#Just this lack of judgement and ability to not have to shave down all of your sharp edges for one another

[azol-otl]

Random Jason Hijinks I either wish would happen someday or find amusing to think about.

Rose and Jason break Eddie out of hell and steal his soul back from Neron. Jaime is dragged along by Rose because he and Eddie were “friends a few reboots ago”. Jason asked Roy who sent him Connor who is suffering™.

Pre-Red Hood Jason and Pre-Green Arrow Connor first meet up back when Jason was part of the All-Caste hunting a demon. It’s a one-shot adventure and the things you have to know are:  

a) this is before Jason’s growth spurt so he’s over a head shorter than Connor.

b) Connor isn’t a cape so excuse him for not understanding demons and fucking up hilariously a few times.

c) When Jason tries to kill the demon who is possessing the human, he and Connor fight about it. The fight ends when the demon explodes out of the person like the Pus of Man from Dark Souls 3.

d) Talia is the one who finds and picks up Jason from the adventure (Connor thinks she’s his mom and Jason just didn’t inherit the melanin) and is also the one who gives Connor contact information for Jason because she wants him to have some sort of friend.

e) They never actually learned the other’s name so anytime they’d hear about Red Hood or Green Arrow they literally don’t know it’s that guy they met as teenagers.

Jason decides to actually dust off his mystic training when Dick walks in and Jason gets hit with so many bad vibes he’s genuinely worried something is wrong with Dick.  

Jason: “Did they not fix the Brother Blood mind control thing fully? Did Raven miss something? Isn’t Dick friends with a million people? How have they all missed this????”

It ends with bringing Danny Chase back to life and the only person remotely happy about it is Jason and even that’s a stretch.

Rose, why are you part of the Wild Hunt?!!!

What do you mean Biz got taken by the fae?!

Roy, why is this werewolf saying he’s your husband?!

Eddie, why didn’t you tell me you were a prince of hell? What do you mean that one of Trigon’s sons is buried in Gotham?!!! No wait, you still haven’t told me how you’re a prince of hell!

Jason and Talia's road trip where Jason comes to the uncomfortable realization that he views Talia as a mother/aunt figure.

Bonus Artemis suffering Jason’s Mom Has it Going On.

Jason gets a new dog named Ellie and he loves her and Dog very much. What do you mean she’s a Blue Lantern!?

Ellie is short for Elpis and she’s absolutely Hope Corgi.

Roy finds out that he has a whole-ass checking account under one of his aliases that he never knew about. Turns out Jason created it for him years ago and Roy’s actually under W.E.  employed as an independent contractor and he’s been making 6 figures for years because Jason never bothered telling anyone that he still owns Wayne R&D.

Jason slowly but surely claims Park Row and the surrounding areas as his territory. It has the unforeseen consequence of magical folk moving into the neighborhood because Gotham is a nightmare to live in normally, Magic Gotham is even worse and the only people who can survive are big hitters like Blood, Zatanna, and Ivy or small fries like the kitchen witch near Leslie’s. Welcome to the big leagues, Jason.

Jason keeps getting mistaken for Jason Blood and it is annoying. One day some demon hunters threw something at Jason and did anyone know Jason used to be in heaven because he sure didn’t and these angel wings are a fucking nightmare.

Rose busts a gut laughing because she somehow became friends with the least demon-y demon Eddie and Jason as an angel.

Jason, Ivy, Sideways, and Impulse (Impulse voice: “Why am I even here?”) vs the Madness Wavelength in Arkham.

Jason kills Joker and finds out that he cannot. Not as in “He doesn’t die” or “There will be a new one” but a secret third option, “The universe literally resets the day every time he’s killed.” Instead of being a tragedy, it becomes a comedy as killing Joker slowly becomes Jason’s go-to when shit goes wrong/killing him is good stress relief. Stephanie discovers what happens because she’s had to write the same essay nine times once. Instead of being horrified they (and then Helena, Tim, Duke, etc.) make killing Joker a gag. The only ones not allowed to kill the Joker are Dick and Bruce because then the universe decides it’s the bad timeline instead of just resetting again.

Tim: *drops his latte on a hot guy and then embarrasses himself in public trying to apologize and becomes a meme.*

Tim: I guess I have to kill Joker now.

Jason and Kory remeeting and wow it’s really awkward that we only got close because of a universe meddler and then you dipped and never contacted me again even though I was a hundred percent serious that you were one of my first friends and are very important to me.

Oh no. Not the talking. Not communication! Kory take mercy on me and just drop me like a bad memory don’t have us open a dialogue where we reconcile all of the bullshit that happened to us and the fact that we did genuinely get close at very low points in our lives and be willing to try and be friends again!

Give! Kory! All! The! Friends! She doesn’t care if you think it’s a bad idea, it's her life!

Gotham Vigilante Tabletop Club (GVTC) featuring Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Duke, Helena, and Harper. They each get a turn as dm and every one of them brings in a different game.

Why is Damian’s friend (Colin) asking me for love advice? I’m a gay disaster ask anyone else please. ??? I guess I can try to help??? Who’s your crush?

It’s Lian and Jason regrets agreeing to help because Roy is going to murder him.

Countdown 2 Electric Boogaloo. Except for this time they were all shoved into the dimension separately and by separate events and there is no danger. It is just a multiversal road trip with the people who vexed you greatly but are slightly grown up now.

Bonus scene includes Jason’s gleeful face when he realizes he understands what all of those words Donna keeps muttering under her breath mean because Artemis was a bro and taught him Themysciran Greek.

#I didn't mean for all of them to sound like comedies but sometimes that just happens #People may hate on the all-caste for not being Jason enough or whatever #But have we ever stopped to think that Damian is related to an immortal cult and Duke is the son of an eldritch being #And Dick is related to an unrelated cult and just all the weird shit that happens in Gotham anyways? #Why can all these exist and Jason not also have mystic monk training he never uses #Listen I don't know much about Gotham's magic population but I'm pretty sure the place is awful to live in with the nine different curses #So having a dude that's basically a mage-killer claim a territory can only be a good thing for their safety #Plus I'm positive that magic folk would keep property values low because who would go looking for magic users in Park Row #Everyone was written terribly for rhato but Jason and Kory had the potential to be a really interesting relationship #Just this lack of judgement and ability to not have to shave down all of your sharp edges for one another #also I do really like the idea of them trying romance or sex and then deciding that they need friends more and then staying friends #Gotham Vigilante Tabletop Club my beloved #Look Duke and Tim canonically play tabletop games and if dc would finally acknowledge that Stephanie and Jason are nerds they would too #I miss Colin and the idea of him and Jason being disaster siblings or disaster guardian-child is important to me #I don't know if it's canon but considering linguistic drift Themyscira should either have its own language or dialect #and Donna should use it to say mean things under her breath #Jason Todd #I am not tagging anyone else their tags deserve to be Bat-Free #oh boy do I love how I can't make indents in even in html. Sorry for the eyesore whoever reads this mess

[thewhiskersonkittens]

Wild

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Female Reader.

Summary: You have a crush on Maverick that he finds out about. To your surprise, he likes you too! Only he needs to know you have a “wild side” to you otherwise it won’t work. ;)

Warnings: Fluff, romantic, some sexual dialogue, some curse words, a drug reference.

Word Count: 4,629.

A/N: This took me FOREVER AND A DAY to write. I think the concept was better in my head than actually typed out. 😖

Hope you enjoy! :)

It was the slightest, simplest things about a man that had an uncanny ability to turn you on. Pete "Maverick" Mitchell was his name. All day you couldn't stop staring at his shirtless and ripped torso, bronzed from the California sun.

It looked he had foolishly neglected putting on sunscreen because his shoulders and neck were starting to turn red but you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to rub some aloe vera on him. Why he chose to wear blue jeans to play beach volleyball in was definitely another lack in judgement but you had to bite your bottom lip with desire. There was something about the way the Levis were slung low on his hips. You could see a slight "happy trail" starting below his belly button and that journeyed down out of sight but certainly not out of your mind.

Maverick and his friend Nick "Goose" Bradshaw were playing against fellow Navy aviators Tom "Iceman" Kanzansky and Ron "Slider" Kerner. You were watching alongside your friend, Jen. Jen had her eye on the frosty blonde Iceman after meeting him at the officer's club. She had initially dragged you there against your will but now you felt eternally grateful.

Slider hit the ball over the net and Maverick didn't get there in time to keep the other side from scoring. Slider let out boisterous cheer as the ball and Maverick hit the sand.

It was what happened next that had your heart racing. Recovering the ball, Maverick stood up in slow motion, or time had suddenly slowed down, you weren't really sure which. He peered over the bridge of his aviator sunglasses, shooting a brief competitive glare at his opponents before pushing his shades back up. It was one of those moments that made you question your sanity. Was it the way his tan skin glistened in the sun? Was it the way his dog tags were slung around his neck and over his back? Was it his jet black hair, the dark thick eyebrows, the shaving shadow that graced the lower half of his face? You didn't know for sure but you knew something about it turned you on something fierce. You wondered what the hell was wrong with you. Maybe you were crazy? Maybe you were ovulating? Maybe you were just being a completely normal girl with an undeniable crush?

Jen looked over and saw where all your attention was focused. She gave you a playful nudge.

"You see something you like or just browsing, Y/N?"

You rolled your eyes and returned the nudge but you were smiling.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jen." You were never good at lying.

Your friend laughed.

"Oh, c'mon, girl. You're thirsty as hell for the dark haired Adonis over there." Jen nodded her head toward Maverick's direction.

"He's a little short for my taste but he sure is easy on the eyes." She added.

"Hey, I'm barely over five foot, myself." You said. "So, he's plenty tall to me."

Jen laughed again. "So you admit it?!"

She swung her legs around to turn and face you on the bench.

"You like Maverick!" She exclaimed a little too loud for your comfort.

You quickly glanced back at the guys and saw they were still playing the game.

Turning back, you slapped her knee.

"Jen!" You hushed. "Keep your voice down!"

Jen wouldn't be stopped.

"You like Maverick! You like Maverick!" She sing-songed. "Y/N and Maverick sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

You shut your eyes and face palmed your forehead. You loved your best friend to death but she was a pro at making you suffer second hand embarrassment at her cringe-y ways.

"Oh my God, Jen," You said after opening your eyes. "How old are you?! Ten?!"

Ignoring the rhetorical question, Jen leaned in.

"You think about him, don't you?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"You think about him in bed, don't you?"

Your jaw dropped but you didn't answer. You knew she knew the answer.

There was many a night you laid wide awake in bed thinking about the handsome pilot. But unbeknownst to your friend, the fantasies weren't always the dirty kind. Most of them were very sweet. You imagined Maverick taking you for a ride on his motorcycle even though the thought scared you. You imagined yourself in his arms, wondering what his embrace would feel like. It seemed kind of quaint but it was your hopeless romantic side that imagined writing him love letters while he would be on deployment. Of course, you pictured him naked and what kind of lover he would be. He was a Navy man. He'd been all around the world several times. It went without saying he would be way more experienced than you. It made you want to squeeze your thighs together just thinking about all the possible things he could show you.

As if reading your mind, Jen said:

"You touch yourself to him. Don't you? You think about all the ways..."

"Jen!" You cried. You couldn't believe her sometimes.

"What?" Jen shrugged . "You can tell me. All the time, I think about climbing that tall, blonde, hot piece of ass over there. His muscle man friend isn't half bad either." She nodded toward Iceman and Slider.

You snorted. "That's because you're like a feral cat in heat. Especially around military dudes."

No matter how much you tried to get her to drop the subject, Jen wouldn't shut up. She kept teasing you about your obvious crush on Maverick, saying the most ridiculous things that sent you both into a fit of giggles.

"You think about riding him, don't you, Y/N?" Jen joked. "You'd ride him like Sea Biscuit, wouldn't you?!"

She started to pretend to ride a horse, holding an imaginary rein with one hand and slapping her side with the other.

"Yee haw! Ride 'em, cowgirl! Giddy up!"

You reached over and smacked her knees again.

"Jen, shut up!"

You looked back and saw the boys had stopped playing. They were talking to each other but if Jen kept going on like she was, they'd definitely look over.

"Jen," You told her. "I'm warning you... Shut the fuck up, Jen...I swear to God!"

Jen stopped pretending to ride a horse and instead started doing something even more embarrassing. She started to moan, pretending to have an orgasm.

"You think about him making you come...Oh, God! You think about climaxing on his dick, don't you, Y/N?! You'll be like...Oh, God! Oh, Maverick! Oh, baby, right there! Oh, God, yes! Don't stop, Mav! Oh, fuck yeah!"

At this point, you were practically wrestling with Jen, desperately trying to clamp your hand over her mouth.

"Jen, shut up or I'll shut you up myself!"

"C'mon, Y/N, you know I'm right!" She laughed dodging your attempts to silence her. She started making those obnoxious sexual noises again.

"Oh, Mavvvv...Give it to me, baby!"

You lunge and finally get a hold of her, covering her mouth with your hand. The two of you are were in an uncontrollable laughing fit. You let her go and sat back down. Jen's face was beet red with laughter as she sat back up. Suddenly, her face dropped, her eyes widened, and she immediately shut up.

The sudden change made you wrinkle your brow in confusion. Then the horror set in as you realized someone was behind you. You turned around to see Maverick standing there, grinning at the spectacle he just witnessed. He slowly lifted up his sunglasses, resting them on top of his head.

You felt like a deer in headlights. You felt an odd sensation of your stomach doing somersaults at his dazzling smile but at the same time, your heart was beating so rapidly you swore it could be heard outside your chest.

Jen quickly pulled herself together but she couldn't help but still giggle.

"Uh..Hi, Maverick," Jen said.

You just stared. Partly at how he was even better looking up close and mostly because you felt like dying of embarrassment.

"Ladies," Maverick was speaking to the two of you, yet his eyes were directly on you.

"Don't mind me. I'm just going to grab my shirt there."

You looked down and realized his white T-shirt had been laying there on your bench the whole time. You scooted over so he could pick it up.

"Thanks," He whispered to you. He was still wore a warm smile.

His green eyes never left you as he retrieved his shirt and slipped it on over his body. You felt Jen nudge you with her foot as if to say you should talk to him but you were too speechless.

Looking for an escape, Jen called out to Iceman.

"Ice! Tom! Sorry, bestie, I gotta go. See ya!"

She launched herself off the bench and started jogging towards Iceman's direction. Both you and Maverick watched as she briefly turned around and gave you a double thumbs up while running backwards.

You Bitch! You mouthed to her while Maverick's head was turned. You gave her the middle finger. Jen cackled and took off, leaving you to deal with the awkward situation alone.

Looking back to you, Maverick chuckled.

"She's a live wire, that one, huh?"

You laughed nervously.

"Yeah, you could say that."

You expected him to walk away at any moment but to your surprise he sat down next you on the bench. He sat so close you could feel the heat of your thighs touching.

"What about you?" Maverick asked.

You were confused.

"What about me?"

He smiled. You swore every time he did, your heart experienced tremors.

"Have you got a spark in you I haven't seen yet?"

You laugh. Was he...flirting with you?! You had to be dreaming.

Instead of answering, you had your own question. It was driving you crazy.

"All right," You began. "Let's cut the crap, Pete."

You preferred to call him by his real name. You knew he didn't mind.

"How much of that..." You gestured to where you and Jen had been messing around. "Did you hear?"

"Enough." He smirked. "I heard enough."

You covered your face with your hands and groan.

"Oh my God!"

Maverick reached over and gently made you uncover your face.

"Hey, it's OK, Y/N."

"No, it's not!" You exclaimed. "It's embarrassing. That's what it is."

His sweet laugh somehow put you at ease.

"I'm sorry about my friend," You tell him.

You both watch as Iceman was now demonstrating to Jen how to spin the volleyball on a single finger but you knew she wasn't really paying attention to the lesson.

"Oh, Tom, you're sooo talented!" Her voice carried over to the bench as she touched his chest and flirtatiously tossed her hair.

Turning your attention back to Maverick, you explain.

"I love her to death but...Jen can be such a trip sometimes. To be perfectly honest."

Maverick snickered. "Yeah? Well, to be perfectly honest myself, I bet Goose would say the same thing about me!"

You both laughed.

"So, let me ask you something, Y/N." Maverick said, breaking the ice again.

"What's the wildest thing you ever done?"

The question takes you by surprise.

"Excuse me, what?"

"You heard me."

You laugh searching his face to see if he was serious. He was.

"Well, I uh," You weren't sure what to say. He was watching you anticipating your answer.

You honestly never thought about it before. You were coming up short with anything.

Maverick playfully started shaking his head, tsk-ing.

"I was afraid of this..." He starts but you quickly think of something.

"No, wait!" You said. "Once, I got into a mosh-pit at a concert!"

Maverick laughs and shakes his head more.

"Uh, OK, wait." You start rattling off everything that comes to mind. "Um...when I was a kid I stole some stick-on earrings from the drugstore! In high school, I got Saturday school for ditching class..."

It was hopeless. God, I must be the most boring person on earth. You thought. To make a long story short, you were always a very good girl. You didn't like to rock the boat very much. You liked to play it safe. Maybe that's why you were such good friends with Jen and Maverick. They were both the polar opposites of you with their wild personalities.

Maverick just kept shaking his head but you knew he wasn't laughing at you.

"I once smoked a joint with Jen and some other girls." You tell him, once last ditch effort to make yourself not sound so lame.

Maverick gave a good laugh.

He whistled low as he said:

"Wow, Y/N. That's...that's really...wow. You must have given your folks a lot of early gray hairs, huh?"

You laugh and give him a nudge.

"Sorry, flyboy. That's all I got." You regard him curiously and raise an eyebrow.

"Why do you want to know?"

Maverick gives you such a smoldering look, you feel a tingling sensation in between your legs.

He beckoned to you to lean in closer to him like he was going to tell you something secret. Excited, you scooted even closer to him that your shoulders are touching. You felt his breath hot on your ear as he whispered:

"I was going to ask you out but I just don't know if I can date a stick-in-the mud."

There is a tone to his voice. He's teasing but he's also challenging you.

"Stick-in-the-mud?!" You repeated, low-key offended. You let it marinate for a second and wondered if it was painfully true. 

Maverick shrugged.

"You want me, sweetheart? You gotta keep up with me."

You gaped at his forwardness even though it really shouldn't surprise you.

"What...What makes you think I want you?"

You asked, sheepishly, but then you remember how Maverick had just seen your silly friend practically announce it to everyone within a five mile radius.

"Jen was just messing around," You say but Maverick isn't having it.

He gives you an "Are-you-kidding-me?" look.

"Sure she was." He replied, his voice was dripping with sarcasm but those gorgeous eyes of his reflected warmth.

He casually asks you if you've ever rode on a motorcycle before. You shake your head "No" but you've always wanted to. Especially with him.

"You wanna go for a ride?" Maverick offers. "Goose had to get back to his family and I've still got some daylight to burn."

You felt those tremors in your heart again. A bundle of butterflies erupted in your stomach. He could have never known how many times you've dreamed about this very moment but now here it was.

You found yourself stuttering.

"A ride?...A motorcycle ride?!...With you?!"

Maverick flashed you that wickedly, irresistible of his. That grin, you figured, must have got him out of trouble several times and dropped a whole lot of panties from the Indian Ocean to San Diego and everywhere else in between.

He leaned in again and seductively whispered:

"I can see this is dangerous for you. But I know you're tempted to...show me your wild side."

It was conveniently timed because Jen walked over to the bench and asked you if you were OK with her leaving with Iceman.

You were speaking to Jen but had your eyes squarely on Maverick when you said:

"Yeah, sure, go ahead. I got my own ride."

You knew your best friend was going to give you the third degree later but you didn't care. You had to prove to Maverick that you did indeed have a "wild side" to you.

...

At first you were hesitant to get on the Kawasaki but you got that crazy feeling again. That feeling of the slightest thing that this man did sent your heart fluttering. Maverick mounted the bike, raised the kickstand, and started the ignition. He turned to look at you and you saw yourself reflected in his aviators. You expected him to tease you again but instead he grinned and offered you his hand. Returning the smile, you slid your hand in his and got on the bike.

Maverick instructed you to hold on to his waist and you happily oblige.

"There's a place I want to show you." Maverick said as he revved the engine.

"All right," You reply.

You didn't really care where he wanted to take you at this point as long as you got to go.

Before you knew it, you were zipping past the beach and the docks. Maverick merged onto the highway and the two of you were headed somewhere north. The sensation was nothing like you've ever experienced before. Your initial nervousness was quickly replaced by pure excitement and adrenaline. As you started to feel more comfortable, you wrapped your arms tighter around Maverick's waist and rested your head on his shoulder inhaling the mixture of fresh air and the leather from his jacket.

The ride came to an end sooner than you expected. You found yourself at a lake. The moon was like a spotlight on the water, making it glisten.

"Wow," You whisper even though there wasn't a soul around. Maverick gave you his hand to help you dismount the bike. Excited, you hurried down to the bend.

You turned around to look back at Maverick. He looked like a vision leaning against his Kawasaki. He had taken off his aviators and had draped his jacket over the seat of the motorcycle.

"I never knew this place existed!" You said.

Maverick chuckled as he started walking toward you.

"A lot of people don't and I like it that way."

He stopped in front of you and you swore the moonlight was giving his dark hair a blue-ish tint. He reached down and picked up a small pebble and made it skip across the water.

"I like to come out here sometimes." He adds. "You know, just to get away from everything. Clear my mind."

You nod, understanding. "I get that."

You both take a minute to appreciate the serenity of the lake, watching the water ripple and glisten.

"It looks so nice." You softly comment about the water. "I wish I could jump in."

Maverick turns to look at you, the sly smile spreading across his face.

"Well?" He prompted. "Jump in."

You laugh. "You're kidding! I'd get my clothes all wet..."

You trailed off when you realized exactly what he was getting at.

"Oh no!" You cried waving your index finger back and forth as Maverick starts laughing.

He reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt off in one swift motion. Even in the dark, with the moon as the only source of light, you could still see his toned body and your heart skips a few beats.

"Lieutenant Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, did you purposefully bring me out here to get me to...to....skinny dip?!"

You crossed your arms and give him a pointed look.

"And how many girls have you done this with?"

Maverick smirked.

"Sorry, babe, that's classified."

You stare as Maverick started to pull off his boots.

"C'mon, Y/N," He said. "Live a little."

He squinted at you.

"Don't tell me you've never skinny dipped before?!"

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but you knew there was no denying it. Instead you just shook your head "No" and silently thanked God it was too dark for him to see your cheeks turn red.

You looked at the water and you looked at Maverick. You remember you came out here for a reason: to prove you actually did have a “wild side” to you. Your logical side told you many things: to panic, that "you were not this kind of girl" (whatever that meant), what if you and him were caught?!

As if reading your mind, Maverick paused and said:

"If you really don't want to do it, it's OK. But I promise everything will be all right, Y/N."

You bit your bottom lip and made a decision.

"OK, I'll do it," You confirm.

Maverick smiles and his hands go to unbuckle his belt and you immediately stop him.

"Wait," You said. "Let me go first."

You tell him to turn around and shut his eyes.

"What?!" Maverick exclaims but he's more amused than annoyed.

"You heard me, flyboy! Turn around and shut your eyes. I'll jump in first. When I'm in, I'll turn around and shut my eyes and then you get in."

"You can't be serious, Y/N?" Maverick laughed. "Are you really that shy?"

You shrugged. "These are my terms, Pete. Take 'em or leave 'em."

You weren't really sure what the point of it was. Once you were in the water, you'd see each naked anyway. You just more comfortable doing it this way.

Maverick playfully groaned and sighed. "OK."

He reluctantly turned around.

You stood there for a second, briefly wondering what you've got yourself into but it was too late to worry about it now.

You slowly started with your shirt. You felt your skin get goose bumps as you lifted it over your head. You toed off your shoes and socks and slid off your shorts. You kept your eyes glued to Maverick's bare back as he stood there, patiently waiting for you to finish.

"You're not gonna bail on me and leave me stranded here half naked, are you?"

Maverick joked.

"Don't tempt me!" You laugh. You both knew there was no way you could steal his motorcycle and get back to the city on your own.

You reached around and unhooked your bra clasp. You hesitated for a second before letting it drop to the ground. You shimmied out of your underwear and before you could think too much you jumped in the lake. The water felt cool but your body adjusted quickly. You swam out just a little further but not too far.

"OK, Pete," You called to him. "I'm in! Your turn!"

Keeping your end of the deal, you turned around and shut your eyes. You try to keep your mind on the moment, nothing else. Just like with riding the motorcycle, your initial fears of skinny dipping subsided. It was like taking a bath in a really big bathtub.

You heard a splash in the water behind you and you opened your eyes.

"Pete?" You asked as you turned around expecting to see him swimming towards you. Instead you saw nothing except the Kawasaki and two piles of discarded clothes on the land.

You doggy paddled that direction calling for Maverick. He had to be in the water, you were sure of it, but he was taking his sweet time to surface and it started to worry you.

"Pete?!" You called again. "Pete?! Maverick?! This isn't funny, Pete!"

You suddenly felt all alone and exposed. You glanced all around you seeing nothing but lake and trees. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted and shivers went up your spine. You had watched way too many slasher tapes with Jen and your imagination went crazy with all sorts of terrible things.

You felt something grab a hold of your legs and you instantly screamed, the sound echoed off the water. You kicked and struggled to get free but you found yourself being pulled underwater.

When you were released you came back up gasping while Maverick surfaced right next to you laughing.

You angrily pushed your wet hair out of your eyes and glared at him.

"Pete!" You cried. You forcefully splashed water in his ridiculously handsome face while he kept laughing. He put his hands up to defend himself from your angry splashes.

"Did you know all naval aviators do intense water survival training?" He casually mentioned.

"That wasn't funny!" You told him about the stunt he just pulled.

He had really scared you. You could feel hot tears forming in your eyes. You had a half a mind to forget the whole thing, swim back to the shore, put on your clothes, and demand he take you home right then.

Seeing how serious you were, Maverick stopped laughing and his face fell soft.

"Hey," Maverick said, gently. "I'm sorry, Y/N. That was shitty of me, I know."

You wiped at your eyes hoping he'd think it was just water and not tears.

"It's fine," You said, willing yourself to calm down. "I guess I overreacted."

Here you were trying to learn how to loosen up and the littlest prank sent you into a hissy fit. Not a good impression, you scolded yourself.

Maverick positioned himself right in front of you and extended his arms.

"No, no.." He whispered. "I shouldn't have done that. C'mere and let me make it up to you."

Maverick took you in his arms and you immediately forgot about being upset. Underneath the water you felt your legs twine together as you welcomed his embrace. He peppered your face with kisses. All over your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyelids. You couldn't help but softly moan when he planted kisses up and down your neck. You threaded your fingers through his wet hair.

"I wouldn't hurt you, sweetheart. You know that, right?" Maverick cooed in between showering you with affection. "I'd never ever let anyone or anything hurt you."

Murmuring with pleasure, you let your hands trail from his hair down to the nape of his neck. You felt the chain of his of dog tags, the only thing he left on, and used it to pull him to your lips. The kisses were unlike any you'd ever experienced before. They were far from chaste but they weren't exactly lust driven either. They were intense and passionate just like Maverick was. Over and over he used his tongue expertly on yours, sending so many sparks throughout your body you thought maybe you both were going to be electrocuted.

When you parted, Maverick smiled.

"So it is true? All that stuff your friend said?"

"What friend?" You whispered, eyes fluttering open after being in a daze from his kisses.

You remembered Jen and all her teasing back from earlier and that Maverick had heard some of it. You almost had forgotten.

"You know, what was her name? Jess, was it?"

"Jen," You correct, smiling, thinking about how she was probably tangled up with Iceman at the moment but she'd never guess in a million years what you were doing with Maverick. She probably thought you had him drop you off at home, too shy to make a move. The day had been such a whirlwind. You started out sitting on a bench with your best friend watching hot Navy guys play volleyball and now here you were, skinny dipping, with the one you'd been dreaming about.

He continued to hold you in his arms as the two of you just floated in the water, neither one of you wanting to let go first.

"Some of it is true," You confessed. "But there's a lot of other things she doesn't know. That I haven't told anyone."

You press your forehead to his and whispered:

"Not everything I think about you is dirty."

"Is that right?" Maverick chuckles, intrigued. He gently stroked the side of your face.

"Would you be willing to tell me about those things?"

"Yes," You said, kissing him. "How far is it from here back to the city?"

You were making an unspoken suggestion and he knew it.

Maverick pondered it for a second.

"Hmmm...about twenty minutes," He figures. "But I betcha right now I could make it in ten!"

You both started laughing together.

It was going to take more than just one night to show him all of your "wild side" and he could spend the rest of his life driving you wild in all of the littlest ways.

#top gun #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #maverick x reader #maverick #top gun fanfiction #maverick x female reader #pete maverick mitchell x reader #reader insert #x female reader #pete maverick mitchell #bless you if you read all this b/c it's kind of long ❤

[ddarker-dreams]

False Recovery. Yan Risotto x Reader [COMM]

warnings: bodily injury mention, medication mention word count: 3.2k

Why can’t adrenaline just last forever?

It might not be your place to question evolution or human biology, not having the most knowledge in the field to reasonably voice your concerns. Sure, pain is necessary to identify where a body part might be hurt, but does it need to be this excruciating? A little pinch should suffice, why does your nervous system need to fuck you over like this? 

Complaining to yourself isn’t going to do any good, aside from the occasional nose exhale at your incredulous thoughts. That serves to make the pain worse, muted curses leaving your lips as a fresh wave of pain wracks over your body at any movement. A first aid kit sits in front of you, taunting your weakness. Your field requires being exposed to near death situations, and here you are, still unable to cope with physical pain. It’s not the worst part of today, that crown gem was stolen by passing out and needing to be carried back to base. You’ll never live that one down.

Should any of your teammates spot you, you cringe at the barrage of deprecating comments that’d be slewn your way. The last thing you need is to be demeaned for your lack of ability to endure pain, you’d feel half tempted to summon your Stand and silence them. Depending on who saw fit to disturb you, it might work out, but it’s still not worth all the trouble. All that matters to you now is getting this disinfected before it has time to fester, the marks against your chest making you frown deeply. 

It still remains a mystery as to how you received these peculiar wounds. It looks like knife marks against your chest, clean and expertly done. In your line of work, you can recognize a lot about a person from how they attack. Looking in the mirror at your tattered shirt, a few observations can be made. The lines don’t go deep, only far enough to draw blood and break into the first layer of your skin; avoiding any vital organs. It felt like the wound was coming from inside of you, before surfacing and puncturing your flesh.The assignment ended up in a battle against a Stand user, not one that dealt with knives or anything that could puncture you in this manner. So how did these wounds come to be? Lowering the sorry remains of your shirt back down, you fail to notice an imposing figure standing behind you until the last second.

“R-Risotto?” 

Piercing crimson eyes look at you, surrounded by black scleras. You despise how your voice squeaked at the sight of your intimidating boss, reminding yourself of Pesci more than a calm and collected assassin. His countenance remains stony as always, letting himself into the room and shutting the door behind him. Knowing Risotto, he’s piecing together the information before him and likely wondering why you haven’t tended to your wounds yet. Expressing to a fellow assassin that you’re squeamish when it comes to your own injuries is far too humiliating a fate, so your mind scrambles to offer an explanation.

“I was just about to disinfect myself from the injuries I received earlier.” You let out a forced laughing, hoping it’ll dissipate the uncomfortable atmosphere. He doesn’t so much as blink, staring down at you as if you suggested something idiotic. Or maybe he isn’t thinking anything of your incompetence, it’s impossible to tell with how stoic his face is. You gulp when he doesn’t make a motion to leave, instead walking towards the first aid kit that sits on the counter. Risotto opens it up, eyeing the content with familiarity, reaching for the antiseptic.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” Risotto’s voice commands authority, low and straight to the point. “You’ll get an infection otherwise.” 

Can’t he have a shred more tact during this encounter? That might be too much to ask for from a renowned assassin, your cheeks flushing at the possible insinuation in his words. As one of the newer members of the hitman team, you feel strongly about proving yourself. Not to mention that you’re the only female member, an extra fact that weighs down upon you. You’re competent to have made it this far within the organization, and you want others to acknowledge this. Still, it’s not like you can wave him off, he is your boss. So what is there to do? 

Scratching your rapidly warming cheek, you make an attempt to weasel out of this situation. “I’m sure you have a lot on your plate already. I was just about to patch myself up, anyways.” 

Ignoring your pitiful string of excuses, Risotto picks up the antiseptic before motioning for you to sit down on the couch. From his lack of response you quickly deduce that this matter isn’t up for debate, and hang your head in surrender. While the details surrounding Risotto Nero are murky, you figure he’s had his fair share of run ins that led to injuries. You were going to likely need help with this anyways, so it’s best if one of the professionals handles it. A lot better than having to strike a deal with Melone, or Ghiaccio at least. Though you doubt anything you said to the latter would have helped.

Sitting down into the plush couch with a dramatic sigh, your trembling fingers go to the edge of your tattered shirt. The fight with the target shouldn’t have been so difficult, but the randomly appearing abrasions to your skin threw you off. Thinking it might have been a new ability that you didn’t know had ruined your plans, putting you on the defense rather than the offense. What a humiliating day this has been… you’ll treat yourself to a nice breakfast after a full night of sleep, or maybe even a new pair of pajamas. 

Risotto watches wordlessly as you reveal your chest, only left in ripped shorts and a bra. He doesn’t strike you as the lecherous type, not focusing on your exposed chest, and instead getting straight to work. You’re grateful at his professionalism, but still feeling flustered over everything. Dipping a fresh set of gauze into the antiseptic, the sterile scent hits your nose as soon as he opens the bottle. You lean back out of instinct when his hand approaches the flesh wound, inhaling sharply. Much to your surprise, he looks up to you to confirm that you’re alright. You nod your head, a mix of emotions hitting you all at once at the admittedly compassionate move. 

There’s no opportunity to linger on the unexpected kindness, as your confirmation makes him place the gauze against your tender skin. A hiss escapes from your lips, a fresh wave of pain hitting you all at once. The stinging is the worst part, only growing stronger as he works his way over the entire area. Your eyes squeeze shut in a meager attempt to alleviate the throbbing pain, fingers curling and nails digging into the skin of your palm. It’s over as soon as it began, Risotto now moving to wrap bandages around your upper torso. 

“You really didn’t have to do that,” you blurt out against your better judgement, internally cursing yourself for being too blunt. He pays you no mind, instead placing the medical equipment back into its place. “But… thank you.” 

“Keeping yourself in top condition is important in this line of work.” Risotto shuts the kit closed with a low click, placing it back into the cabinet of supplies. You take the time of silence to reflect on his words, silently agreeing. All you can do is hope he doesn’t think of you so dense that you would be incapable of taking care of yourself. There can be time to lament the semantics of his language earlier, your curiosity has now been piqued. It’s late into the night, everyone else having headed off long ago. Risotto’s duties are likely different than your own, maybe even involving paperwork or something similar, but you’ve been in this room for hours. Surely he could’ve been in the comforts of his own home by now.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you inquire with a tilt of the head, kicking your legs into the air and using the momentum to stand up. Risotto doesn’t ignore you, instead turning around and possibly considering your offer. While the thought of spending alone time with this intimidating and mysterious man isn’t high on your list of desires, it feels right to repay him somehow. He might not show it in the conventional ways, but you know that he looks out for you and everyone else. Offering advice when necessary, or even rebuking ideas that would’ve led to more casualties. He’s efficient and doesn’t mess around with niceties, and has undoubtedly earned your respect. 

He gives you a once over, motioning to the blood that begins to seep through the bandages. You look down at the pathetic sight, feeling like shrinking under his unblinking stare. Maybe he blinks at the same time as you? It’s the only logical explanation that comes to mind. Before you can theorize further, Risotto speaks up once more. You’ve never seen him this talkative with the others, not that you can blame him. Everyone else is questionable company at best, Melone at worst.

“You should focus on healing. Go home and get some rest.” 

Your strength declining at a rapid rate, you feel inclined to give in and slink off as he suggested. It doesn’t feel right with you to receive a favor without returning it in kind, so you test your luck one more time. “I don’t think a few scratches will be the end of me. It’s what, two in the morning? Surely I can be of some assistance, so you can get some sleep too.” 

This time, Risotto doesn’t humor your attempts, having already made up his mind. “It’s been a long day. Head home.” 

You don’t see the point in bothering him any further, fighting down a yawn. The thought of sleep does sound wonderful right about now, maybe even taking a day or two off. Waving goodbye to him for the night, you make your way out the door, feeling his eyes on your back with every step. 

-

The knife in your hand cuts through the orange peel with ease, shaving the skin off and leaving only the citrusy fruit inside. It’s a simple snack, but one that has your mouth watering nonetheless. Working up the energy to cook with all the fatigue pain killers brought has been a losing battle, and you don’t feel like getting food delivered again. So this fruit you found in your fridge will have to suffice for the time being. Following the lines of the orange, you take a section off and plop it into your mouth, juice bursting over your tongue. You’re grateful to your past self for thinking to buy more fruit, though it looks like another grocery trip is in order. Living on your own can be difficult at times, but there’s an appeal to it. The independence is nice, you think.

When you’re about ready to go for another bite, you hear your doorbell ring. Your mind starts to wonder who it could be, ranging from a delivery at the wrong house to your landlord. The latter does 

sound appealing, not when you’re cranky from being injured and on multiple medications to appease the pain that comes with it. Running across your apartment with the orange still in hand, you peak out the window, your jaw slacking at the sight. 

It’s… Risotto? 

Not wanting to keep him waiting in the sweltering heat of summer, you scurry to your door and open it. When he makes eye contact with you, you regret not having freshened yourself up more. Wearing your hair up and a tank top and shorts to fend off the oppressive heat, you must look more like a college student than a reliable member of Passione’s assassin team. You clear your throat, straightening your back out and pulling your shirt down. Hopefully there’s no orange juice on your face, that’d be embarrassing…

“Uh, hey,” you wince at how stupid and unsure of yourself you sound. What else is there for you to say? You don’t even want to know how he managed to find your address, for someone like him it was probably a walk in the park. “You can come in if you want. Need any water?” 

The fruit in your hand has earned his attention, but he doesn’t comment, instead deciding to accept your invitation and walk past you. You shut the door behind him, feeling too nervous to finish your snack, and remembering your offer to get him water. With a sigh of relief, you scamper off to your kitchen, setting down the orange and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. The blast of cool air that hits you from opening your fridge helps you get a grip, your heartbeat increasing at the thought of Risotto being in your apartment. You’ll never understand him. 

He’s looking at a picture of you and a friend that’s hung on your wall, and you can’t help but laugh at the sight. Risotto looks a bit out of place in casual environments that aren’t shrouded in darkness and mystery, like a character plucked from a comic book and set into real life. Not that you’d ever have the guts to tell him this, seeing as you value having iron in your blood. He catches the bottle when you throw it to him with his free hand, turning his attention back to you. 

Risotto examines the bottle with interest, before taking a sip. “How are your injuries?”

So that’s what this is about. You give a halfhearted shrug. “I’ve had worse. I still don’t understand how a Stand relating to sound managed to scratch me like this though.” 

Truth be told, in the plentiful amount of time you’ve had to think while your wounds recover, the thought hasn’t left your head. When you finally finished the job and gave the target a search over, there was nothing on their person that resembled a knife that matched the marks on your chest. The moment during the fight is still blurry, all you remember is a hot pain, blood, and your torso feeling like it was being shredded. Just thinking about it makes you shiver. 

“Stand battles are always unpredictable.”

Maybe you’re imagining things, but he seems fast to want and move past the topic. Dismissing your concerns, something unidentifiable flashes over his face. It’s not like you don’t know that. As the phrase goes, dead men tell no tales. You’ll never be able to question the target on how they managed to land that hit, not when he’s a corpse. Your theories will have to satisfy for now. A scent of tomato grabs your attention, and you realize it’s coming from the bag Risotto’s holding. Before you weren’t paying much attention to it, now you recognize a restaurant’s logo on the bag. He raises it up, and places it on your kitchen counter top. 

“It’s some stuff I picked up on the way here. I’m not sure what you like, so feel free to throw out whatever you don’t want.” Risotto explains as if this were a regular occurrence, returning his attention back to you. You blink rapidly, wondering if this is all a side effect dream from all the painkillers. This is going far and beyond what a boss would need to do, treading into friend territory. Not that you mind, it just isn’t what you expected from someone of Risotto’s stature. The sweet gesture is much appreciation, your stomach all but growling at the thought of some savory food to chow down on. 

While not overflowing with money, you do well for yourself. It feels wrong to accept all this food without offering to pay for it. “Here, let me pay you back. This looks like a lot…” 

Multiple bowls of soup with condensation on the lids, a few various pasta dishes, some different kinds of bread, and a few scoops of chocolate gelato. Looking at the feast in front of you makes your eyes practically bulge out, this is enough for a celebration, not a single person! 

“Don’t bother.” He snuffs out your attempt at repaying him with a succinct phrase. You reach into the bag, settling on the first piece of bread that catches your attention, and nibbling on it. It’s still warm.

“I… I can’t thank you enough. Are you hungry? You should have some too.” 

Not that you’re surprised, but he shakes his head. With the next few days having meals covered in full, you feel an innate sense of relief. Planning and going through with meal plans has always been a nightmare, even if you like cooking. Too much preparation and thought has to go into it, especially anything with vegetables. The restaurant is one a few blocks away from your house, a higher end type of place you’ve walked by countless times. How much money does Risotto make, anyways? Why is he even bothering to go through all this effort for you? He’s a good leader, you know that much, but this feels like something else entirely. 

It may be the heat, or the lack of sleep, or the side effects from all the medication, but your mind starts running. The question is reminiscent of a schoolgirl giggling with her friends, wondering if so and so has a crush on her. Risotto has never made a serious move on you, not that you can think of. Unless this was him doing just that, and you’ve been oblivious all along. You admit that he’s physically attractive, and that you’ve found your short interactions with him pleasant.The thought of being in a relationship for now is off putting, so you push these thoughts away.

“I’ll be ready to accept jobs again by tomorrow.” You take another bite of your bread, wiping away some crumbs near your mouth. The unprecedented time off might negatively impact the others, and you couldn’t stand for that. A few flesh wounds won’t get in between you and your job, especially since they’re healing up fine. 

“It might not look bad, but if you overexert yourself, the wounds will open up more and require stitches,” he points out to you, causing you to frown. It makes sense, but twiddling your thumbs at home until it heals doesn’t feel like a viable option. Sensing your impatience, he speaks up again. “I’ll bring what you need until you heal properly.” 

Appearances aside, he’s stubborn. In every aspect of how Risotto carries himself, he demands respect. His words feel absolute, and you give yourself into his whims. It’s the same self-assured nature that gives you confidence when you don’t know what to do, a trait unique to him. From how the marks are already starting to scab over, you don’t think it’ll be an unreasonable amount of time off. Offering him a smile, you nod once in agreement.

“Alright, you got me. I won’t overdo it.” 

He almost looks amused, the corner of his lip tugging up. He looks content himself, for reasons unknown. 

“I wouldn’t let you, anyways.” 

#risotto #risotto x reader #yandere risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #yandere risotto #yandere #yandere x reader #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #yandere jojo's bizzare adventure #yandere jojo x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #JJBA #yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jjba imagine #my stuff #commissions

[behrooz-musigns]

+ Innovative, warm, witty, kind, protective, geeky +/- Intellectual, observant, horny - impatient, unreliable, outspoken, easily distracted

++ BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Behrooz Hakim Najm PRONUNCIATION: Beh-roes MEANING: Lucky ZODIAC: Pisces ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Bi SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Poly CURRENT LOCATION: Epineios OCCUPATION: Student, IT

++ BIOGRAPHY

Behrooz personally invented the saying ‘I guess luck is just on my side’, or so they would have everyone in their school believe when they got another high score in one of the games they played in the back of the school. They would do guessing games, with people asking them a number which they had written down, and Behrooz would always guess right. 

Sadly luck rarely followed them home. They were raised by their grandmother, who forbade them to hang out after school, and certainly ensured they would never be seen hanging out with girls on their own. She would remind them time and time again of their father, a gambler who had made it big winning game after game, then one day showed up with a baby, only to drink himself to death a year later. She would remind them that they were the family’s burden, and they would have to behave in order to not bring another burden upon them. 

And as they grew older, luck left them more and more often. Being a practicing Muslim was already a hard sell, but with the world growing more extreme around them, they found the community stifle their ambitions daily. It confused Behrooz that while their religion gave them anxiety, praying chased the demons away. It was almost as if they couldn’t have the one without the other. 

Life was a constant . Bad people walking in and out of their life, bullies, racist teachers, judgemental neighbors, judgemental extended family members. Behrooz tended to lock themselves up in their room every day, listening to music or playing games of chance. A knot seemed to live inside their stomach all the time, a fear of being plucked off of the street and never arriving home. 

When that actually happened, it wasn’t like they had imagined. 

Being mostly interested in digits, numbers, code, etc. Behrooz hadn’t paid much attention to history class when Ancient Greek and Ancient Rome were being discussed, and as they saw a creepy creature with goat legs walk up to them, they really wished they had. There was a whole speech about being in mortal danger, gods, strange creatures on the loose, yada yada. Behrooz had a headache by the time the goat legged creature told them to follow him. Very close to sparking some lie about soccer practice or prayers, their head snapped back to attention when the creature suggested they had a mother who was a God. 

The only thing driving them forward was the possibility of learning who their mother was, something in their brain sending out constant messages of: gotta meet mom, gotta meet mom, gotta meet mom. Rather than forming coherent sentences. They disappeared into some cleared out old train tunnel, and emerged on the other side of the bleedin’ ocean. All Behrooz knew to say was: “thought your accent sounded funny.” Before being swarmed by the strangest assortment of kids, some younger than their fourteen years, others older, everyone excited. Was this the right time to say they were Muslim and watch everyone slowly disappear like they had done back in school? 

Nobody really seemed to care however, over the years - in which they discovered their godly parent, never got to meet her, discovered she was probably the most difficult goddess to find, got a large portion of the camp to join them during Ramadan - Behrooz stayed at the Camp the whole year round. They didn’t wish to return to the UK, and followed online lessons to keep up with their education. Of course they were bleedin’ lucky, and with time they learned how to use that luck to their advantage, and to that of those around them. Yet, Behrooz started to appreciate the balance of it all, the bad and the good. 

To them, code was good. Watching others struggle with programs and computers, just made them more interested in it. Algorithms fascinated them, they could spend hours looking at code trying to figure out how it worked. When the time came for them to move out of the warm nest of Camp Half Blood, Behrooz had already set their sights on studying Programming at the University of New York. 

++ HEADCANONS

++ Horny as hell, and often very lucky in love, although they can never seem to hold on to anyone for long. 

++ A skilled programmer with a love for code and numbers and digits. They can stay up nights on end trying to figure out some new program or write an algorithm of their own.

++ Despite their interests in the digital, Bez spends most of their time outside if they can help it. They love forests, trees, the fresh air. They take walks a lot, driving the metro to the park and helping themselves to a huge thermos of coffee. 

++ Religion is an important part of their life, without it they would be nowhere. Whenever they feel lost or anxious, they tend to be eager for it to be time to pray, something they do five times a day. 

++ They’ve read the Quran, although their grandmother never taught them Arabic beforehand, so they’re currently reading it in English in between classes, thesis writing, and walks. 

++ Bez is a very kind individual, who will help others whenever they can - mostly with IT stuff. As a job, or a way to get money mostly, they help teachers or partake in arranging anything that needs a programmer. They’re a regular Upwork user. 

++ In fights Bez uses their ability to generate luck to get other Demigods out of trouble and make the damage less. 

++ They love bunk beds.

++ Wears very loose-fitting clothing. 

++ Drinks way too much coffee and black tea. 

++ Doesn’t like it when people constantly nag.

++ Extremely messy, will end up finding coffee mugs everywhere. 

++ Is always running from one place to the next because he has too much planned on a daily basis. 

++ SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: Above average  OFFENSE: Lacking  DEFENSE: Main attribute  SPEED: Above average  INTELLIGENCE: High ACCURACY: Descent AGILITY: Good STAMINA: Fine  TEAMWORK: Speciality  TALENTS: Luck manipulation SHORTCOMINGS: Easily distracted, no overview LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: English  DRIVE?: yes  JUMP-STAR A CAR?: not really  CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: absolutely not  RIDE A BICYCLE?: absolutely  SWIM?: decently PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: piano and guitar  PLAY CHESS?: no  BRAID HAIR?: one day maybe  TIE A TIE?: yes  PICK A LOCK?: yes

++ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: Viveik Kalra  EYE COLOR: brown  HAIR COLOR: brown  HAIR TYPE/STYLE: semi-long, wavy, thick GLASSES/CONTACTS?: no  DOMINANT HAND: right  HEIGHT: 1.75m WEIGHT: 65kg  BUILD: lean  EXERCISE HABITS: jogging in the morning, some sparring during the weekend  SKIN TONE: brown  TATTOOS: none  PIERCINGS: none  MARKS/SCARS: none  NOTABLE FEATURES: three-day beard on account of forgetting to shave  USUAL EXPRESSION: concentrated or dreamlike  CLOTHING STYLE: loose clothing, soft fabric.  JEWELRY: two rings on their right hand  ALLERGIES: incense

++ PSYCHOLOGY

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral ELEMENT: earth MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: Dyslexia, slight ADHD  SOCIABILITY: normal  EMOTIONAL STABILITY: average, let’s not talk about it.  OBSESSION(S): code  COMPULSION(S): gambling, drinking coffee and forgetting coffee, hyper-focus PHOBIA(S): fear of people being Islamphobic  ADDICTION(S): caffeine DRUG USE: none  ALCOHOL USE: none PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: no

++ MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: quick, active, excited  ACCENT: London British  QUIRKS: licks teeth, uses swear words HOBBIES: coding, walking, jogging, drinking coffee, is Starbucks a hobby?  HABITS: forgetting to sleep, running from place to place  NERVOUS TICKS: tapping feet, sighing a lot DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: meeting their mom, finishing their education  FEARS:  fear of being neglected or ignored SENSE OF HUMOR: yes, mostly dark British humor. DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: a lot, though they use ‘bleedin’’ and several other more British less terrible words.  CATCHPHRASE(S): “must be my lucky day” “I was born lucky”

++ FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: walking/hiking in the forest ANIMAL: raven BEVERAGE: coffee  BOOK: Thief Lord by Cassandra Clarke CELEBRITY: Tom Hanks  COLOR: Green DESIGNER: ??  FOOD: Sharma FLOWER: Lotus  GEM: Emerald  HOLIDAY: Eid al-Fitr  MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: Bike  MOVIE: The Internship  MUSICAL ARTIST: Sigur Ros QUOTE/SAYING: “No person knows what he will earn tomorrow”  SCENERY: forests  SCENT: freshly grinded coffee  SPORT: soccer SPORTS TEAM: Manchester united  TELEVISION SHOW: I, Robot  WEATHER: overcast and drizzly VACATION DESTINATION: -

++ ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: to create their own algorithm that can help people choose what they want the most  GREATEST FEAR: being targeted or discriminated based on their religion  MOST AT EASE WHEN: at home, in their bed, with coffee, coding, or hiking in the forest, or at a mosque praying  LEAST AT EASE WHEN: in a crowded place, discussing religion  WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: being killed before finishing their degree  BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: getting a scholarship on luck alone  BIGGEST REGRET: never having known their father MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: grabbing a girl by her boobs in a hug from behind by accident  BIGGEST SECRET: sometimes wishes they weren’t born a Demi-god.   TOP PRIORITIES: finishing their thesis

#about

[littleeyesofpallas]

BLEACH - Resurrección

Baraggan Louisenbarn’s resurrección is,

 髑髏大帝 [アロガンテ]: Arrogante

The katakana アロガンテ is pronounced “A-ro-ga-n’-te” a nice direct transliteration of the Spanish, Arrogante, obviously meaning “Arrogant.”   The Kanji however is basically totally unrelated, 髑髏大帝 meaning 髑髏: “Skull” (esp. weatherbeaten, used as symbol of death) or ”death's head,” and 大帝: “Great Emperor.”

His release call is 朽ちろ “Kuchiro” meaning, “to rot“/“to decay” or “to die in obscurity.“  It’s actually the same word that the family name Kuchiki uses to mean “Rotting/Rotted Tree.”  When you put them all together the imagery does kind of have a unifying theme, but it’s a little nebulous, and if even one of those words isn’t properly explored or conveyed the whole things is lost.  “Decay, Arrogant: Skull Emperor!“ doesn’t really communicate anything sensible, but “Die in obscurity, Arrogant:Old/worn-out skull emperor!“ pulls together better.

Abirama Redder’s resurrección is,

空戦鷲 [アギラ]: Águila

pronounced “A-gi-ra,” approximating the Spanish for "Eagle."  The kanji 空戦鷲 reads 空戦:"Air Battle” as in a “Dog fight” between airplanes and 鷲 :“Eagle."

The release call, 頂を削れ: “Itadaki o kezure" is interestingly handled. Viz uses "Scrape the summit!" which is in fact a pretty literal interpretation of the subject  頂: “summit”/”peak”/”crown (of the head)” and  削れ: “shave”/”sharpen”/”scrape.”  The more liberal interpretation used by some other translators has been “Scalp!” as in to cut the skin(and hair) from the top of someone’s skull.

Both actually seem to fit the theme surprisingly well, and if taken to be a reference to “Scalping” it may be a riff off of Abirama’s general design having vaguely native american aesthetics.

Perhaps my all time favorite case of Kubo’s dissonant naming is Charlotte Chuhlhorne’s resurrección,

宮廷薔薇園ノ美女王 [レイーナ・デ・ロサス]: Reina de Rosas

I think you can tell just by looking that there’s no way these two are direct translations between Japanese and Spanish.  The katakana レイーナ・デ・ロサス is pronounced “Re-ii-na de Ro-sa-su” approximating the Spanish for "Queen of Roses”  which is what Viz wrote as the translation: "Queen of the Roses."  But the kanji actually reads, 宮廷: “Imperial Court,” 薔薇園ノ:Rose Garden’s, 美: “Beautiful” 女王: “Queen;” so his sword’s full meaning is really, “Beautiful Queen of the Royal Court Rose Garden.”  Very different from just “Queen of the Roses.”

The release call 煌めけ: "kirameke" however was actually handled correctly, Viz used "Glitter" which is fairly literal.  “Sparkle” or “Twinkle” would also have been appropriate.  “Kirameke” is also the root of the sound effect, “kirakira” which is supposed to be the sound of sparkling/twinkling/glittering.  Japanese has a curious affinity for onomatopoeia for things that don’t actually make a noise, and it’s used mostly in manga as sound effects.  “Kirakira” is often used not just for the literal reflection of light but for a kind of metaphorical sparkle like energetic or bright attitudes, frequently relating to characters like pop idols; thus the association with Charlotte’s flamboyance.

Next up is Findorr Calius’s

蟄刀流断 [ピンサグーダ]: Pinza Aguda

The katakana ピンサグーダ is pronounced “Pi-n’-sa-guu-da”: Pinza Aguda, Spanish for "Claw, Sharp."  Once again Viz translated the Spanish, not the Japanese, as “Sharp Pincer.”  The kanji  reads 蟄: “Hibernation* (specifically of insects),” 刀流 : “Sword Style,” and 断: “Judgement.” 

*okay so scientifically speaking what crabs do in cold weather isn’t actually called “hibernating” (and neither is what insects do; that’s “torpor.”) at least not in English, but Japanese doesn’t have different distinct terms for all of those so the “hibernating” here is referring to when crabs go dormant, referencing Findorr’s ability to suppress his own power with his mask.

The release call, 水面に刻め: “Minamo ni Kizame” was translated by Viz as "Carve upon the water" which is more or less accurate.  But he specific word,  水面: “Minamo” is a compound of the kanji for “water” and “face” meaning literally, “surface of the water.”  Also, the verb  刻め: “kizame” has a few implications as to its use; it can mean “engrave” or “carve” but also “nick” or in other words a “fine cut.”  The idea is that it specifies a small or shallow mark, so rather than a grand motion of smashing or slashing into the water, the battle call reads more like “break the water’s surface” like emerging thru the surface of the water.  (i.e. a long sleeping crab rising up from the still water.)

and the last of the 4 Dragons, from the Dragons -vs- Ants battles, Choe Neng Poww’s

巨腕鯨 [カルデロン]: Calderón

The katakana カルデロン: “Ka-ru-de-ro-n’" approximates the Spanish Calderon which is both a common name for the "Pilot Whale" as well as a “Cauldron.”  The kanji is largely unrelated and reads, 巨腕鯨 “Gigantic Arm Whale,” which Viz took the liberty of just calling "Great Whale."

His release call, 気吹け: “ibuke” was translated as “Breathe” which isn’t exactly wrong, but the obvious interpretation that was meant here was “Blow” as in from a whale’s blowhole.

In the final stretch here, I know Baraggan’s got too many goons...  Ggio Vega’s resurrección is

虎牙迅風 [ティグレストーク]: Tigre Estoque

The katakana reads ティグレストーク: “Ti-gu-re-Su-too-ku” which is a little clunky but meant to be the Spanish Tigre Estoque, meaning "Tiger Rapier."  The kanji reads 虎牙迅風: "Tiger Fang Swift Wind."  Viz of course translated the Spanish, not the Japanese when they did this.

The release call, 食い千切れ: “kuichigire” means  食い: “Bite” and 千切れ: “Tear off”/”rip to shreds.”  Which doesn’t come across super succinctly in English, but the idea being the command to “rip to pieces with you teeth!”  Viz translated this as “Bite off“ which again is not technically incorrect, but also doesn’t functionally communicate the intended meaning.

and finally...

巨象兵 [マムート]: Mamut

Katakana, マムート: “Ma-muu-to” from Spanish “Mamut” meaning "Mammoth."  All super straight forward.  The kanji just reads  巨象兵:"Gigantic Elephant Soldier.  You can kind of tell Kubo threw this one together without a lot of thought.

The release call is 踏み潰せ: “fumitsubuse." Viz called it "Stomp Down" which is kind of weird considering the phrase pretty commonly can just be translated as “Trample” or “Crush under foot.”

One thing of note, these last two didn’t show up when Baraggan first appeared and only got added into the background as the first 4 fights went on.  They share the feature of being prehistoric animals (a sabertooth tiger and a woolly mammoth) which is actually a play on Baraggan’s own gimmick being age.  But the timing of their addition and the lack of a theme in the first 4 fraccion suggests heavily that Kubo didn’t have a theme in mind until right around the time Ggio and Nirgge showed up.

I’ve got more of these Resurreccion posts btw: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

#Bleach #arrancar #resurreccion #Baraggan Louisenbairn #abirama redder #charlotte chuhlhourne #findorr calius #choe neng poww #ggio vega #nirgge parduoc

[seethekraken]

No Mistletoe?

Merry Christmas @castielangeldelaguarda​ So I am your Secret Santa <33 I chose to do a Reverse AU for you. I’ll admit I patched it up a little from the main post lol I hope you like it!! Have a Wonderful Day, Lovely!!

—

It was always hard for Sam to return to Heaven after heavy assignments and even more so when he couldn’t tell if he’d done something right or not.

Underestimating Luc had unfortunately resulted in the fight getting bloodier than Sam hoped for. He tried his hardest to resolve things peacefully. He’d begged his assignment to come in quietly, that he wouldn’t win this one.

Maybe it was that comment that salted the wound. Maybe if he knew more about what he was meant to stop, maybe then his missions’ outcome would not end in bloodshed.

Heaven rarely gave him a reason though, wary of Sam’s ability to experience and understand human emotion.  He was ‘defective’ they’d whispered the first time it had happened on an assignment.

He ran solos now, mostly hitman like jobs: no details of what this human or that creature had done to receive judgement.

He’d think the Angels would value knowledge as power, but maybe in his hands was too terrible? As a result of nothing else to go on, it took a lot more strategy to win—if he didn’t know any better, he might think they wanted him to perish on mission. Those were the orders though and the notion of disobedience, nonexistent.

Being weak from time-travel was standard, but bundled with the exhaustion of preventing a future happening, Sam’s Grace needed time to recover. It wasn’t even an excuse, he was simply too weak to make his trip Up.

Drained of energy—Sam knew he’d get into trouble for taking a self imposed vacation, but he needed that break and the only way to get one was if he took it himself.

Dropping into a random timeline, perhaps a couple years into the future, Sam read the sign stating he was in ‘Cottage Grove’. What was with these humans and randomly selecting names for their homebase?

Angels were everywhere these days, only the smallest of towns were clear of them—the streets, shops too close together to be comfortable space for wings. Of course that applied to him too, even more so as his wingspan was wider. Not archangel wide by any means but enough for him to be aware of his bulk in more cramped places. The idea was to avoid detection from all Angels however, so it served his purpose for now.

Judging from the gaudy decor and overbearing smell of pine, Sam guessed it was December where they celebrated a “Saviour”. It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed the ‘season to be jolly’ having been more than a little irked about the lack of angel statues with brown hair and brown wings in shops. Dean, of course, found it hilarious.

Slipping his wings into the ethereal plain, he landed in an alleyway and blended with the main crowd walking down the busy street, following the sound of loud music. These places usually had town parties and it seemed like a good place to hide and unwind before having to return to Heaven.

Gabriel was in charge now, and to everyone’s shock, was doing a fantastic job. He sent the right Angels to get orders done. Of course there were few mishaps but they were few and far between. As much as he was proud of Gabriel for being so efficient, Sam was also exhausted.

Sam let himself into the townhall where the town residents were celebrating. The only human that looked his way, was a black-haired man at the snack bar, and only briefly. — A slight breeze and the door opening pulled Castiel’s attention away from his task. The banquet hall was in full capacity, each plate and seating accounted for, and unless someone had left the party, he didn’t see any reason why a stranger would walk in.

Between refilling the water jugs and looking back, the giant had gone out of sight. Half an hour later and Cas spotted him again, looking awkward in the corner, not talking just watching the crowd with tired eyes. Snapping the attention of a waiter, Cas instructed him to serve that niche where the brunette was sitting, before seating himself a little away from the crowd.

Cas stared at him then, a truly beautiful specimen. Go figure his type would walk into a party while he was working. Glancing down at the suit he had on, Cas loosened his tie, starting to feel the humidity that came from large crowds crammed in a room together. Offering the tray of appetizers at passing guests with a put on smile, Cas curiously turned back to his eye candy.  

Shit.

—

Sam had a hard time not tracking the man with his eyes. There was just something, a weird pull he didn’t entirely understand, which caused time and time again for him to seek that face in the crowd.

And then it happened.

Striking blue eyes found his hazel ones with such accuracy, Sam had a suspicion the human had been observing him too. Neither looked away, in fact his gaze seemed to intensify. What was that colour? He’d seen creation come alive, knew every shade, hue, tint in existence…and yet he’d never seen this shade before, speckles of dark and light dancing around his pupils.

He looked to be some point between his late 30’s to early 40’s. Ruggedly handsome, there were bags under his eyes, a sharp scruffy jaw like he’d forgotten to shave that morning and pink lips with pleasantly tanned skin.

Sam tried not to stare. He also tried not to knock things over because despite his wings tucked in the ethereal plain, they needed to mind and he was using all his energy to simply keep him upright.

The next time he glanced at the table, Blue Eyes was gone. Baffled by his disappointment, Sam gingerly walked to a lesser crowded corner and rearranged himself comfortably. Even if he was simply human, it would be a challenging feet regardless.

Trays of food were being passed along with plates, so despite not needing to eat, Sam helped himself to some. Time passed slowly as he watched the crowd mingling with familiarity and began missing Dean. His brother was the only one who understood him, who even stood up for him despite moving up in ranks like Gabriel, though not as top-tier. Dean never made him feel like he was…less.

A heavy feeling in his heart, Sam took a walk, smiled at people politely and interjected a lie whenever appropriate. Yes, he was passing through, no he came alone, staying the night? maybe.

Weirdly, women seemed to wait for a specific moment to speak with him. Sam wasn’t fooled. He knew the tradition of mistletoe, knew a kiss was mandatory. He didn’t like the way they looked at him though, and the one he wanted to he could see now, was deliberately avoiding doing so.

Unsure how to act like he belonged there, Sam stopped at a doorway easily looking over heads, for more reclusive spots where humans would leave him alone…

“Hi,” a gravelly voice said from behind and Sam turned towards them, being snared almost immediately by two mesmerizing pools of blue. It was him. There was a soft smile on his lips and shyness in his eyes as he went to speak further.

“You are…kinda blocking the pathway,” he offered, holding a tray with both hands in front of him. Sam stared in surprise, accidentally twitching his wings in the ethereal plain, toppling some items off a nearby table. For whatever reason, they seemed to still have a physical presence in the material world but invisible to plain sight. This never happened. Maybe his control was slipping?

“I should go,” he said aloud.

“No! I mean you don’t have to leave…”

This man didn’t want him to leave but only move? Move where? Like he could read the Angel’s mind, Blue eyes put his tray down on the conveniently bare space—curtesy of Sam’s malfunctioning limbs—and walked towards him, pushing Sam a little to the side.

Sam let him.

Getting the Angel to budge was equivalent to trying to move a boulder. Despite achieving their goal, the hands stayed on his chest, like its owner had forgotten about them.

Sam looked down at the man at least four inches shorter than him, and raised his eyebrows in question. “All good?”

Blue eyes’ had yet to move so fast, like Sam was hot to the touch. “Right. Well now that you’re out of the way, I can—“ he gestured behind him where Sam was sitting only a few minutes ago, but still didn’t budge until the sound of someone clearing their throat made them both turn.

There was a blonde woman standing in front of them, giggling delightfully at the human as she pointed up upwards. — Castiel groaned internally. Even before he looked up, Cas already knew what he’s going to find. Donna had been trying to hook him up with some of the town folk, and here this stranger was caught neatly in her web.

He had a job to do. Catering was tiresome work but the Christmas party was his biggest event, so he had to do it in order to stay afloat.

Instead, Jack refused to stay with anyone but him, and he had to bring the kid to a booze approved party. On top of it, of course the *one* person he’d actually been interested in would show up in an environment where service staff and guests weren’t allowed to mingle.

“Donna,” he sighed softly. “I’m working,”

“Shut the front door, I had no idea!” his best friend jested, “You’re the boss, you don’ count..” Donna whispered, smiling widely still and pushing him gently towards the guy.

Knowing better than to argue with the Sheriff, Cas reasoned this was probably the only time he was ever going to see this man. And Donna was right, he was the owner of the company…

This reason in mind, instead of introducing himself, Castiel grabbed the lapels of the suede coloured jacket, and tugged it enough to get the man to bend to meet him in the middle. He was going to savour this moment however long it lasted, and he had every aim to drag it out.

Just when he’d determined it an appropriate time for a mistletoe kiss, mystery man leaned in closer, arm wrapped around his waist, practically smooshing him against a wall of lean muscle.

Long strands of hair fell onto his face, and Castiel briefly wondered if they would feel as soft as they looked, wrapped around his fingers.

Caving into the urge, he gently carded his fingers through this tall man’s beautiful hair. So silky and smooth, he thought as he tugged at the strands, urging the brunette to bend down some more, going on the tips of his toes to close the height difference. — Sam was more than a little shocked at the forwardness of this seemingly awkward man but melted into the kiss anyhow. The gentle caress of his hair was turning him into goo and just as he was getting into it, he felt a double tug on his feathers.

His feather still in the ethereal plain.

Surprised he hadn’t sensed them, Sam broke the kiss abruptly and spun around expecting an Angel from the garrison, not a child looking at him. No, that wasn’t right…he was looking behind Sam.

“Soft!”

Sam froze in shock but the child was caressing his dark wings in wonder. It had blonde hair and blue eyes and were it a cartoon, it would probably have stars in them.

It could see his wings? How was that even possible? If it could see his wings, then there was no guarantee this thing was actually human, and from experience he knew looking like a human and being human were two entirely different things.

The thing kept touching him, though with utter care, like a loose feather would pain him. If there was a creature of this sort here in this town, was it being watched? Guarded? Would they think Sam was there to protect it or kill it…there were so many gue—

“Jack,” the man sighed, and picked up the little boy, “I told you to sit in the corner. Are you hungry? What can I get you?”

Jack shook his head, signalling he didn’t need anything, to which the boy got set down and the human sighed gustily, turning back to Sam, “Well, this was nice…”

“Uh huh,” Sam’s eyes were still on Jack, mind racing.

“I’m Castiel. Not that you asked, but I figured it is the most I can do aft—“

“Castiel?” Sam eyebrows jumped in surprise. A quick survey and nope, still human.

“Yes, I know its the angel of Thursday,” Castiel rolled his eyes, “No, I’m not religious,”

“Uhhh…okay,” Sam gave a small laugh under his breath. “I’m Sam by the way,”

“Well Sam, this was nice. Really nice actually, but I have to get back to work, so…enjoy the party I guess,”

Sam couldn’t have him leave though. This..thing..seemed harmless enough but what was it? Did the man know the child was not a child? Was he safe? He had to find out!!

“Oh, but…do you know where I can book a room?  It’s too late in the night to leave, and I’m kind of on vacation and this place looks like a nice place to stay.” Sam gave his best form of persuasion—puppy dog eyes. It worked.

It always worked.

Castiel hesitated for about a quarter of a second and then grabbed Sam’s arm gently. “Come with me,” leading him to another guest. Quick words were exchanged and Sam heard the gist of it. The County inn was all booked up, as well as the motel at the edge of town.

“Looks like—“

“What about that big ol’ bed of yours, Cas? Think it will fit him?” — Cas sometimes wished his life was simpler.

That he did not have a cute eight year old shaped walking and talking weather and news app for a son, a gorgeous man didn’t walk into his party room hoping to find a place to sleep, and his best friend not inviting said man to sleep in his own bed.

“Donna I don’t think Sam would appreciate that,” Cas protested lightly, trying to remember if he’d even made his bed that morning. When was the last time he’d washed his sheets? When was the last time he’d cleaned the house..?

“Actually that sounds perfect!” Sam pitched in, and Cas didn’t have anything left as far as excuses went.

“And the party’s almost over anywhooo, the staff will clean up!” Donna chirped right in.

With four pairs of eyes watching him, Cas caved, “O-okay, I guess,”

Then to both Cas and Sam’s shock, little fingers reached up clasping two of Sam’s because that’s all he could reach and began pulling him toward the door. — “You can sit in the front room, I have to change the sheets. I suppose you’ll need clothes to change into something as well..let’s see what we can do..you’re not exactly small..” Castiel kept muttering, but Sam was sure it was more for himself than to inform his guest.

Sure enough, the man went up stairs the without a word, still saying things under his breath.

This human confused him. More that, he intrigued Sam. And then there was the boy who could see his true form. Which..right. Was the more pressing matter. Or at least should have been.

Sam sat in the front room as Castiel suggested with Jack, who nuzzled against his feathery side—reminding him yet again that this small human may not be human at all. He pet the kid’s soft hair absently, wondering if maybe he should do his own tests before he reported this unusual occurrence—when Jack crawled into the space his crossed legs made, and promptly fell asleep like a pup in the middle of a nest.

Sam froze not daring to move a muscle least he hurt Jack. He didn’t know how long he sat there staring at Jack blankly, but was deep enough in his head, not to detect company when Castiel came back.

“It seems he has adopted you.” Sam looked up to see Cas leaning against the doorway, watching them with a soft expression.

“Adopted me?”

“He doesn’t usually warm up to people right away. It took him more than half a year to like Donna, and she’d a literal angel! Doesn’t even cuss, that woman. But as you see, he took a real liking to you. I’ve never seen him like that with anyone else but me.”

Sam was not sure what to say to that. He couldn’t possibly explain that Jack’s fascination with him was only because of his wings. It was the only explanation. “What does sleeping in my lap got to do with anything?”

“Plenty.” Cas smiled softly as he kneeled beside Sam, gently picking up the lightly snoring boy, carrying Jack into his room. When he returned, he took up the exact same place on the floor as before.

They talked about everything and nothing as they sat by the fire roasting marshmallows. The marshmallows might as well be sponge in his mouth, but watching as Castiel tried to make him a perfectly roasted one, crowing in delight when he succeeded, well Sam would eat the entire packet if Cas wished.

After they settled back comfortably leaning against throw pillows, Cas told him about how he’d ended up adopting Jack though it wasn’t in the plans, and in turn Sam shared stories of his job helping people and how challenging it could be but also rewarding when sucessful, omitting all the supernatural aspects of course.

Cas fell asleep with his head resting on Sam and the Angel waited until he was fast asleep, before he moved Cas to the couch. He didn’t want to go to Heaven. Didn’t want another assignment but he needed to know what in the universe was that child.

—

“About time!” were the first words Sam heard, when he returned to the garrison. “Off in Bali?”

“Hi Dean,” he sighed. “Why would I go to Bali?”

“Sun. Scenery. What isn’t good about Bali.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Gabriel. You do know all his ‘disgustingly sweet’—as you love to complain about—drinks come from there?” Dean grunted in reply and Sam’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Wow. You’re in a mood…What happened?”

“Gabe called me a dickless hoe-bag,” Dean grumped.

“Well..to be fair—“

“If you want to live another century I suggest you shut up,” Dean scowled, but then his expression switched to confusion. “Hey, what’s with the wings? Why are there streaks of blue in them?”

“Wha—“ Sam took a look for himself and oh no..Dean was right. He didn’t even know Angel wings could do that, could change in design…

It was a good thing for him, that Dean was more distracted than usual. “You actually came at the perfect time. we have a Nephilim on our hands. We have to find it, and fast, before the Demons do.”

“A Nephilim? There’s no such thing De—“ Sam stopped. Jack.

It had to be Jack!

“There is now,” Dean said, not noticing Sam’s frozen expression. “We almost had it earlier and then it disappeared from the radar. The Host wants to keep it hush hush for now. I’ve got my hands full, so does Gabriel. You’re the only one we trust with this. Look, it should be a quick job. Some human is hiding it and all you have to do is eliminate them and bring the Nephilim to Heaven.”

“I—what?” Sam’s mind was running a mile a minute. Panic raised within him, he couldn’t give—and Cas he couldn’t even imagine ‘eliminating’ him!! Instead he responded with a question, “How could you lose it??”

“It’s not like you can use an EMF tracker on Earth, Sammy,” Dean growled, frowning heavily.

“Dean—“

“Just find the human and take them out. The Nephilim’s young, easily trusting. It will probably follow you even you offered it something as simple as candy.”

Dean had no idea how right he was. It would be the easiest job yet, since Sam was at Castiel’s.

He spent the entire night debating what to do, before laying down on the floor beside the couch so that was where Cas spotted him the next morning. — Snow.

Heaps of snow fell the previous night, this wasn’t even in the forecast..but so much that the front door would not budge and it stood on top of four stone steps! Cas looked out one more time before quietly sneaking past Sam who like a gentleman, slept on the floor.

Opening Jack’s door softly, Cas sat on his son’s bed. “How did you sleep last night?”

“Mr. Sam stay?”

“Well..he doesn’t have much of a choice now, does he?” Cas sighed but held Jack’s hand to let him know he wasn’t upset. “Thank you though. It was very sweet of you, Jack,”

This was their own little secret and as long as no one knew, Jack could stay with him. Jack understood that too thankfully, despite being such a young kid. Cas suspected that type of knowledge was something unusual too. “Why today?”

“You wanted him to stay…”

“…so you made it happen,” Cas finished. Kissing Jack on the forehead, Cas tucked the bedsheets against this small human who’d won his heart the moment he’d stepped into the adoption agency and said, “Come down later, okay?”

“Okay Dad,” Jack wiggled back into the pocket created and promptly fell asleep.

Walking down the stairs, Cas startled to find Sam at the bottom of them. “H-hi. How did you sleep?”

“I’m a little sore,” Sam dimpled, mischief in his eyes. Cas grinned.

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat..” Sam replied, putting his hands in his pant pockets. Last night they had discovered none of the pyjamas Cas owned would fit him, but there was a loose sleep shirt and on Sam’s broad shoulders, were so tight it might as well have been second skin.

He looked absolutely delectable. Cas stopped when he was eye level with Sam, which meant at least two steps off the ground.

“See something you like?”

“Oh don’t even pretend you don’t know!” Cas scoffed, cupping the nape of Sam’s neck, and pressing his chapped lips against soft ones. Sam caressed his thigh before easily picking him up and Cas wrapping his legs tightly around the taller man’s waist, was carried like that into a brightly lit room that could only be the kitchen.

Set down on the counter, Sam stood between his legs, hands roaming the expanse of Cas’ back, fingers just about dipping under his shirt, when he spoke, “I could do this forever,” Sam murmured against his lips.

“Hmm..” Cas buried his fingers in Sam’s soft hair, barely breathing since he didn’t want to part from Sam, when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“I guess my body disagrees.”

“Not all of you,” Sam quipped slyly.

Cas pushed him aside playfully and hopped onto the tiled floor. “Oh by the way, you need to know…it snowed a ton last night. Tons like can’t open the front door because its packed against it.”

“Oh. The forecast said sunny skies?” Sam sounded surprised, but there was a hint of something else that Cas couldn’t place. He wasn’t overly bothered by it. Snowed in, he had Sam all to himself.

Well him and Jack, but he didn’t mind sharing. — Sam knew he was sinking deeper and deeper.

Seeing Jack trusting him so easily last night, Sam now knew it was because Jack was part Angel. That’s why he felt safe with Sam, felt protected, they were kin in a way. There was no way he’d cause harm to the pup now. Jack really was innocent…he was oblivious of the dangers of the world and introducing him to violence would tip that scale, might even destroy him. As long as that didn’t happen, Sam was sure Jack would continue to be a happy boy.

And then there was Cass. Cas who’d besides the initial hesitation—Sam realized was more embarrassment than fearful—had been open and welcoming. He didn’t put up any pretense and he had no shame expressing his attraction to the Angel, but not in a pushy manner. Cas was changing his perception and there wasn’t even a little bit where he fought it.

Instead he enjoyed his time with just Cas, flinging pancake batter on him while the human was trying to be serious and not burn whatever was on the stove. Their shenanigans continued up until Jack arrived.

They made cookies the next morning, Sam and Jack making a mess of themselves and after a lot of rolling of the eyes, Cas joined them. Later that night, Sam lay down on Cas’ bed. Donna was right in the sense of the bed being wide. Having never needing to lay down, Sam found the whole thing weird, feet still managing to stick out.

“You can tuck your feet under, you know?” Cas laughed softly beside him, spotting Sam’s expression. Sam turned to face him instead. They stared at one another just like the time in the party hall.

“You have beautiful eyes, Cas”. Sam watched as a deep blush rose in Cas’ cheeks.

“And you have beautiful hair.”

“Is that why you like playing with them so much?”

Cas smiled at him lazily, a retort quick on his tongue. “as if you don’t enjoy it.”

Sam only hummed. Cas scooted closer and kissed his nose, linking Sam’s fingers with his, in the most intimate gesture Sam was yet to experience, “I wish you didn’t have to leave…” his voice trailed off, before he fell into a deep sleep.

With the knowledge that Cas definitely wouldn’t wake Sam allowed his wings to materialize, draping them onto Cas.

The meaning of Cas’ words finally made sense the next day, when Sam glanced out. The snow had completely melted, given creating slush and a lot of puddles but other than that, if he were human, it would be safe to travel.

What this revealed however, was that Cas knew something, otherwise how would he have been able to predict the extreme switch of weather? Honestly Sam wished Jack would stop, not only because it meant he no longer had an excuse to stay with Cas, but the Angels would definitely take notice.

That still meant he had to leave though. Breakfast was a somber meal, Cas not saying much. He did hold Sam’s hand throughout, even if it made it hard for him to eat. Sam didn’t resist because he realized he needed it too. Maybe if he was built the same as other Angels, it wouldn’t be so hard.

But he wasn’t. And it was.

One of the last moments they had was when Cas pulled out his fone and suggested they exchange numbers, “Just in case” he’d said. It read more as ‘I’ll miss you, please don’t disappear on me.’

Following suit, Sam pulled out his and typed his contact space as ‘Cass’. Castiel reached over his shoulder, again standing on a higher step and reverse linked their fingers so both palms were up, so he was now holding the device and pushed the delete button once, so it read ‘Cas’ instead.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked confused.

“Trust me, it matters,” with a fond smile, Cas quickly pecked Sam on his cheek.

Cas thankfully didn’t see when Sam gave Jack one of his downy feathers. “Our little secret okay?”

“Secret.” Jack nodded, smiling so brightly, Sam felt a pang in his heart. No matter what happened, he hope Jack would retain his innocence. It was Sam’s favourite thing about him. That and how he’d crawl into Sam’s lap, as Cas looked on.

“Take care, okay? Promise me.”

“I’ll try. Okay yes, yes I will take care,” Cas amended after Sam glared at him. “And..you too.”

“Sure.” — “Cas! Cas you here?!” Sam’s panicked voice carried easily up the stairs, where Cas was getting ready to use the shower. Strange. He didn’t recall hearing the door open with a ‘ping’, but something in Sam’s tone didn’t allow him dwell on.

“Sam? What is it?” Castiel rushed down the stairs, and Sam upon seeing him, looked like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders, but he wasn’t relaxing, not completely.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I tried. I tried every which way but—the storm maybe I’m not sure—they can’t find you, Cas! I can’t please—“ Sam’s frame shook. Cas had never seen him so undone and it scared him.

“Sam what are you talking about?”

“Mr. Sam?” Jack’s sweet voice called behind them and Sam turned, dropping to his feet fluidly, practically swallowed Jack in his arms.

“Jack..oh than-k you, you’re safe,”

“Sam?”

Sam’s shoulders tightened again and it hurt Cas to see him like this. Their parting had been bittersweet, and Cas had missed Sam’s warmth for the last couple weeks. Good Lord his dimples! Cas yearned to see them again.

Sam finally stood up and took a deep breadth. “I need you to close your eyes.” Seeing Cas about to ask why, he insisted, “Please. You trust me? Please, Cas.”

Feeling slightly foolish, Cas did as was requested, when he felt that familiar sensation of wind but not wind. Then he was being enveloped in a hug, comforting and warm and…safe. He’d thought he’d dreamt this up, but this feeling felt so good.

“Now open your eyes.”

Cas blinked once. Twice. Sam’s hands were by his side..then what was…Dark brown walls the same colour as Sam’s hair had materialized and wrapped around him like a cocoon.

“I’m an Angel, Cas. I know this must be hard to digest right now, and I understand if you…” Sam bit his lip in a nervous gesture. Not knowing what to say, Cas backed up only to feel a wall of feathers at his back. Despite looking like steel, it felt—

“Soft?” His eyes widened with shock and darted towards Jack. How he’d taken so easily to Sam, how he cuddled up like a puppy, how mesmerized he seemed early on.

“Soft!” Jack clapped happily that his dad finally got it.

“He’s been able to see them this entire time?!” Sam nodded solemnly.

“I know he’s not like…everyone else. He..he knows when people are coming even before they’re on our street. He knows if something terrible is going to happen and prevents me from going out of the house. He brought rain when there was a drought—“

Something must have tipped Sam off to reply “—excessively. But the flood happened in California?”

“He was watching TV, Sam.” Cas felt a brush against his cheek. Unknowingly, he’d moved his head to rest on them, feather’s tickling his cheek. “So. He is..”

“He is not dangerous, he is in danger, Cas. So are you. I’m going to try to fight them off, but first this is going to sting,” Sam put each of his large hands on Cas and Jack’s chest and Cas felt a surge of energy pass through him. “I’ve carved sigils on your ribcage that prevent Angels from tracking you. “That should give us some time.”

This was all too much for Cas. Sam wasn’t human, he had wings—beautifully majestic wings he could appreciate later—but what they were being hunted? Why? In his confusion his tone took a sharper edge.

“Some time for what? Because I’m not leaving, Sam. This is my home.”

“It will be temporary, I promise.”

“Temporary for how long? My mom always told me it was temporary that we stayed in motels in a new town. She would promise a house, a mailbox, a permanent school. I never got that house Sam—I was relocated to another town, another motel, another “temporary”. So I ask you again. How long? And if the answer is ‘I don’t know’, then Jack and I are staying put.

“If my son is wanted by the supernatural, it means he’s powerful. If they feel threatened, he’s really powerful. We can stay. You can stay.” Cas prayed Sam knew what what he really meant.

“If I stay, I’d fall. I’d lose my wings, I’d be human..” Sam’s voice went quiet.

“Would being human really be so bad?” The words were out of his mouth before he could consider them. Cas dropped his eyes to his feet, feeling vulnerable. He hadn’t opened himself to another in a really long time. He was being selfish; he was being a hypocrite.

“I’m sorry. No, no you’re right,“ he swallowed the lump in his throat. “You should go. If th-that’s what is best for you, I und—“

“I love you too, Cas. And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Cas felt weightless at the confession and tugged Sam to him, kissing him slowly, softly. Lovingly.

“No mistletoe?” said a small confused voice and it caused both Cas and his angel to smile into the kiss. — In the end things were pretty anticlimactic. The door was busted off its hinges as five Angels streamed through, Dean leading them.

Sam stood at the front, Cas on his left holding an Angel blade and Jack on his right, looking completely uninterested as he sat on the floor playing with plastic dinosaurs.

“I don’t want to fight you brother,” Sam said, looking solely at Dean, wings spread. “But I will, if I must.”

Dean glanced towards the human with an Angel’s name, looking unfazed at the appearance of Sam’s wings, or that Sam was shielding him from them. Narrowing his eyes, Dean realized Castiel’s eyes were the same colour as the new streaks on Sam’s wings. There was only one explanation for the change.

Dammit Sam! This was the worst ‘man walks in the bar’ joke. Except it wasn’t a joke. It was his brother in love.

He took his first good look at the Nephilim in question. It was looking right back, the delight plain in his eyes as it squealed, “Mo’ wings!” It was..it was a child. Part child anyways but Dean couldn’t sense any maliciousness coming from it.

There was no way Dean was going to take it away from its family now.

Just for the sake of reporting an interrogation, Dean said, “He caused a severe snowstorm that hit seven other states. That level of damage is hard to explain in places not known for snow!”

“Mr. Sam was leaving. Dad sad. Then Dad happy. Then Dad very happy!”

“Jack!” both Sam and Cas reprimanded him, blushing furiously. Dean smirked inwardly, okay this just got entertaining. He decided he liked the kid.

“The flood?”

“There was a drought,” Castiel added, despite Sam advising him to leave the talking to the Angels.

“And the hurricane in Africa?”

Sam frowned as did Cas, “I don’t know that one…”

“The lions wanted to eat the baby elephant. Elephants are nice. Lions were not nice.” Jack frowned disapprovingly.

“So he relocated the pack…that is kind of adorable,” said an Angel behind Dean.

To which another muttered, “I’m not arresting Sam’s son. Might relocate me too..” There were multiple muttered agreements. Cas looked over at Sam, who seemed as confused as he felt.

“Okay one last question,” Dean said, and all eyes snapped to him. “When’s the wedding?”

“DEAN!” —

#Sastiel #samstiel #castiel #sastielcc #sassy love #sam x castiel #castiel x sam #cassam #samcas #sastiel fic #sastiel fanfic #reverse au #sastiel secret santa 2019 #jack kline #angel!sam #human!cas #human!castiel

[slurrmp]

not another info sheet.

                                        sasha o’neill (stargate sg1)

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: sasha maria o’neill PRONUNCIATION: SASH-ə MEANING: defender, helper of mankind REASONING: named after her mother’s grandmother NICKNAME(S): sash (most common), ash, asha, kid PREFERRED NAME(S): just her full name or sash BIRTH DATE: october 20th 1972 AGE: 33 (as of season 9) ZODIAC: libra GENDER: female PRONOUNS: she/her ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual NATIONALITY: american ETHNICITY: white CURRENT LOCATION: colorado springs, cheyenne mountain LIVING CONDITIONS: a little apartment in the city, but will mostly stay at jack’s home. TITLE(S): miss

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: san francisco HOMETOWN: fairfax SOCIAL CLASS: fairly wealthy, but not exactly rich EDUCATION LEVEL: almost finished college FATHER: angus o’neill (deceased) MOTHER: maria o’neill (nee barnes) (mia) SIBLING(S): none BIRTH ORDER: only child CHILDREN: none PET(S): a pet gold fish named bruce, however, is too busy with work to actually have the dog she always wanted. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: jack o’neill (uncle), sara o’neill (aunt), charlie o’neill (cousin) (deceased) PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: max turner (four years), jonas quinn (two years), cameron mitchell (??) ARRESTS?: when she was a teenager and her father passed away, and her mother basically disowned her - sasha rebelled against her aunt and uncle, doing petty crimes such as shop lifting and grand theft PRISON TIME?: spent two nights in the county jail for stealing a car from the mayor

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: working for the sgc SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: it’s really disguised as working for the air force TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: she writes a column in the local paper APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: uhhhh couldn’t tell you, but it’s enough to live comfortably CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: very much so PAST JOB(S): worked at a fast food chain until she was 17, then worked for a supermarket (but was caught stealing & was fired) SPENDING HABITS: she knows what she loves and will always buy what she needs MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: her father’s dog tags, which she constantly wears around her neck

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: she was a cheerleader in high school before her father passed - moving into senior year of high school, sasha locked herself away from others and herself - which meant that she wasn’t as physically fit as she used to be. she was never overweight, but she couldn’t do a cartwheel to save her life anymore. however, joining the sgc - she’s managed to gain back her fitness and once again can do that cartwheel. OFFENSE: no DEFENSE: yes. her fighting style is more protect her body than anything else. SPEED: she’s not incredibly fast, but if something is chasing her, she has the will to go faster. INTELLIGENCE: rather intelligent, however, it is less mathematical smart and more historical smart. ACCURACY: she grew up in a military family, she’s very accurate AGILITY: after working back her fitness, sasha’s very good at climbing walls and leaping across tall buildings. STAMINA: it’s fairly good but no where near as good as it should be TEAMWORK: she depends on her team to survive and they depend on her to keep them alive TALENTS: can translate a different language within an hour, rather good at the piano SHORTCOMINGS: she’s judgemental, snippy and can be rather short with people. all in all it’s that o’neill charm LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, german, russian, dutch and japanese DRIVE?: yes JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yes CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes, badly though SWIM?: yes PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: kind of, without practice she loses her skill PLAY CHESS?: no (daniel’s trying to teach her though) BRAID HAIR?: yes TIE A TIE?: yes PICK A LOCK?: yes

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: alyssa milano EYE COLOR: brown HAIR COLOR: brown HAIR TYPE/STYLE: there’s almost a different style each year. season one: short and almost in a bob. season two: it has grown out more and now reaches her shoulders - curls. season six: it was shaved almost completely off. season three, four, five, seven, eight, nine and ten: it remains at shoulder length and wavy. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: only for when she’s reading DOMINANT HAND: right HEIGHT: 5′2″ WEIGHT: 60 kg BUILD: athletic EXERCISE HABITS: spars with teal’c once a week, while also uses the gym equipment at the sgc twice a week SKIN TONE: pale, but is able to tan rather easily TATTOOS: one on the back of her neck and one on the left side of her lower back PEIRCINGS: both lobes, including seconds, has her nose pierced as well MARKS/SCARS: there is a birthmark over her left hip. a scar just on the right side of her upper lip (which she got when she fell over on the driveway of her family home when she was six), a scar through her left eyebrow - which eerily is like jack’s, however, it was given to her on a mission NOTABLE FEATURES: her eyes and the mirroring scar in her eyebrow, just like jack. USUAL EXPRESSION: she is beaming most of the time - bright and bubbly expressions CLOTHING STYLE: very modern, loves a crop top and low cut jeans, but while she’s on base it is the typical sg uniform. blue fatigues mostly, considering the green makes her look sick JEWELRY: nothing too fancy considering her line of work, a couple of rings and bracelets ALLERGIES: peanuts, bees BODY TEMPERATURE: a normal body temperature DIET: she’s lived with jack for most of her life, it mainly consisted of bbq steak and when she was old enough beer. donuts, and snacks. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: continuously breaks limbs, but nothing too serious to bench her from off world work.

PSYCHOLOGY

JUNG TYPE: enfj ENNEAGRAM TYPE:  the achiever MORAL ALIGNMENT:  chaotic good ELEMENT: air PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE:  logical-mathematical APPROXIMATE IQ: 124 MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: struggles with ptsd after the death of her father and the events that have occurred in her life so far SOCIABILITY: very out going and loves to meet new people EMOTIONAL STABILITY: she’s been hurt so many times that sasha has started to pull away from anything emotional lately, so not good, but she hides it well with her outgoing personality OBSESSION(S): making sure that everything is perfect, making sure that missions will go correctly and nothing bad will happen. PHOBIA(S): tight spaces, spiders, flying, ADDICTION(S): none DRUG USE: none ALCOHOL USE: limited, loves a good beer every sunday afternoon PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: if push came to shove

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE:  she’s very articulate with her words. when the occasion calls for it, she can speak in a rather professional manner. but when she’s around friends or family, she won’t talk quite as stiff ACCENT: very clearly a west coast accent QUIRKS: she bounces a lot when she’s excited or even happy. it’s absolutely because she’s the shortest of the group and it makes her feel tall HOBBIES: reading is a big one - basically what she does to escape the ‘real world’, mainly romance and comedy novels because horror/sci-fi and action is what she lives on a daily basis HABITS: she has a habit of biting her lower lip, usually when she’s thinking or worried.  NERVOUS TICKS:  bounces her leg up and down when nervous, she will also pace a lot DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: one is absolutely to save the world from the goa’uld, while the others is her family and her friends FEARS:  losing said family and friends. she has a terrible habit of latching onto people she’s met - which isn’t good in her line of work. however, it helps her  POSITIVE TRAITS:  loyal, strong willed, will fight for her family NEGATIVE TRAITS:  falls in love too easily, tries to see the best in everyone - which usually gets her into trouble SENSE OF HUMOR:  very dry, it’s that o’neill sense of humour though DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?:  on and off CATCHPHRASE(S):oh for crying out loud

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: reading ANIMAL: fox BEVERAGE: beer BOOK: pride and prejudice CELEBRITY: brad pitt COLOR: pastel brown DESIGNER: vera wang FOOD: fried rice FLOWER: sunflower GEM: diamond HOLIDAY: christmas MODE OF TRANSPORTATION:  mini cooper MOVIE: sleepless in seatle MUSICAL ARTIST: elton john SCENERY: snowy day next to a fireplace in the city SCENT: lavender SPORT: football SPORTS TEAM: 49ers TELEVISION SHOW: simpsons WEATHER: winter VACATION DESTINATION: bora bora

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: to see the goa’uld destroyed and to have her family safe GREATEST FEAR: to lose the planet and her family MOST AT EASE WHEN: things are going the right way, no matter the scenario - could be in the middle of a mission, but as long as she knows what’s she’s doing, sasha can breeze through it LEAST AT EASE WHEN:  everything is going wrong, mainly when missions stuff up. as well as when she has no control over a situation WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: one of the alternate world’s reality, becoming her reality. the goa’uld taking over the world and enslaving humanity BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: finally getting into college BIGGEST REGRET:  losing her daughter MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT:  it’s not everyday that you come face to face with a new species, it’s also not everyday that you decide to trip UP stairs when coming to greet them, falling flat on her face and breaking her nose BIGGEST SECRET:  max and sasha were expecting a baby - but they were not compatible and the baby died during the first trimester, she never told anyone besides janet TOP PRIORITIES: her job and her family

#ch. sasha o'neill. #promise that you'll never find another like me. #* & MEET MY OC'S. #stargate

[emilx311]

Tobirama had been blind since birth, he dealt with it, even when his lack of sight led to shenanigans. Madara, on the other hand, was very confused by Tobirama's seemingly random habits. Or, four times Madara really should have figured out Tobirama was blind and the one time it actually came up. 

My first MadaTobi week story! I'm hoping to do 4 of these in total. This is for the blind Tobirama prompt

read on AO3 or under the cut, also if you enjoyed this please buy me a coffee

Senju Tobirama had a secret. It was not one he really cared about, but his father had and keeping it had become a habit over the years. You see, Tobirama was blind. He had been born that way, with his eyes closed and his senses open. Hashirama and Touka knew, as did a few of the older Senju, but even within his clan most did not. Tobirama had never understood why others seemed to make such a big deal about it. He had never had it so he could not miss it and he had found ways to compensate for anything his blindness may have prevented him from otherwise doing. He was a capable and deadly warrior so he really did not see why anyone would care. This was why he had never thought to tell the Uchiha of his condition even after pulling his blow on Izuna to create peace and helping their brothers to build the village of their dreams.

One of the first things Madara noticed about Tobirama after peace was established was how messy his handwriting was. This seemed odd since anyone who spent any time around the brothers could see that Tobirama was the organized, logical one. He was the one who came up with the systems, the one who kept his brother in check and on task. And yet, while Hashirama had the beautiful handwriting befitting of a clan head's son Tobirama's was chicken scratch. It was messy and slanted and almost impossible to read. The albino seemed aware of this, had even hired someone specifically to be his scribe, but never did anything to fix it. Madara wanted to say something about it, but none of the Senju reacted or seemed to think it strange and he didn't want to make it seem as if the Uchiha were criticizing their heir. Izuna also thought it odd, but when he asked his brother he was unable to offer a possible explanation even after all the years he had spent fighting and studying the other.

Madara was watching Tobirama again, Hashirama noticed. He’d been doing that quite a bit since Tobirama had pulled his blow to Izuna, but this time seemed different. Instead of being focused on his brother himself the Uchiha was squinting at the book held in his brother’s hands. It was a braille book because Tobirama had just gotten back from a mission the night before and his chakra was still low, but otherwise Hashirama saw nothing out of the ordinary about it.

“Something wrong? You seem distracted” Hashirama asked his friend off-handily. Madara hummed, still focussed on Tobirama.

“Not really just…what is your brother holding?” Madara asks in return. Hashirama gives him a confused look.

“What? It’s a book” he replies. Madara blinks before looking at him quizzically.

“But there’s no words on it and he’s not using it to write in” Madara points out.

“Of course not, it’s written in braille. He always reads that way when he’s tired or low on chakra, it’s more relaxing for him” Hashirama explains. He’s surprised that Madara has never seen his brother read braille before, he does it often enough. Tobirama really did find it more relaxing since he didn’t have to focus his chakra when he read this way. It was almost as good as swimming for de-stressing him.

“Oh” was all Madara could say to that and Hashirama wandered away happily with no idea he’d left his friend even more confused than before.

Madara blinked. He blinked again. The sight in front of him didn’t disappear or change. He activated his Sharingan just to be sure. Everything stayed the same.  So, he was not hallucinating or caught in a genjutsu, so what he was seeing had to be real. He took a moment to wrestle with that idea, but he just couldn’t accept it. There had to be an illusion of some sort, had to be! There was absolutely no way in the world Senju Tobirama would be dressed in that otherwise. No way!

He had tracked the Senju down to one of the more secluded training grounds with a few questions about paperwork only to find the sight in front of him. At first glance everything seemed normal enough. Tobirama was flowing through a series of katas, moving fluidly but slowly from one pose to the next with precision and control. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat that made his clothes cling in delicious ways. That was not the problem (or at least not the one Madara was focussed on, the one that is preventing him from appreciating this view). The clothes themselves were even, on a basic level, appropriate training wear. A pair of flexible capris and a teeshirt with a V-neck plus the mesh he wore underneath. No, the problem, the huge mind-bending, reality-warping problem was the colour of the clothes.

The pants weren’t too bad he supposed, being a darkish shade of green unfortunately reminiscent of vomit. They, at least, had the redeeming quality of providing some camouflage with the forest. The shirt did not. The shirt had nothing redeeming about it what so ever. It was a horrendous shade of neon pink (Madara wasn’t sure where the younger man had even been able to find it). The colour would have been bad enough on its own, but when contrasted with the pants was somehow even worse. ‘And’ he noticed distantly, ‘neither of them suits his colouring very well anyway’.

“What the fuck Senju?” He demanded once his brain had rebooted enough for his mouth to work. The Senju in question heaved a sigh and turned to give the Uchiha his full attention in the hope it would get him to leave sooner.

“What Uchiha? It’s called training. I would have thought you aware of the concept, or are you so above us mere mortals that you don’t need it?” He questioned, annoyed at being interrupted.

“What, no! Not the training, of course I know what that is! I meant the clothes! What the hell are you wearing?!?” Madara screeched, waving his hands towards the offending items. Tobirama blinked looking very confused.

“I’m wearing clothes as you yourself just pointed out. I fail to see the issue with it. They are hardly immodest and provide the lightness and flexibility I require to optimize my training” he responded blandly.

“You-immodest, no, what?” The Uchiha sputtered. Tobirama gave him a judgemental ‘get to the point’ look. “It’s not the type of clothes that’s the problem! It’s the colour! Are you trying to make all of Konoha go blind???” He questioned. Tobirama glanced down self-consciously.

“Is it really that bad?” He asked. “I mean, I know they’re not the best, which is why they were in my training clothes pile in the first place, but I didn’t think it was-”

“They are” Madara cut him off. “Please, for the sake of us all, burn them. Or, at least the shirt. No one deserves to see that, not even you.” Then, because he has always been far too curious for his own good, he asked, “where did you even buy that, and why?”

“No idea” Tobirama replied with a shrug. “Brother gave it to me, likely as a joke so he could laugh when I grabbed and worse it out by accident”. Madara paused for a moment at that, but it did sound like something Hashirama would do. He wasn’t sure how Tobirama could miss the colour (his eyes!) but then again, he wasn’t always the best in the mornings himself.

“Humph, just do the world a favor and burn it. The idiot’s likely already forgotten about giving it to you” he advised again, only to start sputtering, again, as Tobirama pulled the shirt off right in front of him. “What are you doing now???” He shrieked, a blush forming at the sight of the other’s pale, sculpted chest highlighted by the darkness of the mesh.

“I’m taking your advice. If it’s really that bad I may was well take the chance to get rid of it now. Uchiha are rather well known for their abilities with fire” Tobirama pointed out. Madara preened once he understood what Tobirama was suggesting. Burn the abomination? Yes, he could do that! He grabbed it out of the other’s hands, laid it on the ground and made a show of setting it ablaze. Once the offensive object was nothing but ash, Tobirama used a water jutsu to put the fire out.

“Thanks, Uchiha” Tobirama said. Madara nodded in acknowledgement and wandered off, please with his morning’s work. It was only after he was halfway back to the tower that he remembered why he’d been looking for Tobirama in the first place. He thought for a moment before shrugging. The paperwork could wait, what he’d ended up doing had been far more important. Plus, who wouldn’t have gotten distracted at such a sight? He didn’t know how the Senju had been able to stand having it on! (Meanwhile, Tobirama made a note to himself to go over all his clothes with Mito later-he’d had no idea any of them were that bad!)

Tobirama was beyond tired. He’d just gotten back from a mission (not that bad, but still tiring) and had been planning on making his report and then returning home and passing out. Instead, he had walked into the tower only to be greeted by terrified staff, screams, and flames. He pinched his nose, sighed, and set himself to sorting out the chaos.

He was unsurprised to find Madara and Hashirama at the epicenter of the mess. Stopping to shoot a glare at Izuna and Touka who were standing off to the side snickering, he called up a shave of water and dumped it on the two strongest shinobi of their age. Predictably, the screaming then turned into confused sputtering. Tobirama despaired for the village sometimes, and was also vaguely amazed that there even was one with these idiots in charge.

“Tobi! You’re back!” Hashirama cheered once he noticed his brother. He forgot about Madara as he eagerly launched himself forward to hug Tobirama, who neatly dodged him.

“Yes, I am, no, I am not hugging you while you are all wet” Tobirama told him. Hashirama laughed sheepishly. By that point Madara had managed to wrestle his wet hair back away from his face and had switched his glare from Hashirama to Tobirama.

“Oh, you survived, joy” he muttered.  The dunking had not improved his already bad mood (Izuna considered it Karma for the number of times Madara had dumped him in the koi pond). Tobirama snorted.

“Yes, I survived, only to come back to this. I thought I specifically told you that I expected the village to be standing, intact, and not on fire when I got back!” Tobirama gave all four of them a pointed look, and they did have the dignity to look a bit abashed, or well, most of them did.

“It is!” Madara protested.

“This building is part of the village and there was definitely fire just a moment ago” he pointed out drily. Madara pinked slightly and looked away from the albino. Now that he had successfully cowed them Tobirama set about finding out what had happened and actually fixing the problems (setting them on fire is not a solution Madara!).

By the time he’d finished with that and finally made his report it was well into the night, and he was, as previously mentioned, very tired and also a bit low on chakra. Because of this, he was not sensing at anywhere near his usual level. This, he maintained, was why he ran into the door. Taking a step backwards and rubbing his head he glared at the offending piece of wood (ignoring how his brother and Madara were snickering). Grumbling, he reached his hand out to grab the nob and pish the door open. It didn’t move. Puzzled, he tried a bit harder, but there were still no results. Madara had, by now, stopped laughing and was starting to look a bit worried. Fed up, Tobirama switched tactics and gave the door a hard yank. This time, it did open-flying backwards with enough force to knock into his head, again. Tobirama cursed, he’d never been fond of doors, while Madara rushed over.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” The Uchiha asked, fluttering around him with actual concern. He glared at Hashirama who was still snickering.

“I’m fine” Tobirama waved him off, “just tired”. Madara made a noise of contempt and began feeling the other’s head for bumps himself.

“It’ll be fine, this is hardly the first time he’s done this” Hashirama reassured him, voice still infused with mirth. “He always has trouble with doors when he gets tired. It’s why he has an open layout and shoji doors in his house, and why he uses windows so often” Hashirama explains, which…kind of makes sense. (Madara had wondered about the window thing. When they were first building Konoha, Hashirama had insisted that all the central buildings needed to have large numbers of windows and then that those windows had to be able to open from the outside. The Senju, when they heard, had all nodded with tired and resigned looks. The Uchiha had been so confused until the buildings actually started seeing use and Senju Tobirama started sliding through them. More than one of his clansmen had had minor panic attacks upon turning around to find Tobirama suddenly there, standing calmly by the window, but they’d gotten used to it quickly enough. It had become a secret pleasure for Madara to watch the albino twist his lean body as he entered or exited by his chosen route.)

“He even swore off door entirely for a few months as a child, would only ever use the windows. Broke a few bursting in when they were locked before everyone finally just gave up and started keeping them open” Hashirama adds. Tobirama looks unrepentant and even seems to smirk at the memory. “Still, this is usually a sign that he really needs sleep, and I still have some things to finish up here so would you mind making sure he gets home safe for me?” Hashirama shot his best pleading face ad his friend who pretended to be annoyed as he agreed (neither Senju was fooled). Once they were out of Hashirama’s sight Madara took the opportunity to wrap an arm around Tobirama, who rolled his eyes.

“I know I’m tired, but I can still walk by myself” he mentioned sarcastically. Madara shrugged.

“Maybe I want an excuse to touch my boyfriend who’s been away” Madara said, smiling with pleasure at the light blush his words cause. Their relationship is still new, having only begun a few weeks ago, but it was good. They would probably get around to telling people soon (neither wanted to deal with their brothers’ inevitable dramatics), but for now they were still keeping it quiet.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier” Madara adds, cringing as he remembered his first words to the newly returned Tobirama. “I am very happy that you’re still alive and back safe”. The Senju leaned into him a little in reassurance.

“I know, it’s fine. You were obviously upset, and my welcome to you was not the warmest either” he told the other. Madara just smiled at him, amazed as he always was that this man was his. They stopped once they reached Tobirama’s home and Madara pressed a light kiss to his lips before letting go and stepping back.

“Think you can manage the door?” He couldn’t resist teasing. Tobirama huffed, but there was a small smile playing around his lips. He walked up to the door and opened it with a big flourish, just to prove he could. Madara laughed.

“Good night then dear heart, sleep well” he told Tobirama who waved a hand in acknowledgement and farewell as he stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. Someday, Madara hoped, they would share a house with plenty of open space and windows and shoji doors where they could retire for the evening together.

It was months after that when things finally came to a head. If he was being honest, Tobirama would have to admit that he’d actually forgotten that Madara didn’t know he was blind. His partner was so good about accommodating him and his quirks that the whole thing had rather slipped his mind. Because of this he was genuinely surprised when it actually came out.

Their relationship was going well and they’d finally decided it was time to tell their families (well, they were both pretty sire Mito already knew, but they would tell everyone else). Since both were aware of their brothers’ personalities and tendency to over react (especially Hashirama) they had decided to do this in private and get it over with all at once. So, they had arranged for a family dinner at Tobirama’s and had invited Hashirama, Mito, Touka, and Izuna. They both knew that once the shock passed their family would be happy for them, but Madara was finding that knowing this did nothing to lessen the nerves churning inside him which was making him twitchy and irritable. Tobirama, Izuna, and Hashirama were the most important people in his life and he had no idea what he’d do if he ever lost one of them, but it would not be pretty. Because of this, he was fluttering around trying to make everything as perfect as possible.

“Why do you only have one vase? And why is it so deeply buried?!” He demanded between muffled curses as he finally unearthed the aforementioned object from the back of a cupboard that looked like it hadn’t been opened since Tobirama moved in. He carefully rinsed the dust off it, filled it with water and the flowers bouquet he’d bought and found it a place near the center of the table.

“Flowers aren’t really my thing since I can’t appreciate them properly. Besides, Anija makes them bloom everywhere anyways, so what would the point be?” Tobirama replies from his perch on the counter across the kitchen. Madara doesn’t really understand the first part but that’s okay because he understands the second way too well.

"Does this look okay? I wasn't sure if the colours of the flowers were too clashing but the clerk assured me, they were offset by the others enough that it didn't matter..." Madara trailed off. He knew he was being a bit ridiculous but the level incredulity in Tobirama's look was hurtful and uncalled for.

“Why in the world are you asking me?” Tobirama asked.

“Because you’re here?” Madara’s reply came out more of a question. “I know you don’t really care much about colour, but you can at least tell me if you can stand looking at them” he huffed. Tobirama froze, his eyes going wide which made Madara freeze in turn because that? That was not a good look.

“Shit” Tobirama murmured to himself and Madara felt as if a cold hand was trailing down his back. Tobirama rarely swore and when he did it usually meant something really big and really bad was going on. He had a split second to wonder if the village was being invaded before Tobirama started talking again. “Fuck, you don’t know! How could I forget you didn’t know?!?” He raked an agitated hand through his white hair. Madara was getting the sense that there was something he didn’t know.

“Ah? Tobi, love?” He questioned when after a minute the other just continued muttering to himself about what an idiot he was. “What don’t I know?” He figured it was best to ask bluntly, he’d never been any good at tact anyway. He was startled when the question made his normally stoic boyfriend blush and fidget ever so slightly.

“I…I didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you” Tobirama started off with, trying to reassure Madara but only succeeding in making him more anxious. “I assumed you knew. That Hashirama had told you at some point or that Izuna had figured it out and it just didn’t bother you which is why you never brought it up…” Tobirama realizing he was rambling forced himself to stop and took a deep breath before, finally, getting to the heart of the matter. “I’m blind” he blurted out. Madara took a moment to digest that.

“Oh” the Uchiha eventually replied dumbly. Tobirama, his strong and skilled lover, the man who’d spared his little brother and made his childhood dreams possible was blind. He wanted to reel in shock but…but he kept remembering instances, and small habits of Tobirama’s he’d observed that suddenly made so much more sense. His handwriting, the scribe he had with him at all times at work, his braille books and the way he would always read them and only them when he was low on chakra. It explained Hashirama’s insistence on giving him the most horrible clothes, why he hated doors and kept everything so neat. Every odd habit and quirk of his lover’s he’d wondered about but accepted (because they were a part of Tobirama and therefore precious) suddenly made sense. He looked back at Tobirama (when had he looked away?) and found him playing with a loose thread looking worried and…ashamed? He realized then that Tobirama expected him to be mad. Expected him to be angry that he’d never mentioned this to him before.

“Oh, Tobi” he crossed the distance between them in quick steps and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. “I’m not mad” he reassured the other. “Yes, I’m surprised because I never would have guessed and I’m maybe a bit annoyed at myself for not noticing the clues, but I’m not upset with you. I’m honoured that you trust me enough to tell me now!” He pulled the other down for a kiss that he poured his soul into. He tried to show the other how much he loved him, how learning this only made his love and admiration for the other’s strength grow. He seemed to have succeeded since Tobirama was beaming at him when he pulled away.

“I love you” the albino told him tenderly as he tucked an escaped strand of black hair back behind Madara’s ear, caressing his face as he went. Madara nuzzled into the hand with a smile. “And I trust you with all that I am” he added. Madara felt his heart skip a beat at the admission and the adoration written plainly in red, sightless eyes. He’d known, of course, but to hear it…They would have details to work out later, questions Madara would need to ask and accommodations he’d learn to provide, but for the moment this was everything he needed and wanted.

“I love you too, there is no one I would rather have beside me” he confessed in turn. Delighting in the way Tobirama’s smile widened even more at the words. Entranced with the man in front of him Madara could do nothing but kiss him again. The world around him faded away until the only thing left was Tobirama. Evidently, his love was having a similar experience since neither of them noticed the arrival of their relatives. They were pulled apart, and back into reality, by Hashirama’s happy squeezing and Izuna’s confused exclamations. Blushing, Madara pulled away to let Tobirama hop off the counter. He kept one hand in Tobirama’s and felt the other give it a comforting squeeze. Tobirama had his back and they would face this together. Strength renewed, Madara set about helping the other deal with the ridiculous people they called family.

#MadaTobi #madatobiweek2019 #Blind Tobirama #Tobirama #Madara #Hashirama #Izuna

[edgarbright]

Red Army Baseball AU Headcanons

Shout out to @lofi-bear​​ for sharing some great baseball AU fanart! I wrote the majority of this after seeing the Black Army, but now there’s a Red Army too so go take a look! They really got my headcanons running!

These kind of walk the line between canon and AU. We could either have an official Red Army baseball team or this could be the set-up for a school/league AU. But either way: play ball!

Lancelot - pitcher

No one instills more confidence in the team than this man here

Nicknamed the Beautiful Beast for both his pitching and batting styles

He is the central defense on the mound but also a pinnacle point in the offense at the plate

Fastballs have serious heat and he is best known for his speed, most of his outs are actually gained through breaking balls

If you’re looking for that meat ball to slam over the fence you’re going to end up swinging over a slider

Has occasional problems with being a slow-starter, but his team does not

Can appear a lonely figure, often relying on himself despite his team surrounding him

While the team calls to just let the batter hit it and let them field it (they want to field it!), Lancelot sometimes ignores them and makes the decision himself

He often times just wants to fight the tough batters one-one-one. He'll run himself raged with pitch count is he must. He isn’t one to back down even when maybe he should

In a more modern AU, he has had either problems with his knee or elbow, maybe both. He's surely had surgery at least once--Kyle is the only one who knows for sure while Edgar suspects, Zero shows some concern, and Jonah respects and admires Lancelot too much to think him capable of injury.

When the catcher comes to visit him on the mound, Lancelot usually lets them lead the conversation if he doesn’t tell them to get back to home plate

Lancelot knows a lot more about candy now than he did before he started playing baseball

In addition to his strong pitching, he’s a heavy hitter

Bats fourth in the clean-up position

This is still an odd choice because he plays a strong small game and his on-base percentage isn’t that good

Skilled at using bunts and sacrifices to move other players along

But when he sees the right pitch, he swings for the fences and it’s gone

Edgar - catcher

Can make a regular pitcher look outstanding. With an already outstanding pitcher like Lancelot on the mound, the opposing team will have their work cut out for them.

Could honestly and competently play any position

Although the team now knows not to put him in the outfield after the time he was found sitting about on the lawn. He still jumped up to catch the flyball, so no one can really complain or accuse him of sitting there with his eyes closed (they have no proof his eyes were closed), but they remember...

As a catcher, he has the full view of the team and can strategize best on where to place them. It's hard to get bored when he's in the center of things.

He smiles off those foul tips but damn do they hurt

Laughs off his bruises

Forget stealing bases when this guy is behind the plate

When Lancelot lets him, Edgar is a decisive component to how they take down each batter. He can lead the pitches like no one's business

He will have researched which pitches the batter likes and which they don't

If the batter is new, he'll have fun figuring them out

Says things like, "Oh, a little higher next time!" and "Nice swing" to the batters. Very encouraging. The batters are sweating.

As a batter, he can either come across as very dangerous or as if he’s fooling around

No matter where you put him, he's the Gentle Demon

It's worse when he's the relief pitcher. Very gentle but oh dear, those pitches.

His pitching form is absolutely beautiful. Just positively smooth and stunning.

But as a relief pitcher, he lacks the rallying ability of Lancelot

His pitching dilemma is that no one can catch for his best pitches (knuckball for sure). For having such wonderful control, his pitches drop or lunge too quick for the batter or the catcher. He's been tagged with more than his share of wild pitches.

He's not afraid to shave the hairs off the batter's chins if they crowd the plate. He’ll call for a close inside pitch on purpose. If you get hit, that's awful, are you OK? But he won't be phased.

Edgar is rarely used for relief pitching

Since he has to tone down his playing style to accommodate the rest of the team, he gets bored on the mound, which is why he doesn't want to pitch. Being too good is the same as being the worst.

Thus he always votes for Zero to take the mound instead. Always.

Grew up playing catch with his uncle, Claudius.

Claudius comes to the games on occasion. Lancelot does not appreciate his presence. Edgar looks unbothered but he always acts a little different

Edgar has had a past using dangerous plate blocking styles, cleat-first slides, and spitballs encouraged by his uncle. It’s another reason he doesn’t volunteer to do relief pitching. Once a cheater always a cheater...

He bats second after Zero, although he’s strong enough with keen enough senses he could pull off clean-up, but the more chances he gets to bat, the better, so he’s higher in the line-up

Switch hitter (can bat left- or right-handed), either using this skill to great effect or simply to mess with the opposing pitcher (also to great effect)

Jonah - third base

Wanted to be be a catcher when he first found out Lancelot was a pitcher, but he's not good at reading batters and his strategies aren't very in depth

Also struggled as a catcher because he complained too much about the protective gear and the squatting and having to scramble about in the dirt. It's not very dignified.

So he'll be Lancelot's right-hand man--guarding the hot seat at third base.

He’s quick on his feet with a discerning eye. He’s quick to tell what’s coming off the bat

He still ends up scrambling in the dirt to catch those bunts, but he'd rather get a little dirty than let some batter make a fool of one of Lancelot's glorious pitches by tapping it

Thinks bunts are a personal offense towards Lancelot's person

His appearance belies the absolute monster throw he can unleash to get that ball to first plate for the out

Absolutely HATES that Edgar uses the 1-on-1 time with Lancelot on the mound to talk about weird candy

Jonah SWEARS Edgar has given Lancelot candy during games before but he doesn't have any PROOF and it drives him crazy

Has a lot of pride in his position and in the team. Expects them to be more dignified (but isn't actually angry when they aren't)

He’s the one declaring that he will NOT let any balls past him (not that he always has say in the matter)

He’s all sweat, blood, and tears for this goddamn team

Used to be on a team with Luka and really misses it. Doesn’t miss a chance to remind Luka that there is always a place for him on Jonah’s current team

Left outfielder is a confirmed Heart Defender

Jonah bats third, after Edgar and before Lancelot, because while he’s a strong batter, the psychological aspect that Lancelot is coming to the plate behind him actually increases Jonah’s hit percentage. Jonah is determined to get on base for Lancelot.

Zero - shortstop

Zero started playing baseball because Edgar pulled him into it

He loves it and practices daily

Quick on his feet -- he’s the fastest runner on the team.

Analytical with strong hand-eye coordination. His calm demeanor results in some great judgement calls

Whether or not he makes a good play, he can be a little too hard on himself. The throw to first could have been lower, or he should have expected the batter to pull the pitch after seeing the last swing.

Works incredibly well with Edgar in getting those double-plays. A single glance from Edgar and he knows what’s coming and prepares.

Is a relief pitcher as well

Whenever they are in a bind, Edgar’s recommending Zero to play relief. Edgar loves catching for Zero! Zero is not sure whether he should be happy about this or not, but they make an even more coherent battery than Edgar does with Lancelot, if only because Zero is more about teamwork than Lancelot is

As a pitcher, he takes some of the best of Lancelot and Edgar’s play styles: heated pitches with fierce control. Although he’s still not as fast as Lancelot and lacks the movement on Edgar’s pitches.

Plays a rather straight, honest game.

The team is quick to rally behind him when he’s on the mound

Gets angry with Edgar for not sharing the burden of the plays--Edgar making pitch calls to lessen the demand on the fielders or to cut down Zero’s pitch count by making the fielders work without asking Zero about it

A strong batter but his best skill lies in his feet. He gets those hits and gets on base.

The ideal lead-off man, batting first

But has to deal with any nonsense or spectacular batting choices Edgar follows up with

Kyle - first base

The player who doesn’t like physical exertion but wound up playing baseball anyway

First base involves least amount of running involved but still a seriously hot corner

His weaker throw arm isn't as much a hindrance at first base

Handles a lot of catching though, second only to the Catcher

His flexibility is what makes him shine on first base, allowing him to stretch out when needed while keeping that foot on the plate

Gives close support and a close eye on Lancelot, who he knows overworks himself

Kyle is the main one on the team who can get Lancelot to stop. He’s the one who suggests that maybe Lancelot switch out a while when Lancelot is starting to get exhausted

Bats ninth and last in the line-up because he’s just not very good at batting either (lol)

Despite his poor athleticism, he doesn’t phone it in. When he’s at bat, he swings for it. When he’s on base, he’s going to run

Is surprisingly good at stealing bases (He can sprint but just don’t expect him to keep going!)

And here’s a bonus to complete the infield! Absolutely no one is surprised by who it is!

Harr - second base

He's on the Red Army team because I said so that's why!

Loki is on the Black Army team so it’s fair

Left handed batter and pitcher

2nd baseman and theoretical relief pitcher

Good enough to be a starting pitcher

Rivals Lancelot in skill/strength

But when he's not concentrated on the batter, he can get overwhelmed by the spectators

If the spectators start hollering at him, he cripples, he gets embarrassed

It doesn’t actually impede his pitching too much because he’s very good/professional, but you can see him squirming

This is also a problem for when he's fielding but not as bad

Very fluid on those double plays and very considerate towards Kyle's reach

Supportive and even a little protective of Zero for reasons no one but Lancelot seems to know. Works well with Zero at covering second base.

Often at odds with Jonah during huddles on the mound, especially where Lancelot is concerned, but ends up backing down quickly due to shy embarrassment at being verbally attacked rather than because his assessment was wrong

It's for the best that Zero is between them in the field

Has a past of being a a bit of a selfish batter but has since reformed. He knows he can’t pitch and bat all by himself. He can’t win a game if he tires out his arm because he won’t depend on the team to field it. He can’t win a game if he’s batting like no one else is on base, waiting for him to bring them home.

Harr will wait for the pitch he likes before he swings. If he swings before, it’s because he’s testing his timing. He’s very careful batter so it’s difficult to get him out. Opposing pitchers rack up their pitch count against him.

Harr bats after Lancelot because, should Lancelot’s attempt to sacrifice himself wind up with him getting on base instead, Harr will always brings Lancelot home (♡´艸`)

Batting Order:

(1) shortstop: Zero

(2) Catcher: Edgar

(3) 3rd base: Jonah

(4) Pitcher: Lancelot

(5) 2nd base: Harr

(9) 1st base: Kyle

Pitch Choices (which I’m still debating over):

Lancelot: Four-seam fastball, slider, screwball, changeup

Edgar: Two-seam fastball, knuckleball, cutter

Zero: Four-seam fastball, two-seam fastball, slider

Harr: Four-seam fastball, sinker, curveball

#my ikerev #lancelot kingsley #edgar bright #jonah clemence #ikerev zero #kyle ash #harr silver #red army #ikerev headcanons #ikerev au #when i say rambling i mean rambling

[theliterateape]

Equality or Equity? The Slow Crawl to a Planet Fitness World

By Don Hall

“You are now entering the Judgement Free Zone.”

In the myriad gymnasiums in any given city in America, most look the same. The equipment, the locker rooms, the mirrors. All pretty basic stuff. The standout is Planet Fitness because this gym is about courting the people who, in their intimidation in the face of those few who really work out, feel out of place and left out. Planet Fitness is a gym with a mantra: you don’t have to work that hard as long as you are a member.

Planet Fitness succeeds by leveling down the very idea of self improvement by emphasizing acceptance, You be you equity over, you know, getting in shape.

Along with the continuing need to define racism, anti-racism, white privilege, ableism, sexism, misogyny, misandry, the effects of slavery and Jim Crow on current economic disparity, and socialism, the debate at the heart of it all is between a push for equality or equity.

A recent Medium read (yes. I know. It’s fucking Medium, which has become HuffPost without the benefit of editors or McSwenis with the benefit of a sense of humor) parses out the difference this way:

Equality means sameness. The goal of racial equality is for everyone to be treated the same, but that is not the focus of racial justice. The focus of racial justice is equity.

Equity is fairness and justice. For success to occur, everyone must be able to begin from the same point and be given the same resources.

In terms of the United States specifically this also brings to bear the dueling concepts of The Melting Pot or The Salad Bowl. The Melting Pot requires assimilation and settling into a framework of homogenization culturally. The Salad Bowl requires no such blending of cultures and instead necessitates the friction of competing cultures available to all.

The 20th Century, despite its shitty embrace of inequality in terms of anyone not white, male, and financially successful, trumpeted The Melting Pot. As the century turned the corner those who were required to assimilate finally had had enough and fought back. The Rainbow Coalition of George McGovern, the Civil Rights Act, Affirmative Action, and the push for the ERA are notable in that fight.

Equality only works if everyone is treated equally. Not everyone was so we entered the 21st Century with the new paradigm of equity. 

The common graphic used to demonstrate this is this one:

Equality is when everyone is treated the same; equity is a compensation for those starting at a disadvantage.

Sounds fair. Seems like the way to go because equity is, as the Medium writer put it, about “...fairness and justice...” Equity is about shaving off the rough edges of existence to compensate people for either unfair obstacles placed in front of them or unfair disadvantages with which they were born. 

Recently, a friend of mine wrote me in regards to the assertion I made that a Republican man and I found some common ground in a civil political discussion. Her response was that he would decidedly not have the same civil discussion with my wife. I disagreed (mostly due to the fact that this specific guy was more like me than the horrors of toxic men we read about in other countless Medium pieces).

My friend is incredibly smart and knows her way around words. 

Tall guys don't have to reach to get into the cabinet over the fridge. Tall guys don't have to reach to get to suitcase on the shelf in the closet. Tall guys don't have to reach get the snow off the top of the car.  They can do all those things without mechanically having to straighten their arm.

I know tall guys don't reach, no matter what you say. Just like I know and there is no doubt in my mind that, despite how pal-y and talking about Reagan you were with that guy, that guy would not treat your wife the same way he treated you.

I know it because of her body politic, and because of my body politic, and of yours, even if you're 2 years shy of being a boomer. Yeah, you scored one for the libtards by having a nice chat with the guy.  It must be nice to be a 55 year old white guy who can't be over-powered at the drop of a hat. Just like the angle of the hand as it enters the water, and the lift of the elbow, and shoulder roll, you might not think those things matter, but I know they do.

Her point is well-taken. While not a tall guy, I get the metaphor and the fact that I am a college-educated, employed, conventionally dressed, middle-aged white heterosexual dude has afforded me the exact laziness she points out. My birth and specific circumstances beyond my control have put me right there with the tall guys who don’t really have to overcome much adversity to function in a world built for tall guys.

It is nice. It’s easier. It’s like going to Planet Fitness where core in its marketing is that you can go to the gym and not have to work out that hard and pretend you are advancing your health with as little resistance as possible. I mean, in terms of privilege, who in their right mind would give up that simple ability to ignore the hardships others deal with? For a whole 17 percent of the population who have been actively prevented from joining the Planet Fitness less effort for maximum feels mode, I imagine the prospect of finally getting that membership card looks a lot better than continuing to struggle.

The problem with equity as I see it is that it drives us to all be as lazy as the tall guys. Remove all possible obstacles and things will even out in a more just manner. The long term effect is that everyone is equally able to join Planet Fitness and perpetuate a society of the mediocre. Everyone gets a membership and no one has to work harder than the least capable in the gym. A whole room full of flabby, slightly sweaty workout buddies, eating donuts in their Nike shirts and patting each other on the back for no one really doing much more than anyone else.

Equity means an equal playing field but to what end? What happens when the short guy gets a stool to stand on? Does he then achieve as much as the lazy-ass tall guy? Is it more equitable that we dig a hole for the tall guy and surgically shorten his arms? If someone is naturally gifted at seeing long distances (unfair to those who are near-sighted) do we suggest that one of his eyes be gouged to make things more equitable?

Like the public school system that long ago decided that gifted classes were unfair to the hopeless masses unable to grasp trigonometry in eighth grade, equity begins to look more like the death of the species in pursuit of making everyone feel good about themselves while doing all we can to marginalize those who benefit the most from the status quo.

I grew up being taught that adversity, when confronted and pushed up against, strengthens one. Muscles are only built with resistance. Am I saying that we should make things harder for people for their own good? Of course not. I’m saying that we all want equality (except for the most reprehensible in our midst) and most think that fairness and justice for everyone is equitable and desirable. 

There is, however, a double edge to that sword. Unless the move for equity is balanced with the realities of both the abhorrent nature of human beings (all of them, not just the tall guys) and the inherent lack of fairness and justice in nature, we’re all pushing toward a whole other type of homogenization: a melting pot of half-assed wannabe gym rats content that the bar of achievement is simply low enough for the least capable to reach.

Imagining a truly equitable future, where everyone starts with the same resources and the same opportunities is a utopian fantasy. Some people are simply born with more capacity to achieve than others and all the rhetoric in the world isn’t going to change that. Some, through nature or nurture, are going to be tall guys, others are going to be short guys. We can even out the playing field but nature always wins out.

Can we do better than we have? Christ, I hope so. Rather than adoption of the Planet Fitness model where no one is really allowed to work too hard or achieve too much, if we want a better society, we need better people. Better people come from struggle and the overcoming of obstacles. Strength and wisdom come from hard work not donuts and pizza for everyone.

#Equality vs Equity #Planet Fitness #culture of mediocrity

[paulsenhealy22-blog]

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