and I’m supposed to protect you, but you have to learn to take of yourself too.”

“I can take care of myself,” You say, but you don’t know who you’re trying to convince. Him or you.

“Then you should be fine without me today,” John B says before walking out the door to use the bathroom. “Now, go back to sleep. I’ll catch up with you guys later. If anything happens, just call me or the Pogues.”

You drop your head onto your pillow and let out a big huff of disappointment. Nonetheless, you shut your eyes and try to get a few more hours of sleep knowing you need to be well rested before pulling up hundred pounds of gold later tonight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

When you woke up, Sarah was gone. She had to take Wheezie to her surfing lesson because Rose had a couple of her friends over for brunch served with expensive champagne and fruit cocktails. 

You hid yourself away in your room for most of the day, only letting yourself out when your stomach began to grumble and the sound of gossip disintegrated into nothing as the ladies left one by one.

You were constantly checking your phone, making sure John B never tried to call you with horrible news. You tried taking deep breaths throughout the day, telling yourself there was nothing to worry about. If John B felt safe, you should too, right?

Around 1 P.M., Rose walked into the kitchen after taking what sounded like a long phone call upstairs. You could tell something was wrong. She looked stressed, but you figured it was due to a lost pearl earring or dinner plans getting canceled. 

When you met her gaze, you offered a smile and quietly continued to bite on your toast. She grinned back, although her’s felt force. You didn’t want to pry, only for the sole fact that you didn’t think you could feign interest in whatever the hell was bothering her today.

“Everything okay?” You eventually ask her. 

“Yes,” She says. “That was Sarah. Her sister forgot a towel for her lessons. Do you mind going upstairs to grab one for me while I find my keys? They’re in the closet. Last door at the end of the hallway.”

You nod, not wanting to set the already high strung lady off even more. 

You follow her directions to the end of the hall to the linen closet that was bigger than your regular closet back at the Chateau. You look around for the beach towels next to the bath towels, but seem to come up empty. No way Rose would let one of her white stainless fluffy towels out in the sunlight. 

“Which towels were you -” You freeze when the door behind you shuts and you hear the sound of a lock being turned. You swivel on your heels and twist on the door knob but it barely moves. Your heart races in your chest and you bang your fists against the wooden door. “Hey! Hey!” 

“Sorry, dear,” You hear Rose say on the other side. She doesn’t sound as tense, more like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. 

“What are you doing? Let me out!”

“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” Rose says. “You and your brother have left us with no other choice.”

Your blood turns to ice from your head down to your toes, going numb with all thoughts and movements, thinking about John B still alone with Ward somewhere out in the middle of the ocean. 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice isn’t as loud, lost somewhere in the shock and disbelief. “Where’s John B?”

“You’ll see him soon. Probably with your father too I suppose.”

You brows furrow together in confusion as you listen to her six inch heels trail off down the hall and stairs. Your disbelief turns into fear and ice turns into boiling blood. You pound you fists against the door, twist and pull at the door knob, and scream at the top of your lungs for her to let you out. 

You think about her words. John B and your dad. Could it be your dad has been alive all this time? Or did she mean something so completely opposite that it threatened both you and your brother?

You slap the door one last time, feeling exhausted and burned out. You fall against one of the shelves and cry into your hands, barely able to come up for another breath as sobs wrack through your entire body. 

You don’t know how long you sit there. Without a window or your phone for that matter - you think you left it back downstairs - you can’t tell the time of day. For all you know, it’s about midnight and John B is dead alongside your father. 

Your head falls back with a heavy sigh. That’s when you look up and see a square cut out in the ceiling. An attic. 

You move quickly, pushing all the towels and bed sheets off the shelves. Heaving yourself up, using the shelves and the wall, you move the square ceiling tile to the side and use the open edges to pull yourself up. 

The attic is about twenty degrees hotter and thick with humid. You hike over the luxurious items they consider “storage” to get to the single window. The sun is still up but slowly moving closer to the water. 

The window is stuck with paint and takes a couple tries to push it up. The fresh breeze hits your face immediately, sending goosebumps up your arms and neck. You push your head out the window. About 8 feet below is a balcony outside the master bedroom. Its a big jump with a high chance you’ll break your ankle, but anything is better than waiting to see what Ward and Rose plan to do to you. 

You pull yourself over the window sill and dangle by your arms. Taking a deep breath, you drop to the balcony with a thump that sends a shock up your legs from your ankle. 

“Shit,” You curse to yourself. 

“What was that?” You hear Ward’s voice from the other side of the french doors that lead to his bedroom. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” You mumble, already pulling yourself over the balcony, the only way to get away. 

You look down before letting go of the ledge, falling straight down on the lawn, this time rolling your right ankle at an awkward angle.

“Motherfu-”

“Y/N?” Ward looks down from the balcony with wide eyes when he sees you curled into yourself on the ground below him. 

With big eyes, you run far away from the house as fast as you can. A small limp in your foot slows you down, but you refuse to look back and see if anyone is following you.

You don’t know where you’re going, only that you need to find John B wherever he might be. 

You run through the woodsy area, hoping to use the trees as camouflage. Fallen  branches scratch at your legs, your ankle is aching, and your muscles are on fire. You can barely see your through your teary eyes. You’re crying but you don’t know why - was it the wind? Anxiety? Fear? Grief?

You know you’re getting closer to the Cut when Ms. Lana’s street comes to view on your right. You think about running up to her front door, asking for help. She’s always looked out for you and you have a sick thought that she might know more about this because of her husband. 

Lost in your own thoughts, you don’t realize someone’s coming up behind you until two hands grab at your shoulders to turn you around. 

A straggled scream rips through your throat and you immediately claw at the hands that touch you. Your first thought is that it’s Ward and he’s caught up to you. You don't know what his plans are for you, but Rose didn’t make them sound promising. 

“Hey, Y/N, hey. It’s me! It’s me!” 

You look up at the voice you know so well that instantly helps you calm down. John B, damp and smelling like the marsh, is arms length from you, watching you with big eyes and a heaving chest as he tries catching his own breath. 

“John B?” You say.

“Yeah. It’s me. You’re okay. It’s me.” When John B sees you physically relax, he pulls you in to a tight hug and you can hear his heart thumping against his ribcage. 

The second he learned what Ward did to your father, he tried getting away. And when he did, he immediately thought of you. What was going to happen to you - what if Ward gets to you first? He was on his way to Figure Eight when he saw you. 

When you physically calm down, John B pulls away and says, “You were right. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. Ward - he killed Dad. He’s gone. I’m sorry.”

You cry harder for your dad, for John B, for your future. Just when you thought life was looking better, it came crumbling down. 

“I’m gonna fix this. I swear to you. I’m not going to let him get away with this,” John B says, bending down to look you in the eyes. “And I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again. Okay? Look at me.” You force yourself to look at him and notice he’s on the verge of tears himself. “I’m going to take care of this.”

“How?” Your voice cracks.

John B has an idea in his head, but he knows you’ll never allow him to go through with it if you knew. “Do you trust me?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and reluctantly nod. “Yeah.”

“Good. We’re gonna go back to the Chateau, okay? Are you hurt? Are you able to walk there with me?” You nod. “Good,” He says. “Okay.”

“John B are you sure about this?” You ask apprehensively.

“I failed as your older brother once. I’m not going to do it again. Okay?”

You reluctantly nod. “Okay.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

#john b #john b routledge imagine #john b routledge #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks #obx #obx fic #obx imagine

[delaber]

Chipped

Rafael Casal x Reader

Note: I love when you send me prompts 😭 I asked for angst and you delivered! Thanks to all the lovely anons and to @theatrenerd86​ of course!

Words: 3K

Warnings: fist fight 🙃

Tagging: @exrthangel @theatrenerd86 @lonelydance @ohsoverykeri @summerofsnowflakes @ramp-it-up @alexander-hamilhoe @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @riiyy @mysearchforgratification @janthony-stan @sillyteecup @biafbunny @einfachniemand @cashskid (Imma keep tagging you unless you say something lol).

The minute you stepped in the door, everything changed. Time seemed to slow down. The music became distorted. Rafa could've sworn that the lights dimmed considerably. The billiard ball rolling in slow motion in front of him suddenly wasn't as exciting anymore. All he could focus on was you and the heavy heartbeat in his chest.

You looked around the room, shot him a small wave from afar and headed straight for the bar as his senses seemed to return to normal, time speeding up again.

You'd shown up to the party late and even though Rafa had only seen you from a distance, it was obvious to him that something was wrong - again. Even though you had held your head up high, your confident body language was outshone by the fake smile and the sadness in your eyes. Rafa watched your squared shoulders as you poured yourself a drink while trying to look brave. And although you were doing a splendid job pretending everything was alright, he didn't believe a second of it. You had never been able to keep anything from him. He knew you too well.

"Are you seeing this too?" Diggs mumbled as he had also noticed the way you were carrying yourself.

"Yeah," Rafa breathed as he looked at you wipe away a small tear, the smile still broad on your lips. His heart was aching in his chest. It hurt seeing you hurt.

"What are we guessing?" Diggs continued in a quiet mumble, "Rob?"

"Definitely Rob," Rafa said darkly. Of course you were crying because of your asshole fuckboy of a boyfriend. The biggest fucking clown to ever walk the face of the earth. Mr Dickbag himself. Rafa's nemesis.

Rafa and Diggs had absolutely hated Rob from the minute you had introduced him to them - not only because the man was absolutely no good, but also because he had come out of nowhere, pulling you away from Rafa at the worst possible time. Before Rob, you and Rafa had - much to Rafa's satisfaction - flirted quite heavily. Hell, on special occasions, Rafa had even been granted access to your bed! But from the moment you had met Rob, everything had been about him, and Rafa had been degraded to being your old buddy again. ...And he absolutely fucking hated it! And he hated fucking Rob for stealing you away. Fucking Rob with his fucking stupid hipster haircut and his fucking badass Michael K Williams scar.

"We should go talk to her," Diggs said quietly, and put down the billiard cue without looking away from you.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do," Rafa answered without really paying attention to Diggs.

"You? Alone?" Diggs arched an eyebrow at Rafa, "are you sure that's a good idea? Last time you nearly broke them up."

"That's still the plan," Rafa sent his friend a challenging look, "or do you want him to continue breaking her heart?"

"Of course not. You're just... partial," Diggs sent Rafa an equally challenging look. He was all for you and Rafa getting together, but he also knew that Rafa was in neck-deep water.

"Shut up, dude. I know what I'm doing," Rafa mumbled and started walking towards you with determined footsteps before Diggs could stop him.

"Don't stir shit up!" He heard Diggs yell behind him.

Rafa ignored his best friend and took a few brisk steps towards you before he was standing by your side. You were pouring yourself half a glass of tequila, downing it in one go.

"Hey..." he smiled when he caught your eye.

"Rafa!" You jumped a little at the surprise of suddenly having him in your face, "hey. How are you?" You poured yourself another tequila, your fake smile still broad on your lips. You hoped he hadn't noticed your rather weird mood.

"Better than you it seems..." Rafa eyed the contents of your plastic cup.

"Is it that obvious?" You shot him a look.

"You're drinking tequila as if it was water..." He leaned in close and spoke quietly so only you could hear, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," you lied, "I wouldn't want to ruin your night," you said quietly. The truth was that you actually did want to talk about it. Maybe with Jasmine or Emmy - but definitely not with Rafa of all people! You already knew how he would react; he hated Rob and would go absolutely ballistic.

"You could never ruin my night," Rafa smiled softly. "Come," he said and grabbed your hand, tugging you along. You followed him hesitantly but ended up sitting down next to him on a small bench outside the house, determined not to tell him a thing. However, as he immediately put his arm around you and pulled you close, the treacherous tears started welling up in your eyes the second you felt his hand caressing you.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Yes. I'm just having a really shit night," you mumbled while wiping away an annoying tear.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm okay," you croaked, trying to keep him away.

Of course Rafa didn't believe you, and in a matter of seconds, his expression changed dramatically, "Did Rob hurt you? If he hurt you, I swear to God I will kill him!"

You looked over at Rafa whose nostrils were flared, clearly already angry at the scene he had set in his own mind without even knowing if Rob was involved or not.

"He didn't hurt me, Rafa. Stop jumping to conclusions just because you don't like him..."

"So this has nothing to do with Rob?" Rafa arched an eyebrow at you.

There was no way back now. You knew that Rafa would do absolutely anything in his power to get you to tell him about what had happened. You shot him a sideways glance, trying to determine how angry he was before you admitted to Rob's deeds. "It's Rob, alright - but he didn't do anything on purpose."

Rafa clenched his jaws shut and curtly said, "just tell me what happened."

"Promise me you won't hate him..." you whispered while biting your lip.

"No. What did he do?!" Rafa demanded through gritted teeth.

"He - uhm -" you considered shooting Rafa a lie but knew that he would see right through you immediately. Eventually, you decided to tell him the truth even though you knew nothing good would come of it; "Rob - uh - accidentally kissed someone else last night," you mumbled quietly while carefully examining Rafa's face. He looked as if he could punch something so to diffuse the situation, you quickly added, "- but he feels really bad about it and he told me everything straight away!"

"He cheated on you?" Rafa tried to say as calmly as he possibly could although he was doing a horrendous job. Of all the terrible things Rob had ever done to you, this one definitely took the cake.

"He didn't do it on purpose!" You added quickly, "Please don't be mad at him!"

"Why are you defending him?" Rafa said desperately. His face was distorted, his eyes livid, "He cheated on you! Tell me you broke it off with him!"

"He didn't do it on purpose. He's been going through some stuff lately and he told me that he feels terrible about it..."

"Good!" Rafa said angrily and gritted his teeth, "fucking suits him right. Say the word and I'll deck him in his smug face!"

"Stop trying to save me, I can handle myself! This has absolutely nothing to do with you..."

"I'm the one who has to see you like this," he said softly.

You shot Rafa a look, "you pulled me aside!"

"Yes! Because I see right through your fake smile - and it hurts to see you like this!"

"Rafa, I didn't ask for you to take care of it."

"You'd do the same for any of your friends. I don't know why you can't see that he's bad for you!"

"It's just a rough patch! I know he loves me, he's just been stressed lately."

"Are you not listening to what you're saying right now?" Rafa desperately pulled at his hair, "The guy made out with another girl and you're excusing it? You should be livid!"

"I am livid," you shot Rafa a hard look, "why else do you think I'm sitting out here, talking to you about it? If I didn't care that he kissed someone else, I would obviously be inside right now, enjoying myself!"

"If you're truly upset about it, don't excuse his behaviour! Break up with him! He's toxic as fuck!"

"Would you stop that?!" You said sternly, "I know you aren't his biggest fan but he's my boyfriend."

"Why are you even with him? He's a fucking low life!"

"He's a low life?" You said in a shrill voice, not able to hold back anymore, "as opposed to whom, Rafa? To you?"

"As opposed to anyone!" Rafa spat, "why can't you see that there are so many guys out there who are a million times better than fucking Robert Havert?!"

Rafa's words hit a little too close to home and you got really angry with him, "you really want to go there?" You couldn't help yourself.

"Go where?" Rafa shot you an irritated look

"Riddle me this, Rafa; do you by any chance consider Rob competition?"

"No," Rafa said curtly, looking away from you.

You crossed your arms and tapped your foot, "really? Because you've been sending me some weird fucking signals lately while trying to break me and Rob up."

Rafa's feelings were bubbling inside him and before he could stop himself, he spat, "Of course I consider him competition! Isn't it obvious that I'm in love with you?! You and I had something special before he came along and corrupted you!"

"He didn't corrupt me!" You answered through gritted teeth.

"Why did you turn your back on me then?" Rafa said loudly, his voice breaking. He instantly looked ashamed of himself. He obviously hadn't meant to show you so much of his emotions.

"Because I fell in love with Rob! ...What you and I had was a mistake..." you desperately cried out, "sleeping together was obviously a mistake!"

"If it was a mistake, why did it happen three times?" Rafa spat angrily before his eyes became glossy. He was panting hard, his face all screwed up, "please don't regret me," he croaked, his chest aching horribly, "you can't be serious..."

"Of course I don't regret you, Rafa. But we would've never worked out."

"...Because of him?" He shot you a dark look, his chest heaving up and down.

"No, Rafa," you desperately put your hands on him trying to calm him down, "Because you're you and I'm me. We've been friends for ages."

"I don't want to be friends," Rafa whispered before he angrily looked away from you.

"Rafa, honey," you whispered while searching his face, "I love you - but not like that..." you put your forehead to his. Your hands were now on his chest and you could feel the heavy heartbeat through his shirt. "I'm sorry if I-" Your words were drowned by a car door slamming hard and a voice behind you yelling loudly; "Step away before I punch you in fucking the face, Casal!"

Rob was coming at you and Rafa at full speed, an aggressive look in his eyes. You let go of Rafa as if you'd been scorched by fire and ran to your boyfriend, trying to stop him from beating up your friend. You hadn't told Rob about you and Rafa's escapade but Rob had long ago figured out that Rafa was into you - and you knew that he had been looking for every excuse to fight it out with him.

"Everything's fine, baby," you tried, "Rafa didn't do anything. We were just talking. Everything's fine, I swear!"

Rob's eyes were huge, his nostrils flared as he gently pushed you aside and went head to head with Rafa, "what the fuck are you doing, Casal?! Are you trying to get with my girl?"

"I'm protecting her from you."

"And you plan on doing that by hooking up with her?"

Rafa stood up straight, trying to make himself a few inches taller, "I plan on doing that by actually showing her some emotional support!"

"Don't fucking touch what isn't yours!" Rob was snarling angrily.

"Rich coming from you," Rafa said calmly with a small growl, "do you feel like a big man when you cheat on your girl?"

Rafa's choice of words had Rob shooting him a sickening smile, "that's right, Casal," Rob smiled humourlessly "she's my girl. Not yours. And you know what? She never will be yours. You will never get to touch her, to kiss her, to fuck her. She will never want you. I know you've been dying to experience it but you will never get to see her with your cock in her mouth," he said devilishly.

"Rob!" You interjected, disgusted with how your boyfriend was talking.

Rafa couldn't help himself. He knew he would be disloyal to you and that it would escalate the situation immensely, but he was desperate to wipe away Rob's stupid grin so he too smiled before he calmly said, "oh, you don't think I know what she looks like with my cock in her mouth?"

"Rafa!" You hissed loudly from behind your boyfriend.

Rob's smug face fell considerably and although Rafa could hear the disappointment in your voice, he continued, "what? She didn't tell you?"

In a matter of seconds, Rob's face went from red to purple. He took a firm grip in the collar of Rafa's shirt and plunged his head forwards. Rob's forehead hit Rafa's face with a sickening crunch, and Rafa staggered backwards but was on his feet not long after, decking Rob in the face with his closed fist.

"Please stop!" you pleaded them and tried to pull them apart, but Rob punched Rafa in the stomach, causing him to fall to the ground with a thud when all the air was knocked out of his lungs.

Rob plunged forward, put a leg on either side of Rafa and started hitting him repeatedly.

Rafa was desperately trying to defend himself against the rain of fists that were coming at him, but was so busy trying to avert Rob, that he didn't have the ability to fight back. Luckily, Rob was grabbed from behind by two guys that hurled him backwards and off of Rafa. Rob unsuccessfully fought to wrestle himself free from Oak and Anthony'a grips while yelling, "I'm going to break your fucking skull!"

Meanwhile Rafa, who was now back on his feet, was trying to wrestle himself out of Diggs' grip, responding with a "I'd like to see you try, you fucking pussy!"

As Rob and Rafa were trying to fight the men off of them, you stepped in, "what the hell is the matter with you two?" you bellowed.

Rob looked as if he had almost forgotten you were there, the sound of your voice immediately making him stop squirming in Anthony and Oak's arms as he looked at you. Ant and Oak released their grip on him, and instead of flying towards Rafa, Rob took a few deep breaths, his eyes piercing through you as he tried to calm himself down.

"How about breaking my skull now?" Rafa yelled at him while squirming around in Diggs arms hoping to break free.

Rob's gaze flew towards Rafa, while Oak and Anthony took a step closer, ready to punch him to the ground if he tried anything. Rob felt the two men nearing him and looked as if he had only just realised that if he jumped Rafa again, he would have to deal with Oak, Ant, and Diggs too. He took an ultimate decision and with a last look at you, he huffed, turned on his heel and angrily walked away with balled up fists.

Diggs loosened his grip on Rafa who immediately ran to you, "are you okay?" He almost yelled, his voice laced with concern, "I'm so, so sorry you had to see that!"

You looked up at him with a dark expression, "how fucking dare you!" You started out in a whisper but your voice gradually became louder as your tone changed to anger, "how dare you talk about me like that! As if I'm some conquest that you brag about to your mates!"

"I know I'm sorry," Rafa panted, avoiding your gaze, "Heat of the moment."

"Rafa look at me," you searched his face, "this is over," you said slowly, painfully aware that you were breaking his heart in front of his friends.

"It's over?" He looked as if he didn't understand what you were saying.

"We can't see each other anymore. It's over!"

"What? You're choosing that clown over me? What does he have that I don't?"

"Rafa why can't you see that you're just as big of a clown as he is!"

"...what the fuck are you talking about?!" He panted desperately, "I'm just trying to make you realise that he's a dick! I'm helping you. He's treating you like shit!"

"I don't need or want your help. What I want is for you to stay the fuck away from me," you said angrily giving him a small shove. With one last look back at Rafa, you turned on your heel and desperately ran towards your boyfriend who had almost reached his car.

Rafa watched you chase after Rob. He watched you desperately explain the situation to him. Watched you apologise of all people. Watched Rob take you in his arms as if he was the one who had to forgive you. He watched you kiss Rob's cheek before you started crying. Rafa's heart was aching horribly. He almost couldn't stand still.

He watched you get in Rob's car, kiss the man passionately before he pumped the speeder, sending Rafa a smirk as you once again kissed his cheek. Rafa painfully watched you drive away and all he was left behind with was a black eye, a chipped tooth, and a broken heart.

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys #they gon fight #heartbreak

[maybebanks]

Square Groupers

JJ Maybank x reader

in an effort to prove yourself against overprotective JJ, you stand against the square groupers. When it nearly fails JJ and y/n get into a heated argument.

“JJ are you kidding me? How could you not notice anything?” You asked, JJ was flustered after what him and John B had just witnessed, on their visit to Lana Grubbs.

“I wasn’t taking mental Polaroids the entire time, man! I was under duress!”

“What’s with the attitude, Y/n?” John B asked. You frowned, just that day, you and JJ had gotten into a fight, about him not thinking you can protect yourself.

JJ looked at you, you were tense, angry that JJ and possibly John B, doubted your capability.

“Whatever,” you muttered.

JJ sat down next to you on the couch, plopping down.

“We can’t mess around with these guys, man. They’ll fuck you up,” John B said.

“What do you mean? Kill us?” You asked, swallowing your fear for the group.

“From the way Ms.Lana was screaming, those square groupers waste no time,” JJ said.

He threw his arm behind you near your shoulders, you tensed and almost flinched, but bit your lip to stay frozen.

You were shaking slightly, the fear of it all was getting to you. Your mind wandering at the thought of any one of the people you love getting hurt.

“Y/n..are you ok-“ JJ began but Kie cut him off.

“Guys..who just pulled in?” Kie asked, interrupting JJ.

JJ jumped up, along with John B and Pope.

“Y/n get to the back, okay?” JJ said to you in a hushed tone.

“Yeah everyone inside,” Pope agreed.

JJ’s hand met the small of your back and nudged you forward.

You stumbled over a light brown satchal, JJ grabbed your waist and scolded you for being so clumsy. Quickly shoving you inside.

John B offered everyone to head inside his Dads office to hide.

Everyone rushed in and John B locked the door.

“JJ, where’s the gun?” Kie asked.

JJ tapped a pocket of his cargo pants, but then realized the gun wasn’t there.

“I must have left it on the porch,” JJ answered disappointed.

“The one time we actually need it...” Kie scolds.

“I’ll get it,” you offered.

Standing up and nodding to John B to open the door.

He opened it and you stepped out.

“No way! Y/n get back here,” JJ tried but you were already out the door.

You ran through his house and soon arrived at the porch. You eyed the satchal you recently tripped over, the gun was inside.

You bent over to pick it up, but when you did, you felt a rather aggressive tug on the neck of your shirt. You hadn’t realized the two burly men had entered.

And they were right infront of you.

“Hello,” he smirked, eyeing you up and down, his grip now holding the front of your tank top.

“Isn’t she a pretty sight,” he smirked, his friend agreeing.

“Let go of me, you bastard,” you spit, pushing against his unruly grip.

He chuckled, “give me what I want first, princess,” the man seethes.

“Hey! Let her go!” JJ’s voice suddenly shouted from inside.

Your eyes widened. Causing both men to chuckle manically.

The man holding you let go and you stumbled to the ground. When you were on all fours he brought his knee up and slammed it against your ribs.

You cried out in pain and fell to the ground again.

“Y/n!” JJ shouted.

“Give is what we want, boy! Where is the compass?!” They shouted.

You coughed a few times and gasped for air, caressing the new pain erupting at your side.

You reached for the back, and scrambled for the gun.

Once you reached it, you grabbed it with your shaking hands. You stood up as quickly as possible. And you held it in both hands, pointing out infront of you, towards the men.

“If you both don’t leave right now, I swear to god I’ll shoot!” You shout finding courage and being assertive.

“Looks like this ones got a little fight in her after all,” one of the men grins.

“Why don’t you put that thing down before you hurt yourself,” the other man says, turning his attention to you.

“No!” You shouted. Then you fired a shot. Careful that it wouldn’t hit anyone. But not too careful that they knew you aimed for the ceiling.

The bullet went through the wall around 9 feet away from them.

Hitting no one.

“Get out! Or next time I won’t fucking miss,” you threatened.

The two men look at eachother, sharing a look.

“If we leave, you have to do something for us in return,” he lead, stepping closer. You thought the gun was enough of a threat.

“Get. Out. Or I blow your brains out,” you threatened again, stepping closer and adjusting the gun.

“Y/n...” you heard JJ’s voice from behind you.

“We’ll leave. If you get on your knees...” he started the proposition, but soon trailed off when you both heard police sirens.

A new car pulled up. Pope must have called the cops in the midst of all this.

“Mother fuckers,” one of the man muttered, then they gestured towards the back and escaped out of the back door to John B’s no doubt to run from the cops.

Around 20 minutes later, you still haven’t spoken a word to JJ. You knew he’d be mad that you put yourself in danger.

After being questioned by Peterkin and Shoupe, you and the rest of the pogues retired to the porch once again.

You spoke up, “That was intense,”

“You were intense. I hate to admit it but you were a badass,”

“A total badass,” John B agreed.

JJ scoffs, “shut up,” he wasn’t mad that you were brave, he was mad that it didn’t work. If the cops hadn’t come...

“What’s up your ass?” John B asked JJ. Pope chuckled but you only felt your stomach drop.

“She doesn’t even know how to shoot a gun. But she still put herself and danger and it didn’t even pay off,” JJ grumbled.

“What are you talking about?! She stalled them long enough and they didn’t get the compass. I’d say that’s a win,” Kie argues.

“They kicked her in the ribs! I don’t even know what would’ve happened if the cops didn’t show up,” JJ retaliated.

“Yeah how is that? Are you okay?” Pope asks you, gesturing towards your torso.

You gripped the edge of your shirt tight, pushing it down so no one would be able to lift it up and see the bruise, “yeah. I’m fine,”

“Let me see,” JJ suggests, coking his head up for you to lift up your shirt.

“Uh..no thanks,” you answer.

“Come on. I’m serious,” JJ persists.

“JJ why are you being so controlling lately!” You defend, calling him out on him being so overprotective.

“I just want to see if you’re okay!” JJ retaliates.

“I’m. Fine.”

“You could have gotten killed!”

“Well I didn’t!” “Plus it’s not exactly my fault. That’s on those guys!”

JJ scoffs again.

“You are so delusional. It’s not your job to protect me!” You yelled.

“If you do stuff like this it clearly should be,”

Emotions were high. Anger was high. You were angry at JJ, “I’m leaving,”

“Oh no you’re not,” JJ countered.

“Yes I am. I can’t deal with you right now,” you said, getting up to leave.

“Guys?” Kie tried to interfere but it was no use.

“Y/n just stay here, okay? Show me what he did-“

“Who are you to tell me. I just need my-“ you glanced to the table, looking for your item, when you realized it wasn’t there.

“No, no,no,no! Where..where is it! JJ where is it!” You shouted, shuffling around with the items on the table, rushing.

“You’re not having it,”

“You hid it? Stop telling me what to do! You’re not my dad,”

He held two hands out infront of you, “do you even know how to shoot a gun?!”

“I hate you!” you expressed. JJ was getting closer to you, almost backing you in a corner.

“No you don’t,”

Annoyed by his arrogance, you quickly slapped him. Your small hand colliding with his cheek.

His head turned, but he wasn’t as fazed as you thought.

Shit! Why did you do that!

You gulped down. Now afraid he might return the blow, by hitting you back.

Your eyes widened as you tried to keep your cool, “I’m...I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Sorry? Oh come on Y/n!” JJ responds, raising his voice still.

“JJ...”

“What? Where’s that tough girl that was just here, huh?” JJ questioned, gesturing to you.

You realized it was best to try and leave the situation, but when you stepped to get around him, JJ quickly blocked you with his body.

You gulped down, “please don’t hurt me. Just let me go,” you pleaded, finally allowing some stray tears to fall down your cheeks.

JJ stepped back, shock written all over his face. His eyes were narrowed slightly. And JJ sighed when he noticed how frightened he was making you, “oh Y/n. I’m not gonna hurt you,” JJ assures.

“But..” you tried to explain with your eyes, you slapped him, so you just assumed he would hit you. All it would take....

“Lets just...uh go sit back down, yeah?” He asked, raising his arm up to brush some hair out of his forehead.

“Don’t,” you muttered, as you flinched back, your whole body tensing. You squeezed your eyes shut and blocked your face.

The world was still for a moment.

“You flinched? You thought I was going to hit you? Y/n...I’m mad but not that mad,” JJ tried to explain.

“No...I mean, I know. It was just-“

“Instinct?”

“Well..you..you raised your arm. I thought... maybe...”

JJ grabbed your shoulders gently, “y/n, I would never hurt you like that, okay? No matter what you do you’re never gonna deserve to get hit. I’m not my dad, alright?”

“I don’t think you are. You’re nothing like him,” you told him.

JJ studied you again, “I’m sorry. I can get overprotective. You’re just..I don’t know, special to me. I can’t let you get hurt if there was something I could have done to stop it.”

“I know. I’m sorry too. For being stubborn and stupid...” you locked eyes with him again, and then you pulled him in for a hug. You felt comforted when his hands met your waist, hugging you back.

#jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank x you #outerbanks #jj outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj rudy #jj x reader #jj maybank fighting #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x female reader #jj maybank x y/n #rudy pankow #jjmaybank love #outerbanks fanfic #luke maybank #jj maybank fluff #obxedit

[ronoken]

Moon Warriors- A Terrible YA Story Starter

So, I have a terrible hobby. I like to see how awful I can make a story. For example, I was trying to avoid doing work and thought, “What’s the worst possible thing I could write that could be classified as a YA story?” And then I cranked this out in 30 minutes. Enjoy. Or don’t.

Like, it’s bad.

***

Once upon a time, in a land that is totally like our own, but more dystopian, because you can always add a smidge more dystopia (seriously, it’s the “hold my beer” of writing styles), lived a princess warrior. She had been taken from the royal palace, which was totally opulent and beautiful and loaded with people wearing wigs and makeup and lots of fancy clothing. It had been the night of the Spit On The Poor ball, where factory workers were sewn into the ballroom floor for the bourgeois to dance the night away on. After the dancing and the feast, which consisted of at least three hobos, the guests would wander to the gladiator pits where children would be chained to one another and were told to fight to the death, with life-saving medications being offered as the prize to the victors.

Anyway, the princess, who was a baby, was spirited out of the castle just as the cable news feeds to the kingdom were cut and the poor were suddenly deprived of their conservative news feed. Like the great white shark in Jaws 3 that had been trapped in a container after the pumps had been shut off, the people thrashed and growled, and demanded their precious feed of systemic bigotry resume to tell them how their situation was normal. Without this reassurance, they turned their frothing hatred towards the castle, and stormed it in a mad desire for flesh and live panel breakdowns of how other-colored people were responsible for unemployment.

And so, the princess lived. She was raised by her kindly nursemaid in a small village, called Poor People District-19. She grew up smart, and plucky, and fast. She was a cunning as she was beautiful, and she was totally hot, so that worked in her favor. Her hair was always hanging down and kinda dirty, but not so dirty that you’d go “eww!” More like she was one shower and a nice change of clothes away from being Princess McHotCharacter. Her clothes were rags, but nice, color-coordinated rags, and she was totally good with handheld weapons, like knives, arrows, and spears. She survived by hunting and doing underground video blogs about the tyrant king who had survived the uprising of 17 years ago who was also her dad BUT SHE DOESN’T KNOW THAT.

The princess didn’t know she was a princess. Instead, she was simply Jessica. Jessica Steel-Tiger; a rough and tumble gal who was too focused on freedom and her people to think about love.

At least that was the case up until the robot prince visited her land to see what poor people were. He was from the moon and lived there in harmony with the other robot people. He however had a sinister secret; he was born human. He had a whole bunch of cybernetic implants and stuff, so he was a kick-ass cyborg, but he still looked hot, so we’re good. He had some cool circuit-looking tattoos that were actually circuits (because TECHNOLOGY) along the side of his face, and his eyes would glow light blue due to robot-related things. His face was symmetrical, his hair was blond and kinda pointy, and he had abs. Hot, semi-robotic abs. His semi-see-through chainmail shirt would show them off as he travelled in his bubble-topped robot motorcade. He also had an axe or something. I dunno, it was cool.

Jessica was poised to take out the motorcade all Ewok-style, which was a thing in poor people lands. She had rigged up some boulders to roll off the tops of buildings (all poor-looking buildings, with no glass and soot stains on the sides) and some logs to roll across their path to slow them down (poor-looking logs, what with their lack of park and ramen cups squished into their branches). Then, she would leap atop the car, fight the robot prince to the death, chop off his head, and put it on a rusty girder pike in the town square. Actually, it was more of a town triangle- they couldn’t afford squares.

The rocks fell and took out the police hover cars just like she planned. She also had some nets for the walking soldiers, because nets.

Nets!

 Anyway, everyone was taken out except for the robot prince, who opened the bubble top of his car, picked up his wicked-looking axe thing, and scanned the rooftops for the person responsible. He was soon rewarded with the site of Jessica doing a ton of somersaults through the air and landing perfectly on the hood of his lime green prince transport, as lime green is the color of lunar royalty. She twirled her staff and looked him in his handsome, robot eyes.

“I’m here to kill you,” she hissed.

The prince froze, mesmerized. “Wow. I have no idea who you are, but I am attracted to you.”

Jessica blushed and sputtered. “But, but you’re my enemy! You can’t be attracted to me. NOW WE FIGHT TO THE DEATH!”

She swung her staff, and he countered with his axe, and they dance/fought to a cool techno beat all around the street. He would be all, “I’m gonna hit you with this!” and swing his axe, and it would slo-mo miss her as she did a cool dodge backwards. She would do a twirly spin hit against him that would be countered by the handle of his axe, and then they would push against each other and get real close, each locking eyes with the other.

“I find you menacing and attractive,” the prince said.

“Your ability to defend yourself and your awesome eyes have aroused me, but that doesn’t excuse my rage towards you!” Jessica countered.

“Why do you hate me?” The robot prince asked, confused. “It is because I’m different? Robot different?”

“No! Because you’re evil!” Jessica countered.

The robot prince stared into Jessica’s eyes. “But… What if I could change?”

Jessica grabbed him and kissed him right there in the middle of the street. The kiss was electric and sparky, because he was half-robot, but his mouth was all hotness. It made her all angry and flustered again, but in the hot way that can be taken care of in about five minutes if necessary.

“Come with me,” Jessica said. “Join my rebellion and help me fight the evil king.”

“The king is totally evil,” the robot prince said. “He murdered my father. I am here to secretly get near to him and then kill him with my robot parts.”

“Then you’ll join my rebellion?” Jessica asked?

“Yes,” the robot prince, who was probably named something kinda dumb like Thunderrose Abberstone or something, said. “Can you teach me to be as awesome as you?”

Jessica shook her head. “No, but I’ll teach you to be as awesome as you,” she said.

Blushing, the robot prince nodded in agreement and followed her into the city to plot their rebellion.

And then they fucked.

#ya #hunger games #dystopia #bad writing #satire

[weirdoforlife]

I can’t believe this is the first thing I post on this platform but I can’t ignore this.

This is... this is the world we live in. A world that is filled with terrible things. Famine, sickness, death, war. We are currently in an apocalyptic state. There is a global virus that has destroyed our every day lives, fires that have left hundreds of people without shelter. There are so many movements that are changing peoples lives for both the better and worse. So why...Why can’t we all just put our differences aside and live in harmony? Why must thousands suffer? Shouldn’t we avoid situations that can cause a spike in deaths? Most importantly, why must the innocent suffer?

I am going to try to use my platforms to try to raise as much awareness as possible. Just a fraction of the part I can play for my country.

On the morning of the 27th of September 2020, clashes began along the Nagorno-Karabakh line of contact. Not many of you know what that is but it has such a complicated history behind it, that I cannot do justice by butchering. The key points are that this “conflict” has been going on for over 30 years, hundreds of my fellow countrymen have died protecting our civilians and territories, and that I am a proud Armenian. Based on this topic I am aware that many will hate and discriminate me afterwards but I do not care. This must be said.

The amount of loss and sorrow my people have endured for the past century is disgusting. However, the fact that after all we have been through and we are still here must mean something. My people have survived countless wars, all for their freedom and their country. We do not start wars, we defend our land, country and people. We peacefully started and ended the Armenian Velvet Revolution in 2018, for our freedom and our country. Our unprepared and unarmed ancestors were killed in genocide for being loyal to our country and our religion.

In the world there are about 11,000,000 Armenians, approximately only 3 million live in Armenia. We have notable celebrities like William Saroyan, an Armenian American novelist, Charles Aznavour a French Armenian singer, Serj Tankian the lead singer for System of a Down, Kim Kardashian, Cher, and so many others that may surprise you.

We are a small country, only 11,484 square miles (29,743 km2). Our neighbors are... imagine sitting next to your biggest bullies in class. That is how we feel.

We are generally a peace loving country. We are peaceful people. We strive for peace in the most peaceful way possible, despite us having many reasons to retaliate with hate towards our enemies. However peace will not stop us from fighting to gain it. Despite the battles that we face every day, we do not have a peace problem. We have a defense problem. Our man power is outrageously low. Coming at 45,000 active personnel and only 809,576 available for military. Opposed to our opponents, 66,940 active personnel and 3,000,000 available for military. We have considerably low weaponry, and drafting has been reduced to 17 year old boys. Many of whom I have grown up with or gone to school with. Even my childhood friend who was supposed to serve his two years of military service starting this spring, has most likely been sent to defend us. Many schools are collecting supplies for the families and children who are suffering near where the fight is happening. Usually the girls have a choice whether or not they want to join the ranks, but now everyone is considering. Every one. The elderly men who have already served, the women who have lost family to this nonsensical war. Schoolgirls, no older than 17 are willing to put their life’s on the line for our countrymen. Even me.

Despite the insufferable pain that we have endured as a country, as a nation, as a whole... we are ready to sacrifice everything we have and ever known. We have pulled through before and we can do it again. Because unlike the enemy, we have a reason to keep on fighting, to keep on living and thriving! We survived a genocide, and we are still here! We survived the tyranny of the communist rule, where our great grandparents were exiled in Siberia, never to be heard from their families again. And we are still here! We have fought this war before and we brought victory to our land, and we will do it again! Because we are still here! Throughout history, many have tried to wipe us from the earth, but look at us, we are still standing! We will keep holding on to our beliefs, and with God on our side we will pull through, just like before.

We will acquire peace. After all, peace is our self defense mechanism. It will not always help in battlefield, but it is the motivation to go to war with our most oldest enemies.

Being peaceful does not mean to be vulnerable. It means to be prepared for a bloody fight at a moment’s notice, but not to fight to solve your problems from the start. Sometimes you have to fight for peace.

Even if it means to give up our lives as we know it, to give the next generation the chance to live in peace a while longer.

We will fight until our last breath, until we are wiped from the face of the earth, or until we conquer it!

There is no such thing as world peace, only justice. And justice will prevail!

#no justice no peace #armenia #world news #news #justice

[justasparkwritings]

Peace: In Secret

Previous: Your Brothers As My Brothers

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Angst / Slice of Life

Rating: PG17

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, Bar Fight, Defending Honor, Relationship Turmoil, Racism and Xenophobia, Everyone Cries 

Summary: A fateful night pushes insecurities to the forefront as you and Jungkook reckon with what your future will look like. 

Listening: peace by Taylor Swift 

Peace Master List

          The fight had escalated in a matter of minutes. A set of knuckles had collided, blood was spilled, security had rushed you out the back door and into the waiting van. As they tended to JK, you sat staring, fire stoking with every rotation of tires. He tried to speak to you, to ask if you were okay, to see if you were in shock or hurt in anyway. His free hand rested on your knee, drawing slow circles in an attempt to slowly exercise the adrenaline out of him.

         As you arrived back at their Los Angeles Airbnb, security gave Jungkook direct orders to put it in a bowl of cold water with plenty of ice cubes. They needed the swelling to be minimal so they could further assess the damage his punch had created.

         You shuffled in after him, absentmindedly finding your way to a stool in the kitchen. Your eyes were glossed over, the smoke in your body causing tears to form.

         The other members rushed in, huddling around you both, asking what had happened. Jungkook related the story in rushed Korean, and from what you could make out, it sounded more exaggerated than it was.

Here’s what you knew to be true:

JK had gone to the bathroom to fix his hair

In his absence, another man had flirted with you

You’d rejected him kindly, saying you were waiting for your boyfriend to return 

In typical fashion, he was persistent, saying some misogynistic line about leaving a girl like you alone at the bar

You laughed, bruising his ego

You turned to walk away when he tried to grab your wrist

JK must’ve caught this part of interaction

Through rage filled eyes he watched as another man made a pass on you

Jungkook could see your disgust and irritation

He could see the unwillingness the other man had to let you go

Jungkook had approached swiftly, telling the man to back off

The man had looked from Jungkook to you, a look of recognition passing over his face

The man laughed, then spit on the floor

There was name calling, and he looked back at you

He barked that he would never fuck a bitch with yellow fever

Jungkook punched him, knocking him on the ground instantly

You dropped your glass, shattering on impact

BTS security was on you in a matter of seconds, whisking you to the car

         Tae and Ho-Seok were on you instantly, they wrapped arms around you, holding you close, whispering comforting phrases into your hair. You didn’t hear any of it, you didn’t feel any of it. All you saw was the smattering of flashing lights.

         Jimin grabbed you a glass of water and turned you away from Taehyung and Ho-Seok. Squaring his shoulders with yours, he looked you in the eyes.

         “Babe, say something,” Jimin whispered. You hadn’t noticed him in front of you, your gaze lost as you recounted the events of the evening. As you blinked you realized you were eye to eye with Jimin, and you gasped.

         “Fuck! I didn’t realize you were so close,” You said.

         “Are you sure you’re okay?” Namjoon asked, moving to stand next to Jimin. Taehyung was still at your side, arm draped over your shoulder, holding you close to him.

         You looked at him, expression blank. It was confirmation enough for Namjoon, and he informed the other members that they needed to give you and Jungkook a minute alone.

         “Noona, are you okay? You haven’t said anything,” JK moved the bowl towards you, coming to sit on the stool next to you. His left hand reached for yours. You pulled it back, blinking the tears down your cheeks.

         “I’m not fucking okay,” you whispered.

         Jungkook hadn’t seen this wrath in you before. He didn’t recognize the shift in your tone. He couldn’t distinguish the look that swept across your face. He thought he knew every expression, every mood you had. He thought he’d seen every iteration of you, every hurt that he could imagine you experiencing. But as he stared at you, eyes searching for any sort of familiarity, he realized there was a side to you he’d never seen: blind rage.

         “I know, it’s bad, it was a bad situation that-

         “That you made worse.” You stood up, shoving the stool under the counter. It clattered against the cabinets below, the force you’d exerted unnecessary.

         “What?” Jungkook’s doe eyes swelled, made it worse?

         “You punched him,” You snapped.

         “He was going to attack you!” He countered.

         “I was walking away.” You placed your hands on the counter, fingers wrapping around the edges.

         “He didn’t care!” Jungkook stood too, trying to find the higher ground.

         “There were enough people around. The bodyguards were coming. You reacted recklessly!” You snapped, voice rising.

         “Did you hear what he said to me? What he called me? What he said about you?! I was trying to -

         “Were you? We’re you trying to protect me, or trying to defend yourself?” You yelled.

         “Yes! I was trying to defend-

         “Do you understand what you’ve done Jungkook?” Your voice broke, the yelling and tears taking its toll.

         “What? I protected-

         “You made a fucking scene. You irresponsibly, recklessly, made a scene and now you have put me and our relationship in jeopardy.” Your eyes were wild, your throat ached, venom dripped from your words, the threat of poison seeping into Jungkook’s eyes.

         “I was taking you away from danger!” He knocked the bowl of water into the sink. The glass against the metal of the sink clanged, alerting everyone in the house to how far your fight had escalated.

         “Everyone saw. Did you notice the phones out? The paparazzi waiting with bated breath outside the club? Did you see how they ogled me, the second we walked in? Did you fucking notice any of it?”

         “I- “

         “They all got it. I guarantee it’s already posted. K-pop idol Jeon Jungkook TKO. Defending some woman’s honor! It’s fucking everywhere,” Your voice was small, every syllable punctuated like the tattoo needles that adorned yours and your lovers’ skin.

         “I was trying to protect you! He was a monster!” Jungkook yelled, wincing as the sound reverberated in the foreign kitchen.

         “Monster or not, you kissed my cheek and sent me to the slaughter!” You blinked the tears down your cheeks, their warmth mixing with the heat that had arisen on your cheeks.

         Jungkook didn’t often understand your religious imagery, and often turned to RM to relay a story or parable that you’d mentioned. This one he got. He was Judas. Giving up the savior to the zealots and Pharisees. He looked at you, you, his brilliant, compassionate, feisty girlfriend. You held his future in your hands, and as he stared at you, he recognized what was guiding your fight. It wasn’t anger or rage, it was fear.

         “You put a fucking target on my back.” Your sob crashed through you, bringing your hands to your mouth as you tried to muffle the sound.

         “I didn’t,” His tone softened.

         “You didn’t think, Kook. I’ve already started popping up in articles and on Twitter. Strangers are tagging me in things. Now you’ve sealed my fate. They are the hunters, Jungkook. There’s nothing you or Management can do to stop it. They’ve got me. Game. Over.” You tried to steady your breathing, your cries coming out more as whimpers than the devastating sobs you’d let course through you.

         “It’s not game over! We will protect you; I will protect you!” He said, indignantly.

         “Why don’t you understand? They will kill me!” You yelled in return. Why was he so stubborn, so clueless?

         “No, they won’t. No, they won’t.” Jungkook shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the dark places your words were taking him to.

         “What can you do to stop it?” You asked, daring him to answer.

         “I’ll take the bullet for you!” His voice was exasperated.

         “Please, punching that guy was you cocking the gun.”

         It hangs in the air, an unrecognizable cloud of disdain and hurt. You were beginning to choke on it.

         “I would die for you,” he pleads, hand reaching out to try and grab yours again.

         “In secret,” you mumbled pulling it away.

         “What?” He asked, the anger returning to his voice.

         “That’s the catch with you, Jungkook. you’d die for me, in secret. You’ll hold my hand, in secret, tell me you love me, in secret. Go out with me as a friend. Never take photos in case your phone is hacked. Why, in two years, do I only have one printed photo of us? You’ll take a bullet for me? Sure. But you’ll bleed in secret.”

         “I, I’m trying to protect you.”

         “Look where that’s gotten us.”

         “What?”

         “You can’t save me from this. I am the fucking storm, Jungkook.”

         “No, you’re not,” Jungkook was trying to find something to hang on to, some way to make his way back to you, but he was coming up empty.

         “It lives in me, and it always will. This wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there. If we weren’t together. Don’t you get it? This is the beginning; your life will never be peaceful. Ever. I can’t give that to you.” You laid out the points, why couldn’t he understand?

         “My life hasn’t been peaceful in seven year,” Jungkook spoke with bitterness.

         “I’m making it worse,” You responded.

         “It’s not you! It’s ARMY! It’s fans! It’s everyone fucking else!” Jungkook hated to swear when he spoke to you, he hated becoming unraveled, unhinged as he stared at you.

         “They’re screaming at us not to be together. They will do whatever they can to ensure you and I don’t make it.”

         “Fuck them,” Jungkook said.

         “Why?” You asked, exasperated.

         “What do you mean why?” He snapped.

         “Why protect me? Why care at all Jungkook, why screw over your fans for me?”

         “I love you,” His heart was breaking, you could see it in his eyes. The love he had for you tried to tether you to each other, but it wasn’t the lifeline, it was the anchor.

         “All I do is sit and talk shit; I’m fucking wasting your honor. Jeon Jungkook, stoic, in touch with his emotions, loving, caring, always looking out for others. Perfectionist in his craft. Working himself to the bone day after day. Jungkook, the empath. The Golden Maknae. The most adored and admired. Wasting two years with me so what, the minute another guy tries something you punch him and it’s all over the news? So, I can be harassed and sought out? So BTS will be in jeopardy of ever being able to have a spouse or partner? Offering us, our love, up for slaughter because what, it’s for show? All so you can, fucking love me in secret?”

         Jungkook was knocked back by your words. The two years of your relationship, of your insecurities, of his, came tumbling out of you, shattering like your glass as they crashed around him. Hadn’t you worked through this? Hadn’t you made strides in your relationship? Weren’t his brothers yours, your lives dedicated to one another’s? Hadn’t you vowed to love each other through the cascading blue waves of stress, anxiety and depression that came with a long distance, Idol relationship?

         “I am doing what is right,” Jungkook was gritting just teeth. The tension causing a headache to build.

         “Sometimes what’s good for people isn’t what’s right.” You said turning your back to him.

         “Where are you going? We need to talk-

         “I don’t want to talk to you, Jungkook.” You said, your voice weary.

         “We have to figure this-

         “No, we don’t. You know why?” You questioned, turning to stare him down.

         He already knew why.

         “Because tomorrow we’ll be awoken with Management and it’ll be time to reassess our relationship, and the terms to which I have agreed to.”

         “The devils in the details,” He muttered.

         “Their verdict will be final. And the two years we’ve spent will go down the fucking drain as Big Hit decides to do everything in their power to keep us apart and to inhibit the rest of their K-Pop super team from ever falling in love.” The truth hurt; it was written across both of your faces as you stood staring. The damage of your fight echoed across the hall and into the kitchen.

         “We’ve fought this fight, they won’t-

         “You don’t know that, Jungkook. You don’t know that they aren’t meeting right now, pulling out papers and lists from years ago, weighing the options.”

         “Can’t we just, try to-

         “I don’t want to talk to you. I’m fucking exhausted. I’m devastated. And I can’t fucking look at you for another minute or I’ll never be able to recover.” The tears were pouring again, and you tried to stifle them until you were at least in a car home.

         “Please just, tell me where you’re going, please, Noona.” He pleaded.

         “I’m going home. Don’t call me.”

         You grabbed your bag from the counter and walked towards the door, BTS bodyguards close behind you. They’d take you home and if Jungkook was worried enough, they’d stay the night, perched in their car, eyes trained on your front door.

         You didn’t want to talk anymore. You wanted to shower and cry and sleep alone in your bed. There was nothing else to be said to Jungkook, nothing else to be done. Management had wanted your relationship to stay secret indefinitely, any breach of that could result in them terminating your security passes, removing every evidence of you from their systems. You’d become the blemish on their perfectly manicured boyband. You, the biracial American they had tried to dissuade Jungkook from dating. You, the woman who had stolen the hearts of every BTS member, becoming an integral part of their stories and lives. You, the woman Jungkook was going to marry… And he’d tossed it away.

         The team came through to check out JK’s hand. It was fine, superficial scrapes. Nothing that ice and rest wouldn’t heel. Make up would cover the rest, like they had done with his tattoos. They could always wipe away any signs of his rebellion.

         The bigger problem was the scene he’d made, and the team had been called and would spend the next week scouring the internet for evidence. Did the guy he hit know who he was? If he did, would he want money? Did the lawyers need to draft an NDA for him? Would they have to buy off website after website, fan sites and reddit threads from posting any evidence of what Jungkook did? Would the urban legend live on, that Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae, was dating an American and had punched a man in her honor?

         After the team finished with his hand, Jungkook made his way to the living room, slumping onto the couch, tears stinging as he tried to blink them away. The members trickled into the living room, sitting around him.

         “Do you want to talk about it?” Taehyung asked.

         “We always talk when we fight,” Jin added.

         “I’m sorry if I’ve endangered you, or your futures,” Jungkook said, staring straight ahead. He couldn’t face them. He couldn’t let them know that pride had bested him. Pride, the most insidious of all emotions, had wormed its way into his being.

         “It was so stupid,” Yoongi replied.

         “You didn’t hear what he said.” Jungkook whispered.

         “What did he say?” Yoongi challenged.  

         “First, he spit at me, and called me a China man, said that they should’ve dropped an A-bomb over all of Asian, rid us all from the planet…”

         Yoongi regretted challenging him.

         “Then, he looked at her, he,” Jungkook took a deep breath, “He looked at her and he said that he would never fuck a bitch with yellow fever.” His tears fell freely, the weight of the racism breaking him down. His hyungs sat silently, staring at one another. They’d never been the subject of a violent, xenophobic tirade before. They’d heard comments, they weren’t idiots, they knew it existed. But to Jungkook? To you?

         Jungkook had punched the man because he insulted him, he used the most derogatory names he could think of, and he wasn’t sorry. Attacking Jungkook was par for the course, what the man had really been disgusted by was you. How could you, caramel skin and curvaceous figure be dating Jungkook? How could you, with that earth-shattering smile, be willingly dating a man who came from the Orient? Jungkook had defended himself, and he wasn’t sorry he had. He wasn’t sorry that he’d defended your honor. He wouldn’t apologize for it.

         Jin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, Namjoon and Ho-Seok sat with him until his tears had dried. They held him close, their silence wrapping around him, offering him the comfort he desperately wanted from you. When his breathing had settled, Namjoon suggested he shower and get to sleep, they’d make sure you got home safely.

         Jungkook let the water scaled his skin, turning the pale white to pink. He shortened his skin care routine and fell into bed, where the tears came again, and he clung to the space you should’ve been in. 

Next: Would It Be Enough? 

#jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #BTS #BTS fic #BTS fanfic #BTS fan fiction #love #relationship #original character #dating #fight #management #OFC #jimin #taehyung #namjoon #jin #j hope #yoongi #suga #rm #peace #folklore #houseofddaeng #thebtswritersclub #ficswithluv

[gemma-lemma]

Cloudy Days - JJ Maybank x Male OC

Chapter 2.3 – Redfield

Soon after, the friends were in the twinkie, on the way to Redfield lighthouse. Everything seemed to have returned to normal, but Parker could still see the shadow that lingered over JJ’s eyes clear as day.

He wasn’t paying any attention to how John B tried to explain to his friends how the lighthouse was the right answer, and just studied the Maybank boy’s face.

“Bro, you know how I process my sad feels?” JJ suddenly asked into the room. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies, that’s how I do it.”

Even though what JJ had just said was slightly gross, the others didn’t seem to pay his words any mind. Merely Parker raised a brow, and JJ just shrugged in response. They were in the back together with Pope, who was leaned forward between the two front seats to talk to Kiara and JB. JJ sat right behind him, while Parker was sprawled over the bench on the passenger side.

He raised his foot to nudge him in the side, but JJ slapped it away with a scowl. Parker took it as a challenge, and tried to nudge him again, but he just grabbed him by the ankle and held him still mid-air. Parker tried to wriggle his foot free, and almost would have been successful, but then JJ pressed it down on his thigh and got a secure hold on it like that.

Parker grinned at him, knowing the confident look in his eyes would confuse JJ.

“If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried to reassure John B about the lighthouse in a soft voice.  

“Look, I- I don’t need a therapy session, okay?” John B defended. “I’m not trippin’ out.”

“It’s okay to trip, bro, but-“ JJ tried to calm him, but was cut off.

“Look, my dad’s missing, okay? Missing. You don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and then have no idea what happened.” John B said, and Parker looked out the window. Not, he did not know how it was if they were missing. Only if they died in front of your eyes. JJ squeezed his ankle and shot him a questioning look. He didn’t answer.

Pope and JJ suggested that Big John might have been kidnapped. Maybe he was in Vietnam, getting interrogated by the KGB, or even in Atlantis. Parker didn’t really pay attention to the conversation anymore. All he could see was the smile on his mother’s face when she closed her eyes for the last time, finally succumbing to her illness, and the blood dyeing Billy’s t-shirt dark red.

After what seemed like an endless ride, they arrived at the lighthouse, which, according to John B, was Big John’s favourite place.

The friends got out of the van, but Parker decided stay inside another few seconds, trying to regain his calm.

He jumped out just in time to hear Pope talking about variables and JJ yelling at him to shut up. It made Parker think about how his friend Alice had always suffered through the maths lessons at school as if she were being tortured. Nobody understood maths less than Alice, Parker was sure of it.

“Listen to me for a second, just listen!” John B interrupted JJ and looked at Parker. “Parker and Pope are gonna stay on lookout with JJ, alright? If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” He decided, and Kiara agreed.

Parker raised his brows at the retreating figures of his friends.

“Yeah, I’mma work on my merit scholarship essay, and I can’t be involved in a felony.” Pope ranted, snatched the ball JJ was playing with and kicked it around himself. He didn’t pay any mind to the incredulous look the Maybank boy shot him but was out of earshot soon enough.

Parker watched JJ a worriedly.

“How’re ya doin’?”

“Great, thanks.”

“Try again, I don’t believe you.”

“Why wouldn’t you believe me?” JJ snapped and glared at him. The second he saw the look in Parker’s eyes he knew that he had just given himself away.

“Because you just killed the rooster John B said you loved. Have you ever killed anything before?”

JJ scoffed. “Of course I have, don’t be stupid.”

“Insects don’t count.”

“Well, if you’re already all about going Dr. Phil on me, why don’t we ask you a few things too, then, huh? What was that, back at the Château? Since you arrived here you have been a literal wreck, and now you’re suddenly all gangster and bossy? You have too many loose ends, man!” JJ probably hadn’t even realized that he had backed Parker up against a tree until he hit it with his back. He didn’t back down, though.

“That’s how you wanna play this?” Parker laughed, realizing that JJ wouldn’t give him anything for free. “A truth for a truth, then. The first time I ever shot at someone with a gun, was to protect my friends. He would have hurt them, and I couldn’t let that happen, no matter how frightened I was. Same thing happened back at the Château. You guys were in danger, and I had to get my shit together and protect you.” He said with a dangerous smile. “That’s how things work where I come from. The law of the jungle allows no weakness.”

But JJ didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. “We were in danger also when the cops almost found us in the motel room. We were in danger when those guys shot at us or when they wrecked Ms. Lana’s hut. Where were your balls of steel then, huh?”

“Something happened, before I came here. Something bad, that really shook me. I’m still not over it, so don’t get surprised when I suddenly relapse. But today was a closer call than those before, and the situation reminded me specifically of back then, so I managed.”

“What happened?”

“Nuh-uh. That’s not how a truth for a truth works. It’s your turn, now. How are you?”

JJ started backing off, but Parker was faster. He grabbed him by the collar and spun them around, so that now JJ was pressed up against the tree. He struggled to get free at first, but then gave up and stared right into Parker’s eyes, challenging him. When he realized that Parker wouldn’t even accept the challenge, he sighed and averted his eyes again.

“I can’t really understand that I killed the rooster yet, I guess. It doesn’t feel like sadness, or remorse, it just feels bad, and I hate it. That was a living being – an animal that was dear to me. How can I not feel sorry for killing it?”  He said quietly, and Parker could hear the pain in his words. He softened his grip on JJ’s shoulders.

“The sorry will come later.” He explained softly. “But if that’s what you’re worried about, I can reassure you. This bad feeling that you’ve got? The one that seems to be eating away at your insides and making you sick to the stomach? That’s what you got for taking a life. It’s gonna feel bad for a while, and at some point remorse will crush you. Maybe you’re lucky and it won’t be that bad because it was just an animal, but it will still hurt. And then you have to feel the pain. It’s like in that John Green novel: pain demands to be felt. That’s the only way you can get over it.”

JJ nodded, deep in thought. Parker’s words seemed to soothe his raging mind a little, but he was still perturbed, so he added: “And if you ever need someone to talk to during that time, or someone to sit beside you while you work things out by yourself, I will be there for you.”

Again, JJ nodded, then his eyes widened as if suddenly realizing something. He looked back into Parker’s face and grabbed his wrists in an iron hold, securing them mercilessly ion his shoulders. “’Maybe you’re lucky and it won’t be that bad because it was just an animal’” He repeated Parker’s words and suddenly he knew that he had made a mistake. “What have you killed, Parker?”

As JJ had expected, Parker tried to rip free, but he wouldn’t let him. He stared at him urgently, waiting for an answer.

The sound of approaching sirens saved Parker from having to answer and they sprinted towards the twinkie. Pope jumped in the driver’s seat, and off they went towards JJ’s house.

 They hung out there a while, waiting, but when neither John B nor Kiara showed up Parker decided to drive the twinkie back to the Château. He had ignored any try from JJ’s side to pry any information out of him, not just yet ready to tell him about the men he’d killed to save himself or his friends.

When he parked the car, he was met by John B cleaning up his home and throwing pizza cartons away.

“Hey man, what happened? Weren’t we supposed to meet up at JJ’s?” He greeted, and immediately felt the sour mood his cousin sported.

“You want the long version or short?” He responded and proceeded to put empty glass bottles into a box.

“Medium rare.” Parker answered, just to mess a little. John B actually chuckled quietly. Bingo.

“I kissed Kiara. She pushed me away.” He began and went still, waiting for Parker’s reaction.

“Told you so.” Was all he said, not really surprised that his cousin had tried it after the conversation they’d had on the way to Ms. Lana’s house with JJ.

“I apologized, but she said it was okay.”

“I think nobody cares about you the way Kiara does. She’s doing her best to be a good friend and make it as easy on you as possible. I understand where your confusion is coming from, but I think you should try and take care of her a little better, too. Especially now that this misunderstanding is out of the way.”

John B shrugged in a way that said: You’re right, but I don’t really know what to say now. So he just proceeded with his story. “Then we were arrested because I hurt the lighthouse guy. Peterkin told me that she knew about the compass, I denied having it, Kiara’s dad got us out. I think he hates us. The square groupers chased me through the streets, Peterkin saved me, I gave her the compass, and Ward Cameron fired me because he found out about the scuba gear we took.”

Parker raised his eyebrows, trying to process what John B had just said. “Nice afternoon, man.”

“Yeah, right?”

Parker looked out to the scoop, suddenly remembering something.

“Is that damn turkey still in there?” He asked, and John B nodded.

“Should we bury it or burn it?” He asked, the question directed almost more to himself than to John, and watched him stack a lot of old stuff he recognized from his father’s office and from around the house on a pile.

“If you wanna burn it get it now, because I’m gonna burn all this junk here right now.” He said, taking out a box of matches.

Parker frowned. “You sure you wanna destroy all this?”

“Yeah, pretty.” John B lit the pile on fire and poured gasoline into the flames. They both watched at them in awe for a bit, but then Parker snapped out of it, grabbed an empty box and went to put the dead rooster inside.

“Rest in peace, or something.” He murmured, staring into the creepily open eyes of the animal. “I hope rooster heaven’s nicer than North Carolina.”

Then he closed the lid and crawled out of the scoop, just in time too see John B grab something from out of the fire and stomp on it to stop the flames.

“What the hell are you doing, man?”

But John didn’t answer, he just stared at the pin board he had just saved, as if it held the answers to all of his questions.

Then he looked up. “I think I know what Redfield means.”

#jj maybank #obx #fanfiction #bisexual

[aerynwrites]

The Hidden

Chapter Two: The Connection

Author’s Note: please let me know what you all think! do you like this so far? hate it? any and all feedback is very much appreciated. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing and fighting.

Chapters: One, Two (you’re here), Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight

//

It didn’t tale you and the Mandalorian long to reach your small village, a mere hour walk from where his ship was parked. He had offered to fly you all there to make it quicker, but you refused, not wanting to draw attention to your location and you didn’t know if there was enough space to land.

Dyn took in his surroundings as the trio walked into the small jungle village. The first thing he noticed were the guards posted on the outskirts of camp, and he felt his own guard go up slightly but was quickly appeased as the guard waved calmly to you.

“Welcome back (Y/N)!” the woman said cheerily before spotting the Mandalorian and her eyes narrowed cautiously, “Who do you have there?”

You chuckled and gestured to him, “Just some tourists I saved from the pair of Chroigs we’ve been dealing with.” You teased as you nudged his arm playfully.

He brushed you off as the guard laughed, “Well, hopefully you scared them off for good.” She looked towards the back of the camp at a group of farmers picking through a destroyed field, “They destroyed half our crop last night,” she scowled, “They’ve been braver than usual.”

You put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “We’ll figure it out Ariah,” you remove your hand and motion for the man to follow you as you start to walk further into the village, “we always do!” you call over your shoulder.

Dyn hears the woman grunt in response before he follows you into a small elevated hut you had clambered up the stairs into. He couldn’t get his mind off those beasts, how have you all survived this long with them alive and prowling around? He’s brought from his thoughts as you unbuckle your utility belt and hang it on a hook before looking back at him spreading your arms a wide smile on your face.

“Home sweet home.”

Dyn looks around the humble abode momentarily. There’s not much to the square wooden hut, just a few trunks for storage, windows on each of the walls the gauzy curtains fluttering slightly in the breeze, and then two hammocks hanging from the ceiling. But no beds.

Even without seeing his face you can sense his confusion and hesitance at the situation. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly and shift from foot to foot.

“I’m sorry it’s not much, and about the hammocks,” You lightly tug the woven fabric, “it’s just with all the bugs and stuff we have to sleep off the ground and then no one has a full kitchen since we all –“

“It’s fine.” He states.

You stop your rambling and look up at him and nod your head, “Okay.” You shove your hands into the pockets of your pants when he doesn’t say anything else before sighing loudly.

“Well I guess I’ll get out of your hair and let you settle in” you walk towards the door to leave the two alone before his voice stops you once more.

“I can help you.”

His voice startles you every time, as ashamed as you are to admit it so soon, it’s weirdly attractive. A low and husky yet mechanical sound each time he talks through his mask. You turn to face him slightly, “what?”

“I can help you with those…Chroigs.”

You tilt your head slightly, “Wasn’t I the one who helped you earlier?” you smirked.

The man sighed, “I was surprised,” he defended, “And I also had the kid with me. If we can come up with a structured plan, I can help you get rid of them.”

You raised your head slightly taking in what he said. Could he really help you? He had weapons, a ship and very nice beskar armor, all things you’re sure he didn’t get without work.

“Who are you anyway?” you question, curiosity getting the best of you, “I mean you’re obviously out of your element, but you seem more than capable. So, I just want to know how a Mandalorian, one of the best fighters in the galaxy, ended up in the middle of nowhere with a child.”

At the mention of the child you looked down at the small figure in his arms only to find him staring straight at you, a curious look on its face. For some reason in that moment you felt an invisible connection to this small creature.

“it’s not important.” he avoided the question and interrupted your thoughts.

As much as his avoidance bothered you, you were shrugged and turned to exit the house once more, “I’ll be outside at the farm if you need anything.”

//

Dyn watched you exit, wariness still nagging at his mind. He wasn’t used to this. This caring and hospitable nature from others. For the most part everyone he’s seen recently has tried to kill him. He liked this. While he wasn’t completely sure they were out of danger yet, he could get used to the idea of laying low for a while. He watched as the little kid waddled around the small hut, curiously touching everything he could. He starts to carefully unpack their belongings stowing them in an empty trunk he spotted near one of the hammocks.

Soon after he had unpacked, he was about to get the kid and find you at the farm, but a loud commotion from outside caught his attention. He quickly picked up the child and strode out of the home towards the loud voices. He saw a small group of people surrounding a large man who was yelling at a much smaller woman, who he soon realized to be you.

“What were you thinking? Bringing a stranger into our home?” the man yells, it didn’t take a genius for Dyn to put the pieces together as to who the argument was about.

He starts to walk closer to the group as you jab your staff into the tall man’s chest, “Because Jaleer, he needed help! We’ve never turned away people in need.” You spit.

“No, we haven’t turned people away. But that’s a Mandalorian! They are nothing but killers and bounty hunters only out to help themselves, He’s going to bring nothing but trouble.” The man argued standing taller to tower over you even more.

While some of what the man said was true, Dyn couldn’t help the small sting he felt at the man’s words. Is that all anyone thought of him?

Jaleer’s words had angered you, your voice was raised to a considerably higher level, “No Jaleer! He’s…different. He’s not like that!” you defended.

“You’ve known him for a couple hours (Y/N) you know nothing about him or why he’s here.”

As this point the man, Jaleer, as Dyn had learned, glanced around him and spotted the man in the gleaming beskar armor. Jaleer shoved through the crowd roughly and stalked towards him. Dyn quickly set the kid on a box a few feet away before standing to face the man.

While the Mandalorian was tall, Jaleer still towered over him; a wall of pure muscle, black patterned tattoos covering his arms and a distrusting, angry sneer covering his face. However, despite the height difference, the man in question stands unmoving as Jaleer jabs an accusing finger at him.

“Why are you here Mandalorian?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” He replies coolly.

Jaleer takes a threatening step forward, “wrong answer.”

Dyn sees the man move to lunge at him but he is swift to move out of the way blocking the blow easily as he steps to the side. The large man stumbles as his momentum moves him forward but turns to face the Mandalorian once more, not keen on being made a fool of. Dyn just tilts his head in a condescending manner. Jaleer lets out an angry grunt before he grabs a staff similar to yours from his back and swings it down with much force towards the bounty hunter. Dyn lunges to the side, narrowly missing the weapon as it whistles past his head and strikes the ground with a thud. Before Jaleer can recover Dyn grasps the staff and rips it from the larger man’s grip. He spins around and knocks the man’s feet from underneath him in one fluid movement. Jaleer lets out a breathless grunt as he topples to the ground, wind ripped from his lungs.

The Mandalorian turns to face the crowd, seeing you standing at the forefront mouth agape at the quick an efficient way he took out the largest man in the village.

“I am not here to cause any trouble,” he states, “I am just here to help in exchange for shelter and food. I was attacked by the same beasts that plague your village and I will help you get rid of them for good.” The man looks from you, who has a small smile on your face, back to Jaleer who has finally stood from his place on the ground.

He offers the staff back to the man who snatches it from his grip angrily before jabbing it in his direction.

“This doesn’t change anything Mando, I still don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” He seethes.

The Mandalorian just shrugs as he turns to pick up the child once more, “Which isn’t very far from what I can tell.” He mutters to himself.

Jaleer mutters and turns to you once more, “You better watch where you step around here girly, I still don’t trust you either.”

You roll your eyes and shove past the burly man, “Drop it Jaleer. I’ve earned my keep.”

You hear a loud huff and then fading footsteps as you walk over to the Mandalorian, “I’m sorry about him,” you apologize, “he’s a jerk.”

“Thank you.” Dyn says as you both walk back to your hut.

You turn to him as you reach your door, a confused look adorning your features, “What for?”

He shrugs lightly, “For defending me.”

You smile and rest your hand on his arm gently, trying to ignore the small spark you feel, “of course, you didn’t deserve what he said. Jaleer is just a jackass who is overprotective of his people.”

He just nods before climbing the steps of your hovel, you are following closely behind as dusk begins to settle on the encampment. When you walk in you remove one of the hammocks from the ceiling and start to walk it into a back room he hadn’t noticed before. You push the curtain aside to enter before rehanging the hammock and coming back into the main room.

“You can sleep in there if you’d like,” you offer, “again it’s not much but I know your people like your privacy and the whole - “ you pause to gesture vaguely as your face and head, “helmet thing.” You finish awkwardly.

He nods in thanks and asks, “What did Jaleer mean when he said he still doesn’t trust you?”

You sigh,nand lean against the counter, “I’m not originally from the planet,” you offer tentatively, “so when I landed here as a teenager I came across this village and eventually earned my place here. well, with most people anyway.”

you pull at the cloak around your shoulders, removing the heavy fabric and toss it absentmindedly over a nearby chest. feeling suffocated by the fabric and the topic of the conversation.

“Jaleer is the self-imposed ‘leader’“ you mimic quotation marks with your fingers, “of the village. I’ve never really told them my background so he still doesn't fully trust me even though the others have accepted me as one of them.” you shrug as you finish your explanation.

“What is your background?” Dyn asks without thinking, mentally kicking himself as he notices your change in body language.

You tense slightly at the question, not expecting it from the usually un-inquisitive man and open your mouth to give some vague answer, but a small whispery yawn interrupts you. Both of your attentions are drawn to the child still in the man’s arms. You seem to startle slightly, remembering something as you turn around a few times looking for the item on your mind. Dyn watches as you let out a quiet ‘ah-ha!’ and pull a small basket from underneath the small counter and grab some spare cloth from a nearby trunk neatly tucking it into the basket.

“For the kid,” you explain as you walk to the back room once more, the Mandalorian following closely behind.

You set the basket down in the corner of the room before turning to leave, accidentally running right into the bounty hunter. You gasp as your forehead connects with the cool metal of his chest plate and take a step back a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Sorry, I wasn’t- “you cut yourself off, and look to the child in his arms, “I can uh, put him in his bed real quick” you offer, trying to distract from the situaion you put yourself in.

You see the man tense up slightly and mentally kick yourself, “I just meant-“ you wave behind you to the bed, “Since I’m over here you know…” you trailed off, looking anywhere but the man in front of you, still overwhelmed by the lack of space between you two.

You are about to slip past him to escape when you seem him offer the small bundle to you. You hesitantly reach out and accept the child and are once again met with an instant connection as you hold him and gaze at him. his eyes are closed, and his little mouth is slightly parted as he breaths slowly, sleep having overcome him. You smile sweetly as you run a finger over his large ears. He is seriously so cute. You are suddenly aware once again of the closeness of your guest as he clears his throat.

You take in a deep breath and turn around to place the child gently in the basket. As you stand up, he whimpers slightly in his sleep and seems to reach out as if searching for something before settling once again. You turn back around, careful not to run into the Mandalorian again but instead of standing you see him sitting in the hammock. You smile at him and move to leave the room pulling the curtain aside. You hesitate before you completely exit and turn to face the man behind you.

“What he said wasn’t true you know.” You say quietly.

You see the man tilt his head slightly and continue as he remains silent.

“What Jaleer said earlier,” you explain, “I don’t think you’re just some bounty hunter or killer.” You look over at the sleeping child once more, “The kid proves that.” you state firmly as you glance back at the child thoughtfully.

you turn back to the Mandalorian and give a small smile, “Goodnight Mando.”

Dyn watches stunned as you leave the room, the green curtain swishing closed behind you. You continue to surprise him. He smiles a small smile and slowly removes his helmet once he is sure you won’t return. He slips out of his armor and gear and settles into the surprisingly comfortable hammock and relaxes for the first time in a long time.

As sleep starts to take over him the only thing he can think of is the fact that he likes the name ‘Mando’ on your lips a whole lot more than he expected.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren x reader #dyn jarren #baby yoda #star wars

[lihikainanea]

No hate because I don't mean to offend it's just I've always been told otherwise and I'd like your input. Genuinely, how do you fight against a grown man that's twice your size when you're so small??? Like could you throw Bill around for example? I just don't understand how that works. I've always been told that no matter how strong a woman is, if a man twice her size takes her on she'll lose. And that martial arts won't win against a guy who street fights and you need to defend yourself.

No offence taken, bubs. I get this question a lot, and I’m always happy to explain these things to people who ask out of genuine curiosity. For people who ask out of arrogance (ie: usually dudes), I tend to prefer a more demonstrative approach.

There are a few things that make this whole “martial arts is useless against people bigger and stronger than you” thing a total misconception, so let’s outline some of them.

1) Martial arts is never about strength or force. Well, not your own anyway. The concept of martial arts was created with one very, very obvious thing in mind: That you will usually get attacked by someone bigger and stronger than you. I can’t speak for all martial arts, but as a kyokushinkai, I can tell you how we train and what we believe. Martial arts is not about your strength, or your force--but rather, it is about using your opponent’s strength and force against them. Have you ever thrown a punch at the air? I’m talking a real punch, one with your whole body weight--ever throw a haymaker like that at absolutely nothing? Let me tell you what happens: you go flying. More specifically, you pitch forward at the waist, you lean your upper body forward, you step into it as you try to regain your balance--and then your body’s natural inclination to counter that weight kicks in, and you lean back to try and regain your centre.

Now, imagine that as you throw that punch, the person in front of you just hooks a hand behind your shoulder and guides you even more into the direction you were already catapulting yourself in. Then imagine as your body is pitching forward from your own force, all of that forward momentum driving into one sole place--imagine the person in front of you just raises a knee, sinks it into your gut. All of this--every modicum of it--is your own force. Not theirs.

Additionally, there are also spots on the body where you can cause maximum damage with minimum efforts--these are called pressure points, most people don’t have more than a basic understanding of them, and they are a bitch. There are a lot of them in a lot of easy to reach places, and none of them require much more than a tap. Take your fingers--your index and your middle finger--and put them on the spot under your earlobe, right where your jaw connects to your skull. Push down there--that’s pretty sensitive, right? Now look at your hand, where your thumb connects to your wrist. Tuck your thumb into your palm.

If you tap someone on either side where their jaw connects, with that bony part of your hand--and you have a solid 5cm of space here, so you can miss and still be fine--you will knock them out. Every single time.

How this is applicable to the argument: People tend to think of fighting as a Rock’Em Sock’Em game. You stand in front and you punch each other. If that’s how fighting worked, then punch for punch--yeah, a dude who is 6′4 and 240lbs is stronger than me. But martial artists are craftier than that--and if I know that I won’t win the brute force game, then I don’t play the brute force game. After 12 years of training, I have 238975854569 other games that he doesn’t.

So yes, I could throw Bill around. But the whole point is--I would never have to. Strength would be his fight, because he’s a big dude. If I know my strength won’t win, then I won’t fight that way.

2) Speed and accuracy

Again, I can only speak as a kyokushinkai. But something that we emphasized was that there was a need, when you train, to constantly be uncomfortable. Are we throwing punches? Okay great, here put a weighted belt on only one side of your body and also these rubber bands on your wrist are connected to a guy behind you who will pull your hand back every time you try to throw it forward. Are we practicing defending against surprise attacks, or accuracy? Great, here kick this tiny ping pong ball using only this part of your foot, and wear a blindfold while you’re at it.

12 years of this.

I will reiterate that standing in front of a dude, square on, throwing timed punches--I will lose. He will be stronger than me. But thankfully, that’s...not ever how a fight works.

What allows me to win against a guy of that size is my speed, and my accuracy.  Let me tell you a little something about how people punch: people don’t know how to punch. Their features pinch in their face, and their neck tightens. An arm is drawn back--way back--and usually, the leading foot is raised just a tad, on the heel, so it’s just the ball of the foot on the ground. The fist comes through the air in a circular arc, reaching to connect to the side of your face as the person steps forward. The punch’s natural progression is from one of your shoulders to the other--if you can imagine that pathway. The entire thing is circular, it is energy-consuming, but more than that--it’s predictable.

I have spent 12 years getting punched by men stronger than me, who were trained to punch. Men who spent 20 years training to punch. I don’t see those coming, for a few reasons: they’re too fast, but mostly, we have been trained to not “give away” our strikes. Our faces don’t twitch anymore. We give no indication that a punch is coming, until we’ve actually punched you. There’s no wind up. There’s no arc. There’s no shift in weight--it is a direct line, and it is immediate. And devastating. We punch to break cinder blocks. Your face is not as strong as a cinderblock.

Fighting these dudes who give nothing away, I can say that in a street fight against someone--things are moving in slow motion for me. And I can confirm this, because I’ve been jumped twice in my life. Everything the opponent did, it looked like he was moving through molasses. I recognized the sudden tensing in his facial features (as competitors, do you know where we look when we fight? At the hollow of the neck on our opponent. Because of the involuntary way it clenches when they’re about to throw a strike.) I saw the arm wind back--way the fuck back. It gave me a half a second--but that’s a half a second head start, and that’s all the time I need. I can deflect. I can stop. I can strike back.

How this is applicable to the argument: Strength and force don’t even come to the party when an opponent is faster than you, because you can’t exude force against something that you can’t grab or strike. You also can’t exude force against something that strikes you right as you’re attempting to strike it.

And because we train so much on accuracy, it means that I can hit the spot that I mean to hit, with the force I mean to hit it with, under most circumstances. Including on a moving, erratic, unpredictable target. And if I miss, then I have the reflexes fast enough to strike something that was just made available to me in my miss. Example: I go to strike a groin, and he covers? Most men have an incredibly fast reflex to cover their groin. That’s fine, because it means that his hands just went down to block my strike. And when his hands go down, you know what he’s not protecting?

His head. Off with it.

(it’s also important to note that the first thing we are ever taught to protect, is our head. This is so deeply engrained in us. And the number one thing that people always punch for, is the head. When you spend 12 years protecting it against 5th degree black belts, believe me some drunk dude in a bar is not even going to get close to it without dying first.)

3) Tolerance for pain

I mentioned before that if you have never gotten punched before, it is an incredibly jarring experience. You panic. You freeze. Your knees give out. You maybe scream, you probably start to cry, you get really freaked out. There’s so many things that play on the brain in those situations--that you’re in danger, that you’re under attack, that you don’t know what to do, that the punch caused some serious damage, that you’re in pain, that somebody tried to hurt you. All of these things are terrifying, and they’re a very natural panic response to the situation.

Over the course of 12 years, I have gotten punched and kicked at full force--my face, my stomach, my chest, my head--millions of times. Millions. It doesn’t incite panic anymore, but it sure does incite rage.

Kyokushinkai go through various exercises to numb ourselves to pain. We punch telephone books covered in burlap, to kill the nerve endings in our knuckles. When we’re past that, we move onto concrete. We whack our shins with baseball bats to break down the microfibres in the bone, so they’ll not only grow back stronger--but they’ll grow back numb. We stand there, and we let the entire class punch us. Kick us. We don’t block--we absorb it. In kyokushin tournaments, if you show pain, you automatically lose. That means that if I take a kick to the head and I grimace, if I grunt or suck in a breath or otherwise show any emotion--I forfeit the fight. Immediately.

All of this takes the shock value out of experiencing pain, and more importantly, it re-programs your brain to replace it with something else. We have been, essentially, reprogrammed. That’s the only word I can think of for this. The normal brain is programmed that when you get punched, you feel pain. The kyokunshinkai brain is programmed that when you get punched, you feel fucking blind rage.

How this is applicable to the argument: He might be stronger, and he might land the hit. But I have been punched much harder by men who have been trained to use their bodies as weapons. I have submitted my body to that for 12 years. So he may land the hit. But it won’t hurt me, because for 12 years, I have been through worse. And if he lands the hit, refer to item 2 on how I can still win. Most people throw the punch thinking it will end the fight. It’s rather shocking when you throw the punch and a harder one lands on you 2 seconds later.

4) We understand body mechanics.

This is kind of all of the points rolled into one. Martial artists have an innate understanding of pressure points, how to manipulate them, but more than that--we understand how the body moves. We understand actions, and counter-actions. We understand involuntary muscle twitches. We understand the ebb and flow, the sway, the centre lines. Gravity.

Up top I mentioned that in competition, we stare at the other person’s throat when we fight. This is not only because it’s one of the places where your peripheral vision is most effective (you can see all movement in their arms and legs), but because the body basically gives involuntary muscle twitches there before any other movement is made. If something there twitches, then something is about to come flying at your head.

But we also understand that for anybody who hasn’t been trained, a contortion of the facial features precedes strike. It’s a running joke amongst martial artists, this idea that “a punch comes from your face.” It does. there is always a constriction of the facial features before a strike.

We understand the body mechanics of a poorly thrown punch. We understand that to get more force, people will swing back, shift their weight to their back leg before pitching forward, planting their front leg, swinging their arm way behind them as their gravity shifts to the front and they launch it. A martial artist would look at this situation, and manipulate it.

So when the dude shifts his weight onto his back leg and draws his arm back--you break his back leg. Chop it down like a fucking tree, which is easy to do when his weight is on it. Or you let him throw the punch, and you move--just a slight toss to the side, guide his arm where it was going anyway if you want to, and with a little downward momentum this guy is eating pavement. And again, it’s his own momentum. You’re just nudging him to where he was already going.

As martial artists we understand centrelines and counterbalance. We understand that sometimes you need to swing things up to have enough momentum to bring them down (a double collar grab), we understand that you need to oppose the force to gain enough momentum to go with the force (a double wrist grab on you that turns into a forearm lock on them).

How this is applicable to the argument: if I could hone in on something here, and it’s only because it’s something that took me a long time to learn: we understand how to force someone to fight our fight. For years and years I would adapt to someone else’s fight. If he was a garbage truck on the mats, standing there and pounding on me, I would morph into a garbage truck too and just stand there, take it, and punch back--instead of working my angles, getting off his centre, not giving him the access to get into a punching rhythm. And against a big tall dude, a big strong dude--no, I can’t reach his head.

But I can make his head come to me.

You learn that a groin kick will lower an opponent’s hands, and it will buckle their knees in protection. Cause them to crouch. You learn that a well positioned punch low on the abdomen--say, the bladder--will fold a person in half, which brings their head much closer to you. You learn to get what you want. You want the back leg? You put yours forward. Offer it up. You hand it to them on a silver platter and let them believe they have it. You want the ribs? You throw up high, so their hands come up. You want the groin? You give them your hands. Because essentially--they don’t have your hands. You have theirs, and then bullseye.

Which brings me to my fifth and final point....

5) Adaptability.

As martial artists, we have options. We have a lot of options. We like options. We don’t believe in one fight. We don’t believe you’re ever really stuck.  But we do believe in something else, that is very dear to us. A philosophy, of sorts, and it goes like this:

Every single part of me is a weapon and every single part of you is a target.

We know how to use what’s left, we know how to use what’s available. If you have one of my hands, I have 3 other weapons I can strike you with. If I kick for your groin and I miss or you block, I now know that your head is unprotected and you’re hunched over. It means I can knock you out, it means I can reach and literally rip your ears off (sorry kids, self-defence is nasty). If I throw a punch for your solar plexus and you move, I can hit you from any angle within a 5 foot radius because that’s how I’ve been trained. If you break my leg, then I’ll remember that time that I broke my leg in competition and I still finished the fight, because I know that my adrenaline is so far off the charts that I still have a good 20 minutes before I’ll feel the pain.

If I kick and you block, I know how to throw another 3 kicks before my foot lands--all at different areas of the body. If I punch and you block, I know how to punch another 6 times and kick another 3 and one of them is bound to land, and hurt you.

How this is applicable to the argument: Everybody’s got a plan ‘til they get punched in the face. Most people start a brawl with some semblance of a plan in mind--even if that plan is just “I’m gonna throw this punch that this fucker won’t ever see coming and knock him the fuck out.”

Martial artists don’t have a plan. Martial artists wait until you reveal your plan, and then we just make sure we don’t let you carry through with it. I hope this helps shed some light, bubs <3

#void journal #Leilani babbles #martial arts

[poorrichardslegacy]

Kacxa Week Day 5 - Conversation in the Black Lion

Icebreaker

SUMMARY: What happened between Keith and Acxa between the time they blew up the Pirate cruiser and they made their way to Acxa’s base camp?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26892517

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Acxa/Keith (Voltron) Characters: Acxa (Voltron), Keith (Voltron), Keith’s Wolf (Voltron) Original Child Character(s), Original Galran Character(s), Keith's Family (Voltron) Additional Tags: Kacxa Week 2020, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Dynamics

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

Keith checks the star charts as he maneuvers his way through the asteroid field. Acxa comes forward, looks over his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Does this area look familiar, Acxa?”

“Yes, it does. I spent the better part of two decaphoebs here. Androse should be just ahead.”

From the rear of the shuttle Keith and Acxa’s sixteen-year old daughters step into the cockpit. “So, Mom, you’ve been here before?”

“Yup. Back when I fought with the Voltron Coalition. Your father and I were…reunited here after he was missing for three decaphoebs.”

“NO WAY! This is where you fought with the Voltron Coalition? Where did you meet up with Dad? On some super-secret mission where you swept him off his feet and you fell hopelessly in love with him.”

“Well…Not quite. We met up on a pirate ship…run by Zethrid and Ezor.”

“NO WAY! Aunt Zethrid and Aunt Ezor were pirates?”

Keith chuckles, his attention still fixed on the asteroid field. “So was your mother at one time.”

“NO WAY!”

Acxa gives Keith a light smack on the back of the head for that wisecrack. “I was a pirate for about two movements. Then I joined the Voltron Coalition. When Voltron returned after being missing for three decaphoebs, your father and the other Paladins managed to get themselves captured. I broke into the pirate ship and got them out.”

Keith loudly clears his throat. “Acxa…love…if you’re going to tell them the story, tell them the whole story of how creative we were when we got off that ship.”

“Creative? NO WAY! That’s dad-speak for blowing something up! Mom did you blow something up?”

“No…but your father certainly did. He had the Paladins blow up some Synthian Nitrate canisters in the cargo hold. He blew a large hole in the side of that ship. We were lucky we got out alive. In fact, that’s how I got my first and only ride in the Black Lion.”

“NO WAY! YOU RODE IN THE BLACK LION?”

Keith glances over his shoulder at his daughter. “Do you know any words other than ‘no way’?”

Mireya stands erect before her father, folds her hands in front of her, and speaks formally to Keith. “Why yes father. Thanks to mother I am endowed with a large vocabulary of extraneous and sizable words of dubious import that no one knows the meaning of that I use when the situation requires it. Indubitably, people are impressed by my syntax and the breadth and intellectual depths of my comments.”

Keith turns and stares deadpan at Mireya while Acxa and Cataleya do everything in their power to keep from splitting their sides with laughter.

“You got the sarcasm gene from your mother, didn’t you?”

Having made her point, Mireya resumes her usual demeanor. “Maybe. I got the stubborn gene from you. So, Dad, are you going to tell us about how you and Mom took your first ride together in the Black Lion?”

“You want a story? Here’s one for you…”

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

He grips her hand tightly as he and his fellow half-Galra jetpack at full speed away from the exploding pirate cruiser. Ahead, the Black Lion awaits them, its jaws open in anticipation of their arrival. Keith looks back at the woman who just risked everything to save the Paladins.

“I’ve got you. Don’t let go.”

She grips his hand tighter, an expression of determination on her face, and trust in her eyes. “I won’t.”

They land in the jaws of the Lion. They close, and after a moment the atmosphere within the jaws is restored and the hatch to the interior of the Lion opens. Still holding her hand, he looks back to her and smiles, a lock of his hair hanging down in front of his eyes.

“Welcome back to the Black Lion. Come on, we need to get to the cockpit.”

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

He leads her to the cockpit, where he checks in with the Paladins.

“Keith, where are we going?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet, Hunk.”

Acxa puts her hand on his shoulder. “I have a base camp about three vargas away from here.”

Lance overhears the conversation, guesses what the Black Paladin is thinking, and calls him on it. “Keith, can we trust her?”

Keith looks Acxa squarely in the eye. “We can trust her. She risked her life to help us.”

Acxa pulls up a star chart on her wrist device and shows it to Keith. “Set a course for Androse. There is a ruined base there. Just below it is a plain where the Lions can touch down. My base is in a cave in the hillside just off that plain.”

Seeing movement in the rear of the cockpit, Acxa spies Cosmo, and greets him.

“Hello…I don’t suppose you remember me?”

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

It has been just over three decaphoebs since she last saw Keith’s loyal Cosmic Dire Wolf. Following their last fight against one another, just before Lotor’s meltdown, Acxa critically wounded the Black Paladin. Establishing contact with a semi-conscious Keith following the battle and realizing what she had done, she pleaded with Cosmo to teleport her into the ship so she could tend to the rapidly fading Paladin’s wounds and save his life.

Suspicious of her motives at first, Cosmo watched Acxa carefully and saw that she truly had Keith’s best interests at heart. Cosmo asked her why she was so concerned with saving his life after she tried to kill him.

Her emotional reply was telling.

“I wasn’t trying to kill him. I never wanted this. I just…wanted to scare him away.”

Watching the care that Acxa took with Keith and listening to the remorse in her voice on the recording she left for him told the perceptive wolf one thing. Before taking Acxa back to her ship, he shared his thoughts. “There is more here than meets the eye, Corillian. Hopefully, some day you will see what I see. For your sake and for his.”

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

Cosmo saunters over to greet her. “I remember you, Corillian.”

Acxa scratches Cosmo behind his ears with both hands, an act that the giant wolf greatly appreciates.

Not wanting to overdo it, Acxa sits back on her haunches and admires him. “A Cosmic Dire Wolf. Before Braylar IV I had never seen one.”

Keith is grateful to have an icebreaker to get Acxa talking. Something that does not involve pirates or exploding cruisers. “Neither had I. I had a dog when I was a boy. I loved him. He was really attached to Dad. The dog fell into a funk when he died, and I was separated from him when I was taken to the orphanage.”

Acxa detects the sadness in Keith’s eyes and reaches out with her words to offer empathy. “I’m sorry about your father, Keith. I lost my parents as well. My father when I was 2, my mother when I was 9. I too spent time in an orphanage.”

“Sounds like we have a few things in common.”

Acxa gives him a wry smile. “Yes, it does.”

So much for the icebreaker. They fall into silence for a varga, as Keith focuses on piloting around the minefields laid by Zethrid and Ezor. Acxa gives him the information he needs to navigate through them then moves away so as not to crowd him.

She sits back and watches him, trying to understand the feelings she has for the Black Paladin. Feelings that drove her to sneak onto the pirate cruiser to free him. He was gone for three decaphoebs. She expected any feelings she had for him to have faded.

They have done anything but fade.

Sensing she is feeling blue, Cosmo comes over to comfort her. He speaks softly so only she can hear him. “Still haven’t figured it out, have you Corillian?”

“Obviously not, since I’m still trying to figure out what I haven’t figured out yet. I don’t suppose you could call me Acxa? That would go a long way to making me feel better. At least I’d know I had one person on my side.”

Cosmo curls up next to her and places his chin on her lap. “Don’t sell yourself short, Acxa. Keith over there…he is your biggest advocate. Cheer up. He really is glad to see you.””

Acxa scratches the wolf behind his ears. “Thank you. That’s good to know.”

Keith, blissfully oblivious to the dialog between Acxa and Cosmo, looks over his shoulder at the two of them. “I think he likes you. I always knew that wolf had good taste.”

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

Finally clear of the minefield, Keith puts Black on autopilot. “It’s going to take about a varga for us to get there. The power in the lions is low, or we’d be there by now.”

“It’s ok. I doubt those pirates are coming after us. You badly crippled them by blowing up that cargo hold.”

Keith notices something about her. “Your uniform. I didn’t notice it in all the excitement. That’s a Voltron Coalition uniform.”

“It is. I was part of Matt Holt’s rebel cell for two decaphoebs. I joined them after I split away from Zethrid and Ezor.

“Wow…so, you fought against the Galra Empire? With Matt Holt of all people?”

“Yes. We fought together for almost two decaphoebs. It was not an easy life. We were constantly on the run. At the end it was almost as if we were being hunted. As if somehow the Galra military and the factions knew where to find us.”

“Interesting. How did you wind up with Matt Holt? I seem to recall the first time you two met he wanted to throttle you for kidnapping his father.”1

“After I left Zethrid and Ezor, I put feelers out that I was interested in joining the Coalition. After a few phoebs with no response, Matt suddenly showed up. He did not trust me at first. I had to prove myself on my first mission. I guess I did that. He let me stay on.”

“So, I hate to bring up bad memories, but why did you leave Zethrid and Ezor?”

Acxa stares at the floor, silent for more than a few ticks. “I had my reasons.”

Before she can go any further into her explanation, they come upon a dense asteroid field. She perks up and stands behind Keith to get a good head-on view of the navigational screen.

“We’re close to my base. Pull up the star chart and I’ll guide you in.”

The Lions approach the ruined base on Androse. The buildings have the look of being abandoned for decaphoebs. Several of them have collapsed from neglect or the impact of meteors.

“At one time this was a forward listening post for the Empire. When they conquered this sector, they didn’t need it anymore and they abandoned it.”

She points to a flat plain at the foot of the hill on which the base rests. “Set down over there.”

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

Acxa greets the Paladins and the rest of Keith’s entourage once they are safely on the ground. Everyone seems standoffish, which is what she expected. Trust is something that take time to develop. Still, she cannot help but notice the critical in not outwardly hostile eye Keith’s mother uses to look her over. Acxa wonders if it will ever be possible to win Krolia’s trust.

Keith notices Krolia’s hard stares at Acxa and he cannot help but see that Acxa is bothered by it. He approaches her and whispers in her ear. “Don’t let Krolia’s stare get to you. She’ll come around.”

After showing the Paladins around the area Acxa turns to Keith, the one person in the whole group she knows trusts her. “It gets cold here on Androse at night. I have some firewood we can use to start a fire. We’ll need to gather more to make one big enough to keep all of us warm.”

“I can help with that. I just need to check the Lions first. Just tell me where it is, and I’ll bring it when I come back.” Getting directions to the firewood source, Hunk excuses himself to check on the Lions.

Keith gently takes her arm and looks her in the eye. “You’ve done so much for us today. Take a break. I’ll start the fire; Hunk and the others will bring the wood in to keep it going.”

Acxa gives Keith a shy smile. “Thank you.

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

“That sounds cool, Dad. So, what did you guys talk about at the campfire on Androse?”

Before Keith can answer, a notification pops up on the star chart. “We’re getting close to Braylar IV. About a varga out.” He looks to Acxa and smiles, then he turns to his daughters. “The story about what your mother and I talked about during and immediately after that campfire is one we’re happy to share, but on another day. It’s too long to tell with the time we have left in this trip.”

“Ok, I guess we can cut you some slack this time. But you’re not getting out of it. No way! Deal?”

Seeing the mischievous look in Mireya’s eyes, Keith can only chuckle. “Deal.”

Acxa studies the star chart carefully as Keith makes his approach to Braylar IV. “I wonder what Ashira and Soran have been up to all these years. And Cosmo. I wonder what Mr. Sassypants has been up to since he left to go home to rejoin the Sonai. Well, I guess we’re about to find out. Everyone, get ready to strap in. It’s time to pay a visit to some old family friends.”

1. Rise of the Black Paladin, Chapter 4, Blood Duel

#kacxaweek2020 #kacxa fic #vld kacxa #keith x acxa #kacxa #vld keith #vld acxa #vld kosmo

[eleventhdoctorsangel]

Too young too dumb to know things like love

Summary: I fell from a rift of reality. No memory of what my life was before. The only thing I seem to remember was my name. Now I live with the Winchester, Jack and Castiel. Along with training both Jack and I to become hunter I help Jack control his powers. 

I sat next to Sam watching him dig up anything on Alexander to see if he really is who he says he is. For what I saw he was. “So. I’ve dug up a pretty hefty paper trail on Alexander Ketch. Birth certificate, U.S visa and passport, academic records from Kendricks for Arthur and Alexander.” Sam said. “Sam.” Dean said. “Dean I went into the hard drive I took from the Brits’ U.S. base. There are academic initiation paper drawn up for both Ketches with Alexander’s remaining incomplete.” Sam said. “Okay I don’t care how good this story looks. I ain’t buying it.” Dean said. “All right. For argument’s sake we know mom shot Arthur and we know we dumped his corpse into the waste canal. So even if this is weird yes it’s weird but we eat weird every day.” Sam said. “Yeah but there’s Ripley’s believe it or not weird and then there’s weird that’s just straight up bull. Now I’m thinking that Ketch weird is door number two.” Dean said. Sam closed his laptop letting out a sigh. “So does this mean someone is going to go talk to him?” I asked. “Well for one if anyone is going to talk to him it will be Sam or I okay. I don’t want you to go anywhere near him.” Dean said. “Why not dean if anyone has a chance at getting him to talk it’s going to be Y/n.” Sam said. “No she is not Sam. I’m not going let him anywhere near her.” Dean said. “Dean.” Sam said. “Sam stop it’s ok. It would be better if you or Dean talk to him. I mean you two do know the situation than I do.” I said. Sam was the one who went to go talk to Alexander. Dean got up from his seat where he was that was behind Sam and I taking Sam’s now empty seat. “You ok kiddo? He didn’t hurt you when he grabbed you earlier did he?” Dean asked. “No he didn’t.” I said. “I had to make sure.” Dean said. “I understand. Who’s Rowena?” I asked. “A friend I guess you can say. She was killed by Lucifer Jack’s father.” Dean said. “So the devil is Jack’s father?” I asked. “Yup.” Dean said. “Good to know and this is a normal thing for you and Sam?” I asked. “Pretty much you’ll get use to it.” Dean said. “I hope.” I said. “You will after you get use to it. You need abit of training in you. You’re so small I bet the wind can knock you down.” Dean said. “Oh haha.” I said. “Come on. You’re one of the tiniest things I’ve seen.” Dean said. “Well maybe you and Sam are just giants.” I said. “Very funny.” Dean said. “I try to be.” I said. “Have you ever shot a gun?” Dean asked. I shook my head. “Ok well that’s something that I will have to teach you.” Dean said. “You’ll probably have to teach me how to defend myself too.” I said. “Obviously don’t want you get hurt on our watch.” Dean said. “Yeah.” I said giving dean a small smile. 

It was about twenty minutes later before Sam came back to join us and then a cell phone rang. Dean went to go answer it. “Hello? Yes this is Agent Russell. I did give you my card yeah. Really? What kind of questions? Okay and when was this? What did he look like? Yeah no we will check into it. Thank you very much.” Dean said as he wrote something down then hung up. “What was that all about?” Sam asked. “That was a manager at the Stampede Motel place we stayed in Dodge City.” Dean said. “Right.” Sam said. “Guess his front desk clerk went missing. Right after some dude showed up asking questions about Jack.” Dean said. “You get a name?” Sam asked. “Nope. But… from his description? Evil Colonel Sanders.” Dean said. I gave both he and Sam a confused look. “Asmodeus.” Dean said. “Tracking Jack.” Sam said. “Yeah which means he’s two steps behind him which means we need to find him fast.” Dean said. “I should say.” A voice said making me jump. I look to see Alexander eating a sandwitch. Then it was the most awkward silence I’ve ever seen. “What the hell is this?” Dean asked. “He’s in chains. There’s no bathroom in the armory. And he hadn’t eaten in like a day and a half.” Sam said. “Do I look like I care?” Dean said. I bite my lip to keep me from laughing. “Judging by your rage my brother must’ve behaved very badly. I understand your mother is the one who killed him?” Alexander asked. “And he had it coming after what he did to her.” Dean said. “Hmm. And how is she now?” Alexander asked. “She’s good. Would you put him back?” Dean said. Sam let out a sigh closing his laptop and getting up. As Dean called someone. “Cass any news on Jack? We need to find him fast. “ Dean said. I could hear somewhat of what Cass was saying but not all of it. “What? Cass?” Dean asked. Dean hung up the phone. “What’s up? Sam asked. “Something didn’t seem right.” Dean said. “I’ll track his phone. Let’s go.” Sam said. “Yes let’s.” Alexander said. “No. no you are not a part of let’s.” Dean said. “And she is?” Alexander asked. “Yes she is. y/n go get a jacket on and wait in the impala.” Dean said. I nodded getting up making my way to my room to grab a jacket then headed to the impala getting in the backseat waiting on Sam and Dean to come so we can go find Cass. They came to join me after getting Alexander getting squared away. Then the drive to where Cass was started. “Who’s Asmodeus?” I asked. “He’s one of the four horseman apocalypse and the new king of hell.” Dean said. “New king? What happened to the old king?” I asked. Sam and Dean gave each other a look. “Did I over step a bound?” I asked as I started to feel bad about asking that question. “No y/n you didn’t. He died. It’s kind of a long story.” Sam said. “Maybe you can tell me sometime. I said. “Get some rest kiddo we got a pretty long drive.” Dean said. I leaned up against the window and closed my eyes. 

When I opened my eyes again it was dark outside. I could hear the pinging coming from Sam’s phone. “Man I hate the idea of Ketch on his own in the bunker.” Dean said. “He’s lock up tight. Not going anywhere.” Sam said. “Yeah. How we looking? You still got a lock on Cass’s signal?” Dean asked. ”Sure do. I nailed down his location. He’s not much further so… Don’t worry. You did tell him not to do anything stupid.” Sam said as dean let out a laugh. “Right. When’s the last time that’s worked?” Dean said. We finally arrived at an empty bar. “Alright y/n why don’t you stay in the car incase this goes sideway.” Dean said. “Okay.” I said. “Here I just hope you don’t have to use it.” Sam said handing me a gun. I nodded and place the gun next to me. Sam and Dean both got out of the impala and made their way into the bar. I rolled down my window so I could at least what was going on. I soon hear screaming and gunshot coming inside the bar. Then I hear a motorcycle. The motorcycle parked next to the impala and I saw Alexander get off. “Pity that left you all alone.” “Alexander said as he opened the door and roughly grabbed me by the arm. I reached for the gun that Sam had given me but Alexander wrapped an arm around my waist pulling me away before I could. “Afraid not that seem like a dangerous for a little girl like you.” Alexander said dragging me towards the bar. “Let me go.” I said fighting against his grip. He threw me inside as he went to grab a blade that was on the ground and stabbed to lady that was attacking Sam. “Y/n?” Sam asked as he got up coming over to me to help me up from the ground. Then he looked to Alexander. “H-how did you get out of the armory? Y-y-you…chains.” Sam said. “Lock pick. If you’d done the prescribed cavity search as you should you’d have found it. I uh grabbed some weapons from your toy box and a motorcycle from you garage et voila. What’s become of angel?” Alexander said. Then I hear a gun cock and look to see Dean pointing a gun at Alexander. Sam grabbed my hand pulling me over to where Dean was. “Not sure. But I’m sure of you Arthur. You know I gotta hand it to you. That paper trail you cooked up pretty impressive. But my gut told me it was baloney. Looks like my gut was right. See I’ve been in it with you Arthur. I’ve seen your moves. We’ve gone toe to toe. And I saw that look in your eye when you asked about our mom. So why don’t you cut the crap?” Dean said. “Actually everything I told you is true. Well except for the un twin brother thing. I am separated from the British Men of Letters lying low because they will kill me for desertion. I make a rather good living as a sort of soldier of fortune deep underground for a certain sort of clientele who appreciate my skill set. And I do use the name Alexander.” Arthur said. “How is it you’re still alive?” Sam asked. “I believe you’re familiar with the witch Rowena MacLeod?” Arthur asked. “So?” Dean said. “She was capture by the British Men of Letters some years back. I discovered she’d sewn a powerful charm into her body that could bring her back should she be killed. I Struck a deal wherein she did the for me in return for allowing her to escape.” Arthur said. “So after we dumped you body you.” Sam said. “Good as new. Only problem is once the device is used it needs to be recharged.” Arthur said. “Which is why you’re hunting for Rowena. Well sorry Lucifer burned her up. She dead.” Dean said. “Is she?” Arthur said. “Why’d you come here? You could’ve run.” Dean said. “Did it ever occur to you Dean that I might actually be one of the good guys?” Arthur said. “No. Not even once.” Dean said. “You and I were soldiers in opposing armies who were at war.” Arthur said. “Well the thing about war is one side wins.” Dean said pointing the gun at Arthur again. “I suppose you’re right.” Arthur said throwing something down causing an explosion and the room started to fill with smoke. I started to cough as I heard a gunshot. Sam and Dean ran toward the door only to have them push against it till it finally open. I followed them outside where my legs gave out from under me. I looked to see Sam and Dean in the road. Dean still had his gun pointed towards where Arthur was driving off to. Sam looked back at me and rushed over to me. “Y/n are you okay?” Sam asked putting a hand on my arm where Arthur grabbed me. I flinched and moved away from Sam. “Did he hurt you?” Sam asked. I nodded. “Son of a bitch!” I heard Dean yell. “Come on.” Sam said helping me up. We got back the impala to go find where Cass was. Dean called Cass and waited for him to answer. “Cass? Hey. Are you okay? We- we-we tried to track you down but you were gone. We ran into a bunch of demons. What’s- what’s happening? Okay well what’s going on?” Dean asked then he hung up the phone. “Is Cass okay?” Sam asked. “He sounded fine to me.” Dean said. Then we made the drive back to the bunker. 

Supernatural Taglist: @darkqueennox​

Overall Taglist: @the-broken-halo-writer​

#jack kline imagine #supernatural imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #kelsee's works #Do not reblog unless it's from me

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary: After the mysterious disappearance of her partner, Jonathan Harker, Detective Agatha Van Helsing finds herself delving into a case that is otherworldly.

Rating: T

Pairing: Agatha/Dracula

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you for all of the love and support, guys! You make these frequent updates happen! Okay, here's chapter two! -Jen

                                           Chapter Two

It's a common belief that one must wait twenty four hours before reporting a person missing. But such isn't the case under certain circumstances. However, given that only a few hours had passed and Mina Harker, as sweet as she was, had a tendency of being overwhelmingly worried about her husband's welfare, Agatha's concern wasn't off the charts. Still, the man was her partner and it was rather strange that he hadn't returned home.

The lights of police cars danced in front of the Harker household, spotlighting Mina as she stood out front, huddled in an oversize jacket. The detective stood by her, a notepad out with the intent of treating this like any other case. She had dealt with many missing persons cases, but this one was personal. But she swore to herself, for the time being, to treat it as if it were any other report. She needed to remain calm. Mindful. For Mina's sake.

"I tried calling, and texting," the woman sniffed, rubbing her nose on the edge of her sleeve. I even drove around a bit. He took a cab into work today-his car is having work done, and then I was to pick him up from the coach station. When he didn't show up, I went home. I thought that maybe...maybe…"

"How about we sit down to a cup of tea?" Agatha suggested, quite uncertain how to ease her partner's wife. "We'll figure this out. I'm just John is fine. He's a detective after all, he's trained to defend himself." Her eyes flickered over to the other officers. "Start a search extending a kilometer from the station. Missing person is Jonathan Harker. Last seen at West Yorkshire police station wearing standard uniform. Blue eyes, blond hair, keep a lookout for a black smartphone. And," she tried not to grimace. "Someone call the hospital. Make sure no one matching Jonathan's description has been admitted."

The detective wanted nothing more than to jump right into the action. But Mina needed her, and she owed that much to Jonathan. Following the woman inside, she took a seat at the kitchen table, watching the woman's shaking hands as she prepared enough brew for two people.

"Thank you," she said, accepting a cup from Mrs. Harker. "Mina, I can assure you we'll get to the bottom of this." At least, she would as soon as she found a means of getting out of there. "We will find John," Agatha took a sip, choosing her next words carefully. "Is there anyone I can call? A neighbor? A friend? Someone who can stay with you right now?"

"Maybe the Tinsleys across the way," her voice wavered. "I'd hate to bother them."

"I'm quite sure they'd understand," Agatha assured her. "Look, Mina, I know John better than anyone else. I really don't wish to leave you like this, but if anyone can find him…"

"I know," Mina said quietly, a weak smile crossing her features. "It's you." She took a rather large gulp of tea. "Thank you, Agatha, for taking this seriously. I know I must sound so silly, but I know Johnny…"

"As do I," the detective agreed. "Which is why I must go. Call your neighbors and if you have any issues or if Jonathan shows back up. You have my number. I'll keep the ringer up so I can hear you if you buzz."

As Detective Van Helsing stood up, she was caught slightly off guard as the woman wrapped her arms tightly around her. Mina buried her face in Agatha's shoulder, inhaling sharply as she pulled back.

"I have no doubt you'll bring my Johnny home," she nodded. "If anyone can find him, it's Detective Van Helsing."

                                                    XXX

Detective Jonathan Harker awoke with a start. He blinked, his vision blurred as he fought back a throbbing headache. As he tried to sit up, he found his body unable to. Weak. Drained. What had happened to him? Did he faint? Was he attacked? Robbed? The side of his neck burned as if two hot coals had been pressed into the sensitive flesh.

"Harvey, you stupid prick! I cannot believe you did this!"

Jonathan squinted, making out three figures from where he laid on the floor. Two men and a woman, none of which he recognized. The detective tried to call out, but his mouth was dry. Fear beginning to rise in his chest, he could only watch from afar.

"I can," Lucy snorted, sneering at Harvey. "You screwed up big time, Ruthven. When Dracula comes back, he'll stake you on the spot for sure."

"Not only did you go against his word, but you brought the damn blood bag with you?!" Quincey growled, sizing Harvey up. "Do you even know who this asshole is?!"

"Detective Jonathan Harker of the West Yorkshire Police Department," the woman smirked, circling around Harvey. "The most esteemed officer on the force? Drac's favorite meddlesome human?" She grinned, clearly enjoying the man's growing realization of his error. "Agatha Van Helsing."

"I panicked!" Lord Ruthven hissed. "You would've done the same!"

"I wouldn't have made the mistake from the start!" Quincey shot back. "I should save Dracula the trouble and-"

"Save me from what kind of trouble?"

The three vampires turned to see their leader standing in the doorway. Jonathan bit his bottom lip, trying to keep calm. No one had seemed to notice he was awake yet. After witnessing what he had, he decided it was probably best to stay that way. He closed his eyes, trying to maintain his breathing.

"Harvey brought home a little surprise," Lucy chirped. "Didn't you, Harvey?"

The detective could feel the vampire's eyes on him as a low growl rumbled deep from within the count's chest. Dracula strode forward, a hand grasping around Harvey's neck. The man squeaked in surprise as he was thrust into the air. Frank, who had been elsewhere, finally came to inspect the commotion and froze in place.

"You fool," the count hissed. "You blithering idiot! Could I have not been more clear?"

"I…" Lord Ruthven struggled, stumbling over his words. "I'm sorry-"

"Dawn's in a few hours, we could just tie him to a cross and leave him outside," Quincey suggested.

"But that would require one of us obtaining and touching the cross…" Frank said quietly, trying to enter into the conversation.

"Oh shut up, Frankie," Lucy sighed, rolling her eyes. "You're taking the fun out of this!"

With all five vampires preoccupied, Jonthan began to wrack his mind on ways to escape. These people-or whatever they were, didn't have the intention of letting him go. As he tried to slowly push himself up, a sharp rock pressed into his left palm causing the man to let out a small yelp. Immediately, the room fell silent.

"Someone's awake," the female vampire smiled, cocking her head curiously. "And to think I actually thought he was dead."

Dracula dropped Harvey to the floor, the corners of his lips curving into a smirk. Lord Ruthven, taking his chance scurried away to another part of the mansion. Trying his best, the detective tried to scoot back, but the creature was already looming over him.

"Detective Jonathan Harker," he mused. "It's both a delight and a regret to see you in my home. You know, I've been growing very weary of your investigations involving my little family." When the man's eyes widened the vampire scoffed. "Don't act so surprised. By now, you've surely started to piece things together."

"The Whitby Ripper bit or the vampires?" Quincey questioned. Dracula threw a dark glare in the man's direction and he fell silent.

"Apparently one of my own couldn't control himself for a second time and you just happened to be the winner of the lottery," he reached down and touched the bite mark on the detective's neck. Jonathan winced, letting out a small cry. "Now I've been put in quite a difficult situation. What to do with you. What to do with you…" He hummed to himself, beginning to pace. "I could just kill you. That is an easy option," he paused. "But where's the fun in that?"

Jonathan tried to shy away, but the mere act of moving was painful. The elder vampire easily caught on and placed his foot right on the detective's ankle. With a swift stomp, the sickening snap of bone sounded, the detective letting out a scream. Lucy giggled, clinging to Quincey's arm as her lover looked on curiously.

"I do apologize," the vampire said, feigning pity. "But I can't have you leaving. You just got here. You're my first live guest in awhile...or rather, one that has remained alive this long." He looked the writhing man up and down, noticing a square shaped object in his pocket. "Well, hello there."

The detective could do nothing as the man reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. Several missed calls and messages. Muted. Perhaps that's why they were never answered. Dracula's grinned widened maliciously as he grabbed Jonathan's thumb and unlocked the device.

"Who to call, who to call," he considered, scrolling through the contacts. "Mina? Your lovely wife who must be terribly worried? Your boss? A mechanic? Oh...no, I know," his finger stopped moving. "Let's play a little game, Johnny," he said, meeting the pained man's eyes. "I do love a good hunt…"

                                                       XXX

Agatha had been searching the streets for over an hour with absolutely no luck. No one from her team had reported anything out of the ordinary. No crimes. Nothing out of place. She let out a huff of frustration.

"Dammit, Jonathan," she muttered. "Where the hell are you?"

Just then, her cell phone began to buzz. Immediately, the detective grabbed it and stared in shock at the name. Jonathan Harker. A wave of relief and annoyance rushed over her as she was quick to answer it.

"John," she exclaimed. "Where have you been? Everyone has-"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid Detective Harker is unable to come to the phone right now."

Agatha blood ran cold, a lump forming in her throat. The cool, teasing voice did not belong to her partner. It hadn't been Jonathan who had called nor answered.

"Who is this?" She replied, trying not to let her anger show. "What have you done with my partner?"

"Oh Detective Van Helsing-may I call you, Agatha? I can't quite say. However, let's just say that lovely cold case of yours is about to get very hot. Think of this as a game of chess. You and me. I like games, do you, Agatha? So let's play. Your partner's life depends on it."

Let the game begin.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dracula on Neflix #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Dragatha #Dracula AU #Strangers in the Night