#i seriously have no excuse for this i just think gee is so baby sometimes

[zombyvamp]

dilf ray au anyone?

#this post brought to you by little tiny baby cheerleader gee #i wanna squeeze him #mcr #ray toro #gerard way #cheerleader gerard #mcr tour #mcrla2 #mcr nashville #mcr 2022 #my chemical romance #mcr fanart #i seriously have no excuse for this i just think gee is so baby sometimes #and if someone writes a dilf toro fic i would scream and cry

[pastorsperspective]

"Bah, HUMBUG!"

Happy Friday! Sundays sermon was titled, "Bah, HUMBUG!". The scripture was from Isaiah 9:2-6. If you missed it, you can listen to the message here: https://fb.watch/oO_qfcOxQG/ Skip to the 40 minute mark to go straight to the sermon.

It's not a new subject, or a new message. I have no questions about the message and none were submitted. "It's the most wonderful time of the year" and yet the same feelings of "Scroogeness" persist. Christmas isn't magical for everyone. Christmas can be very difficult for some people for a multitude of reasons and I think we deserve to acknowledge that. Scrooge lived alone. He was older, portrayed as bitter, selfish, miserly... What if he was just lonely and overwhelmed by all the expectations of the world? HE didn't have money troubles and could have easily been very generous. So, there's one thing he had going for him that many don't this time of year.

Fourteen years ago I read my favorite thing that I have ever read on the topic of Christmas, ever. It's by christian radio personality and author Brant Hansen. Whos books Unoffendable, The Truth About Us, The Men We Need, and Blessed Are The Misfits, I highly recommend. (New book: Life is Hard, God is Good, Let's Dance - releasing January 16th) It's from his blog: Brant's Blog of Awesomeness: The Krusty Sage. As someone who has always struggled with Christmas and the commercialism aspect and the overwhelming push to make all things "magical", I'm going to share it with you now. It's probably going to step on your toes...

The Krusty Sage Says, "Quit Buying Stuff You Can't Afford for Christmas"

(Once again, a warning about the Krusty sage: He's krusty. That means he's pretty opinionated. He plans no offense to anyone in particular, and has no one in particular in mind. If you're offended, please feel free to let me know, and I'll pass it along. He's usually easy for me to find.)

"Oh, but it's Christmas! It's a special time of the year! I know, we're in debt, overall, but it's Christmas, and that's only once a year and..."

"And..." you're nuts. Seriously.

The Sage says it in love. The Sage also says, in love, that if you spend $150 on your kid for Christmas when you don't have $150, you're not only giving your kid a neat-o Nano, you're giving your kid a gift that keeps on giving: The gift of foolishness, surrounded by beautiful lights, the scent of pine, and fudge. The gift of foolishness, on display, etched in memory. Ah.

Yes, Target and Apple and Best Buy don't advertise many $30 gifts, and they've ratcheted up the expectation level for Christmas. But-- last time I checked -- your will remains free. This means you don't have to be a doof.

Yes, your parents may have overspent every year as you grew up. Yes, they may have been Baby Boomers, seeking to atone for parental guilt, for one or another reason. Yes, there may have been stacks of presents under your tree. Yes, you think this is the way Christmas "is supposed to be".

Yes, so what.

Christmas is not "supposed to be" you, buying stuff you don't have money for. Sorry. If you're a dad, and feel bad because you can't spend hundreds on everybody, tell them you don't have the money for it, and you'll still have a great Christmas. If that makes you feel bad, man up. You're being bullied by a bunch of advertising majors.

Gee, you're in debt? How'd that happen? This is a mystery. Someone call a C.S.I. unit. Maybe they can figure out what happened. Maybe they can piece it together.

Or maybe you bought a bunch of stuff that's ultimately worthless. Maybe you should stop it. Maybe Christmas isn't special at all. Maybe it's just the latest excuse to overspend. Gee. Huh. Wow. Gosh. You think?

"Okay, we're in debt, and yeah, we did buy a $1,200 TV, but it's not that simple, because sometimes --"

No, it is that simple. Sorry. Next?

"But everyone at my kids' school gets tons of expensive gifts like 360s and Wiis and stuff and --" Are you in debt? "Well, yes, but it's not that simple, and --"

Nope. It's that simple.

"But it's not realistic to spend only $20 per person in this day and age, and --" Why? "It's just not that simple, and --"

Waah.

If you don't have the money for it, you don't buy it. Don't act like your kid "needs" a Zune, either. It has nothing to do with "needs", or even your kid, really. It has everything to do with you: Your desire to have some kind of "perfect Christmas", your guilt, your insecurities, your conflict-avoidance, your expectations, and you know, just generally... you.

Bottom line: You wish you a merry Christmas.

"But isn't 'Christmas' in the Bible, and --" No.

Sheesh.

The Krusty Sage 12/9/2008 Ancient Wisdom for No One in Particular

Now, the reason I share this is because I grew up in a home (during years spent with parents) that went big for Christmas. Going big for Christmas often meant that there would be utilities cut off in January and beyond. No phone, or heat, or some other necessity like adequate groceries. I always understood the cost of everything and grew to greatly resent the holiday as I found heat a much more pleasant thing to have in northern Illinois than say, that pair of roller skates and the other dozen items that were glittery and supposed to be fun and "magical". Which is, perhaps, why this blog post really spoke to me when I first read it fourteen years ago, why I still read it every year, and why my family and I choose to 'celebrate' Christmas much differently than your average family.

However you choose to celebrate, or not celebrate. Gift give, or not gift give. Keep joy, hope, love, and peace alive and well in your heart and then you still have the true spirit of Christmas with you.

#pastorsperspective #methodist #fumc #pastorchad #scrooge

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

I Love You, This Christmas - Harry Styles Christmas Series (#6)

Both Y/N and Harry have spent the majority of the year on tour, which means they’ve hardly been able to see one another except for a few days here and there. This of course has put a bit of a strain on their relationship, despite being together for over three years. Their love is still there, but sometimes that isn’t enough. So, with the holidays coming around and their  tours coming to end, they hope to use this time to reconnect and see if their relationship can make it through. 

#1

 #2

 #3 

#4

#5

**

Later that afternoon, Harry walked in empty handed. You looked over at him curiously, wondering where he’d been and what he had to do and yet came back with nothing.

“Hey, baby,” he said.

“Hey,” you mumbled.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

“Just wondering where my boyfriend’s been all day,” you said.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be gone that long,” he said.

“Hmph,” you said. “Soooo, what did you do that was so important,” you asked.

“Just some stuff I had to get done,” he said.

“Interesting,” you said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He laughed.

“Nothing,” you said, pouring yourself some hot chocolate.

“Did I do something?” Harry asked.

“No,” you said, walking over to the couch.

Harry was beyond confused because he was sensing a mood coming off of you. He knew you were probably upset from this morning and his sudden leaving, plus he was gone longer than he thought. But he didn’t think you would be acting like this. He felt bad not telling you the truth, but he couldn’t for obvious reasons.

“Did you miss me that much?” he asked.

“I just didn’t expect my boyfriend to be gone all day,” you said.

“I wasn’t gone all day,” he said.

“Most of it,” you said. “And you didn’t even tell me where you were going.”

“Sorry didn’t realize I had to tell you my every move,” he mumbled.

“You don’t, but you also don’t have to be so secretive about anything,” you said. “And furthermore you’ve left this house more often than I have, so what are you already annoyed with spending so much time with me?”

“Where the hell did that come from?” He asked.

“Because it’s the truth!” You said. “You’ve gone somewhere pretty much everyday since we’ve been back.”

“Uh, sorry that I have other things I have to do,” he said.

“And like I don’t?” You scoffed.

“Then why haven’t you done anything?” He asked.

“Because I knew we were supposed to be spending time together,” you said.

“I didn’t realize we were supposed to be spending all day, everyday together,” he said.

“Oh, right because we didn’t just spend almost an entire year apart, so excuse me for thinking my boyfriend would want to catch up on lost time,” you snapped.

Harry ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head, “Why are you being like this?”

You glared at him, shocked at his words, “Why am I like what? Why am I wanting to spend time with you? Why am I upset that you’ve gone somewhere everyday and won’t tell me? Gee I don’t fucking know.”

“What the fuck is happening right now?” Harry said.

“You know what? Don’t talk to me,” you said, pushing past him and going into the bedroom, slamming the door.

**

Harry sat on the couch waiting for a bit before going up to talk to you. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he needed to do something to move past whatever was going on with you. He poured himself something to drink. He was still majorly confused as to what just happened.

Ten minutes passed and he finally went up to the bedroom. The door was shut, but not locked. He took that as a good sign and walked inside.

“Y/N?” Harry said, looking around.

You were in the closet putting up the clothes you had washed earlier in the day. When you heard his voice, you poked your head out, rolling your eyes before going back into the closet. Harry groaned, walking over and standing in the doorway.

“Are we going to talk about this?” He asked.

“Oh, now you want to talk? Are you sure you don’t have any errands to run?” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I really wish I could follow where you’re going with this, but I seriously do not understand why you’re acting like this,” he said. “All I did was go out for a few hours…”

“Just don’t worry about it,” you said, shaking your head.

“No, we’re going to talk about it,” he said.

“So, you rather talk about why I’m upset over you going out for hours and keeping it a secret, but not why we hardly spoke over the last year?” you said.

Harry sighed, “We’ve been over this.”

“No, we really haven’t,” you scoffed. “We touched on it a little bit, but then you wanted to basically sweep it under the rug.”

“Why does it matter at this point?” He said. “It happened. It’s over. We agreed everything was okay, why do you keep bringing it up?”

“Because if we don’t talk about it then we’re never going to know what the problem is and how to keep it from happening again?” You snapped. “And the fact that you don’t want to talk about it, really doesn’t make sense to me.”

Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair, “Because I don’t see the point in worrying about something we can’t go back and change. We’re together again, we know it fucking sucked and we agreed we wouldn’t let it happen again, so what else is there talk about?”

“Wow,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you honestly think that. Is there a reason why you don’t want to talk about this? Did something happen? Did something change for you?”

“What? No,” Harry said. “And for you to even think that really fucking hurts.”

“Not as much as you not wanting to talk about this,” you said, pushing past him once again.

“Where are you going?” He said, following you out of the bedroom and towards the front door.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I just… need to get out of here.”

“Y/N, come on,” Harry said.

“No, don’t do that,” you said. “Don’t make it seem like I’m overreacting.

“I-” Harry said.

“I just… I need to go, don’t wait up,” you mumbled, walking out the door and slamming it shut behind you.

#Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Harry Styles Fanfics #Harry Styles Christmas Series

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: A Little Jealousy

Reid Garwin x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,886

Summary: Reid accompanies you to a grad student social and gets a little jealous. Inspired by @saviorsong​s headcannon! 

The night air was crisp and the moon shone brightly overhead. It was well into spring so you were able to go out in a thin coat and a dress without feeling the icy prick of freezing temperatures on your skin.

The two of you were on the way to a dinner social your department put together for its grad students. A chance to get to get to know one another outside of the stresses of school life. With midterms over with, you were more than ready to have some fun.

Almost immediately after getting the email, you sent in your RSVP and put Reid down for your plus one. He grumped a little when you told him but you didn’t take him too seriously. He’d be contrary even if it was something he was actually interested in, just to get a rise out of you.

Reid and you lived only a few blocks away from the restaurant district, and opted to walk instead of circling around forever trying to nab a parking spot. Streetlights lined other side of the road. There was ample lighting. Still, you somehow managed to lose your footing.

Another couple was coming the opposite direction on the sidewalk and you scooted over to make more room for them. But when you moved to the side, your foot got caught in a crack at just the right angle. Next thing you knew, your leg gave out and you were stumbling forward, arms swinging wildly in a failed attempt to regain your balance.

You thought that you were going to hit the cement, and hit it hard, but strong arms were suddenly wrapped around your waist. It was a little jarring to come to a complete stop and all the air in your lungs was pushed out.

“Whoa!” Reid exclaimed in your ear. “That was a close one.”

You craned your neck to neck at him with large eyes. He slowly lowered you back to your feet but didn’t remove his arms from you.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, adrenaline still coursing through you. There was ringing in your ears and your muscles were like jello. “Sorry, I—I’m still a little shaken.”

He rested his chin on the top of your head. “You’re alright, babe,” he assured you, his presence a big comfort. “Now, let’s get moving. If they eat all the appetizers before we get there, I’m gonna be pissed.”

The adrenaline drained out of you instantly and there was no stopping the snort that came out of your mouth. “Gee. Thanks for the motivation.”

“I know, I know: I should really do motivational speaking for a living.”

He let you go but kept your hand in his. You started walking again and it took him by surprise that you were going faster than him. So much faster that he had to stretch his arm straight out if he wanted to keep holding your hand.

Reid squeezed your hand to get your attention. You saw his brow raised in question and you returned the squeeze to his hand. “What? I’m going to be mad, too, if we don’t get any appetizers.”

You arrived at the restaurant in no time, half speed-walking, half running the rest of the way there.

Inside the restaurant, the hostess led you upstairs to the room reserved for the department. There were a lot of familiar faces, classmates and professors alike. There were even some kids running around which added more energy to the affair.

Guided by his nose, Reid quickly found the appetizer spread on a table that lined the far wall. The choices were top notch. Egg rolls, hors d’oeuvres, and meat filled phyllo cups all made his mouth water.

And even better than the finger foods were the drinks.

“Am I dreaming? Or are they really serving alcohol here?” He pointed to some people who walked by with bottles of craft beer in hand.

“I guess,” you answered less enthused. You’d been to several conferences by that point and alcohol had been served at all of them. But you didn’t want to bring him down. “You should go see if they have your favorite.”

“I think I will… What do you want me to get you?”

You thought for a second. “I’m feeling like white wine tonight. See if they have any good selections?”

He brought your hand up to his lips to place a gentle peck to your knuckles and promised he’d be back. You shooed him away equal parts thrilled and flustered. Despite most people’s first impression of him, Reid was quite the romantic, and normally you loved him for it, but you could already feel the stares from his display.

Holding your head high, you smiled politely at the onlookers and quickly made your way to a table in the corner with familiar faces. You said hi to your friends and in turn they introduced you to their plus ones. The conversation flowed effortlessly and your table was almost obnoxiously loud in your laughter.

“So where’s the boyfriend? Or did you come by yourself?”

You turned to the body besides you. Ben and you had a friendship that went back to your first semester in the program. The two of you had been in the same orientation session and found that your personalities meshed together well.

You knew that he was genuinely interested in meeting the boy you constantly talked about. Reid, however, walked in at precisely the wrong moment and took the question as a challenge.

“The boyfriend is definitely here.”

Setting down a plate of food and your serving of wine, Reid draped his arm across your shoulders and planted a kiss on you. The use of tongue would’ve been obvious to anyone who watched, including poor Ben.

Breathless, you pulled back and Reid allowed it. He kept his arm where it was and turned to Ben with a hard grin. “Who’s this?”

You cleared your throat as if to wipe the slate clean, like swipe of an eraser on a chalk board. “Reid, this my friend and classmate Benedict. He goes by Ben for short. Ben, this is Reid, my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, we’re basically married,” Reid joked.

You elbowed him under the table and gave him a look. This was nothing for him to be jealous over.

Ben stuck his hand out but rather than shake it, Reid picked up something off of the plate and pushed a small piece into your mouth. His fingers linger on your lips as you chewed the unexpected bite. Your friend slowly lowered his hand, realizing that a hand shake would not be happening.

Unbothered, Reid chatted away. “Do you like it? I knew you would. When I saw they had some, I made sure to get a lot.”

You were put in an awkward position.

On one hand, if you paid too much attention to Ben, Reid was likely to get more territorial. On the other, if you gave into Reid’s posturing, he may feed into it and put on an even bigger air. Not to mention that Ben wasn’t stupid. He probably already figured out that Reid wasn’t a fan.

Yes. You would have to play this very delicately.

“It is really good. Thanks, baby.” He practically preened and continued to feed you. “Hey, Ben? Have you started thinking about your final project for Bird’s class yet?”

The two of you shared your respective plans for a class you were both in, Reid observing with sharp eyes.

“I feel stupid now that I know what you’re doing,” Ben confessed. “You’re so smart. Probably the smartest in our year.”

“Yeah. She is,” Reid answered before you had a chance to speak up. His jaw clenched and he pulled you slightly closer into his chest. The boys stared each other down until Ben abruptly glanced down at his stomach.  

A loud, angry gurgle rang out. Ben looked horrified as he excused himself in a panic, presumably to rush to the nearest bathroom.

“Nice to meet you, Benedict.”

You figured out what was going on when you saw Reid trying to hold his laughter in. You glared at the blonde and he couldn’t control himself any longer. He wiped a tear from his eye he was giggling so hard.

“Are you crazy?” you hissed, trying to keep the volume down despite your anger. “That was totally uncalled for!”

He tried waving it off. “He’ll be fine. The spell wasn’t even a strong one.”

“First, he’s a good friend and only a friend. He didn’t deserve to crap his pants because you got jealous. Second, you promised to stop using so much.”

Still, he insisted, “It’s not a big deal,” as he reached to pick at the food plate.

Not backing down, you took a grape from him and flung it at his face. He rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“Seriously? He’ll be fine in ten, fifteen minutes max. Until then, he can think about how douchey it is to flirt with other people’s girlfriends.”

Flirting? At what point was any of that considered flirting? “Just because someone gives me a compliment, doesn’t mean they’re interested in that way.”

At last he deflated a little. Scratched the back of his neck where skin met blonde locks. “Okay, maaaybe I overreacted…but can you blame me? You’re amazing and I’m just a guy that manages to screw up all the time.”

Reid was a great guy, no question about it, but his self-doubt got the best of him sometimes. Being the “black sheep” of the family and the Sons left him with insecurities that he still worked through. Getting him to admit he was wrong was always half of the battle. Once he did, it was a simple matter of reassuring him.

“Hey,” you said as you stroked the back of his hand. “How many times have we had this talk? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not even for Benedict?” he pouted.

“Not even for Ben,” you answered, pulling him into a hug. “And why are you so hung up on calling him by his full name?”

Reid scoffed. “It’s so pretentious. He definitely comes from old money.”

“Umm, baby, you come from old money. Is that the pot calling the kettle black?”

He muttered so you couldn’t make out what he said.

“Okay, how about we make a deal,” you offered. He lifted his head, seemingly interested. “You apologize for your behavior when Ben comes back—and you’d better call him Ben. You do that and I’ll give you a reward when we get home.”

To show him the kind of reward you meant, you kissed the corner of his mouth, your finger trailing up his thigh. His eyes widened, the black of his pupil dilated in normal, non-magical way. Oh, he was undeniably down to agree to the deal.

You gave hi one last peck. “Now remember: Ben. Not Benedict.”

“I don’t know. Benedict has more of a ring to it—” He stopped mid-sentence when you glared. “Fine. I’ll be nice to Ben.”

He may be a dramatic goof, but he was your dramatic goof. And if he needed a reminder every now and then, along with some tough love, then you were happy to do it.

“Good boy,” you said with a big smile.

_______________

Hopefully I did jealous Reid justice! I haven’t written him in a while so I hope he’s not too off the mark. Older Reid still has childish impulses when he gets jealous but he is mature enough to admit when he’s in the wrong now. And even though Pogue is the head foodie, I think all the boys are big eaters with the magic use and working out. 

Thanks for reading :) 

#the covenant #reid garwin #reid garwin x reader #imagines

[lloydskywalkers]

hey idk if you’re doing requests but if you are can you give us the fluffy kai and lloyd sibling content we deserve?? like ummm maybe kai helping lloyd to do homework or something even tho they don’t go to school lmao 😂 i just need something pure :)

i am so very behind on replies but!! in my defense, i started a response for this, got about 10K words in, then realized i needed to give it an actual structure. this is not the 10K words one, but it is, technically, fluffy Kai and Lloyd sibling content? i hope it’s something along the lines of what you wanted :’D

Lloyd decides he wants his ear pierced at three forty-five in the debatable hours of the morning, which isn’t the oddest thing Lloyd has ever decided he desires at that time. But it isn’t usual, either, so Kai decides he probably does, at least, need to ask what brought this on as he begins superheating the edge of the needle so neither of them end up with tetanus, or something.

He’s a responsible brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to tell Lloyd no. That would require Kai pretending his own piercing never existed, which is impossible, since Lloyd was the one to help him out back when it got infected and Kai almost lost his entire upper ear.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “You were just being a baby about it.”

“Oh yeah?” Kai shoots back. “Look who’s talking. I haven’t even touched your ear yet and you’re already wincing.”

“You’re taking forever,” Lloyd says testily. “Why can’t you just pierce it already?”

“Excuse me for trying to make it look good,” Kai says. “But if you really want an off-center piercing, be my guest.”

“No, no, make it look good,” Lloyd protests, straightening where he’s sitting across the bedroom floor from Kai.

Fortunately, they’re in the monastery tonight, otherwise they’d be crammed into the bathroom, or wherever else in the Bounty they wouldn’t wake everyone up. They’ve stashed away in Lloyd’s room, since he’s the furthest from Zane and therefore the least likely to be caught, if something goes wrong. Not that anything’s going to go wrong, of course, but you can never be sure, with them.

“Where’d you want it, again?” Kai asks, as he squints at the tiny earring stud they scavenged from Nya’s bag. He figures she’d support this as a worthy cause enough not to mind. Hopefully.

“On the right side?” Lloyd drums his fingers on the edge of his knee, a bit anxiously. “I sleep on my left more often, so yeah, the right. Just — just the normal ear piercing, for now.”

“For now, huh,” Kai mutters, carefully measuring out rubbing alcohol over the earring, before deciding to drown it in the bottle, for good measure.

“Well, I might decide I want another,” Lloyd crosses his arms. He winces. “Unless Sensei or the others kill me for this, first.”

“Lloyd, if piercing your ear is the worst thing you ever do as a teen, I’ll give you all the piercings you want myself,” Kai says. “And if anybody gives you trouble about it, just make some snarky comment, like, ah—”

“An earring is better to be stabbed with than a knife?”

“…FSM’s sake,” Kai sighs, staring at the bottle of rubbing alcohol and briefly entertaining how it’d taste. “Sure. Why not.”

Lloyd doesn’t look entirely reassured, even with his fun little jokes. “It is better than being stabbed with a knife, right?” he asks. “Like, I can do knife-stab pain, but I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t hurt that bad, you know…?”

Kai rolls his eyes. “It’ll hardly hurt at all,” he assures him, as he reaches for the little cotton balls and soaking one in alcohol. “I promise. You’re a ninja. With the pain tolerance you have, you’re probably not even gonna feel it.”

“Uh-huh, if you say — hey!” Lloyd flinches back from his hand, eyes wide in betrayal.

“Would you relax, it’s just the alcohol,” Kai frowns, going for his ear with the cotton ball again.

Lloyd makes a face, but lets him dab the alcohol on this time. “It’s cold,” he complains.

“Keep whining about it and we’re going back to the clip-on earring plan.”

“No, no, I want them pierced,” Lloyd says quickly. Kai smothers a laugh at how he attempts to appear relaxed, swiping the cotton ball over his earlobe once more for good measure. Satisfied that Lloyd, at least, won’t suffer any immediate crippling infections, Kai grabs for the needle they’re using, soaking the tip in alcohol.

“You…you know what you’re doing, right?” Lloyd asks, suddenly apprehensive now that the needle’s come into play.

“Of course I do, who do you think I am?” Kai says. “I pierced Nya’s ears when she was younger. I would’ve pierced Jay’s the first week we met, but he chickened out last minute.”

Lloyd presses his lips together, hiding a laugh. “If you’d come up to me with a needle the first week we met, I probably would’ve booked it, too.”

“I wasn’t bad,” Kai huffs, kneeing him in the side.

Lloyd runs a hand through his hair, spiking the edges up as he scowls, pitching his voice deeper. “I’m gonna be the green ninja, and none of you losers better get in the way—”

“I never said that!” Kai exclaims, swatting Lloyd across the head as he cackles. “You watch it, or I might slip up with the needle.”

“Sounds like something a green gi-stealer would say.”

“You’re such a brat,” Kai grumbles, hiding the heat rising in his cheeks by busying himself with the earring packaging. “I never sounded like that. And you’re one to talk, with that squeaky little evil laugh you used to do.”

“Alright, I’m dropping it, I’m dropping it,” Lloyd says hastily, his teasing faltering at the threat of turning the tables.

Kai smirks, shaking his head. “Alright,” he says, flexing his wrist once. “I’m gonna ice your ear so it’s numb, then do the actual piercing. You want a count down?”

“Surprise me,” Lloyd says, his hands fisting anxiously in the edges of his sweatshirt.

“Sure thing,” Kai nods absently. “So,” he starts conversationally, as he presses the ice to the back of Lloyd’s ear. “What did bring this on? And don’t give me the teen rebellion thing — seriously, this time.”

Lloyd hesitates, then sighs. He bites his lip, his eyes staring somewhere beyond the ceiling. “I dunno,” he mutters. “I just remembered, the other day, that I’d thought they were super cool as a kid.”

Kai stifles the urge to remind him that he’s still a kid, and continues to listen instead, nodding at him to go on.

Lloyd makes a face. “I don’t know. The mission today was — it was dumb, and I didn’t like how I felt afterwards, so I guess I wanted to do something stupid.”

“Ah,” Kai exhales quietly. He’d had a feeling it was about the mission, but he couldn’t be sure. It hadn’t even been that bad, on the whole, but the sound of Cole’s head cracking against the floor was enough to escalate it right into terrible territory.

Kai’s still thanking his stars that Cole’s got such a thick head. Concussions aren’t fun, even when they do have the chance to treat them immediately.

“I just…I thought maybe it’d be nice to mess up on purpose, for once,” Lloyd continues, his voice quiet. “When I wasn’t trying not to.”

Kai’s frown deepens at that one, his hand hovering where he’s caught the edge of Lloyd’s ear, his thumb pressed against the end of the needle. His sudden concerns over Lloyd’s potentially earring-destroying, Oni/dragon blood are swept away by the plaintively depressing tone Lloyd’s using. He opens his mouth, then shuts it, hesitating.  

He understands the sentiment, of course — probably too well to really put into words. Kai’s not exactly a stranger to messing up. He’s definitely not a stranger to beating yourself up after you mess up, either. He also understands, too well, how it can all build up sometimes — the constant fear of failure, the pressure not to mess up.

Sometimes you’re just struck with the irrational desire to mess up on purpose out of pure spite. Kai gets that. And Lloyd’s at least rational enough to pick something that won’t hurt anyone, and is more likely to get a laugh out of them all, if anything. Kai tries not to roll his eyes fondly.

Plus, Kai would be lying if he said it doesn’t warm his heart that Lloyd’s come to him for it. Which he should, of course, Kai’d better have first dibs on Lloyd’s first piercing, but still. The sentiment, and all.

“Well,” Kai finally says, realizing he’s left Lloyd hanging. “I don’t know about messing up, because this looks pretty rad. But it was definitely your call, so remember to tell Sensei that when he sees it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Lloyd takes a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay, I’m ready. Stab my ear, Kai.”

“I already did, moron. Did you miss what I just said?”

Lloyd’s eyes pop open, and he blinks. “Huh? For real?”

“Told you,” Kai snorts. “Ninja pain tolerance. Ear piercing’s got nothing on Cole when he scores a hit on you in practice.”

Lloyd’s frozen for a moment, then he scurries over to the mirror, brushing his lengthening hair away so he can get a proper look at it. Kai hovers behind him, suddenly slightly anxious.

“Do you, um, do you like it? You can always take it out, if you don’t. It’ll close over on its own, and you can like, get an actual professional to do it—”

“Shut up, Kai, I love it,” Lloyd beams, tracing his finger over the little silver stud. “I look cool.”

Kai lets out a tiny breath of relief, smirking in satisfaction instead. “As close to cool as you can get, beansprout.”

“Whatever,” Lloyd rolls his eyes, before returning to admiring himself in the mirror. “You’re just jealous I have a super cool piercing, and you don’t.”

“Hey, I gave you that piercing,” Kai scowls. “Just wait until my ear finally heals, I’ll show you cool.”

“Gee, yeah, I can’t wait to see what cheap skull earring you infect yourself with this time.”

“Alright buddy, you’re toeing it dangerously close to the line,” Kai grabs Lloyd in a headlock, digging his knuckles into Lloyd’s thick hair as he yelps, struggling to pull himself free.

“Ow, hey, Kai, watch my ear—”

“Little jerk,” Kai finally releases him with a huff.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me forever,” Lloyd replies, making a face as he brushes his hair back into place.

“Plenty of time to watch you make more mistakes, then,” Kai replies, easily.

Lloyd briefly tenses up, his expression working. Kai slings an arm around his shoulder, briefly squeezing.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lloyd,” he says, gently. “Cole’s gonna tell you the same thing, ten times over.”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Lloyd murmurs, staring at the rug. “I got it.”

Kai eyes him for a brief moment, then shakes his head, carefully flicking the edge of his ear. “This, however? Is definitely your fault. So don’t go selling me out when Sensei bites your head off for it.”

“I’m not a sellout,” Lloyd huffs. “This’ll be nothing. Wait ’til you see what he says about my tattoo, that’ll be the real meltdown.”

Kai barks a laugh out at that, sweeping the cotton balls back into the bag. He then pauses, Lloyd’s word choice hitting him.

“Hey, what do you mean, your tattoo.”

“Oh, would you look at the time—”

“Lloyd, I swear to FSM, if you went and got a tattoo without me—”

#answered #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #tumblr pleASE format this right for once #my fic #bees-go-buzz

[19tozier]

wish you were sober (richie tozier)

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of sex, angst, pining, reader is an unreliable narrator at best

inspired by the song wish you were sober by conan gray

[losers + reader are 16+]

if someone were to ask you when you fell in love with richie, you don’t think you’d be able to answer them.

was it when you met him, thirteen and wild and so magnetic you couldn’t stay away from him? was it when you followed him into a sewer, endlessly terrified but trying to be as brave as he made you think you could be? was it when you looked at him and realized he had grown up right in front of you, and you hadn’t realized? or was it all the little moments in between, the mundane and the electric all in one?

you have no clue. all you know is this: you’re in love with richie tozier, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.

you bring your cup to your mouth, the edge of it pressing into your bottom lip. you don’t take a drink from it; you’re already a little buzzed, and you’re reluctant to get any drunker. you don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.

across the room from you, somehow perfectly visible despite the mass of dancing bodies separating you from him, richie leans against the wall, his arm around the waist of his girlfriend, who isn’t you.

you exhale as slowly as you can. inside of your chest, your heart feels like it is poised to shatter.

it shouldn’t shock you anymore. richie has a new girlfriend seemingly every month, a revolving-door of pretty girls that giggle when he kisses them and wear his jean jacket around school but ultimately never stay long. richie never offers explanation as to why they break up and you never ask. you’re afraid of whatever it is he might say. you’re afraid of knowing you’re not good enough for him if all of them weren’t.

you sigh. you’re such a fucking cliche. falling in love with your best friend, silently pining away as if it’ll make him notice you? you’d gag at the thought if it wasn’t your life.

a shoulder brushing against yours distracts you from your thoughts, and you glance over to see stan’s expectant face. he raises an eyebrow at you. “you alright?”

you want to scream. no, you’re not alright. you don’t think you’ve been alright since before you were officially a loser. but you can’t say that to stan, not without being perfectly honest, so you arrange your features into something resembling a smile. “what’s up, buttercup?”

stan scoffs. “you’ve been spending too much time with richie.”

will it ever stop hurting, the constant reminder of how close you are with richie but never close enough? “or he’s been spending too much time with me,” you say, sniffing arrogantly. the facade you put on sometimes is easier than breathing.

stan rolls his eyes. “sure, that’s it.” he pauses, squinting at you. “are you sure you’re okay? you look… upset, i guess.”

you snort, taking a sip of your drink as an excuse not to respond right away. your heart is in your throat at the idea of being caught. “you guess? gee, thanks stan.”

he narrows his eyes at you, his nostrils flaring slightly. behind him, bill is jumping onto mike’s back, laughing loudly. “shut up, you know what i meant. are you alright? seriously.”

you don’t give yourself time to hesitate. stan has a sixth sense for when he’s being lied to and won’t stop pestering you until you tell him the truth, and you’d like to not confess to him tonight. “yeah, stan,” you grin, feeling the lie like sawdust in your mouth. “i’m all good.”

he gives you a skeptical look, searching your face, but eventually he just sighs and nods. “alright, fine. if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

you nod back, glad you managed to escape that. “thanks, dude. hey, i’m gonna go grab a different drink, i’ll be right back.”

you don’t wait for him to say anything, or for anyone else to come with you. you just slip away, using the hordes of drunk teenagers to your advantage until you manage to get to the kitchen.

your shoulders slump, the smile you’d painted onto your face slipping away. slowly, you pour the rest of your shitty beer down the sink, opening the fridge and rifling around until you find a soda, stealing it before you can talk yourself out of it. whoever’s house this is won’t care, and besides, you think you need it.

when you leave the kitchen, your eyes fall to the spot where richie had been leaning. the wall is empty now.

pathetically, your eyes fill with tears. of course you know richie has a lot of sex, considering the self-satisfied smirk he’ll wear after getting fucked combined with the rumors that follow him like the perfume of whatever girl he’s seeing. the worst part is they aren’t even bad rumors; you’d lost count of the amount of times you had heard of how good a lover he is, or how his dick is as big as he’s often bragging, or how he does this thing with his mouth that feels like absolute heaven—

you’d heard enough. too much, probably. and it burrowed into your brain like the most insidious of weeds, sprouting thoughts you never should have let take root.

but of course richie was off fucking his girl. she was gorgeous, after all, easily one of the prettiest girls you’d ever seen, all smooth tanned skin and long blonde hair and hourglass figure. the kind of girl that richie deserved to have on his arm. the kind of girl that you would never be.

you knew this would happen. still, the pain of it takes your breath away.

you manage to stumble your way back over to the losers, greeting them with a smile that feels entirely too wooden. you play the part, laughing with bev and leaning into ben’s shoulder and gossiping quietly with eddie. you stick to your script, even when richie stumbles down the stairs sometime later with the girl tucked under his arm, both of their clothes in disarray and richie’s curls a wild mess. you’re such a seasoned professional that you barely miss a beat with eddie, even when your eyes find the hickey sucked under richie’s jaw and stay there.

for the rest of the night, you do your best to stay away from richie, always at least one loser between you two. you doubt he notices, too wrapped up in his girl. you think her name is sandy. she’s so beautiful it hurts.

eventually, you think it’s probably late enough that you can leave without raising much of a fuss. all of the other losers are still there, but bev’s already dozing against ben’s shoulder and bill is fighting a losing battle with his own drooping eyelids. you can probably slip out now, you figure, before you fall apart.

you manage to say your goodbyes as quickly as possible, waving as you turn to leave. you drove here with the others in stan’s car but it’s not too far of a walk. besides, the cold might do you some good—

a hand wraps around your wrist, jerking you back against a broad chest. when you turn, you come face to face with one richie tozier.

god, years later and he’s still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. his jawline is sharp and square, his shoulders broad and sturdy, a whisper of the strength he will carry as a man but no less impressive now. gone are the days of the dorky kid you first met; he’d long ago traded in his hawaiian shirts for jean jackets and ripped jeans, silver rings glinting around his fingers and a chain hanging into the open collar of his t-shirt. again, you are reminded of the rumors that constantly follow him. you’re just angry they didn’t think he was hot from the very beginning.

“where are you going?” he asks, his words slurred. he’d been downing the shitty spiked punch earlier like it was his job.

you sigh, tilting your head back to look at him. there’s another hickey just to the left of his adam’s apple. “home,” you say, simply. “i’m tired.”

he frowns, stepping closer to you. the heat radiates off of him. “but i haven’t gotten to talk to you all night,” he whines, pouting ridiculously. “i missed you.”

it shouldn’t affect you. richie flirts like breathing, with anyone who will entertain him. it’s just how close you two are that means his flirting is usually aimed at you. “sorry, rich,” you say, and you find that you mean it. “next time, okay?”

his fingers release your wrist, only to catch on the curve of your waist and pull you close. the heat of his hand burns through the flimsy material of your top. you’re so focused on trying to stay upright just from that simple touch that you almost miss what he says next.

“can i come with you?” his voice is low, rough, more of a growl than anything else.

you blink, stupefied. usually you’re quicker than this, able to keep up a banter with him that’s rivaled only by him and eddie. now, you’re left tongue-tied, the endless wanting inside of you threading around your throat and choking you. “what?”

“can i come with you?” he repeats, looking down at you with his pretty eyes. his glasses slide down his nose. you fight the urge to push them back up. “we can take my truck. this party’s kind of a bore, honestly.”

you swallow, feeling your heart stutter. “what about sandy?” your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth.

richie shrugs, casual as all hell and infuriatingly attractive. “she can last without me for a bit. i’d rather hang out with my favorite girl.” he grins at you, his dimples curving into his cheek.

it makes you want to scream. he says things like this all the time, calls you doll and baby and love like he has the fucking right, constantly says you’re the most important person in his life. and yet, he doesn’t feel the same way for you as you do for him. and he never will.

still, you’re a sucker for him. your lips curl into a weak smile. “sure, rich,” you whisper; any louder and your voice will crack. “let’s get out of here.”

he doesn’t even stop to say goodbye to anyone else, just crowding against your back and walking behind you the entire way out the front door. he’s so close that his chest brushes against your shoulder blades, his fingertips grazing over your hip. you focus on not tripping.

once you’re outside, you hold your hand out, not looking at him. “keys,” you command.

he laughs, full and bright as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “yes, nurse ratched,” he teases, dropping them into your hand. “right away, nurse ratched.”

you scowl at him, turning away to stomp your way down the block to where richie parked. it’s not a long walk but the late autumn night is chilly, especially through the thin material of your top and your skirt. you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself.

before you can really react, richie’s shrugging off his jacket, settling the heavy denim over your shoulders. he’s just wearing a plain black t-shirt underneath, the cotton clinging to his biceps and chest, and you can’t tear your eyes away, even when he murmurs, “should’ve said you were cold, doll.”

the jacket smells like him: the apple of his shampoo, the warmth of his deodorant, the smoke from his cigarettes. it shouldn’t be a pleasant scent but it is, because it means comfort. it means home. it means your best friend and the love of your life.

your shoulders slump, your hand trembling when you finally reach his truck and reach for the driver’s side handle. “thanks, richie,” you breathe, climbing into the car before he can answer.

you don’t really know what he had in mind when he asked to leave with you, but you’re too overwhelmed to handle being alone with him for too long. already, having him this close is fogging your brain. you need to get away from him so you can fall apart in peace.

you decide to just take him home and walk from there. it proves to be the best choice, because not even a minute into your drive his chin is dropping down to his chest, his eyelids closing in longer and longer blinks until finally, he’s dozing in the front seat, big body curled in your direction. it fills you with so much warmth you think you are burning from the inside out.

it should be ridiculous, how much you love him. you should be at your limit for how much you have to give, capped out a long time ago, but everyday you fall for him a little bit more. whenever he does something particularly sweet, or funny, or attractive, you feel a little more of yourself crumble away to lay at his feet. at this point, you’re more fracture than glass, crushed into a fine powder under richie’s foot.

by the time you pull into richie’s driveway, he’s snoring lightly, his glasses knocked askew on his face. part of you wants to let him sleep, but the bigger part of you knows you need to get him into the house. you already slack on your best friend duties by secretly being in love with him, you don’t need to leave him out in the cold too.

sighing, you turn the key and shut the car off, getting out and walking around to the passenger side. you shake his shoulder, gently at first, then rougher when he doesn’t respond. he grumbles, swatting at you. you can’t help but laugh, shaking him again.

“rich,” you croon, shaking him with both hands. he groans, scrunching his face up. you snicker. “c’mon asshole, you’re too heavy for me to carry.”

he pries one eye open, glaring at you. “or you’re too small to even try,” he taunts back, sticking his tongue out.

you roll your eyes, tugging him out of the car. he goes easily enough, stumbling a little bit leaning into your side as you lock the car behind you.

you weren’t kidding when you said he was heavy. he’s just so much bigger than you, tall and broad and undeniably masculine. you try your best to take some of his weight with an arm curved around his waist, but you don’t think you’re really doing anything.

the lights are all off inside, richie’s parents gone for the weekend at some conference for his dad’s work. it makes you feel better about how you two stumble around in the dark, knocking into the walls and tripping over the stairs. finally, without much incident, you make it into richie’s room, depositing him on his bed before he can fall and brain himself on his table. his desk light is on, throwing the room into shadow but just light enough for you to see his face.

his curls spread around him on his pillow, his eyes already closed. he’s on top of his covers but there’s not much you can do about that. the only thing you can do is untie his boots and pluck his glasses from his face, letting him get as comfortable as he can with his clothes still on.

you stop, looking down at him. he’s almost angelic in his sleep, peaceful and quiet for probably the only time in his life. he’s so gorgeous like this, vulnerable, unguarded. it makes you feel like a creep to be looking at this without his knowledge. or his approval.

biting your lip, you turn to the door, only stopping when you realize you still have his jacket. carefully, you shrug it off, going to lay it on his bed when his voice stops you.

“keep it.”

you look up to see his eyes half-open, locked on you. the lamp throws his face into sharp angles and shadow, but the expression on his face is soft. his fingers stretch towards you.

“it looks good on you,” he continues, his voice barely more than a whisper. “you should wear it all the time.”

you don’t know what to say, frozen at the foot of his bed. it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted, before you remember that he’s drunk and out of his mind. he probably thinks you’re sandy. there’s no way he’d ever say that to you.

but he keeps going, his voice rough, smooth velvet over steel. “you look good all the time. makes me feel insane. just wanna touch you but i can’t.”

your heartbeat is pounding in your ears. through trembling lips, you manage to get out, “what about sandy?”

he shrugs, a tiny movement that feels unsure. you’ve never seen him shy like this. the fact that sandy’s likely the reason makes you burn inside. “she’s cool and all, but she’s not you. you’re my best friend, (y/n). i love you.”

you gasp softly, nowhere near loud enough for him to hear. your heart feels like it’s being pulled in two. “i love you too, rich. more than you could ever understand.”

but he shakes his head firmly. “no, you don’t get it. i love you. you’re my—you’re my other half. my partner in crime. i’d be lost without you.” before you can respond, he sighs and whispers, “wish you were my girlfriend. not sandy.”

his eyes slip closed the next instant. as you stand there, simultaneously turned to stone and burning alive, he gives a soft snore, his features relaxing in sleep.

you stare down at him for what feels like centuries, suddenly too old to move. you look down at the jacket in your arms, then back up to him. a loose curl lays against his forehead. your fingers itch to push it behind his ear.

“i wish you were sober,” you whisper. he doesn’t twitch.

you leave the jacket laid at the foot of his bed when you go.

(part two)

#richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier fanfiction #the losers club #the losers club imagine #the losers club x reader #my writing

[youngbloodlisk]

[1700] // Kevin Moon

request: "can I request an angst with kevin where you get jealous over other girls being all over him and you both get into an argument and then make up a few days later?"

- kevin moon angst

- way too short i'm so sorry anon :(

- never feel like you need to apologize for being detailed, the more detail provided = the better

- this took 26825278393 years to publish i'm sorry again

This sucks.

This seriously sucks.

I have no idea what's gotten into me these past few weeks.

They never used to bother me, so why now?

I knew going into this relationship that this is how things would be. I used to be one of these people, in fact.

Yet here I sit, biting my tongue, as he's laughing and smiling at tweets and comments on his latest photos.

"Baby, listen to this one-"

Tell me: would you be jumping for joy if people all over the world treated your boyfriend like their own?

If you just said yes, you're a liar.

It doesn't matter if it's on social media or in person, fans are all over him. Not only with support and with love, but with sexual innuendos, and marriage proposals, and telling him how attractive and hot and sexy he is.

Don't even get me started on the way some select female idols look at him backstage sometimes. It's not public to the world, but it's common knowledge among idols that Kevin is dating someone. These girls are staring at my boyfriend, knowing full well he's someone's boyfriend, with hungry eyes.

Makes me sick.

And he seems entirely oblivious to the jealousy growing inside me.

Until now, that is.

"Hey, are you alright?" He tilts his phone down to look at me with concern.

"Hm? No, yeah. Fine."

"No, you're not. I know you. What's the matter, baby?" His phone clicks as he turns the screen off, tuning in to me.

"You just seem to really be enjoying all the comments from deobis..."

"Yeah, aren't they fun?" His cheerful demeanor only pisses me off more.

"Whatever." I scoff.

"What's with the attitude?"

"Gee, maybe it's because you spend half your day working and the other half reading comments and fancafé letters. " I spit out with a hateful tone.

He suddenly seems a bit taken aback and almost offended.

I can't blame him for having that sort of reaction. Even fans know that he loves reading fancafe letters and stuff. It's one of his favorite things in the world, and usually that wouldn't be an issue. So, why is it such a issue now?

"Of course I do. They're my fans, I love to see what they have to say. Do you have a problem with that?"

"When you've been paying them more attention than you've been paying your girlfriend? Yeah, Kevin. I kinda do."

Kevin tries to stay calm, I can tell, but he can't stand to listen to it.

Deobis might be surprised if they saw how worked up Kevin can get so fast, if he has the right reason to be. We don't argue often at all, but whenever we do, he's the one to escalate the tone in a split second without even thinking about it.

"More attention?! We just had a comeback recently, the fan interaction is at a high right now, you know how that works. What about our date two nights ago? What about last week when I cooked you dinner three times? What about just now when I stopped reading comments because I was concerned for you? Are you kidding? Self-centered much..." He mutters the last part under his breath while rolling his eyes.

"Excuse me? Self-centered? Says the guy obsessed with people who are obsessed with HIM."

"Not my fault I have fans. At least they don't complain all the time!"

"You'd rather talk to your adoring fans than your girlfriend?"

"Sometimes, yeah, maybe I do!"

"Fine! Then you can go date Moonlight number 532." I stand up and storm out of the house without another word, ignoring every shout from him to come back.

I did go back that day, but we lived in almost pure silence for four days.

The occasional few words, only when necessary. That's it.

Unless we start arguing again.

I wanna apologize, I really do.

My pride won't let me, but I'm really tired of fighting with him.

Thank goodness his pride isn't as stubborn as mine is.

Five days after the initial argument, I'm in the bathroom brushing my teeth before bed.

Thoughts and feelings have been stirring this whole time. Mixing, flaring, calming.

I don't know what either of us are thinking lately.

What if this drives us apart?

Will one of us make the move and break up with the other?

Kevin pushes the cracked door open and silently comes behind me before wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.

In the mirror, I take in his expression.

Broken down.

Red cheeks.

Red eyes.

Puffy.

Shiny.

His jaw is trembling ever so slightly.

He's been crying.

Not crying, sobbing.

Wet, messy, desperate sobbing.

I feel my heart drop at the sight.

"What are you doing, Kevin?" I ask, rinsing the excess toothpaste off my toothbrush.

"I'm sick of fighting with you, baby." His voice is shaky and slightly strained. "You were right. I had been neglecting you, in exchange for paying more attention to the fans than usual. It's my job as your boyfriend to balance work and home. I'm so sorry, my angel..." Kevin's face contorts slightly, signaling that his emotions were beginning to bubble up again, and his eyes grow watery.

I quickly wipe my mouth off with the hand-towel on the counter and turn around to embrace him. I hold him tight and his grip tightens as well.

"No, Kevin, I overreacted. Majorly overreacted. You're an idol, this is your job. Part of that job is fan interaction, I know that. I knew that from the start. I'm so sorry." My voice cracks, and my own tears start to form.

We stay there for a few minutes before we decide to go to bed.

Hugging, crying on and off, appreciating what we have: each other.

Because I think we were both scared we almost lost it.

I was at least.

Terrified that my overreaction had been the final straw to drive him away forever.

Almost every night between our argument and make up, I laid awake in bed hours after he'd already fallen asleep.

The thought of waking up to Kevin having left without warning was far too paralyzing to be able to sleep easily.

Maybe one day I'll tell him that...

#kevin moon angst #kevin angst #the boyz kevin angst #the boyz angst #tbz angst #ciiikbwork

[bgn846]

Wonder Boy FFXV Younger Clarus, Regis, and Cor

“Will you stop doing that!” Regis hissed under his breath as they walked down the corridor.

“Doing what?” Clarus asked looking behind them once more.

“Turning to look at nothing, that’s what!”

“I’m telling you he’s following me,” Clarus spit out as he resumed his pace.

“Gods, we are back to that again,” Regis groaned. “You are seeing things, you should get your eyes’ checked, old man.”

“I’m only five years older than you, so I don’t think my eyes are the issue,” Clarus grumbled as he watched Regis wave him off with a frown. Clearly the prince wasn’t interested in his plight. He was being followed, he was sure of it. “You’ll see him one of these days and then you’ll have to admit I’m not crazy.”

“Lookit, Clarus,” Regis exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration, “Cor the wonder boy is not following you.”

“Yes, he is.”

Regis shouted something rude at his comment and resumed walked to their next meeting.

Turning one last time Clarus was sure he’d spotted the shadow of something moving.  Torn between wanting to check, and keeping up with his charge, Clarus decided he’d rather not get yelled at by the king for abandoning his son.  Sighing in defeat he spun on his heel and ran to catch Regis.

Despite Regis’ disinterest in the matter he decided to kill the time during the next meeting by texting him unhelpful questions.  The first message had come through as they sat around the large meeting room table being ignored. They were the two youngest members in attendance, and the council never liked hearing what their teenage prince had to say. The king had been arguing with a council member for ten minutes straight, and Regis, it seemed, thought this was the perfect cover to zone out.

Reggie 3:43pm: How do you know it’s Cor?

 Clarus 3:45pm:   I saw his little beret once.

Clarus knew he’d read the message when Regis’ barely contained snort sounded nearby. Sighing at the foolishness of it all he waited to see what the prince would say this time.

Reggie 3:50pm: The crownsguard issued beret that all cadets wear? Sure that really nails down who it was -_-

Astrals, Regis was a jerk sometimes.  Rolling his eyes Clarus typed out a response.

Clarus 3:53pm: The beret I saw was on a short person. Cor is short, he’s still practically a baby.  That is how I know!

“Is everything in order?” King Mors asked pointedly, startling Clarus.  

Curse his prince! Clarus looked up to see the king glaring at him.   Damn, that question was meant for him.  Thinking fast he nodded and managed to speak without turning beat red. “Yes majesty, I was checking on a security issue. All is well.”

“Very well, let us continue.”

Clarus pocketed his phone for the remainder of the meeting.  The next time he trained with Regis he wouldn’t go easy.

--

Regis still didn’t believe that Cor was following him, but Clarus had proof now.  He’d actually seen his face twice already.  The skittish kid had locked eyes with him only to bolt a second later.  This odd behavior had been going on for nearly two weeks now and Clarus was at his wits end. He could never catch Cor, and when he went to talk with him during training the young cadet would always find a way to slip out unnoticed.    

How someone so young could be that difficult to track was a mystery. Cor was barely thirteen and had just joined the guard.  That process alone had caused controversy.  Apparently, Cor had refused to leave the signup office until he’d been admitted. The king himself had to come and talk to the youth before he was willing to go home that day.  

However, Mors must have seen something special in the kid because when Cor came back the following day to again, demand entry into the crownsguard he was allowed.  It helped that he’d dragged his mother with him the second time.  She’d signed all the needed paperwork at the insistence of her own son.  Cor was determined, that much Clarus knew.   Aside from that, the kid was an enigma.

Even the reasoning for following him was unknown.  Clarus was not about to get outsmarted by a kid. He could stage an ambush of his own.

This was how Clarus found himself, sitting in wait, behind an enormous potted plant in the corridor.  He knew Cor had to come this way when he left training.  This time he’d be the one stalking his prey!   True to any plan, nothing went his way.  Not five minutes after stationing himself in his appointed spot, did Regis show up.

“Why in the name of the astrals are you hiding behind a pot?” Regis asked with a smirk.

“Waiting for Cor, why?”

Regis sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, “You are such a dork.  You seriously think jumping out from behind a pot will give you the upper hand?”

“I tried to talk to him before and it never works.  So I’m switching my tactics.”

“By jumping ou--.”

“Yes! Shut up!  I know it’s dumb!” he hissed. “Are you going to stand there and blow my cover or are you going to help?” The prince acted all high and mighty but he did love a good game.  Clarus watched Regis feign annoyance at the whole situation, before quickly ducking down next to him. “Good now be quiet and keep an eye out for him.”

They didn’t have to wait long before the training room doors opened and cadets began piling out.  Today was an instruction day so Clarus knew none of the trainees would go to the locker room, there was no need.  Watching as the men and women filtered past Clarus couldn’t find Cor.  Had that little stinker managed to slip away again?!

Grumbling in irritation Clarus made to stand up, “Come on I give up, I guess I’ll have a shadow tracking me for the rest of my life.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Regis questioned with a thoughtful expression.

“Well I’d be nice to talk to the kid, otherwise, the relationship is a little one-sided.”

“So now you want to get to know him better?” teased Regis.

“From what I’ve heard he’s a very promising student.  Nothing wrong with surrounding yourself with good people Regis.”

“True, true, I could always ask dad to set up a meeting for you.  I don’t think Cor could refu--.”

“Don’t do that!” a voice from behind them blurted. “I don’t wanna make the king mad at me.”

Clarus flinched, but not before Regis yelped like a little girl.   Six, he’d be teasing him about that later. Turning quickly they spotted an alert, slightly nervous-looking young man staring at them.  Cor Leonis had managed to avoid being seen and snuck up on him instead.   Maybe Mors wasn’t nuts for letting the thirteen-year-old enroll.

“Any reason you’re trying to scare me half to death?” Clarus uttered in disbelief. “I’m old kid cut me some slack.”

“You’re only twenty-three, that’s not too old,” Cor replied with a pout.

“Gee, thanks kid,” Clarus deadpanned.

“He’s old don’t let anyone tell you anything different,” Regis quipped.

“You’re only eighteen, he could call you a kid if he wanted, just like me,” Cor replied in a flash.

“Excuse me, I’m not a kid.”

“Your dad says otherwise,” Cor shot back with a knowing look.

“Enough about me!” Regis snapped. “Why are you tormenting my shield?”

This time Cor clammed up and ducked his head.

“What, no more smart things to say?”

“Highness, be nice,” Clarus sighed. “Come on I won’t be mad, why were you following me?”

Cor shrugged but still didn’t lookup.

“He’s clearly tongue-tied let's go before he finds it again,” Regis suggested as he stepped out into the hallway and straightened his vest.

“Hey! I’m not tongue-tied. I just don’t know how to ask my question,” Cor added, looking up to glare at Regis.  

“Isn’t that the meaning of tongue-tied?”

“Shut up, you’re mean.”

Clarus had no success in suppressing his laughter at the exchange.   Cor was putting Regis through his paces and it was amusing the watch. “I don’t care how you word it, but go ahead and try asking me your question,” he interrupted in hopes Cor would speak his mind.

Cor took a deep breath and leveled a look at Regis that rivaled the most beleaguered of mothers. Finally, after a few seconds, he turned to Clarus. “I wanted to know who trained you.”

“You mean to fight?” Clarus waited for a second as Cor nodded in acknowledgment. “My father trains with me along with a few other glaives. Why?”

“Can I train with you too?”

Oh, that wasn’t what Clarus had been expecting. “Uh – don’t you have trainers already?”

“Yes, but I want to train with you. You’re the shield to the future king.  If I’m to be the best then I need to train with the best.”

Any previous feelings of doubt regarding Cor’s character melted away in that instant. The kid wanted to train with him because he was the best. How could Clarus turn down a request like that? “It won’t be easy; I get tired and worn-out too.”

“I’m committed you won’t find me lacking!” Cor exclaimed.

“Hear that Regis, the kid here wants to train with me, unlike a certain prince I know.”

“Shut up, not everyone is made to be a fighter. I’m more of a thinker.”

“Is that what you do during the meetings you go to? Think?” Cor questioned.  “Cause your dad describes it differently; he said something about you needing to take your head out of--.”

“Enough!” Regis shouted. “How do you even know all of this? Do you hang out with my dad often?”

“Yeah, he’s overseeing my progress in the crownsguard program and comes to check on me. We talk about funny things. Actually, you come up pretty often.” Cor added with a smug look.

Regis merely shook his head and started walking away grumbling about disrespect.  Clarus knew that Mors was a strict father, but he also knew he loved his son.  The king wanted Regis to become a great leader one day.  Smiling at the sight of his prince sulking away Clarus looked over to Cor once more. “So you only wanted to train with me? That’s the only reason you were trailing me?”

“Yeah, I mean it’d be cool if we could be friends too.”

Chuckling at the thought of little Cor Leonis driving Regis nuts at every turn was too good to be true.  The prince needed to be put through his paces every once and a while, maybe this little kid had a bright future after all. 

AO3 link

#ffxv #fanfic #clarus #regis #cor

[illbeyourreasonwhy]

So Much I Think It Must Be...

Chapter 4: Not That We’re Friends

“You know, you sure know a lot about her for someone who supposedly hates her.” “I don’t hate her, exactly. I just… like getting on her nerves.” “You’re very good at it.” “I know, thank you.”

Chapter 4 of my Ambi Enemies to Friends to Lovers fic!! You can read it on ao3 here, and from the beginning here

*

“That one, absolutely.”

“Glad we agree,” Andi said, putting one shirt back on the rack and the other in TJ’s arms. “You know I can carry my own stuff, right?”

“Nah, you’re too tiny.”

“Gee, thanks.” She paid for the shirt and they moved to the next stand. “We should go thrift shopping more often.”

“Agreed. Hey, check it out!” He pulled her over to a man selling top hats, and he enthusiastically put one on. “What do you think?”

Andi brought her hands together, grinning. “So handsome. Definitely wear that when you ask Cyrus out.”

TJ took the hat off, blushing. “Shut up.”

They moved onto the next stand and Andi nudged him. “Seriously, why don’t you? Ask him out, I mean. You know he’d say yes.”

“No I don’t know that, Andi,” he said, cheeks still red.

“Oh my god, you’re right, you taking him out on a date will absolutely destroy his huge crush on you.”

“He does not have a crush on me.”

“Whatever you say, TJ.”

They stopped at an elderly woman’s stand so that Andi could look at the different fabrics she was selling; maybe she could use some for one of her projects.

“You really think he likes me?” TJ finally mumbled, about five minutes after the conversation had ended.

“About as much as you like him,” Andi answered softly.

TJ didn’t say anything, so Andi smiled and paid for a baby blue cloth. She was well aware of the fact that TJ was not, in fact, going to tell Cyrus how he felt anytime soon, and that Cyrus wasn’t either. The two of them had been pining for each other for over a year and a half, which was obvious to exactly everyone but them. Marty had organised a betting pool as to when they would get together; Andi had fifteen dollars weighing on junior prom, almost a year away.

“We should go dirt biking again sometime,” TJ said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “We haven’t gone in ages.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Andi agreed. “How about Monday?”

“Can’t, I’m working on Monday. Maybe we could go tomorrow, though?”

“No, I’m meeting with Walker.”

“Walker?” TJ repeated, surprised. “I didn’t know you two were talking again.”

“Yeah, we ran into each other the other day and we decided to work on a mural together. You know, for old times’ sake.”

“Huh.” TJ smirked. “Is anything going on?”

“No, none of that,” Andi said. “We’re just friends.”

“Alright.” He gestured to an orange shirt displayed on the other side of the street. “Hey, what do you think of that?”

“Orange isn’t my colour,” she shrugged. “I’d give it to Amber.”

TJ looked confused. “To… Amber?”

“Yeah, she hates orange.”

“That makes more sense,” he said. “You know, you sure know a lot about her for someone who supposedly hates her.”

“I don’t hate her, exactly. I just… like getting on her nerves.”

“You’re very good at it.”

“I know, thank you.”

He laughed, wrapping an arm around her and dragging her over to a teenager selling a series of basketball t-shirts. Andi had long since given up on trying to save his fashion sense, so she let him excitedly go through the pile as she looked around.

Her gaze landed on a group of girls a few stands ahead of them. They were looking at some cheap jewelry, and Andi’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to one of the girls, to her wavy hair, to the way it framed her face perfectly, to her eyes and the way they lit up when she smiled, to that one loose strand of hair, to –

“… right, Andi? Andi?”

“Huh?”

“I was just saying… Are you okay?”

TJ asked, looking worried. Andi forced a smile. “Yeah, all good. How many shirts are you buying?”

TJ frowned, looking concerned. “You’re encouraging me to buy these shirts?”

He ended up buying three and they kept walking. He started talking about the basketball championship, glancing at her every few seconds but not pushing her to talk, which she appreciated. She wasn’t sure what it was she was feeling, exactly, except that there was something in her heart telling her that she wasn’t sure how long she was going to be able to pretend that the way she was looking at girls was only noticing how pretty they were. She was noticing them.

And that terrified her.

She stayed mostly quiet for the hour that followed, until TJ dropped her off in front of her house.

“Hey, TJ?” she asked just as he was about to leave.

“Yeah?”

“How… did you know you were gay?”

He blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, before schooling his face back to normal. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious.”

She could tell he knew it wasn’t the whole truth, but he answered anyways. “I don’t know, I just… had crushes on boys. I didn’t even really think about it too much until… you know, everything that went down with Kira.”

“Right.” She glanced at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think of her.”

He waved it off. “Don’t worry, I’m over it.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, before getting back on his motorcycle.

“Hey, Andi, whatever it is that’s going on… You’re okay. You know that, right?”

She hesitated, before walking over to him and pulling him into a hug. It was awkward because of the bike, but he hugged her back. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He put his helmet back on. “So, dirt biking on… Tuesday?”

“Sounds good.”

*

“So, what are we working with?”

She and Walker were standing in front of a blank wall looking starkly similar to the one they had worked on together two years earlier. Walker brightened, gesturing to the paint behind him.

“I was thinking we could do a sort of nature theme, with a lot of green tones. Since we’re near the park and all that.”

“Alright,” Andi smiled. “Let’s get started.”

For the next hour they worked on it. Andi was having more fun than she remembered having in a long time; there was something so great in being able to work with someone on such a great surface.

“Wow, this actually looks good.”

They both turned to see Amber standing there. She looked impressed, despite the small twist at the corner of her lips.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Andi said, but there was no heat to it.

“I’m not. I know you guys are both art-geniuses or something.”

“Art-geniuses?”

“You know what I mean.”

Walker smiled at her. “You’re welcome to join us, if you want.”

Why, oh why, did all of Andi’s friends have to take a liking to Amber?

“Oh, you guys seem to be doing just fine, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Amber said, the twist in her lips deepening for a fraction of a second.

“Alright. Well, we’re running out of green paint, so I’m going to get some in my car. I’ll be back in five minutes,” Walker said.

Andi and Amber were left alone in an uneasy silence for a few seconds, before Amber straightened up. “Well, I best be going, too, so…”

Andi nodded, before turning back to look at the mural. She and Walker were about half-way done; it didn’t look like much yet, but when they would be done it would probably look spectacular.

“Wait, did you paint this? It looks horrid.”

She whirled around. “Excuse me?”

The guy who had spoken, a boy around her age, smirked, pointing at the painting. “I mean, come on, this looks absolutely awful. Like, a three-year-old could have done that.”

Andi blinked, her throat burning. Two years of feuding with Amber had made her pretty good at thinking of witty quips on her feet, but at the moment all she could think of was of how bad her hands were shaking and how hot her cheeks burned and how stupid she felt.

Until a new voice came in.

“Oh, and I suppose you think you could do better?”

Amber was back; she moved to stand in front of Andi, her arms crossed and looking absolutely murderous.

“Come on, step up, take a brush, I want to see what you can do.”

“I’m not some girl who paints in her free time.”

“Okay, a few things here,” Amber said. “I kind of feel like that was meant to be an insult, but I’m really failing to see how you thought that would be effective.” She uncrossed her arms, taking a step forward. “I mean, ‘girl’, really? You realise you’re trying to prove a point to two girls as you say that? And also, seriously? You’re what, sixteen, and you think ‘girl’ is an effective insult in 20-fucking-19?” She turned back to shoot a look at Andi, who was too frozen by what was happening to react. “And, I mean, if you want to diss her painting, you might want to go with something other than ‘someone who paints’; like, that’s just unimaginative.” She took another step forward. “And lastly, who do you think you are? What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “You done?”

“No, I’m not, actually,” Amber snapped. “What’s your problem? Yeah, she’s a pain in the ass, do you think that gives you a right to insult her?”

“Girl, chill out, no one insulted her.”

"No, you just humiliated her and wanted everyone to know that you are oh so superior because you were able to align three words to insult a work in progress."

"Everyone? You do realise that no one is here, right?"

“Right, which is a shame because no one is here to see how absolutely pathetic you are, trashing a painting just so that you’ll feel better about your sorry self.” Andi blinked. Amber crossed her arms, staring the boy down. “Get out of here.”

The boy scoffed, turning around and leaving. “Whatever, psycho.”

“Right, I’m the psycho for defending my friend.” She turned sharply to Andi. “Not that we’re friends.”

Andi nodded, still stunned. “Noted.”

Amber didn’t uncross her arms until the boy was out of sight. “What a jerk.”

Andi swallowed, still staring at Amber. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to act. Bitchy Amber she knew how to deal with. An Amber who had her back… that was new.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she finally said. “Thank you.”

“No big deal. I’m the only one who’s allowed to mess with you like that.”

Andi let out a surprised laugh. “I’m strangely honored.”

“Good. You should be.”

There was a hesitant smile on Amber’s lips, mirroring Andi’s perfectly. Her eyes wouldn’t meet Andi’s for more than a few seconds at a time, altering between looking down and glancing at the mural behind her. She played with the strap of her purse, looking almost vulnerable. (That was impossible, though. Amber didn’t get vulnerable. Not in front of Andi, at least.)

“Well… I’m going to get going. Have fun with…” she gestured at the painting, “… art, and everything.”

“Thanks.”

Amber turned, before glancing back at Andi, her smile strangely comforting.

“Hey, don’t listen to him. Your painting is… not that bad.”

Andi felt something bubble in her chest. “Is that as close to a compliment that you can get?” she asked, her smile fonder and less cynical than usual.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“I’ll take it.”

Amber smiled again. “See you around, Andi.”

“See you.”

She couldn’t help but watch her leave, averting her eyes hastily when Amber looked back so that she wouldn’t catch her staring.

#my writing #andiman #amber #amber kippen #tj kippen #walker brodsky #ambi #tyrus #ambi fanfic #ambi efl #andi mack

[jcmorrigan]

Right, since you asked me questions about my f/o, I'll fire some at you now! 1. Favourite place to go with them 2. How do you care for them when they are ill and vice versa 3. Had any playful arguments that you look at and go 'what were we doing??' I'll slide these over here and be on my way ;3

All right! So, as a reminder, I have three (3) romantic f/o’s - XR from Buzz Lightyear of Star Command, Tony Dracon from Gargoyles, and Giovanni Potage from Epithet Erased. And for this exercise, I am going to answer all three questions FOR ALL THREE OF THEM! (If you’re following me for something other than selfship and you don’t wanna see me ramble for three pages, please block the tag “selfship” now)

1. FAVORITE PLACE TO GO!

I hadn’t realized until I thought about it, but it always seems to come back to a rooftop in the city. You think I like city lights or something? I do. I love city lights. I love cities.

Anyway, with XR, I decided right away that our favorite planet is Trade World, seedy underbelly and all. We can kill time there forever (and probably waste all our money on stuff that isn’t important). I haven’t written it yet, but one of the ideas I had for writing us was that after the big love confession, we’d have our first date on a rooftop restaurant there and watch the lights come on as the sun set, at which point I very sappily draw a connection between my love of city lights and XR’s eyes.

As for Giovanni, I have this whole oneshot about our first kiss that revolves around us trying to find the most perfect and fittingly dramatic place for it, and I ended up putting us on a rooftop at the edge of town where the Sweet Jazz skyline would be our background in all its luminescent glory. I imagine we’d go back up to that building again and again to talk about things if we’re not chilling at home or a base of operations. Just watching the night.

Then for Tony? I admittedly hadn’t given it too much thought, but I immediately got an image of us on, guess what, a rooftop, but of a skyscraper in downtown NYC. Now, Gio and I had to break onto ours by scaling the fire escape ladders; Tony would bust locks and we’d just take the stairs up from the inside. And that’s where we slow-dance when we want to be alone. Bring up a whole portable stereo and a mix of the schmaltziest love rock-ballads (think, like, REO Speedwagon or Journey). Come to think of it, I actually don’t know whether he’s made the connection that the Gargoyles operate out of the Eyrie, so we would definitely look at the freaking castle above the clouds and go “Next target” without knowing the law and order of the town that plagues our existence roosts there.

I’m also working on an AU that is compliant with my “Taking Back the Crown” crossover universe, and in that one, I’m thinking I’d be polyamorous with all three. While I haven’t picked a favorite spot, I do know that particular s/i would live in Twilight Town, and since Final Fantasy is piecemeal AU’d into KH logic (whereas none of those three are from canon KH worlds but it’s an easy crossover gateway so their worlds would just be intact), I actually have this design that Rabanastre from FFXII would be the capital of the nation Twilight Town is in and a few hours’ train ride away, and the four of us just LOVE heading over there and probably scaling some rooftops.

2. CARING FOR THE SICK!

Let’s start with me, in general. I’m a huge hypochondriac. I fear germs. I’m not really that good at taking care of sick friends/family, but for a romantic partner, I’d try to step up my game. I’d be on call. Now, if they were just ordinary sick, I might see if they’d be okay staying home while I got work done, with the caveat that I have my phone on me and can answer whenever. They’re stricken with debilitating nausea and can’t leave the bed? I’ll play hooky. But I’ll try to keep a reasonable distance whenever possible (chatting with them from across the room, where I am planted in a chair that is far away from the bed) and use a surgical mask and gloves whenever approaching. Yes, that may sound heartless, but I still wanna be available to bring them whatever they need, just with my armor on. And I’m not me unless I’m a raging hypochondriac who thinks she’s coming down with what her boyfriend’s got every five seconds. The exception, of course, is XR, who I envision would get sick as a visual gag of having a “computer virus” and exhibit all the symptoms of a head cold without actually being contagious.

Tony is low-maintenance and insists he doesn’t need to be babied, so he’s not gonna even ask me for that much except company. Giovanni and XR are both absolutely complainers and going to whine at me every five minutes, which will inevitably make my heart melt.

As for when I’m sick…

XR loves playing “nurse” (kinda like I had him in this oneshot where I sprain my shoulder) and will get me everything I want. This is for somewhat selfish reasons so I will talk up how great of a boyfriend he is when I’m sick. Also, there’s a good chance that any medical supplies he brings me might be “borrowed without permission” from Star Command’s med bay. He WILL bring me illegal narcotics, and I WILL turn them down. He’ll also call in sick to work himself to take care of me - and also because it gives him an excuse to not turn in to work. We’ll likely end up binging shows cuddled up together if I’m not sleepy or too nauseous.

Tony isn’t all that attentive; he knows I’m a grown-up and can mostly handle myself. If I’m seriously incapacitated, he’ll watch over me, but in most cases, he’ll take off to get his own work done, same philosophy as me: call me if you need anything. He’s not gonna rush to bring me things, but he will do smaller gestures - brushing my hair back if I’m asleep before he leaves, etc. After business is taken care of, if I seem stable and not contagious, he’ll assist me in setting up on the couch with blankets aplenty on one end while he sits on the other, and really, all my f/o’s know that when I’m sick, I just wanna binge TV shows, so that’s what we do.

Giovanni freaks out. He also wants to get me everything I need, but he’s kinda not used to taking care of sick people, so he’ll be running around like a headless chicken asking me if I need various medical supplies that don’t at all apply to the kind of illness I have (such as a splint or a tourniquet). And soup. He will bring me so much soup. Hey, he’s good at making it, so I’m not gonna complain. He also does unfortunately think cuddling will make things better, and want to sit in bed next to me or kiss me for reassurance. I tell him over and over and over that that’s just gonna get him sick. Less than 24 hours later, he’s caught what I have, and I’m just “GEE, I WONDER HOW THAT HAPPENED.”

3. PETTY ARGUMENTS!

XR and I are built on petty arguments. He fulfills my fantasies of a relationship based on tsundere rivalry. We will find things to argue about for fun. This is how we get our kicks. I call him a dumbass, he calls me a narcissist, we don’t mean it (…mostly). He once caught me singing and dancing, thinking I was alone, and taped it and circulated it as a meme. He thinks it’s hilarious if I trip and fall. Conversely, I think it’s hilarious if he runs into things when he’s not looking where he’s going. I keep a running record of stupidest spelling mistakes he’s made and will trot them out whenever appropriate. At the end of the day, though, we set it all aside. Don’t let anyone know we’re actually nice to each other behind closed doors!

Tony and I basically argue about one petty thing: the fact that he CANNOT DRIVE. Is there canon precedent to this? Not really, except for the fact that his henchmen always seem to be driving the getaway car. But I have it in my head that the people in our operation who should be driving are me, Pal Joey, and Glasses. The person in our operation who should not be driving is Tony. Guess which one of the four asks most often to drive? Yeah. And sometimes he wears us down and we have to deal with him nearly killing us by driving 20 mph above the speed limit. IN DOWNTOWN NEW YORK. THE POLICE CHASE HASN’T EVEN STARTED. If there is one thing that is the subject of our married-couple spats, it is THIS.

Arguing with Giovanni is more of a minefield because we both have a habit of pretending we’re not sensitive about certain things until one of us rags on that certain thing and then it explodes. I have a oneshot idea, may or may not write it, in which he insults my “nerd glasses” like he always does with Sylvie, and I’m legitimately hurt but trying not to show it, so I engage in a rivalry argument with him that lasts all day, up until he jokingly says that I have delusions of grandeur and I just say “Well, at least I don’t think I’m qualified to be captain when I’m not” about myself when I realize that my lack of filter made it sound like I insinuated he wasn’t qualified to be captain, at which point he will actually start crying and insist to me that words hurt. Everything’s made better when we sit down and have an honest talk about what we said that hurt each other and then hug it out.

#selfship #electric love #xrach #death by cupcakes #i'm at soup! #four of hearts

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 204: Chintetsu

Previously on BnHA: Shouto left Endeavor on read. Team TodoIidaShoujiRo attacked Team TetsuHonePonySen head-on, hitting them with a wave of ice and freezing them all in place. But it turns out Honenuki’s quicksand quirk is actually a “softening” quirk which can soften anything he touches. He used that to melt the ice to allow his teammates to escape. It also turns out that he had pre-treated some of the surrounding area with his quirk, and Ojiro and Iida came crashing down from their hiding spots shortly after as the softened ground gave way beneath them. Sen attacked Ojiro with his drill quirk while Pony took on Shouji. Meanwhile Tetsu went for Shouto, realizing a direct attack was his best bet. And Honenuki trapped Iida under a layer of the softened ice, but then made the mistake of rehardening it, intending to keep him stuck in place. Instead, Iida blasted free with his Recipro, revealing that he’s built up his endurance to the special move. So now we’ll see if he can take Honenuki down.

Today on BnHA: We get a wholesome Iida flashback to when Tensei explained how to upgrade his Recipro by -- wait, what? Mutilating his own fucking leg?! Holy shit. That’s not wholesome at all. What the fuck. But anyway, it worked I guess because back in the present day Iida is zipping along at speeds faster than Gran fucking Torino, and he’s able to maintain this speed for up to ten whole minutes. The only downside is that he can’t fully control himself because he’s so goddamn fast and so he keeps skidding around. Anyway, so Honenuki is like “nope” and gets the fuck out of there. Meanwhile Sen continues to whoop Ojiro’s ass, but then Iida shows up to save him so yay. Elsewhere the Tetsuroki fight has heated up, quite literally, as Todoroki activates his left side to create a wall of fire, and Tetsutetsu proceeds to walk right through it and attack Shouto as a red hot steel man. Shouto thinks back to his dad’s training and decides that the solution to this is clearly to make shit even hotter, so he starts up with that, and the chapter ends.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my mostly-unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’m caught up with the manga now at chapter 223, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

ohhh my god

IIDA FAM FLASHBACKS!??!

AHHHHH

EXCUSE ME IS THIS THE FUCKING FUTURE OR NOT?? CAN WE GET IIDA TENSEI A FUCKING HOVERCHAIR HERE PEOPLE? IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK. IF ONLY HORIKOSHI WAS AT ALL FAMILIAR WITH MARVEL COMICS -- OH, WAIT

but seriously though. also he’s supposed to be rich too isn’t he? c’mon

also! Iidamom looks exactly like I expected her to. welcome to our canon full of other awesome moms, Iidamom! a few more moms and I’ll be ready to do a top ten moms post. spoiler alert, the winner is not who you’d expect (unless you’re expecting Aizawa, because then you’re absolutely right)

anyways so I got SUPER distracted just now but apparently Tensei is talking about “tuning up” Iida’s engine!

wow can they do that?? fucking quirks, though. wild

oh my fucking god

just yank that fucking muffler right the fuck out. and a new one will grow in!! fucking QUIRKS, though. WILD

dsfalkhsd

just yank that fucking muffler right the fuck out without anesthesia. what are you, a pussy!?

gee thanks Horikoshi for this graphic image of Iida biting down on something while he uses his bare hands to yank what are essentially bones -- or organs, or whatever! the point is they’re part of him! -- right out of his fucking body. might wanna add some vodka to that OJ tonight Iida

OH SHIT, THAT PAYOFF THOUGH

IN TEN MINUTES YOU COULD TAKE OVER THE FUCKING WORLD, IIDA!

okay maybe I got a little overexcited. but damn though!

so he’s DRRNing over to Honenuki and

oh my god

loool at the thought of Iida zooming around wildly for the next ten minutes while he tries to figure out how to stop this thing, and meanwhile Honenuki can’t land a hit on him though

GET HIM IIDA!!

oh fuck

can he breathe under there? you know, depending on how long they still have until time runs out, he could just hide for the next ten minutes and then emerge and drag the paralyzed Iida to Rat Principal Jail

(ETA: actually that was a stupid thought. obviously Iida doesn’t have to keep Recipro activated the whole time if there’s no need to.)

but no, he’s swimming back to Tetsu and the others for now

meanwhile Iida’s still up top and trying to figure out what he’s up to

maybe you should do the same

holy shit we’re cutting back to the kids outside and Deku says Iida’s even faster than Gran Torino

“by a long shot.” that’s fucking fast. and I love it

by the way, with the way Mina was pointing, I thought, “oh, maybe Ojiro’s finally getting the upper hand!”

but no

Horikoshi why do you hate poor Ojiro

it’s probably the pain of this guy kicking you in the chest with his rotating fucking foot

so he’s trying to figure out what to do because he can’t really attack, and he keeps getting hurt whenever he tries to guard

oh hey there

trying to decide if I’m disappointed that Ojiro will never get to do anything cool, or ecstatic that Iida fucking Tenya just pulled off a badass save of this caliber

leaning more toward ecstatic, honestly. sorry Ojiro

oh, Iida

nice use of the word “forthwith”, Iida

(ETA: and nice use of the word “slammer”!!)

and now he’s telling Ojiro to go help Todoroki and that he’ll be right back

well I guess class 1-A will need some sidekicks too

meanwhile we’re sticking with Iida, which means I’m going to keep right on posting all of his panels, because his dialogue honestly deserves a fucking pulitzer prize

never, Sen!

Sen’s trying to reason his way out of this and telling Iida that he shouldn’t let Honenuki get away because he’s more of a threat

and he’s also grumping about Iida interrupting his and Ojiro’s fight. “you shouldn’t interrupt a one-on-one fistfight like that”

um, says who? fuck that. we’re trying to win here, we can make friends after

Iida says if he allows his will to be bent here, it will be bent in the real world as well

basically he’s treating this seriously. well, good

meanwhile! we’re cutting back to two minutes prior!

I guess Tetsu’s best option is to somehow knock him out. but the problem is that Shouto’s reflexes are too good and he can create an ice barrier in an instant

I think Tetsu’s steel would allow him to withstand Shouto’s fire long enough to punch him on his left side, though, so that would be my personal strategy if it were me

heh

A+ attack name. Shouto I’m sorry, I love you, but if I’m being honest I’m rooting for this guy here

heh

so you think he should try the fire instead? I’m not so sure that’s the best play in this case though. at least with the ice he has better control and he can hold him at bay. I just don’t think the fire would be that effective against Tetsu, but I’m sure we’ll find out shortly

because Tetsu’s bragging about how easily he can break through Shouto’s ice defense

ah here we go

for some reason Bakugou actually wanted to go up against this. still don’t quite understand it. my baby boy got a death wish

lol Pony’s running off. honestly a miracle she wasn’t incinerated just now

Shouto’s yelling at Shouji to go after her and Shouji’s all “got it”

yeah I’m thinking my initial assessment was right and this was indeed a mistake

fucking great. now you’ve got a molten steel man after your ass, Shouto

LOL

holy fucking shit. just in case anyone isn’t aware, “chinchin” means “penis” usually. so yeah

and I fucking love that here he’s using it to mean “hot”, but it could also be a throwback to the whole “five peepee man” thing, which he doesn’t actually know about but I do, and so to me this is the funniest thing ever okay

I have no further comment

oh fuck

no but as you can plainly see he is no stranger to burns, so please try not to maim him too badly...!?

lol Vlad has started narrating again. no doubt elated that his team is somehow eking out a win in what initially appeared to be the most one-sided matchup we were going to see today

uh oh but now it looks like Tetsu may have accidentally triggered the quirk development that Endeavor was trying to trigger but couldn’t because Shouto won’t return his damn texts

before I continue to the next and presumably final page of this chapter, I’m just gonna take a moment here to appreciate the irony of Endeavor accidentally conditioning Shouto to never listen to him ever, even on the occasions where it turns out he’s right. he spent years trying to get Shouto to use his flame side, but failed utterly, and then in the span of one fight Deku did what Endeavor had spent Shouto’s whole life trying to get him to do

and now it’s happening again here, where we see that Endeavor was once again trying to teach him something, but Shouto just ignored him until a random kid from the class next door just happened to say something similar. and then it clicked

like, it’s a major burn on Endeavor (no pun intended), but it’s also really unfortunate for Shouto, because his dad has been such a prick until recently that he’s missed out on absorbing the few worthwhile things he actually had to teach him. lot of lost time to make up for here, on both sides

anyways, let’s watch as Shouto slowly processes all this

well I assume (a) because of the “surpassing my limits” thing, and (b) because he’s been texting you nonstop and it was probably on your mind even though you were stubbornly trying to pretend it wasn’t

lol what kind of cliffhanger is this??

he’s not even doing anything! come on Shouto what are you doing to us. this isn’t fair

also, what happened to your hand? why is it all smooth. I assume because of some fire bullshit you’re about to do, but that’s still just weird looking

oh and on the last page there’s a long translator note explaining what I mentioned before about “chinchin” meaning penis. sometimes on select occasions I’m down with Horikoshi perpetually having the mind of a 12-year-old. if he wants to make this a recurring thing I won’t complain, lol

#bnha #boku no hero academia #iida tenya #honenuki juuzou #kaibara sen #ojiro mashirao #todoroki shouto #tetsutetsu tetsutetsu #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #listen though #if tensei doesn't have a goddamn hoverchair by the next time we see him then I am going to start making some calls #and writing some emails #there is no excuse #don't tell me we don't have the technology when a high schooler is out here building jetpacks just for fun #we have sassy robots and holograms but no hoverchairs?? #give me a break

[lemonsandstrawberries]

A Piece of Cheese for the Road

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: Avengers Academy mobile game (high school/college AU), has references to the game

summary: It is the last evening at the Avengers Academy and Steve needs a push to finish some unfinished things with a certain handsome genius. 

length: 2 644 words

a/n: today is the last day when Avengers Academy is still available to play and I never thought that closing a mobile game would affect me that much. sometimes the game was a pain and things were rushed, but there were also many pluses, like beautiful graphics and entertaining storylines and interactions MCU would never give us. this fic is my goodbye and I hope that AvAc universe won’t be forgotten!

——————–

A Piece of Cheese for the Road

"This our last evening together. You know what it means, right?"

Tony made a dramatic pause, surrounded by other students of the Avengers Academy. He prolonged the moment and grabbed the handle of the fridge door, before opening it in a grand gesture and letting everyone feast their eyes on the treasures inside.

"Cheese for everyone!"

The crowd cheered, blocks and wheels of cheese being passed from student to student. It was the evening after graduation and tomorrow everyone would head home and their realities and there was a lot of cheese to eat before that.

Steve leaned over the bar area in the Club A, watching the commotion around Tony and his cheese fridge. He saw Clint biting into a block of cheddar, Lucky jumping around him and demanding a piece, Natasha smearing a piece of brie over a baguette, but the most entertaining was the trail of moving cheese blocks, as Scott used his small friends to get some of his favorite kinds for him, Hope and Cassie without having to fight between always hungry A-Bomb and Hulk. Luke and Jessica were playing pool, forming a team against Foggy and Matt, which honestly didn't surprise anyone anymore as Daredevil didn't have any limits. Not far from them Miss Marvel kept talking to Captain Marvel, and Steve caught some words like 'fanfiction', 'new ideas', 'otp', among many others, and Carol listened to Kamala, nodding her head in agreement. The dance floor was probably the most crowded, people coming and going to grab a drink or a snack, and the one person always present was Loki, dancing all the time, like he kept through the school year, all in rhythms played by DJ Vision and Viv. And at midnight Guardians of the Galaxy were supposed to give their last concert at the Club Galaxy. It was a good evening.

A good, very, very sad evening.

"Steve, you okay?" Bucky asked, stopping next to his friend, holding a package wrapped in silver tinfoil.

"Yeah," Steve smiled sadly. He remembered the day they got Bucky back from Hydra's school. His friend was finally safe and managed to find an outlet for his emotions in rather gloomy music. Speaking of which. "Shouldn't you get ready for your concert?" Steve asked, remembering that Bucky was supposed to play some new songs he and Adam Warlock had created in their 'Winter Warlock' band.

"I still have a minute before that," Bucky answered, leaning against the bar in the same manner as Steve. For a moment, they stood in complete silence, just taking in the atmosphere and watching their friends and teachers mingle. And still, Steve's eyes were always drawn to the cheese fridge and Tony, all dolled up in his business suit…

"What's that?" Steve asked, noticing the silver package Bucky was holding.

"Tony gave it to me," Bucky said, moving the package closer to his eyes so he could get a better look at it, and Steve felt some tug in his heart after hearing the name. "It is a Sainte-Maure de Touraine."

"He gave you cheese?" Steve laughed. Punching Hydra, fighting in the multiverse and knowledge about different types of cheese where what Steve would take with himself from the Academy.

"Not just any cheese," Bucky almost bragged, "it is soft goat cheese, rolled in wood ash. Tony said it matches my style. Maybe I will write a song about cheese," Bucky's voice dropped in thought.

Steve laughed and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I will gladly listen to that, pal," he smiled.

"Hey, did anyone see Captain America?!"

Steve's heart beat faster. He turned around and locked his eyes with the person who was calling him. "Here?" he said, even rising his hand a bit.

"Oh!" Tony paused, lowering his sunglasses. "Sorry, not you! Meant Roberta!"

Captain America 2099. Not him.

"Didn't see her," Steve answered, trying to be neutral, despite some pain in his heart.

"Man, I hope she didn't leave yet. I have a nice piece of aged mimollete I think she will like-"

"I saw her and other 2099 people near the hot tub," Pepper said, holding her own piece of cheese, a rectangle shaped one and Steve could guess it was a piece of some expensive parmesan. Some students had to leave and earlier today Steve and Bucky said their goodbye to Peggy and other Bucky, and even if Steve wanted to ask Tony to stay, he wouldn't hold him back. After all, Roberta seemed like everything Tony ever wanted.

"Ah, Pep, I can always count on you to know everything around here!" Tony brightened. Pepper did work as a school administrator all this time and was irreplaceable. He almost turned around and walked away, when Pepper grabbed him under his arm and twirled around with him.

"Don't you have something to do first?" Pepper said sharply, almost as if disciplining Tony.

"Um, right," Tony admitted, looking away and seemingly distressed. He reached into a paper bag he had been holding which Steve just noticed and took out a medium wheel of cheese covered in red wax and handed it to Steve. "This is for you, something to remember me," he said, smiling and Steve took the offered piece with a stunned look on his face. "It is baby gouda. Mild, soft and boring. Just like you," the friendly smile changed into a pleased grin as Tony delivered his final remark to Steve.

"Gee, thanks, Tony," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

"Welcome! Now, excuse me," Tony wriggled out from Pepper's hold and disappeared among partying students.

"Sorry for him," Pepper turned to Steve with an apologetic look on her face.

"It is fine, Pepper," Steve laughed. As odd as it sounded, he would miss being teased by the snarky genius. He would miss...

"Oooh, I see you got your cheese!" Janet squeezed past Pepper. She was holding a half-eaten piece of colby jack cheese, cheese with two colors, giving it a marble-like look. It wasn't the most expensive kind of cheese, but it was tasty and creamy and brought a lot of joy. Just like Janet. "What are you going to do now?!" she demanded answers in her usual overenthusiastic way.

"Eat it on a cracker?" Steve asked back, unsure what kind of question Jan was expecting. His answer made even Bucky sigh. "What?"

"Hopeless. I have to get ready for my concert," Bucky commented, waving over to get Adam's attention and walking away. Both girls stayed and eyed Steve critically.

"What?" he asked, feeling on edge. "Whaat?"

Pepper and Janet exchanged looks. They had to do everything around here.

"Just go and talk to Tony," Pepper said in her office voice.

"But-"

"Just go!" Janet wasn't that understanding and gave Steve a push, sending him stumbling on his way. He turned around, shooting a confused look at the girls, and saw Jan giving him an encouraging thumbs up and Pepper waving at him to move it. Not understanding and having a wheel of gouda as his only companion, Steve started to navigate through the crowd.

Finding Tony wasn't easy. He passed many students, almost everyone holding a piece of cheese hand-picked and personally delivered by Tony Stark and soon Steve decided to follow the cheese trail, finding the paths Tony had taken. Finally, he found him, near the blasting range and handing T'Challa a piece of Beaufort d’ete, known as the prince of gruyere’ cheeses. Seemed fitting for royalty.

Steve stopped in a distance from them and waited for the talk to finish. T'Challa and Tony shook their hands, and Steve had a feeling that it won't be the last time Wakanda and Stark Industries crossed their paths before both took their separate ways and Tony turned, pausing upon seeing Steve on his path.

"Hey," Steve smiled insecurely, his voice warm and low.

"Hey," Tony repeated, walking and closing the distance. It was quiet around them, the air a bit cold and a starry sky above them. Almost perfect. Almost.

"Thanks for the cheese," Steve said, motioning to the piece of gouda in his hand.

"You already thanked me, old man," Tony said, his characteristic smirk back on his face.

"I know, but - uh, can we talk for a bit?" Steve asked, unsure what he was doing.

Tony looked at him, the smirk disappearing, replaced with surprise before a smile took its place. Steve liked Tony's smiling face better. "Sure. Just a bit though, I have more cheese to give," he said, walking with Steve to the stone bench. It was pretty cold and Steve took off his denim jacket and laid down for Tony to sit on.

"Seriously, Cap?" Tony asked, sliding his sunglasses down considering such gesture completely unnecessary.

Steve only smiled. "Don't want you to catch a cold," he said, and Tony let out a small, irritated huff, but sat down, Steve following. He looked at Tony's profile and pulled his eyebrows together in confusion. "Why are you still wearing sunglasses?"

"Oh, it was pretty bright at the party and my eyes hurt from working and looking at holographic screens. But I guess I can take them off now," Tony said, taking the sunglasses and putting into the front pocket of his suit. "So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked, turning to face Steve and Steve's breath stopped as he looked into the brown eyes, in the warmest, most welcoming shade of brown ever imaginable. He always knew Tony's eye color but it was probably the first time he was seeing them so close. Almost hypnotic. When Tony blinked, Steve realized that the other student was still waiting for an answer.

"Um, what do you plan to do after the graduation?" Steve asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't know yet," Tony smiled lightly, "probably return to Stark Industries for a while to sort things out. Oh, and I and Jan have this plan, but it is still in the making, so don't tell anyone, okay?"

Steve smiled and nodded, seeing an excited spark in Tony's eyes and hearing his voice rising in pitch as whenever Tony got enthusiastic about something. Adorable.

"We are thinking about setting up a foundation to help kids become superheroes. I have my lab, Jan has her sense of style and there are a lot of people out there who could be heroes, but don't have the right means. I think we could make a difference," Tony explained, a happy smile not leaving his face. Steve listened, feeling his heart swelling with love. He always knew that Tony was generous, but this was a new level.

"That's a great idea, Tony," Steve smiled back, honestly thinking so.

"Of course it is, like all my ideas," and the old Tony Stark was back, and oddly, Steve didn't mind. "What about you? What are Captain America's plans for the future?"

"I wish I would know," Steve sighed, "there is no Hydra left for me to punch," it was supposed to be a sincere complaint, yet Tony laughed like if Steve told a joke.

"If that makes you better, you can punch me," Tony offered with a grin.

"I don't want to punch you, Tony," Steve quickly said, sounding irritated and mellowing down the next second. "Sometimes I wish that we had spent more times on getting to know each other instead of fighting," he sighed again, looking down at his feet.

Tony hummed. There was a lot of conflict between them on numerous occasions but it was also what kept things interesting. "I will have to discuss it with Jan, but if you have no other plans, you could join us. We could use someone with military training and a solid, moral spine. Unless…" Tony's voice dropped down, some sadness hearable, "unless you rather go back."

Steve didn't understand. He looked at Tony, and Tony turned away the second he did so.

"Go back where?"

"Back to your times. To Aunt Pegg- to Peggy and the other Bucky. The portal didn't close yet."

Maybe it was an idea. To hide back in the 20th century, to live his life how it was supposed to be. Just knowing what he knew now, could he go back?

Steve shook his head. "It is not my place anymore," he said, accepting the truth.

"Right. Your place is here."

"Or at least I like to think so," Steve smiled, looking at the sky above them. So many stars.

Tony glanced over at Steve. He bit his lip, wanting to ask something but holding back. He didn't want to make things more complicated and painful.

"You okay?" Steve asked, noticing with the corner of his eye that Tony shivered.

"Yeah," Tony breathed out, wrapping arms around himself. "Just cold."

"Come here," not thinking much, Steve wrapped an arm around Tony and drew him closer. Tony blinked in surprise, but soon leaned into the super soldier, taking in the warmth. Cozy. And Steve smelled good. And Tony really didn't want to lose this. And it was their last evening together. And what the heck.

"Steve…"

"Hm?" Steve's breath stopped, when Tony tipped his head up, his lips pressing to Steve's tight ones in a brief kiss which lasted too short for Steve to properly react. And when Tony drew away, it was the most horrible thing.

"Oh man, I am sorry," Tony went into a chatterbox mode, clearly distressed, "did I read this all wrong? Because I thought we were having a moment and you needed some encouragement and-"

"Tony, shush," Steve ordered, only to put both hands on Tony's cheeks and kissed him properly. Slowly. Soft. Lasting. Only the two of them kissing under the stars.

"FINALLY!"

Or not.

Tony and Steve drew apart and saw half of the academy crowding behind the blasting range, the most noticeable Jan, who was yelling at Peter Parker to take photos and looking as almost crying, and both Tony and Steve got blinded time after time by the flash.

"The heck- get out of here!" Steve yelled, waving his hand as if trying to chase everyone away. Meanwhile, Tony took out his sunglasses and clearly started posing. Those photos would go to a school yearbook for sure. When the crowd got back to the main party, chatting and laughing on their way, Steve still seemed irritated with everyone sneaking up on them like that. Tony didn't mind, laughing and going in for more kisses, finally having permission to do something he wanted for a very long time.

"We should go back. I want to hear the Guardians playing. Also, I scheduled a surprise firework show," Tony grinned, not faltering when Steve sent him a harsh look.

"Did you discuss it with Director Fury?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I discussed it with him," Tony stood up, kissing Steve for the last time. For now. They had like three years of kissing to catch up on. "And I still have some cheese to give away. Do you think Loki will hate me for giving him velveeta? That guy is super hard to please anyway."

Speaking of cheese...

"Tony, why did you give me gouda?" Steve asked, remembering that this whole commotion started after Tony gave him his gift.

Tony paused in surprise. "Because it is my favorite cheese. And the best one for grilled cheese sandwiches," he explained simply.

Steve slowly smiled, finally making a connection. "And you love grilled cheese sandwiches."

"I do love them," Tony confirmed, smiling brighter and more beautiful than the starry sky above them. "Let's go, I want to see you dance Charleston for the last time," Tony urged.

Steve laughed and followed Tony, having some other dance in mind. After all, he and Tony had to make up for the lost time, and hopefully, they would have all the time to spend together very soon.

#stony #avengers academy #avac #steve rogers #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #pepper potts #janet van dyne #various avac characters mentioned #also references to the game #fanfic #fanfiction #goodbye game #thanks for keeping me entertained #and frustrated sometimes too

[descentintobandom]

Oh Anna Chapter 3

Title: Oh Anna Chapter 3 Chapter: 3/? Pairing: Harry/OC Rating: T Fic Summary: Harry finds out his childhood friend, Anna Chamberlain, is pregnant and decides to take care of her and the baby. Author’s Notes: I just had to bring Grimmy into the picture because you know he’d be all over the fact that Harry is having a baby. I’m thinking Grimmy for the godfather maybe?

Harry walked out of his management’s office. Needless to say, they were angry that he made the decision without consulting them first.

“It’s not your baby”, they argued.

“No, but Anna is my girlfriend now and that baby will be mine”, Harry told them.

“Has the father signed over any rights to the child?”

“No, but he hasn’t even contacted her in the past two months”.

“But what happens if he shows up and wants to try and take the child from you?”

“Then I’ll get the best lawyers money can buy and I’ll fight it”.

“This could seriously tarnish your reputation!”

“Excuse me for a moment”, Jeff, his manager, said, “If I may. If anything, this will boost his reputation as being a good and honorable man. What is more selfless than offering to raise another man’s baby as his own?”

“As far as I’m concerned, that baby is mine. No one and nothing is going to take me away from it”, Harry said, “I think this conversation is finished. Please direct any further questions to Jeff”.

Harry was walking down the street when his phone rang.

“Is this Harry Styles? The most wonderful man I’ve ever met?”

Harry playfully rolled his eyes. “What do you want Grimmy?” he asked.

“To meet for lunch, so you can tell me all about you becoming a daddy! I’ll meet you at our favorite place!” Nick hung up and Harry laughed.

He walked into the restaurant ten minutes later.

Nick was already there with a small gift bag.

“Nick, tell me you didn’t”, Harry groaned.

“I had to get something for the baby!”

“We don’t even know what it is yet!”

“That’s why I went for unisex colors”.

Harry pulled out a yellow onesie that said, “Future Co-DJ”.

“Isn’t it cute? I had it made after you posted the picture”, Nick said.

“I’m sure Anna will love it”.

“Anna? Like Holmes Chapel Anna? The girl you’ve been helplessly in love with since you were 16?”

Harry sat down and explained everything to Nick.

“Poor girl”, he said, “I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing. I’d love to have you come on so you can explain everything”.

“Maybe once Anna is here”.

“When does she get here?”

“Sometime this month. She’s having trouble selling her flat, so she’s been living with mum”.

“God! Look at you!” Harry said, his hands on Anna’s now prominent bump.

She was now in her second trimester, just having gotten through her third month of pregnancy. “Gee, you sure know how to make a girl feel good”, Anna said sarcastically.

“You know what I mean. Have you felt it move yet? When’s your next scan? When can we find out what we’re having?”

“Harry, slow down. My doctor recommended someone here in London and my medical records are being sent over. It’ll be a couple of weeks before we can find out. Honestly, I think you’re more excited for this baby than I am and I’m the one carrying it”.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…having you here now is making everything feel real. How are you feeling?”

“I feel good actually. Hardly any sickness. I’ve had much more energy lately”.

“That’s good”.

The two went inside and Anna’s mouth dropped open.

Harry’s flat wasn’t huge, but it had more than enough room for all three of them. “The baby’s room is down the hall. I haven’t started decorating it because I figured you’d wanna be here and help. I’ve already got a box of stuff from my friends in the closet”, he told her, “They’re…kinda excited. Especially Grimmy”.

“Grimmy? You mean Nick Grimshaw?” Anna asked.

“Yeah. Think I’ve told you about him before. It seems like he’s buying anything baby related he sees”.

“So, your friends don’t mind that you’re having a baby?” “What do you mean? Of course they don’t mind”.

“I just thought…well…babies are time consuming and I’ll be taking you away from them”.

“Oh Anna”, Harry said, wrapping his arms around her, “I’d rather be at home with you than out partying”.

“Why are you so perfect?” Anna asked him sniffling.

Harry chuckled and said, “It’s a gift”.

#Harry Styles #Harry/OC #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #nick grimshaw #grimmy

[mxadrian779]

How to Approach Transphobia

A huge reason I created Conservatives Against Transphobia is because I have personal experience and a personal journey with transphobia, and I believe I know how to tackle it. I've thought and lived on both sides of the field—on the transphobic side and now on the transgender side—and I have seen many major issues from both. Transphobia is a massive issue in itself, of course, but there is also a huge problem in how we approach it.

One of the first issues in how transphobia is approached lies in how we label it. I believe we need to be able to distinguish different levels of transphobia. It is not a one-size-fits-all issue. I don't think it's fair to categorise and treat someone who merely doesn't understand the same as someone who uses their lack of understanding to fuel harmful thoughts and actions. Ignorance is not the same as hatred, does not automatically lead to hatred, and should not be considered in these ways. I held a decent amount of ignorance about the transgender community, but I never followed it into hatred, and I resented being treated the same as one who would rally against transgender people. I resisted being labelled as transphobic, which likely played a part in deepening my ignorance. I eventually saw that there was something I was missing, and I acknowledged my ignorance. I can now fully see where I went wrong in my thoughts and words...and I still believe it should be considered differently, ignorance separated from outright phobia. I posit that there should be a new term, transignorance, but I doubt it will catch on.

Sometimes, people just don't know what they don't know. That's precisely what ignorance is. It's being locked in a room with black walls and no light. That's how I envision my transphobic days. A dark room, the light's off, and people are screaming at me to find the door and get out.

Transphobia is hurtful and harmful, and people have every right to get offended. But we should not resort to anger and hatred. No amount of yelling at a transphobic person is going to “cure” them. I received (and still do receive) my share of internet screaming. Harassment and bullying. Blacklisting. Did that make me any less transphobic? Of course not! It made me MORE transphobic. It legitimised my ignorance, gave it a reason to exist. If I didn't want to be open-minded before because I perceived others as strange, I certainly didn't want to be open-minded now because I perceived them as hostile. I'm not suggesting my mindset then was acceptable, but it must be understandable to some degree. How we treat someone does indeed affect how they perceive people like us. We are representative of our community. It's not always fair, but it's the way it goes.

Sometimes, people are just jerks, and you will not get through to them, no matter how hard you try. I'd be lying if I said I didn't tip into jerkish territory in my ignorant days, mostly because I was tired of being badgered about something I didn't know was a problem. Even the most stubborn person can be reached. Don't automatically cast out transphobes as universally hopeless. Treat them as if they have a chance, as if they're worth something. In some circumstances, it can be VERY damaging to treat ignorant and phobic people as if they're a lost cause. I'll return to this point a little later.

Think of enlightenment as a seed you're planting in the soil of ignorance. You part the soil delicately, place the seed carefully and thoughtfully, and return every so often to tend to it and water it. You can't jam the seed into the soil, blast it with a fireman's hose, and expect it to grow. Sowing the seed of enlightenment takes love and patience, kindness and care. You can't scream at transphobes and expect them to suddenly “get it.” If the situation is really infuriating and/or they're being purposely obnoxious, just walk away. Shake the dust from your sandals and move on. Don't stay and continue to fight; that'll just wear you down and make them more ignorant.

The best way to destroy transphobia is to chip away at it, a little at a time. Rome wasn't built in a day, and transphobia cannot be demolished in a day. It takes a lot of time and many baby steps. The transphobe in recovery is going to stumble at first, but they'll get to where they need to be. Take their stumbling as a well-intended mistake. Try not to destroy their honest though misfired attempts. Recognise that they mean well, acknowledge that they're trying, and try to steer them in the right direction. Immediately writing off their efforts as examples of their transphobia is not going to help either party—TRUST ME. They're trying to take one step forward, but then they get shoved two steps back. This isn't the right way to progress, and it can make them surrender their efforts altogether and retreat into their comfortable ignorance. At least, that's how my journey almost changed.

Another thing I want to mention, coming from a former transphobe: persistence doesn't help. Sow your seed, and let it grow on its own. Overwatering it is not going to make it grow faster, nor is being persistent going to make ignorance disappear faster. Most likely, persistence will have the opposite effect. Repeated efforts to dispel transphobia will be perceived as badgering, and no one likes to be badgered, especially when they don't think they're wrong. Sow the seed, and then let it be. If it wants to grow, it will grow.

Here, I will return to a previous point: It is highly important not to treat even the most obstinate ignorant person as a lost cause. I was definitely obstinately ignorant, and I think I knew this in some form. I often played with the thought of “Gee, wouldn't it be really weird if somehow I actually ended up being transgender?” The thought was so incredibly far-fetched...yet here I am.

A course in gender studies, in addition to meeting transgender people who were kind and patient rather than hostile, were exactly what I needed to dig out of transphobia. It is love, not hatred, positivity, not negativity, that bring light into people's hearts and minds. Most of the journey out of ignorance was familiarising myself with gender identity, gender theory, stories, and terminology. This led me to realise that my own gender was not what I thought. It's an exciting and scary journey on its own, but, given the past and internet drama, it was also frightening. It was the absolute farthest thing from my mind, but now that it started to appear to be reality, it was absolutely terrifying. Given my ignorant past and the way most people interacted with me regarding the issue, I felt like I could never be allowed to be transgender. I really felt like I was stuck in a box and they were sitting on the lid. By this time, I had been phobia-free for a few months, and I was becoming a solid ally, but people refused to believe I had changed, and continued to harass, bully, and blacklist me. I was terrified of what came next. If I was being bullied so horribly even after shedding transphobia, how would they treat me now that I was transgender? I was afraid to face my transgender identity, and definitely afraid to make it public, so I shoved myself in the closet. I was scared that I wouldn't be taken seriously, that my past would be used to negate and invalidate my identity (and it was). I don't think I ever made an official coming-out. I just slowly and quietly started discussing my gender identity and seeking out online communities.

The moral of that story is (or at least I hope it to be), give people a chance and the benefit of the doubt. I was stubborn about my ignorance, yes, but I feel like no one gave me a chance to right myself. I don't excuse my ignorance, but I shouldn't have had to be afraid of my progress (for a time, I adopted an alternate online identity because I actually didn't feel safe publicly trying to learn—I felt like if others saw that I was listening and trying to change, they would try to compromise it so that their transphobic accusations would remain true) and afraid of finding and publicising my own transgender identity. The fact that I felt like I was forced to be in the closet because somehow my past ignorance forbade my identity is...is extremely wrong. It's rather horrifying, in a way. Granted, my case is unusual—from transphobic to transgender—but it is not impossible. I'm here now, aren't I? Trying to use what I've learned from both sides of transphobia to help eradicate it.

I've experienced a good deal of transphobia (mostly, stereotypically, from my Conservative and Catholic communities—hence, this Conservative-directed anti-transphobia campaign). It's frankly some kind of amazing to see a reflection of myself, in a way, to see how I thought then turned back on me. I go back in my mind and remember what I used to feel and think, and try to bring that forward in my dealings with others. I keep calm and patient, something I wish more people would have done, and I don't immediately jump on the offense because I know that anger will not miraculously open them up to me. I try to put my passions aside and talk it through, help them come to understand that there might be a problem. I've encountered people who immediately are shut down. What do I do? Well, what CAN I do? When it's clear I can't possibly get anywhere with them, it's not worth trying. I just say, “Okay, that's your opinion” and I move on. Are their opinions wrong? Yes, but pressing the issue isn't going to solve it. Remember what I said about persistence: it is perceived as badgering, it gets overwhelming, and it just makes the transphobe retreat into their comfortable ignorance. Sometimes, you can fight on their level—by this, I mean use their beliefs to support your claim. Point out hypocrisy, I suppose. For example, when debating (not that there is anything to debate) transgender identity in my Conservative community, I like to call up the belief of individuality. One of the fundamental beliefs in Conservatism is the right to freedom and autonomy of the individual. We disagree with others interfering with our right to live as we wish. “Why, then, should we criticise transgender people? Shouldn't they be allowed to live as they wish, too? What are Conservatives, then? Aren't we supposed to be the party of 'to each their own'? 'It's not my business'? 'Live and let live'?”

Transphobia sucks. But I believe that the cure begins with the treatment—that how we dispel it begins with how we handle it. I believe it is partly our responsibility, because how we handle it, how we react to it, affects how ignorant people act. Negativity begets negativity. Reacting with anger is not going to make transphobes act with kindness. It's perfectly understandable and perfectly okay to be offended, hurt, and frustrated. But letting these negative emotions fuel negative actions isn't going to solve anything—in fact, it will only achieve the opposite effect. I sure got people frustrated in my day, and I'm sorry I did, but I wish people could understand that...I couldn't understand then. I just wasn't aware, and no amount of anger was going to make me aware. People can't be forced to see what they aren't ready to see, and they aren't going to understand why you're upset with them, but they are going to translate that into perceived attacks. They get defensive and end up completely shutting down.

I am not, in any way, defending transphobia with this article, but merely explaining the transphobic perspective. We should care about the transphobic perspective, because then we can figure out how best to change it. Ignorant and phobic people cannot see the error of their thoughts and ways just because you tell them to. It's not something you can just switch off. It takes a long time to turn them around, a lot of patience and care. If they want to change, it will not be a smooth ride. They'll falter, but try not to tear them down when they do. You'll encounter people who just can't or won't open their minds. They can be very frustrating, sometimes purposely so. When you feel yourself reaching anger, just leave it alone and walk away. You're not going to get anywhere with them if you stay and fight.

However, don't let them colour your view of ignorant people, strange as that sounds. No two transphobes are alike. You'll meet people who don't want to learn, but you'll also find people who are capable of learning, but don't know how or weren't given the opportunity. Please realise that transphobia is not a one-size-fits-all issue, and transphobes are not universally hopeless. Even stubborn ones can be changed, but this change cannot happen if you treat them like they're completely incapable of it. Remember my case, how stubbornly ignorant I was, but how much I've changed—and how terrified I was because I felt like I had been permanently placed in a “do not touch; will not change” category, and thus could not be allowed to change my views or acknowledge my own transgender identity. I think it's important to consider that there may indeed be a trans person hidden within a transphobe.

#Trans #transgender #transphobia #transphobes #Lgbt #lgbtqia #queer #gender #gender identity #conservatives against transphobia

[b-afterhours]

Sympathy For The Devil (part 4)

summary: Set in 1978, Bill a young yet accomplish cop takes on the crime in New York City. Nervous yet excited to take on his first big task at his new department and prove himself. He soon finds out his partner is everything he had least expected.

warnings: strong language, mentions of sex acts, mentions/use of drugs

author’s note: did you all know that 250 dollars in 1978 is just shy of a grand in today’s money? also this chapter is a lil longer than the rest so sit back, it’s a ride.

also if you’re seeing this for the first time you can read part one here and if you need to catch up on previous chapters go here.

tags: @kikilikes @itsbillskarsgard @imaginingyournotsolikelyfuture  

In the hazy, private room at the disco, the party was still going strong. Before, Bill knew it, he was on his 7th drink but feeling none of the effects of it. He was high. And goodness, this was the most Star ever heard him speak her whole week with him. He was actually annoying her. Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gee’s began to play and she decided to use it to pull Bill away for a bit.

“Oh I love this song,” she really didn’t care for it, actually. “Will you dance with me Jax, please?”

“Star, I don’t-”

“Pretty, please? Just this one song?”

“I actually gotta piss. Excuse me,” he said to Nance, still on his lap. He walked to the back of the room where the bathroom was by himself. He didn’t realize he was holding it so bad.

“I’ll dance with you, baby,” Randi said to her.

“I just really want some honey, from my honey,” she winked at Randi and excused herself as well.

Star busted through the men’s bathroom door and leaned back on it holding it closed with her body. Bill jumped at the sight of her, tilting his body away to cover his dick.

“Christ. This is the men’s bathroom what the hell are you doin’?” He griped.

“Are you gonna be cool?” She asked. “I mean, really, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I feel great,” he zipped up his pants.

“Just don’t overdo it, B’.”

“I won’t okay?” He quickly washed his hands and met her right at the door. “You did good tonight, Star,” he held her small head in his damp large hands. “Like really fucking good.”

“God, you’re higher than heaven,” she laughed at him. “But thank you.”

“No thank you,” he kissed her forehead.

She smiled at him when he pulled away and then hugged him tightly. She was never praised like this outside of what she could do sexually. She had never felt this kind of affection. It was sweet from the heart. Even if it was just friendly, it felt nice. And besides Bill was high.

“Alright,” she let go of him, “they think we’re foolin’ in here so mess with your zipper while we walk out, okay?”

Bill did so and the night went on. He asked Randi for the time while taking it upon himself, to give himself a bump. Four AM, he told him. And then it dawned on Bill, Star had court at 10 am. He looked over at her dancing having a good time, she caught him looking, and dragged him to his feet. The shitty thing is that he didn’t want to leave and also the fact that he didn’t care how dumb he looked dancing. And dancing to Brick House by The Commodores, no less. With Star, the brick house, as Randi pronounced her. She turned around, shaking her bum right on his hips. He knew he overdid it with the blow when his hand traveled to her waist, holding her close to his body. For his sake, she was helping him keep the rhythm of the beat. Bill took her hand and spun her out and back in to face him. She positioned herself between one of his legs and held on to his hips as they moved together on her lead.

“I thought you didn’t know how to dance?” She laughed.

“Just following you,” he laughed with her.

Before they knew it, another hour had passed. And Bill knew they really needed to leave. They said goodbye to the party but not before he got several kisses on the cheek by some of the girls. Outside, they finally got to take a breath of fresh air. They walked a few blocks before Star stopped him at Harlem River Park, taking a seat on a bench, to rest her sore feet.

“I saw some taxi’s out around, I’ll hail one in a second,” Bill said pulling two cigarettes out his pack. Putting both of them in his mouth and lighting them, handing the extra to Star.

“You had fun, huh?” Star said exhaling a trail of smoke. Bill shrugged with a smirk on. He was still buzzing on his high, he couldn’t even sit down. “’Bout time you did. You’re wound tight, kid.”

“I’m wound tight?” He pointed at his chest.

“Yes, Bill ‘Jax’ Skarsgard, you are. When’s the last time you got laid?”

“That’s, that’s not appropriate,” he shook his head.

“Oh c’mon,” she rolled her eyes. “And don’t feel bad, I haven’t been laid in a while either.”

“What? You?” He said shocked considering.

“Yeah, me? What?” Her brows furrowed. “What exactly do you think I do? You seen what I get paid, pussy costs more than bills.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he looked away.

“I asked you a question?”

“Fine, what do you do with those sleazy guys in the alley, Star?”

She shook her head, offended “I show them my tits, I play with myself in front of them sometimes. But that costs extra… Mostly they just like me to watch them beat off and have some nice conversation. Everyone’s got something, Bill. No one's perfect,” her eyes went glassy. “They could easily, find themselves a shrink or somethin’. But they come to me. Because I do something for them. They want me.” She quickly wiped at the tears that brimmed over her eyes.

“Star… Christ. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Don’t you want to be needed?”

“It’s too late,” she sighed. “I fucked it all up for myself. I’m good alone, I take care of myself. That’s why when I get paid for this job, I’m leaving it all. I’m gonna make myself new. Because that’s what I deserve. I don’t need to be needed, Bill. I need to be new,” her voice cracked and quickly she looked away, collecting herself. Bill’s heart sank, he wanted to hold her, he wanted her to cry. She always held it in. But again, Bill had no idea how many times she cried before they ever met. Had to have been a lot with how quickly she could stop it. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know why I brought this all up. It’s not your problem. I’m still buzzin’.”

“I have my problems too. It’s okay,” he said trying to comfort her. “I understand now, I’m sorry. For thinking, whatever I thought and for not even bothering to really ask. Really, Star. You’ll make it out of here, I know you will. I mean I left Newark, it’s just a hop away but it was a start for me. When I left, I was running from hurt too. A girl broke my heart, there. Said I was neglecting her since I worked so much. I didn’t know what to do, because I love my job. It was hard… I went home one-day last year. She took all her stuff even tried to take my cat! It took until then, to realize she didn’t love me anymore. When I had noticed it a few months before I just didn’t want to believe it. And even then, I still wanted to love her,” he felt a lump forming in his throat and paused.

“I’m so sorry, Bill.”

“God,” he looked up to the sky, collecting himself, it was fading to a lighter shade of navy. “But really, it’s nothing like what you’ve been through. And you’re so young, Star. But it’s also a good thing because you have time. Me,” he pointed at his chest, “I’m almost 30 years old. I thought coming here I’d have it made. I still got a long way to go and I’m not getting any younger.”

“Bill, I seriously, can not figure out why you’re a cop? You’re too good for the station you’re at. Every pig, not saying you,” she said remembering his rule, “is an asshole. Worse than the people they lock up. I see what they do. In fact, I know what they do.”

“I mean, it’s what my dad did,” he shrugged. “I don’t know what else I could do, to be honest.”

“Well, I’ll help you brainstorm something before our time is up.”

Time… Bill thought. Fuck, they still needed to get home. “We gotta go,” Bill said taking her hand and walking out to the street for a cab.

“What’s wrong?” She said alarmed by his urgency.

“You have court in the morning,” he said finally hailing down a taxi.

“I’ve got what now?” She said shocked.

“I’ll explain, okay. But we gotta get some sleep,” he opened the door for her. …

The hotel clock alarm blared, screeching at them violently. They had maybe two hours of sleep and they had to force it. It was a long night, way too long, and it was a ride of all kinds of emotion. Bill didn’t know what it meant for their partnership? Today was a new day, after all. But for the first time, in a long time, he felt like he had a friend in the city. Who would have thought a few months ago when moving his first friend would be a literal delinquent.

“Bill! For god sake! Shut it off!” Star groaned putting a pillow over her head.

He lazily, turned over, slamming his hand over the alarm clock. His head was pounding and the bed was so warm and comfortable, he was almost mad he had to get out. He got up and ripped the sheets off Star in her bed.

“C’mon, we’re gonna suffer together today,” he chuckled lightly when she curled up to conserve her warmth.

They both took turns showering, scrambling around each other to get ready. Star pulled a little baggy of coke from the boots she wore last night and started cutting lines on the nightstand.

“Are you serious?” Bill said shaking his head, appalled.

“I already look like fuckin’ shit?!” She cried out. “Just one, to wake up.”

“Randi give you that? You’re going to court high, for real, Star?”

“You said I just tell the judge, I’m a CI and he says, ‘see ya’, right?”

Bill sighed, “So? And do you got anything more modest to wear?” He pointed at her.

“Can you leave me alone? It’s too early for you trying to pick fights,” she tightly rolled a dollar bill.

“You can’t go in a slip dress and go-go boots?”

“Well, I have nothin’ else,” she leaned into her thick line and snorted it. “God,” she relished in the feeling as she wiped her nose. “Here, I made a line for you too.”

“I’m not…” he shook his head.

“It’s a thin line. I’m just trying to help you. You’ll feel better,” she held out the rolled bill towards him.

Bill ran a hand through his hair, stressed for a second. “Fine, fuck,” he gave in. “But I’m getting you something else to wear on the way. I’m not gonna let my CI look unprofessional,” he took the rolled Bill and snorted his line.

“Bill, me walkin’ in like this is nothin’ when the reason I’m going to court is for indecency.”

“Don’t care,” he lolled his head back, feeling the drug taking its effect. Shit was better than coffee.

Bill stopped by the clothing store right by and ran in to get Star something to wear in no time. He parked on the street right outside the courthouse, feeding the meter, while Star changed in the car. The passenger door slammed, when he turned around, he was met with Star’s grumpy face. He had gotten her a nice baby pink, peter pan dress with a white collar.

“I look like a literal child,” she said upset.

Bill smirked. “Looks better on you than I thought,” he laughed.

She flipped him off, earning a gasp from a few elderly women walking by. “I wouldn’t even put this on a dog.”

“Quit your pouting. Go, before you’re late. I’ll be right at the diner,” he pointed behind her. “I’ll watch for you.”

“Just in an out? I’m not going to jail again, right?” He could feel her feet dragging as he walked her to the door.

“No jail. In and out, I promise.” He chuckled to himself watching her walk in. He was being an ass getting her that dress, he knew she wouldn’t like it. But he had to do coke last night and he didn’t want to do that either. But here he was, high at 9:30 in the morning. He put on tortoiseshell circle sunglass, he bought along with the dress and jogged across the street weaving through the cars and cabs.

He ordered a black coffee, not like he needed it though. And picked the perfect booth right in sight of the door to the courthouse. Skimming the morning paper, helped him feel a bit normal despite being high. Stan arrived shortly, greeting him and sliding into the booth seat.

“You’re lookin’ a little worse for wear? You alright?” Stan asked him after the waitress took their order.

“Who me?”

“Yeah, you. I can see it, in your eyes,” he pointed a finger at them. “You out late working?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “But I got some names.” He said steering the conversation away from himself. “Star’s actually doing a good job, she really worked to get these.” Bill slid a new little notepad across the table with the info he got last night.

“Wow, you guys are really kickin’ ass and takin’ names, huh?” He pointed at Ron’s name. “Gina told us about this guy, still haven’t found him. I have a feeling he’s on to more than most people think. And this Randi, with an ‘I’? What the hell is that about? Haven’t heard his name yet, this is good Bill.”

“Oh, that’s all Star. That guy had a whole pile of the stuff, last night. She’s familiar with him or rather he’s familiar with her.”

Stan chuckled, “Who isn’t familiar with Star.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. They just seem to have known each other for a bit. They’re friends.”

“Oh, c’mon Bill. You don’t think Randi with a fuckin’ ‘I’ hasn’t tapped that?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said coming to her defense. The tension was momentarily broken when the waitress set their food down.

“Well,” Stan said eagerly cutting into his steak and eggs, “if she’s not fucking him, she probably suckin’ his cock.”

Bill was losing his appetite and he didn’t even have one, to begin with. “Listen, Stan. I don’t want to hear about cock suckin’ or whatever the hell okay? I’ve been spending time with her, I know what she does and doesn’t do. So knock it.” He was surprised that he was even talking to his superior like this but he was right.

“Sheesh. Her attitudes really rubbed off on you,” he said with a full mouth. “Since you’re spending all that time with her, might as well get your cock sucked. You need to relax. I mean if I had to spend day and night with her I would, for my pain and suffering,” he laughed.

Bill shook his head, unamused. “I’m just sayin’, Stan.”

“Well then, I’m just sayin’ too, Bill.” He pointed at Bill’s untouched plate with his fork, “you gonna eat?”

He took a sip of his coffee, he was done with the bullshit. “I’m just trying to do my job well. And with all these names, I’m doin’ a good job, right? You even said so. I’ve been making more progress in a week then what I’ve seen the department do in the few months I’ve been there. And the woman you all happen to hassle and like to talk about like you all do? Is the one pulling this game ya got her to do.”

“Alright, fine. But you know why, right?” He set his silverware down and leaned forward. “Cause she’s on the street hanging around these rat bastards. And don’t get too keen on her Bill, she’s a whore. The literal definition. Don’t go believing she sees you as a friend, either. You’re just another jawn to her,” Stan pulled out an envelope from his suit pocket. “See, Star’s money for the first week,” he slid it across the table. “Payin’ her just like a jawn. Remember, where you’re at. This is New York fuckin’ City, watch your back, kid. CI or not, a whore is a whore,” he gave Bill an ugly smug smile.

Bill was biting his tongue so hard, making the conscious effort to not scowl, he swore he tasted blood. He glanced across the street, Star was just stepping out of the courthouse. He put his shades back on and picked up the envelope.

“See you, Stan – told Star, I would meet her when she got out.”

“You didn’t even touch your food?”

“I’ll get it to-go,” he waved the waitress over and put a few bills down on the table.

“Didn’t mean to upset you,” Stan straightened his tie. “But frankly, that’s what Angela is. Sorry to break it to ya, kid.”

“It’s Star,” he put his light leather jacket on.

“What?”

“It’s not Angela, it’s Star. You don’t know her like that. See you around,” he gave him a little two-finger salute and grabbed his to-go box before heading out.

Star spotted Bill, walking out the diner, and waved at him from across the street. Seeing her in the pink dress again fixed his mood.

“Sorry if I took long,” she said when he got to her.

“Nah, you were right on time. Why? Somethin’ happen?”

“Yeah, some junkie was resisting his sentencing, held up the line. The judge actually saw me in his office. You were right, in an out.”

“See, told you,” he opened the car door for her. “I have some food for you,” he handed her his to-go box when he got in.

“Oh great, I’m freakin’ starving. Did you eat well?”

“Huh?” he said lighting up a smoke. He took a deep puff to calm himself down. “Oh yeah,” he finally replied. Star opened the box and began eating the toast and bacon inside. “Actually, can I get a bite of that,” he grabbed her wrist and brought the toast she held to his mouth.

“Did you really eat? Sometimes doin’ blow makes your appetite screwy,” she said through chewing.

“I’m fine for now. I just want to sleep.”

“Well let’s go. Those beds at the hotel feel like heaven.”

“Oh,” Bill pulled Stars check from his pocket, “we should probably cash this first.”

“Is this my money?” She said happily.

“Told you I’d make sure you’d get it. This is just for the first week for all the hard work you’ve done. You’ll get another next week.”

“Wow, real honest money. Well… not really cause I’m a big rat now,” she laughed. She ripped open the envelope after marveling at it and her jaw dropped. “This, this can’t be, right? Two hundred and fifty dollars?”

“Two hundred and fifty!?” Even Bill was shocked. He didn’t even get paid that much a week. “Well, I’ll be,” he said taking a glance at her check.

“After cashing this and nap, I’ll buy a beer for the both of us.”

“Thanks for saying so. I really didn’t wanna have to beg.” He said laughing with her.

Bill drove back to the hotel, the shitty things Stan said about Star still running through his head. He glanced at her, she was nodding along to the music playing on the radio as she ate a piece of bacon. Everything Stan said, was fuckin’ wrong, he thought. It was all wrong.

PART FIVE  

#bill skarsgard #my bill writings #70s bill

[snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales]

Crisis Averted

A/N: These are just a few scenes that popped into my head, as the story progresses, they will fit in. Possibly even send in your requests for the duo! You will see some new faces that are OC’s of mine. There won’t be many, and the parts will be minor, so far.

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Word Count: 1,445

Warnings: None that I know of. Light swearing?

Xxx

You met at the FBI academy.

For weeks now two particular students had caught your eye, and for two completely opposite reasons.

One of the fellow students simply excelled way too much and way too fast at everything. There was no way anyone was just that good, no matter who you’re related to.

The other was a gangly, sarcastic yet in a good way, boy who seemed to push a friendship with the first after seeing him excel so fast.

It wasn’t too odd, you thought, wanting to be best buds with the “it” guy, but the friendship seemed to be unrequited, if not somewhat hostile, at the beginning. You would see them arguing in the corner, the one staring in a bored way as the other flailed unnecessarily for emphasis on his topics. One time this seemed to go too far, and maybe it was just the lighting, but you could have sworn the guys already pronounced canines seemed to be a bit longer, a bit sharper for just a second, his eyes seeming to turn gold as he turned away to look out the window at the dying sunlight behind them, and the grip on his backpack shoulder looked so tight that it might rip the material simply by clenching too hard.

Mr. Sarcastic had gulped, but other than that had remained calm as you sat wide eyed, glued to your chair across the room, watching the whole exchange. The rational half of your brain had excuses for everything it had seen, whereas the fantastical part was spinning at a million miles an hour, racking your brain for any and every supernatural, sci-fi, and fantasy movie you had ever seen to see if you had indeed seen what you had saw.

And if you had seen what you had saw, that meant you had to have seen something not meant to be seen, a rare sight, a glimpse of the unknown that seemed to stare back at you, even though his back was literally to you.

The three of you were the only ones left in the classroom, and summoning an unknown reserve of courage, you gripped your own backpack strap over your shoulder and marched over, tapping the brooding one on the shoulder as the sarcastic one sputtered in search of words most likely of distraction.

A low growl came from the first one, and he spun to face you, the glimmer you had seen in his eyes back for just long enough that your natural instincts kicked in, and you punched him right in the nose.

“Well, this can’t be good,” the sarcastic one mumbled, before offering you his hand. “Hey. I’m Stiles. By the way. And welcome to my world.” He gestured vaguely to the brooding one still holding his nose, jaw dropped on shock. “This is Jace, by the way.” The other one let out another growl, causing Stiles to scowl at him. “Be nice.”

Xxx

And that is how you and Stiles Stilinski became partners in crime at the FBI academy. You are like animal control for the werewolves, going around in a squad car, a SWAT van if you were lucky, and picking them up after full moons, and all that fun stuff. Stiles wanted to call you the “Supernatural Task Force United”, which made you chuckle only to cause a raised eyebrow be sent your way from him as he drove your latest save home.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“You do realize the acronym for that is STFU?”

Stiles’ jaw dropped, staring at the road ahead as the street lights passed by, his mouth finally moving to try and make speech, but only peculiar sounds came out, making you chuckle.

“Okay, smart ass, you think of a new one. Sing me the alphabet, and I will pick a letter, only start-“

“Start with ‘F’ and end with ‘U’?” You grinned at him as he let out a frustrated growl, punching the gas for no reason.

“You take all the fun out of everything ever. Like in the the universe, everything that is funless,” he pointed at you, eyes not leaving the road, one hand still on the wheel, “your fault.”

“Stop being dramatic, you’re acting like that Hale dude you introduced me to.”

“Which one?”

“Well…. Both. But I was referring to the younger one.”

“Derek.”

“I just call him ‘Dramatic’.” Stiles snorted a laugh. “And if anything, we are more like the cleanup crew for the mess that seems to follow you.”

“Follows us. I dragged you into this, I plan to continue to do so for the long haul and you gotta admit, you are kinda a magnet for problems of the supernatural variety.”

“Gee, thanks,” You huffed, looking out your window as you reached the edge of the woods. “Anyway, we are more like maids than a task force.”

“Don’t make me sing the alphabet.”

Xxx

You could hear Lydia through the phone even over the din that filled the space, wincing for what you imagined Stiles’ eardrums must have felt at the moment. Not really that you could blame her. Girl was a banshee, and she had some impressive pipes. “I keep hearing a-” she was cut off by the ominous loud noise on Stiles’ end, and knowing what it was yourself still wasn’t any kind of comfort. “That. I keep hearing a that. What is that, Stiles?”

He looked at you with his lips pulled into a thin line, and you wanted to shrink into the floor for him. “Um, we’re at the shooting range letting the new Beta let off some steam-”

He winced as her voice raised to a dangerous, near banshee level pitch. “Stiles! Stop it now! Someone is going to-”

“Die, I know, I get that since you started off the call with ‘I think someone is going to die’.” He rolled his eyes, making you stifle a laugh, sending a wayward glance at said Beta. They knew how to handle a gun, top in their class, you weren’t too worried.

“Stiles-”

He sighed exasperatedly. “How do I stop him?”

“Use your bat!” You cringed, knowing where the hole in that plan was.

“I, uh….”

“Stiles?”

He let out a defeated and agitated huff, rubbing the back of his neck. “They confiscated it from me for using it on a different Beta last week who was getting way too obsessed with turning his eyes on and off.”

Silence filled the air, and you couldn’t blame her. Dude had been weird. So his eyes glowed, so what? You had wanted to scream at him, “YOU JUST BECAME A WEREWOLF AND THIS IS THE FASCINATING PART TO YOU?!”

“Yeah, these wolves are weird. Makes me miss home.”

You reach out and kicked his shin lightly, knitting your eyebrows together on a glare sent his way, and he simply shrugged.

“Wow, that bad, huh?”

“They make me…. Sometimes I…. I miss Theo.”

Wait, he what?

“……I’ll come get you this weekend.” Lydia’s tone was understanding, and forgiving of the previous misunderstanding.

He sighed, closing his eyes, a small smile on his face. “Thank you. That almost made me throw up to say.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. Theo wasn’t all that bad, but still, you understood what he meant.

“I know.” Lydia sounded like she was smiling, probably thinking the same thing you were.

“Like, I seriously hate that dude.”

“We all kinda do.”

“These Betas are like, worse than baby Beta Scott.”

The line was quiet, almost heavy and tense.

“…..I’ll come get you now.”

Before she could hang up, Scott’s voice was heard in the background, “I wasn’t that bad was I?” Followed shortly by a loud, masculine sigh which you could only assume was Derek.

Pocketing his phone, you walked up to him with your hands behind your back. “Hey, slugger. I felt bad about being a crappy lookout last week, and-”

“Yeah, you owe me a bat.”

You glowered at him, bringing your arms to your front and producing a brand new aluminum bat. The anger on your face couldn’t stay with the beaming smile and awe filled eyes he had at seeing it, and you felt your own smile coming on.

A round of shots sounded from behind you, and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to restrain yourself from using the bat on the Beta yourself.

Opening them to look Stiles in the eyes again, you grinned. “Go nuts.”

“Oh,” he said, taking the bat and twirling it with a roll of his wrist, turning towards the lycanthrope at your back and leveling his gaze their way. “I plan to.”

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