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beels-burger-babe · 2 years

Text

What's Behind an Apology

***So this prompt was actually brought to my attention by @absolutepokemontrash (Thank you so much Scarlet). The moment she mentioned the repeated, underlying theme that has been hidden in some of my angst pieces, this fic instantly began to form in my mind. You all voted for angst, and I hope I can deliver. Love you guys -B***

Summary: It seems that every time MC gets caught into some form of trouble, they get berated until they apologize. The other exchange students pick up on the theme, and though they aren't ones to meddle, they decide this isn't something they can simply let pass. Poly!MC

CW: Unconcious Bias/Racism (the racism is demon against human), Domestic Arguing

Luke, ever the guard dog, had been the first to notice.

Much to his displeasure, you had been in a romantic relationship with all of the brothers for a while now. You had found the good in those demons and had fallen in love with them; in turn, the brothers supposedly loved you. Luke, however, wasn't completely sold that was the case.

Where Luke believed that you were blinded by your affection for the boys, he could see clearly through a lens of Celestial righteousness.

He saw how for the smallest errors, you would be scolded for your actions. He saw how they would belittle you for not knowing their cultural norms and getting into trouble as a result. He saw how, when something went wrong, they were quick to push their own defence and your flaws up front for you to see, until you'd give in from guilt and apologize.

Demons were manipulative. Luke knew this. He had warned you of this. But to see the brothers walk all over you, and for you to not even be aware, infuriated him.

So Luke did what he always did when he had a problem; he went to Simeon.

"It's hurting them," Luke vented as Simeon sipped on his tea across from him. "They've become quieter and they're apologizing for everything! It doesn't even matter if it's actually their fault, they've started putting blame on themself for anything that goes wrong and it's all those cursed demons' fault!"

Simeon hummed in consideration as he set down his teacup. "I see. That is quite concerning. We'll keep an eye out for them and try to help where we can," Luke pouted at the lack of action involved in the answer. Simeon chuckled. "Don't get upset. MC is a smart person. If something really is happening, once we bring it to their attention, I'm positive that they are more than capable of addressing the issue themself. This is their relationship after all."

Luke whined and threw his head back against the couch he was sitting on. "But what if they don't listen?" He turns to Simeon with wide innocent eyes pooling with concern. "Those fiends have hurt them so much already. I don't want them to crush them emotionally as well."

Simeon smiled and moved to sit beside his charge and gently pulled him into his side. Luke accepted the embrace easily and snuggled up against him. "It'll be okay," Simeon whispered as he carded his fingers through Luke's hair. "Don't underestimate, MC. They are extremely strong and know their worth. They hold control over the seven lords and are more than capable of putting them into their place," he gave Luke a gentle squeeze as he felt the little angel tense. "I also know that they care about a certain young angel as though he is their brother," Luke's head snapped up to look at him. "If you bring your concerns to them, they'll listen Luke. Trust me. Trust MC."

Luke pursed his lips in thought for a moment before he nodded and hugged Simeon tightly. "Okay. I'll talk to them tomorrow. Will you come with me?"

Simeon grinned and hugged him back. "Of course. We can handle the matter together."

The next day the two of them managed to wrangle you away from your current watch-demon (today's brother of choice was Leviathan, so it wasn't entirely difficult considering he praised the ground Simeon walked on) and got you alone.

Luke fiddled with his hands as you looked down at him. "So, um, MC, we uh, we wanted to talk to you."

You glanced curiously between the two angels and offered Luke a gentle smile. "Sure. Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me, Luke. I'm all ears."

Luke slumped forward a little at words, letting out a heavy breath as he nodded. "Okay. Okay. Um, I-I've noticed a couple things about your relationship with the brothers and I-I'm worried about you."

At the mention of your lovers, you instinctively felt yourself frown. You glanced over at Simeon, hoping for some kind of context or help, but the older angel only looked at you with an expression of concern and comfort.

You felt a shiver of caution run down your spine as you turned back to Luke. "What are you talking about? I know that you're not a fan of demons, Luke, but everything's okay. I'm perfectly happy and safe."

"But your not!" Luke quickly cut off. You felt your eyes widen at the certainty in his tone. "You've been pulling away from us, from yourself! They're getting into your head and making you feel guilty about things that aren't even your fault, all while shaking off their own blame in things!"

Your breath hitched at Luke's judgement as you took a step back. Simeon placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Calm down, Luke. This isn't something you can just throw at someone. Take a deep breath."

Your mind was reeling at the words. Luke hated all things infernal, or at the very least pretended to, sure. But he had always been careful to watch his tongue when it came to matters concerning your relationship, seemingly understanding that your love-life wasn't his place to meddle. You tried to consider your recent behaviours and habits, but you just couldn't piece it together. You desperately let your eyes fall to Simeon. "What do you mean? I don't ... I don't understand."

Simeon nodded. "What Luke meant to say is that he's concerned about how the brothers have been dealing with conflicts within your relationship. From what we've seen, you're always the one to apologize and never them. Is that correct?"

You opened your mouth to argue when the realization hit you.

It was true. You were always the one to apologize, every single time. Even in the circumstances where you had started off defending yourself and arguing with them, it always ended with your overly-sympathetic heart giving in and apologizing for the concern, worry, or hurt that you had inadvertently inflicted upon the brothers.

You blinked as you felt ice settle in your veins. How long had this been happening? Were the brothers aware of the manipulation that they were doing? Were they trying to shape you into something more obedient and timid for them?

Your mouth clicked shut as you curled your hands into fists.

Simeon and Luke exchanged worried glances as they carefully approached you. "MC, we're sorry if we offended you-"

"Don't," you snapped, avoiding their gaze as you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Don't apologize. Please. I just..." you shakily exhaled as you ran a hand through your hair. "I need to process this."

Simeon nodded as Luke anxiously shifted from foot to foot. They let you run through your thoughts and watched carefully as you seemed to flicker between hurt, anger, and self-deprecation.

Eventually, you offered them both an unsteady smile. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention and looking out for me. I was...unaware that this was even happening. I'll keep an eye out for it," Luke opened his mouth to speak, his eyes pleading you to allow him to explain and comfort you, but you dismissed him with a small shake of your head. "If you'd excuse me, I need to gather myself before class begins again."

Without another word, you walked away, leaving the angels alone to ponder on their actions.

***

The lords of the Devildom were concerned to say the least.

Ever since lunch hour, you had been quiet and strangely distant from them. Mammon and Beelzebub had tried to pry you for more information, but you just gave them a fake smile and told them you needed space to think about some things.

That statement in itself was terrifying.

Mammon pouted to his brothers as they all sat in the lounge. "Did we do somethin'? Why are they actin' all cold and stuff?"

Satan sighed as he put down his book. "They said they needed space right? They might be going through a personal dilemma. They'll come to us in their own time," he frowned as he picked back up his copy of Human Psychology, "Or at least I think that's how these kinds of things are supposed to work."

Levi's mouth twitched as he picked at his hands. "I don't like it. They only started acting like this after Simeon and Luke pulled them away during lunch," all eyes in the room snapped over to him.

"They were with Luke and Simeon earlier today?" Mammon questioned, his eye narrowing in suspicion. "What did they talk about?"

Leviathan froze, only now realizing the tenseness lingering in the air. "Oh, um, I don't know. Simeon said he wanted to hang out with them a bit, a-and Simeon's good and able to look out for them in case any trouble sh-shows up and he promised to sign some of my books in return, later on, so I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

Belphegor scoffed, "Simeon isn't the problem. Luke is. The chihuahua hates us and with how MC is acting who knows what kind of celestial bullshit he fed them."

"Excuse you?"

The brothers all frowned at the sound of your hardened, stern voice. You stood in the doorway, glaring daggers at Belphegor.

Lucifer stood to intercept you, "MC, we were just discussing possibilities on why you were acting so strange today."

You crossed your arms as you met his glare. Lucifer zeroed in on the slight tremble in your hands and the deep hurt that barely revealed itself in the depths of your eyes. "I told you guys I just needed some time to think about some things. Since when did needing some alone time warrant you all being suspicious of me?"

There was a bite to your tone that told the boys that there was something bigger hiding behind your question. Asmo flashed you a soft smile as he moved to embrace you. "We aren't suspicious of you, lovebug. We're suspicious of the angels," you took a step back before he could wrap an arm around you. Asmo sighed and let his arms fall to his side. "You know how it is between angels and demons, and you know how Luke feels about us. Of course, we're going to be concerned if you were alone with them and then suddenly start acting so weird."

Your lips tightened into a thin line as stared into his worry-filled gaze. You shook your head as you looked away from him. "They're also my friends and just want what's best for me."

Mammon snapped his fingers as he pointed at you accusingly. "So they did say somethin' bad about us!" Your eyes widened as he narrowed his own eyes at you. "They told ya some lie about us to try and get ya away from us and back onto 'the path of righteousness' and ya fell for it!"

Your shocked expression quickly morphed into restrained anger as your hands curled into fists. "That's not what I said,"

Beel placed a hand on Mammon's shoulder. "Stop it," he commanded before turning to you. "We're just concerned about this. You have to admit that you have been acting off all day."

Levi nodded frantically, "You didn't even come back to me after you talked with them! You just went straight to class, and you've been avoiding the rest of us ever since!"

You groaned and ran a hand through your hair, "Because they did give me something to think about and I needed some space to think it over. They're looking out for me. They aren't trying to tear us apart."

"How would you know?" Belphie calmly brought up, his annoyingly neutral face not giving away the slightest hint of his true feelings. "What do you know about angels and their intentions? You're just a hu-"

The air was sucked out of the room as the unfinished statement lingered around them.

You gritted your teeth as you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes. "I'm just a what, Belphegor?" you spat as you moved closer to him. Belphegor went white as he silently shook his head, holding his hands up in defence and taking a step back. "Just a dumb, naive, little human who couldn't possibly protect themself or know anything at all about the big bad world and its dangers?"

Satan's breath hitched at the wrath pouring off you. "MC, he didn't mean it like that."

"No," your voice cracked as you glared at them. "That's exactly what he meant. It's how he sees me. It's how all of you see me, isn't it?"

Lucifer's eyes scanned you, looking desperately. "MC, no. We love you. You know this."

Your lip trembled as you shook your head. "I know you love me, but this isn't about that. This is about if you respect me," you let out a tired laugh as you ran a hand down your face. "Do you want to know what Luke and Simeon brought up to me today?" You looked at them with wet eyes filled with betrayal and heartbreak. "They had noticed that in every time we argue, in every incident we've had where we something bad happens, I'm always the one to apologize. I'm the one who takes the blame."

Leviathan narrowed his eyebrows at the statement. "That... That can't be true. We've apologized to you before."

Satan stiffened as he took in the situation. He let out a shaky breath and his hand moved to cover his mouth. "We have, but we also made sure that they apologized for their part as well."

You nodded and moved your arms to wrap around yourself. "I'm always in the wrong," you were struggling to keep your voice steady as it wobbled with suppressed sobs. "It's always my fault for not knowing about a certain cultural practice, or my fault because I was never informed, or my fault for just trying my best in a world that people have barely taught me about," you closed your eyes as you tried to regather yourself. "I needed space because I was trying to figure out if this was just some kind of subconscious thing from years of demons being against humans or if this was something you were doing on purpose t-to manipulate me-"

"What? Manipulate you? Treasure-"

"Mammon, please just let me speak," you croaked looking straight at the white-haired demon as tears finally began to spill down your cheeks. "I knew that this probably wasn't on purpose. But this, this whole discussion, this is exactly what they were talking about. Even if you don't realize it, deep down, you all still see me as a weak human who's stationed below you in power, intelligence and ability."

None of them dared to argue with you this time; not after everything that had been brought to light.

You bit your inner cheek, fighting desperately to remain calm in front of them, even though their silence was ringing loudly against the cracked pieces of your heart. "This can't stay like this. Not if we're going to work. You need to see me as an equal."

Lucifer tensed at your wording. Everyone in the room suddenly became aware of exactly what was at stake here. "How do you recommend we reconcile that? As you said, this is an unconscious behaviour, it's not something we can fix instantly."

You stood still for a moment, gaze fixed to the floor in thought before you let out a heavy sigh. "I need you all to think about everything that was said tonight, and really think deeply about how you see me and things that you have done that treated me as lesser than you. Once you know that, you can come up with ways to stop those habits or trains of thought," you lifted your chin as you finally met their eyes. "In the meantime, we'll take a break. I'll stay at Purgatory Hall. You can message when you feel you're ready to try this again on an equal playing field, but only then."

Levi let out a choked noise as he looked at you with wide eyes. "Y-You're breaking up with us?"

You shook your head carefully. "No. I said that we'd take a break. This is serious, and I need you all to prove that you're willing to take this matter seriously. If not, tell me now, because I-I will break up with you. I can't," you paused as your voice cracked, "I can't be in a relationship with people who think I'm beneath them."

Lucifer placed a hand on Levi's shoulder, silencing him before he could speak any further. "Then we'll do it. We'll give you space and do as you ask. Just," he swallowed thickly as he looked down at you, "please give us the chance to repair this. I think I speak for everyone when I say that we treasure you, beloved, and we don't want to lose you."

A strangled sob slipped from your lips, "I don't want to lose you guys either, b-but-" you couldn't bring yourself to finish the sentence as your emotions began to overwhelm you.

"But you need to set boundaries to protect yourself," Satan finished smiling softly. "It's alright, MC. We'll do our best to prove that we can respect you and your boundaries. You'll see."

Belphie sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Maybe we do have some things to think about," he looked at you with a remorseful expression. "I'll start by apologizing for my words earlier. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that or called you a human in such a-a," his nose scrunched up as he tried to find his words, "a demeaning way. I truly am sorry. I'll work hard to become worthy of you, Angel."

Beel hummed in agreement beside his twin. "We all will. I just want you safe and happy."

Asmodeus tilted his head as he tapped his chin. "Speaking of safe, if you really are gonna be staying at the Purgatory Hall for a little while and plan on heading out to tonight, you should probably let one of us go with you," he held his hands up defensively as everyone narrowed their eyes at him. "Hey! I'm not saying that I think they're weak. But our dearest MC is an entire meal and there are all kinds of demons lurking around at night that would love to take advantage of that. If anything, this is for my own sanity to know that they make it there safe," Asmo blushed at the admission.

You sent him a watery smile, "Thank you, Asmo. I definitely wouldn't say no to an escort this late at night."

Levi narrowed his eyes at Asmodeus before scoffing. "Fine. But we're all escorting you together. That way we can all get to say goodbye."

Mammon looked over at you anxiously. "But just clarify, this ain't goodbye, right? I-It's just a see ya later? Once we all stop bein' morons?"

Your face softened at the words, "I don't think you're morons. I just think that the Devildom society raised you to think a certain way and that you haven't quite unlearned those things yet. I know this isn't easy, but it is necessary."

Lucifer, to everyone's surprise, bowed his head to you. "And we will work, educate ourselves, and wait as long as we need to until we have shown that we can do just that," he glanced up at you from where he remained bowed. "I truly am sorry for our treatment of you, MC."

You watched with tear-filled eyes as your lovers, one by one, bowed before you, and with the one simple action, sparked hope into your weeping heart.

You knew this wouldn't be easy, and that there would be trial and error along the way. But you could see that your lovers were genuinely sorry and even disgusted by their past actions. You knew your boys were a determined lot, and that when they made these promises to you, they meant them.

This would not be the end of your relationship. This would just be a bump along the way, and you had no doubt that in end, you would all come out with a deeper understanding of one another.

***I hope you all enjoyed that! Thank you so much for reading and taking in this with me. This is honestly kind of therapeutic to write 😅 Thanks for the love and support. Love you guys!***

TAGLIST:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @tallyscottage @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @rulaien @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

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raven-san, can we please have a wedding crashing where jade needs to marry this girl from another crime family to consolidate power and become the next head of the leech mob :)) but floyd's like I'M BORED and annoyed that his brother's being snatched up by a random chick, so he asks basketball bros, and azul, to help save jade?

This one is super long, so I added some extra sections and placed the rest of the wedding crashing below the cut!

***Spoilers for Jamil and Floyd’s Unique Magic!!***

"I object to this wedding...!"

Pre-Wedding Jitters

A call comes for the twins in the dead of night, without warning. It’s their parents with exciting news: they’re naming Jade as the next Don Leech. The catch? The Leech mob’s in the middle of a merger with the Worm mob, and he’ll have to marry Don Worm’s daughter to secure the deal.

Jade, ever the dutiful son, is honored by his future title and calmly agrees to the arrangement. On the other hand, Floyd’s annoyed by the idea, and can’t keep quiet about his irritation. He calls out to his twin in the darkness.

“... Ne, Jade.”

“Ee, Floyd?”

“Are you really okay with going through with this? You’re just gonna do what they said? Even though you don’t know the Worms at all? Even if you’ve never met that girl before?”

“It is a request coming directly from father and mother. How could I refuse them? And, furthermore... If I do not undertake this task, then it would fall to you, the next choice to inherit the title of Don Leech. I cannot allow that to come to pass--fufu. You do so enjoy your freedom, yes?”

“... Jade, you’re so dumb sometimes. What’ll happen to your freedom, then? Will you get so busy with being the big boss and being married... that you won’t have time to play anymore?”

“... Perhaps. But that is a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

That thought doesn’t sit well with Floyd--not at all.

“I trust that you will make your own fun of the situation,” Jade reassures him. “You always do.”

As the weeks pass, Floyd sees less and less of Jade around, since he has to prepare for the wedding. Jade reassures him that he’s doing just fine, but Floyd can see right through his lies. He can tell that Jade’s more frazzled than usual--there’s a lingering to his words, and a longing in his eyes, savoring every last bit of autonomy he has before his fate is forever sealed.

Floyd hates it. He hates being lied to by his own brother, and he hates feeling powerless to stop the wedding. Floyd’s so angry that he develops this murderous aura in the weeks leading up to the wedding, which makes everyone around him shy away.

One day, he gets sick of being in the water--it’s a reminder of the wedding to come--so Floyd plays basketball on land to vent. He ends up chomping down so hard that he deflates a ball, then dunks another basketball so hard, he breaks the net.

He sprawls out on the ground and angrily shouts at the sky. His basketball bonks him on the head... and that’s when an idea hits him: maybe he can’t stop the wedding alone, but no one said he couldn’t phone some friends.

Assembling the Dream Team

Floyd first dials up Azul, who agrees to help after some whining and signing a contract agreeing to pay Azul handsomely for his services (... although truthfully, the octopus does want to help Jade, but doesn't immediately agree to do it because of his pride as a businessman).

Floyd also calls his old basketball buddies for help! Jamil and Ace are much more adamant than Azul, but Floyd strongarms them into pitching in. ("Umihebi-kun, Kani-chan, if you don't help me rescue Jade, I'll get suuuper mad, you know? I don't think you'll like me when I get mad. Moray eels are strong hunters, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem for me to track you guys down and give you a good squeeze~" "OKAY, OKAY, WE'LL DO IT!!")

Together, the four boys meet up to scheme of a way to disrupt the wedding without jeopardizing the Leech mob's future. Floyd actively leads the discussion, allowing his hidden genius to come to the surface.

Ace doesn’t contribute much to the strategy (laid out by Azul), but he does keep the spirit up with some jokes. Meanwhile, Jamil provides snacks for them when they work late into the night (though he keeps passing semi-glares to Azul whenever the octopus compliments him or tries to be friendly).

In preparation for the crashing, Azul brews some potions to give Jamil and Ace so they can take on temporary merforms. After all, the wedding will be underwater, in the Coral Sea, and they’ll need tail fins.

The date of destiny draws ever closer... and Floyd's never been so excited to cause chaos in his whole life.

The Crashing - Team Azul & Jamil

They split into two pairs on the day of the wedding—Azul and Jamil, and Floyd and Ace. Floyd uses his position as the future son-in-law to Don Worm to arrange a meeting between himself and the don... except Azul and Jamil will show up instead.

Don Worm shows up to the meeting in his finest clothes (which is very little, given that he’s a merman), sounding a bit annoyed the sudden summoning. “Make this quick, I’ve got to go see my baby girl’s big day... Wait. You fellas aren’t the F. Leech boy.”

“No, we aren’t, sir. We are his representatives... Proxies, if you will,” Azul insists, giving his warmest and most welcoming smile. He uses a tentacle to tug on Jamil’s tail, forcing him to smile too. “You see, there is an important business matter we needed to discuss with you on behalf of Floyd.”

“Hoh? And what would that be?”

“I believe my business associate would be better off explaining the matter than myself.” Azul gestures to Jamil, who has his head down.

“Oi, what’s with you? Don’t you know who I am, boy? It’s rude to not look your elders in the eye when they are speaking to you!! Show me the respect I deserve, from one professional to another!!”

“My apologies, sir.” Jamil looks up, locking eyes with the mob boss. “... Is this better?”

“Yes, that’s...”

“Snake Whisper.”

Don Worm suddenly goes glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. Azul claps at the sight, showering his partner with compliments. “As expected of the talented Jamil-san! Even one look from you can bring a mafia lord to his downfall. Truly, your Unique Magic is most impressive!”

“Save your flattery for later.”

Azul’s lips curl into a smirk as he whips out a golden contract from his briefcase and offers it to the don. “Now then, if you wouldn’t mind, sir... sign on the dotted line.”

The Crashing - Team Floyd & Ace

Ace and Floyd rush to the wedding venue, their tails cutting through the water like knives as they swim at a breakneck pace. Ace can barely keep up with Floyd, who surges far ahead.

“H-Hey, should we really be barging in like this?! Don’t mob families have weapons and other dangerous stuff? Is there a backdoor we can take instead? Hello?! Floyd-senpai, are you listening to me?!” (He isn’t.)

The open, underwater comes into view, and Floyd barrels in without any hesitation, tearing right through some decorations and knocking over the wedding cake with his tail. A loud CRASH! echoes through the waters, drawing eyes to him.

Jade stares at his brother from the altar—wide eyed, but a mirthful smile on his lips. Floyd waves to him, and then to his mom and dad in the crowd of guests. “Hiii, Jade! I’m here to pick you up now.”

The Worm girl starts sobbing, wailing something about how her special day’s been ruined, and where is her papa to put an end to this? At her signal, security guards, and some of the rougher looking guests—Worm family associates—lunge at Floyd, claws and teeth out. A few of them have produced wands, and what seem to be guns—loaded with harpoons.

“Bind the Heart!” Objects and stray magic go flying in all directions, hitting both people and wedding decorations. Cloth tears, columns crumble—but it’s one man against many, and he can only bind so many hearts before the blot starts to stack.

Ace makes it just in time, sending their foes and their weapons hurtling through the water with a blast of wind. “This is why I said to be careful, dammit! Your Unique Magic’s such a crapshoot—don’t just use it whenever, or you’ll be sushi!!!”

“Ahahahah! Kani-chan’s being all heroic today! That’s so cute. Don’t worry, I can play my part, too...!!”

Using his tail, Floyd hooks around a drifting merman and chucks him straight into another. They collide with a CRACK!—but Floyd barely registers it. He’s already bolting off, grabbing heads and smashing them together, slicing through others like a knife through butter.

There’s a crazed, frenzied look to him, gleeful laughter cutting through the waters and mixing with the Worm bride’s screeching. I forgot how scary Floyd-senpai can be, Ace realizes. (Jade and Floyd’s parents are cheering for him from their seats.)

Jade looks quite proud of his brother, even laughing along to the brutal slaughterfest. His bride stares at him incredulously. “Stop that brute! He’s ruining MY special day!!”

“No,” Jade replies calmly. “I don’t think I will. This is far too amusing to let it end so soon.”

She lets out a frustrated scream and launches herself at her groom, hands going for his throat. The Worm girl is slammed back with a strong hit to her gut, courtesy of Jade’s tail.

She flies back, slamming into a column—and feels a tail wrapping around her and squeezing tight. Constricting her to the point where it was difficult to breathe. A livid mermaid glares down at her, teeth bared in a snarl.

“No one lays a hand on my children,” Mama Leech declares. “No one.”

From the corner of her eye, the Worm girl can see that Jade has cast off his bow tie and flitted over to Floyd, embracing happily in a battlefield adorned with red ribbons trailing through the water. Her vision is abruptly blocked off by a broad-shouldered merman wearing a grimace.

“Now then, what shall we do with this one?” Papa Leech wonders aloud—though from his tone of voice, he has nothing good in store.

The Aftermath

“You’re all fish bait when daddy hears about this...!” the Worm girl warns, her words raspy. “Th-The merger won’t go through...! There’ll be war between the Leeches and the Worms...!”

A loud throat clearing comes from behind. “Fortunately, that won’t be happening.”

Azul and Jamil make their appearance, the octopus merman smugly showcasing a contract. “Ashengrotto—Azul Ashengrotto, legal and business extraordinaire at your service, Don Leech and Lady Leech.”

Papa Leech grunts. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“This?” Azul’s smirk widens. “Why, it’s a prenuptial stating that, in the case that an act of violence is enacted by the bride toward the groom, the marriage is considered null and void... and the bride’s family assets are to be claimed by the groom. Signed by Don Worm himself.”

“Wh-What?! Impossible!! How did you get daddy to sign such a stupid deal?!”

“Oh,” Jamil says nonchalantly, “we have our ways.”

“So... Uh, Jade-senpai’s still gonna be the next Don Leech?! And he’s gonna be in charge of an even bigger and richer family... How is that any better than the situation before?! You’re just giving him more resources for committing crimes!”

At that moment, two hands come down on Ace’s shoulders, causing him to freeze up.

“Kani-chaaaaan! Everyone!! Thanks so much for your help~”

“Yes, you have my sincerest thanks, Ace-san, Jamil-san... Azul.”

“It is my pleasure to assist such VIP clients. Ah, but there remains the matter of my promised payment—” (Jamil and Ace internally groan at Azul’s words.)

“Payment?” Don Leech scoffs. “After the ballsy operation you boys pulled off today... I’m more inclined to give you job offers instead of a one time sum. How do you lads feel about being hired as the Leech family’s personal lawyer, interrogator, and... well, whatever the heart one is good at.”

“My, my! Such a generous and lucrative offer—“

“There is no way I’m accepting that, especially if that means working with Azul.”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I’m good at lots of stuff!! I’m the one that saved Floyd’s tail fins, is no one gonna acknowledge that?!”

“You did amazing, sweetie!!” Mama Leech chirps—her tail grip tightening until the Worm girl passes out. Ace leaps back in fright. “As a reward, why don’t you let me give you a hug?”

“S-STAY BACK!!”

“Ahahahah! Everyone’s getting along so well, Jade. Isn’t this fun? You wouldn’t be able to enjoy this if you had gone to get hitched.”

“Fufufu. You are correct, Floyd. How sad it would have been if I were to miss out on touching moments such as this. From the bottom of my heart... I thank you for thinking of me, and for rushing to my aid. I could not have asked for a better brother.”

... What Floyd doesn’t know is that this was all according to keikaku Jade’s own machinations. He would never take the order to marry lying down—but he couldn’t outright defy it without immediate consequences, either.

Thank the Great Seven Jade has reliable puppets friends to help him out of a pinch. I’ll be certain to put the additional funds we have gained to good use... Perhaps to start a little mushroom farm.

#Floyd Leech #Jade Leech #Azul Ashengrotto #Ace Trappola #Jamil Viper #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #wedding crashing #spoilers

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echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Hi love! Can we get 28 with Hunter? ❤️

Dancing Around

Yes, wait I actually have a cute idea for this one ohmyfforce- but you didn’t give me a gender so I did femish!reader. Hope that’s okay— I am so sorry if this is trash. I dunno how to write Hunter, apparently 🧑🏼‍🦯

Hunter x Reader: “Kriff you’re hot..”

Warnings: Language, probably. I cuss a lot sorry guys 😔

You and the bad batch were sent to a foreign planet to help watch over senator Amidala. She had another attempted assassination against her, and the 501st weren’t available. So she specifically asked for you and the boys. You and Padmé knew each other, and she trusted you. Plus she knew you did a hell of a good job keeping the boys in line. No, you weren’t their Jedi, you were their, well. Everything. You were a mechanic, pilot, and a trained medic. Plus, according to all of them, even Crosshair. You were a hell of a cook. You and Clone Force 99 were off to a ball. Whether they liked it or not.

“A ball.. Like a dance?” Crosshair asked you as you stood next to Hunter and explained the plan of attack to them all. “Yeah, did I stutter?” You spat and Wrecker laughed at that. He always enjoyed how you wouldn’t take crap from his vod. “No, what, you expect us to be let into a Kriffing dance?” Crosshair fired back and you sighed. Pinching the bridge of your nose. Crossing your other arm under your chest. “Yes, because we were ordered to attend. I just need one of you to dress up and pretend to be my date, and it’s either you, Wrecker, or Hunter.” You added. “What about Tech?” “He has his own job, were you not listening to me at all? You have ears for a reason. I didn’t realize you needed hearing aids, too.” You hissed. “Tech will be keeping tabs and hacking into the cameras. So which-“ You weren’t even able to finish your sentence and Hunter was speaking up. “I can.”

Crosshair looked over to his brother with a shocked look, but then a smirk. The both having a small stare off. Cross smirking like he knew something you all didn’t and Hunter glaring daggers. Unspoken words that you weren’t about to intrude on. “Awesome, now we just need to meet up with Padmé and then we can get our outfits.” You added, and Crosshair scoffed walking off. “Hey, you try wearing a dress I’d MUCH rather wear a suit!” You snapped. Shaking your head and turning to walk off yourself. “Fucking prick.” You muttered, and headed back off to the project you were previously working on.

Hunter stood in place for a second. Wrecker and Tech smiling over to their brother. Hunter shooting the two of them a look. “What?” Tech grinned and shook his head. “Nothing,” Wrecker wasn’t as secretive about what he was thinking, though. “You just wanna dance with y/n.” Hunter looked to the larger male with shock. Blush creeping up the back of his neck. “What? No I don’t this is for a mission and the two of you weren’t volunteering. I was just tired of y/n and Crosshairs bickering.” He informed them, and Wrecker chuckled and walked off. Tech snickering and saying a quick, ‘uh-huh, sure,’ before he was walking off himself. Leaving Hunter alone in his thoughts. So what if he just wanted an excuse to dance with you, or even just fake being your date for one night. Was that too much to ask for?

It didn’t take you all long to get to your destination. Last mission you were only one jump away. Padmé was thrilled to see you, as you were her. The two of you sharing a hug and a small catching up. Before the boys seemed to get too antsy, and caught her attention. “These must be Clone Force 99?” She spoke and you nodded, looking over to your boys with a grin. “Yeah, don’t mind them, they’re shy.” You tittered, smirking over to Cross who shot you a displeased look and an eye roll. “There’s Wrecker, Tech, Hunter, and Crosshair.” You spoke, holding back the urge to make a comment on all of them. Padmé smiling sweetly and waving her hand when they saluted her. “At ease, no need for that here. Now let’s get going. You all need to look like you came to a dance, not like you just got out of the war.” She spoke, you and the gang following her inside.

The boys all headed off with a man to get their suits fitted, you heading off with Padmé to get your outfit. “Do I have to wear a dress?” You asked her with almost a whine. “I can’t fight in a dress, you better not make me wear heels, stars I’d rather get shot!” You exclaimed and she laughed at that. “You don’t have to wear heels, but you have to wear a dress. I’m sure your date would love to see you in one, anyways.” Curse your stupid girls night you had with her a few months back when you were passing through Naboo without the boys. You told her all about your stupid feelings for Hunter, and she obviously didn’t forget. “What? No! I don’t like him anymore, he doesn’t like me anyways.” You lied. You did still like him, and she knew it. “Uh-huh, and I’m in love with a Sith Lord, are we sharing more lies?” She teased and you ducked your head down. “Come on, I’ll make the dress simple.”

Oh, the dress was nothing simple. It may have been in Padmés point of view, but not yours. It was a a flowing red and black dress that matched with her own. It wasn’t sparkly or anything, thankfully, but it was just too much in your perspective. Plus she had her servants put your hair up ina fancy bun that you didn’t even know was considered a bun. Then your nails were painted, since you refused the acrylics, and last but not least. The make up. “If I get bad acne after tonight, I’ll never forgive you.” You spoke with a frown and she laughed. She laughed at you. “Y/n, if you get acne from what little makeup you have on your skin is too sensitive.” You huffed at that, and followed her to sit and wait, until you were supposed to head out for the dance.

Tech took off shortly after he got his suit. He headed to hack into the cameras to keep an eye on things inside and out. Along with being able to watch the vents. Which were the main worries. Something could easily come in and out without them knowing about it.

Crosshair and Wrecker were the next to leave. Cross was able to head above the dance floor and scope out the place on the floor above. He wasn’t allowed his rifle, which pissed him off a bit, but he did have a blaster under his suit jacket like the rest of the boys did. Wrecker was on the main floor, where Hunter was following shortly after. Waiting for you to join him so the two of you could pose as a couple talking with Padmé.

You were the last to leave and enter the ball room. Padmé had left and told you to take your time. You were overthinking all of this. Hands trembling and face flushed red. This was way out of your comfort zone, and not only that, but Hunter would see you. Eyes darting around and then you inhaled. This isn’t for you, this is for your friend. You are here to protect Padmé. Feeling for the blaster hooked to your thigh with a holster. Then you were opening the door and heading for the dance floor.

You were scanning the crowd, looking for any signs of Padme or Hunter. Pushing through the crowd best you could. Lips pressed together, firmly, as you ventured the crowds. Letting out nervous chuckles and ‘excuse me’s. Bumping into someone for what felt like the hundredth time. You looked up with a nervous smile. Opening your mouth to say a quick apology. Until they turned and you saw it was Hunter. He looked so different, so.. Handsome. He wasn’t wearing his bandana, he was shaved, clean. Plus his suit was stunning. Not only that, but it complimented your outfit perfectly.. Padmé, working her wonders.

“Kriff..” He basically breathed out, and your smile faded a bit. Eyes darting to the side nervously. “You’re hot.” He finished, and your eyes looked back to his. Gulping. Did he really just? “Or I mean, um, you look nice,” He awkwardly stammered. He was shaking, and you couldn’t tell if he was getting overstimulated and anxious, or if it was because of you? It had to be overstimulation. “Hey, Padmé should be away from the crowd, let’s get you out of here.” You told him. Motioning for him to follow. He nodded and accompanied you. Eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

The two of you found Padmé talking with some other political people. You weren’t sure who though. You could honestly care less. “Hey,” you chimed when she smiled over to you. Padmé excusing herself and coming over to stand in front of the two of you. “Well, if it isn’t the dashing couple,” She teased. The both of you looking away sheepishly, and you glared at her. Just a bit. “We aren’t,” “Hunter, I was only teasing, I know you aren’t a pair. A shame, you two look absolutely amazing.” Padmé added with a sigh and you glared at her full force this time. “Ooh, I love this song, Come on guys, look less awkward.” She added, shoving the two of you back into the crowd. You were starting to wonder if there were even assassins that this point.

You got lost, again. Hunter was looking for you in a bit of a panic. “Y/n,” He blurted, trying to make himself taller to look over the crowd and find you. A hand grabbing yours and pulling you further. “Hey!” You snapped, and turned to see another guy. “Aren’t you here to dance?” He asked with a grin. Grabbing your hands and swinging you around. You did your best to not punch and kick him to the ground, but just went along with it at first. Hunter finally spotting you. Noticing your uncomfortable look as the guy, obviously wasted. Danced with you. It wasn’t so much that he was jealous, he just didn’t want you in a situation you weren’t comfortable in. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Hey, that’s my date,” He gruffed and the guy looked over to hunter with a brow raised. “How’d this pretty girl end with you?” He blurted in a slur and Hunter rolled his eyes. “She’s mine,” He snapped and the guy sighed, letting you go. “Alright, if he doesn’t dance with you. You know where to find me.” He spoke, before kissing your hand and drifting into the crowd.

You were at a loss for words, the two of you staring off in the direction the man went off in. “What an ass,” The two of you blurted. Looking to one another with a blank stare. Then bursted into a small fit of laughter. “A dance then? Padmé asked us to look less awkward.” Hunter spoke. “Plus, I don’t want that creep stealing my date again.” Holding a hand out with a smile. Stars, this had to be a dream. You taking his hand hesitantly. Allowing him to pull you towards him. One hand on your hip, the other in your hand. Your own free hand resting on his shoulder. “Look, about earlier, when I said.” You smiled and shook your head. Raising your hand. Gently touching his lips. “Shh, Hunter you’re fine, I know, you probably didn’t mean it.” You spoke with a smile. Stars you couldn’t even take the hint when it was right in front of you.

Hunter furrowed his brows and shook his head. “What? No.. I meant it, mesh’la, what do you take me as?” He asked, smiling and looking down at you. Now was your turn to get nervous and for your face to go red. “I uhm- I take you as.. Someone who wouldn’t flirt with their pilot. I thought one of the others dared you to..” You started and he shook his head. Stopping the sway of the dance you were both in. Hand releasing yours so he could raise it to cup your cheek. His other hand still on your hip. “Y/n, you look beautiful, I mean it, too. No one dared me to do anything, I promise.”

This felt like a dream come true. hunter was leaning down. Your lips were inches apart and you were squirming. “Prove it then,” You murmured, and he leaned in. Though before he could capture your lips with his you heard a shout in your ear pieces. It was Tech. “Kriff..” You both murmured. Hunter pulling away so the two of you could listen to the others words. “If we make it out of this alive, I’ll show you tonight.” Hunter spoke with a small smirk. Squeezing your hip and you smirked back. “That better be a promise, Sargent.” He snickered and pulled back from you, his hands still shaking a bit, and this time you knew it was from the crowd. “I would never lie to you, ever.” And off he went. You taking off in your own separate way. Now you had a reason to complete this mission, and a thank you that needed delivered right to Padmé.

#bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #bad batch

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yourfriendlyneighbourhoodlosers · 3 years

Note

Norman Bates, Sweeney Todd(bonus points if Mrs Lovett gets her own set of headcanons as well), Billy Loomis, and Charles "Chucky" Lee Ray with a gender neutral reader that has an eating disorder

Oh, This hits close to home. But, for comfort reasons, I’ll write it. -Mod Daniel

WARNING(S): E*TING DISORDER, M*RDER MENTION, S*ICIDE MENTION, W*IGHT MENTION

Norman Bates

Norman was heartbroken when he found out about your eating disorder

“Why would you hide this from me, Y/n?”

He found out when talking to your doctor after your monthly health check

He asked you if you knew about it when taking you home

You didn’t say anything until you got home

why didn’t you tell him?

The poor boy was worried for you

He ended up crying because he didn’t want to lose you

He kept reminding you how amazing you were and how beautiful you are

Norman held you for hours that night, making sure to keep you company

Sweeney Todd

Your family invited you and Todd for dinner

You ate so little food

Todd had taken you into a different room and asked you why you ate so little

That’s when you told him.

“My sweet, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He enveloped you into a tight and long hug

He whispered compliments into your ear until you felt content and safe in his arms

He had wished your family an early goodbye, and took you home to make you some dessert

Mrs. Lovett

When Nellie(yes, I’m using Nellie) found out you had an eating disorder, she had been busy at her shop

You had come to check on her and Todd and she had given you a free pie

But you ate one bite and said you were stuffed.

Nellie took you away from the crowed, asking you if you were okay

And you told her that you already ate and just wasn’t hungry

She knew that was a lie.

After she called you out, you told her the real reason

You had an eating disorder.

She felt so bad, sorry if it was her fault

You told her it wasn’t and you didn’t have very good self esteem

She gave you a hug, and rubbed your back

“Don’t listen to anyone. You’re beautiful.”

Billy Loomis

Billy knew. He always knew.

You’ve always had one, so you tried eating more

You couldn’t.

Whenever Billy saw you eating, he’d smile and clap, cheering you on as you ate.

Being the way he is, you loved whenever Billy would praise you for eating.

On days you don’t eat, Billy would whine and drag you to the kitchen to eat something.

He treats you like a God.

He worships your body.

And because of that, you started eating more.

You started wearing tight clothing to show off the body that you’re proud of.

Charles Lee Ray(Chucky)

Charles...is Charles.

He’ll tease you for it until he realises that he hurts you.

He’d apologize and try to help you

Lord knows he couldn’t

Charles sits next to you, letting you vent to him

He won’t hesitate to kill someone if you needed it.

He calls you beautiful all the time, hoping it’ll help somehow.

When he found out it does, he won’t stop telling you that you’re perfect.

He’ll be honest, he doesn’t think he’s helping, so you tell him that it helps constantly

which motivates him to start praises you more.

#norman bates x reader #norman bates #sweeney todd x reader #sweeney todd #mrs lovett #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #charles lee ray x reader #charles lee ray #chucky

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dildo-swaggins-t-baggins · 3 years

Note

Part 3 of the crew accidentally learn from the DJD that Tarn is controlling Rodimus with dark energon idea: Lord Rodimus brings Thunderclash in front of the whole to see the autobot die and tells the whole naïve crew: "You know it's funny, the thing that kept me from killing Thunderclash, was also the same thing that changed my life: my dumb crush for him. If any of you were smart enough to actually TALK TO ME about the things I had written, none of this would've happened. So Thanks Crew!" 😈

The crew paced, everyone tried to keep themselves busy, something to keep their processors off that fact that their old captain started a war and was planning on killing them. Megatron stood a little back, Minimus at his side, Minimus was typing with one servo a bit too fast. He glanced down at his SIC. “Do you blame yourself?”

Minimus’ servo stilled and his frame stiffened. “What?”

“Do you blame yourself?”

“I-it makes sense, I’m not close to Rodimus, not like Drift, but I’ve known him for a while. I should’ve seen it, but-”

“Don’t blame yourself. Getaway played Rodimus and the crew.”

“We should’ve stopped him.” Minimus snapped. “I should’ve stopped him.”

“One of Rodimus’ best and worst qualities is his determination, and his stubbornness.”

Perceptor made his way through the mess of mechs, making a beeline towards them. He only stopped and glanced back, watching the rest of the crew. “I have the results of that sample, it’s dark energon.”

___________________________________________ He groaned as his systems started to boot up, his processor filled with errors and his vision was full of static. Thunderclash vented, feeling the weight off his shoulders and he felt the soft berth under him. Rodimus took him off the hooks, hot digits lightly traced his damaged frame, welding wounds shut. His captain knelt next to him, Rodimus hummed as he shut another line.

“Rodimus?”

Rodimus twitched, and turned towards Thunderclash. “I didn’t know you were awake.” ‘

Thunderclash whined and flinched at the sensitive plates. “Thank you.”

His optics softened. “I couldn’t stand seeing you in pain anymore.” Rodimus’ shoulder dropped. “What were you trying to tell me?”

Thunderclash glanced around the small room, not spotting another frame. “You need to get out of here.”

Rodimus narrowed his optics and leaned forward, hovering over Thunderclash. “Why?”

“Tarn is trying to control you, he’s changing you.”

Fangs jutted out of Rodimus’ intake, a growl rolled out of him. “Controlling me? How?”

“That stuff you’ve been drinking.”

Rodimus rumbled and vented. “Should’ve seen it coming.” he laid next to Thunderclash. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll worry about Tarn.”

“So, you’ll leave?” Thunderclash pressed.

“Why did you give yourself up?”

“You told me to protect your crew, and the Lost Light, I messed up on that second one but I’m not giving up on the first.” Thunderclash licked his lips, his tanks fluttered. “I’m going to do what you told me to do, protect your crew, and if I can,” He cupped Rodimus’ helm. “I’d like to get their captain back.”

“Get some rest.” Rodimus rubbed Thunderclash’s helm.

_____________________________________________________

Rodimus watched as the colorful captain slipped into recharge, he listened to off pistons in Thunderclash’s engine. He rested his helm on the whide white chassis, chewing his lip. Even now after all this time he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill Thunderclash. Thunderclash called my bluff, I suspected that Tarn was up to something.

Rodimus softened and leaned into the faint warmth the captain’s frame had, watching the locked door. I have a crew to trick, a crew to save and a dying mech at my side.

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chrysolina · 6 years

Text

Clinging to you

Asks - Hiii! How’re u? I was wondering if you could do an imagine where the reader is dating cevans, and over hears I’m saying that she’s too clingy and he might break up with her? Then she avoids him for days. And the reason she’s clingy is bc she thinks she’s going to lose him? But chris didn’t know that and realizes how much he misses and loves her? Love ur page btw seriously - anon

Hiii! Can you do a fic with cevans x girl reader. She overheard him saying that she’s too clingy and sometimes he just wants to be alone and is thinking abt breaking up w her and so she ignores him for days but he doesn’t know why but they get into a fight about it after ? Basically angst to fluff? -

Thank you both for this amazing ask!! Here it is, hope you enjoy 💕

Summary - Chris is getting tired - tired of your clinginess to him. So much so, he wants to end your five year relationship - but how can you with a massive obstacle soon to be in the way?

Word count - 2.6k

Warnings - angst, swearing, fluff, mention of sex

M A S T E R L I S T

Photoshoots, Chris hated them. As much as he was a kind soul and wasn’t one to complain, he wasn’t having any of it today. A humid, gripping air hung around LA the whole day and the studio was no different, the air-con was trying it’s best to cool everyone but with the recent heatwave that had just passed, it just wasn’t enough.

Ever since he was a baby, Chris never liked the heat - period - it still made him as cranky, snappy and generally frustrated at the most mundane or innocent of things even now, thirty six years later.

Through all the hair styling, outfit changes, prop swapping, flashes and clicks of the camera, he was continuously keeping his cool - until you, literally, stepped through the door of the studio. He didn’t understand why but as of late, you had been rather clingy with him - far too clingy, if Chris had further words for it.

He hadn’t dared to say it to you yet but your incessant clinginess only made him want to tear away from you and call it quits. He was a lone spirit, an independent one at that and he just couldn’t stand the cramped feeling you gave him whilst you were around him.

You smiled, waved and said hi to him whilst the hairdressers were sorting his hair, like most would, you expected him to smile back and either tell you to come see him or say hey back but no, Chris just glared daggers into you, making your happy go-lucky smile drop in an instant. You didn’t digress too much over it however, you shrugged it off and went off to the lunchtime buffet that had just opened on the other side of the studio.

After a while, things weren’t adding up. The head photographer had called it time for lunch just over twenty minutes ago and Chris hadn’t showed up. With a huff, you asked his and your manager if he knew where he went, to which he replied ‘I think he went to his dressing room darling’, you thanked him and paced quickly to Chris’ room.

Halfway through your walk, a god-awful gut feeling stabbed your insides like a katana ‘what if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he’s mad at me?’ You shrugged off the thoughts, clenched your now incredibly valuable handbag closer to you and kept walking.

The dressing rooms were deadly silent bar your heeled sandals clicking on the tiled floor, a cool air whipped past your neck and made you hold your body whilst it shivered. Although it was from afar, you could hear Chris’ voice bellow through his dressing room and seep out of the flimsy door and its gaps, making you puzzle at the anger in his voice.

You didn’t want to knock the door and ask how he was, as bad as it was you wanted to listen to what on Earth had got him so riled up and moreover, who he was talking to.

As best as you could, you stayed pressed against the wall next to his door and steadied your breathing so you could hear what he had to say. “You have no clue how fucking ridiculous she’s being right now man,” who was he on about? “She’s driving me fucking insane with her constant fucking neediness!” He wasn’t talking about you..was he?

“Chris I’m sure it’s just a phase,” you knew who’s voice that was on the speakerphone, Scott. “Y/N’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Believe me when I say that bro,” wait...was Chris venting about you? Neediness? Your head began to spin with all the accusations.

“More like the worst thing to happen to me.” You could almost visualise Chris’ face when he said that about you. Unbeknownst to you, tears began to cascade down your cheeks freely at the painful words that Chris kept spewing out about you. “She really does make me want to run to the fucking hills Scott.”

“You don’t mean that Chris.”

“The fuck I do, Y/N’s just become too much for me and I can’t stick it anymore...how much will mom and dad hate me if I came back home without Y/N?” No, he wasn’t thinking about this now, of all the times right now he was choosing to do this now?

Before you actually let out a sob, you bolted straight out of there and straight to the ladies toilets to basically bawl your eyes out. You sat on the toilet seat and looked at the pristine photo that sat in your bag, waiting to be shown to the world and more importantly, to Chris; you couldn’t bare to look at the image after hearing what he had to say about you - his fiancée, his supposed ‘rock’, his ‘everything’ - was it all a lie?

After a twenty minute cry alone in the full toilets, you cleaned yourself up, refreshed your makeup and wandered out to an awaiting Chris and your manager. To your disgust, Chris smiled at you like as if you had come back to life from the grave and went to go and hug you but you ducked away from him with a coldness you never thought you’d have.

“Right then Y/N, are you ready?” Your manger asked you kindly, you were to feature in the magazine shoot alongside Chris - due to your own stardom - in some very pleasing photos.

“Actually, can I reschedule it for another day?” You smiled sadly at him and watched out the corner of eye Chris’ brows furrowing in question.

“I think I must’ve eaten something disagreeable and I kinda threw up in the toilet just now,” you partly lied clean through your teeth and smiled weakly at your manager, your colourless parlour catching his eye.

He was the first to know about your recent stomach bug that had lingered in you for the longest while now and was quick to understand your position right now, being sick in this heat must be awful.

“Of course, how about I bargain for this Friday? It’ll give a bit of time then,” he smiled and ignored Chris head moving from you to his manager a flurried way. Three days to get well again and do the appropriate precautions, a squeeze but perfect.

“Wonderful, thank you so so much Charles.” You sighed, waved your goodbyes to everyone bar Chris and paced off to your car in the parking lot.

Without notice, a large hand caught your forearm and pulled you back a step of two. “Where’re you going Y/N/N?” Chris partially snapped at you and tried to look you deep in the eye but the facade you put on prevented him from doing so.

“I’m going home Chris,” You snapped and yanked your hand out of his vice-like grip with such a strength, it made him look twice. Chris panicked, he needed to talk to you and ask you where you were going.

As quick as he could, his hand caught yours and held you still. “Why? Y/N what’s going on?” Chris whined and pleaded to you like a child who wanted his favourite candy. You clicked your teeth and yanked your hand away again, this time taking a step away for precautions sake and kept your handbag close to you.

“Nothing that’d concerns you.” You snapped furiously and steamed away to your car around the back of the studio, your hand holding the side of your stomach protectively.

What a mess the supposed best day of your life had turned out to be.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Instead of holing yourself up for the rest of the afternoon and evening, you chose to be as productive as possible with your free time before Chris came back home to your shared LA home.

You out all your clothes in suit protectors int he wardrobe and kept everything neatly together in case the worst came to be tonight, you cleaned the house, baked a chocolate cake for all times sake, took Dodger for a walk around the local trail and emptied your valuables from your shared safe in your dresser.

By the time the photo shoot was finished and they were packing away, you were all set for the worst and was calmly watching the evening lights flicker in the distance, your feet dangling peacefully in the pool, Dodger laying next to you and your phone.

Like the devil’s calling, you could hear the said actor’s car pulling into the driveway, the engine stop and the door slam shut with a loud slam that jolted Dodger out of his dazed slumber. Before Dodger could get up and run to see Chris, he had already come through the door and likewise, slammed it shut with a fury that made you sick to stomach.

“Y’know you can sometimes be a real bitch Y/N Y/L/N!” Chris yelled and echoed through the entire house, his footing more like stomps as he neared your form by the pool. Dodger jumped out of the way and paced back in the house, as if he already knew to leave his parents alone.

“It’s part of my speciality.” You deadpanned and kept your head forward, refusing to look at Chris who stood beside you.

“Sixteen times Y/N, sixteen times I called and you never answered. Lord knows how many times I text you.” Chris ranted and raved and paced back and forth behind you. You didn’t budge though, you just stared off into the distance holding your tongue from saying something real bad.

“Look who’s being the clingy one now, Christopher.” You chided with a dead-like face and smiled internally once the pacing stopped and you could feel Chris’ eyes on your head. Chris’ heart dropped mike and miles at your words and immediately thought back to the heated conversation he had with Scott earlier.

He couldn’t articulate any words and only looked at you stunned. “No words now, hm? You seemed to have plenty earlier, didn’t you Christopher?” This time your urned to look him dead in the eye with a glare that could easily freeze over hell and its counterparts.

Slowly, you rose to your feet and stood only a few inches away from Chris’ sullen form, eyeing him up as of you were going to murder him.

‘How did you hear...” Chris trailed off and let his mouth go slack at the sight of you, red eyed and pale as a dead person - he did this to you, he knew it.

You scoffed at the Bostonian as if he had said something utterly ridiculous. “C’mon Chris, anyone at leat ten foot away could hear you slagging me off!” You snapped and pushed past him back into the house, your feet getting especially wet.

“I wasn’t slagging you off!” Chris suddenly shouted from the patio doors, making you stop dead in your tracks.

“Weren’t you? Cause it sure fucking sounded like that Chris.” You snapped him off again and began to walk to the staircase.

“I had every right to do so Y/N!” Chris’ voice echoed around the house and made you stop again, this time with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You’ve been so clingy and up in my business lately, it’s driving me fucking insane. ‘Oh Chris help me here. Chris can I come with you here. Can I come with you there. Can you tell me this, that and the other. Come with me here Chris. Do this Chris. Do that Chris.’ Do you get what I’m saying Y/N?” Chris yelled at you shaking form and didn’t let up, not like he saw your shaking anyways.

“You’re clingy Y/N, admit you did wrong and apologise.” Chris demanded and it made your blood boil in rage. Apologise? Apologise for being unwell? Apologise for being pregnant with his child? Your stubbornness wouldn’t allow it.

Instead of doing the usuals yell at each other gimmick, you turned around and sulked towards him as if you were sorry, as if you had a lot to apologise for. Chris’ cold glare never left you whilst you stood before him, your eyes plastered to the floor. “Tomorrow is coming Y/N. Anything would do.”

Without any second thought, you stood straight and slapped him straight across the face, sending him stumbling back a step or two. “Give me a fucking break Evans! Five years we’ve been together and you were willing to throw it all under the bus and run away just because I’ve been a little clingy lately?” You screeched at him, not daring to hold back.

“I hope you’ve got a big heart because I’ve fucking over this bullshit. You wanna throw away us, fine but just remember, you’ll also be throwing away a possible son or daughter too.” Your voice broke into a sob near the end of your speech. You couldn’t stand it anymore, to stand here in his presence was making you feel light on your feet in the worst possible way.

You didn’t bother to look back at Chris and bolted for the stairs, cradling your small bump and holding your head in the process. Your ran to your once-shared bedroom and shut the door tight, your legs giving away and crumbling from beneath you once your back hit the thick wood.

It could’ve been minutes or hours later, you felt yourself being hoisted off the floor bridal style and placed gently on your bed. Your eyes fluttered at the sudden feeling of wet salty lips on your own, you didn’t know what to do; reciprocate the kiss or leave it?

Reciprocate or leave?

No matter how cumbersome his words were on your mind, Chris was your one love, your fiancé, your everything and you couldn’t imagine anyone else filling that role; ever.

Just before he was going to pull away, your smaller hands flew to his bearded cheeks and pulled him back down to kiss you like never before. It was a kiss that neither of you had ever shared before, it was so powerful, so loving and so apologetic you couldn’t help but allow Chris’ frame to slide in between your legs and his arms circle around you like a warm blanket.

Once you opened your eyes, you were met with the face of a scared, broken and elated Chris who looked like he had been slapped square in the face with - oh wait, he had.

You tentatively touched the bright red area and watched him wince at the touch, much to your horror. “What did I do to you..” you mumbled in a breath and rubbed his other cold, wet cheek with your thumb.

“No baby, what did I do to you?” Chris’ forehead leant against yours lovingly and stared into you Y/E/C eyes longingly.

“Where shall I start?” You tried to lighten the mood with your joke but it seemed to be taken the other way once Chris’ lips met yours again in a steamy, passionate kiss.

“Let me make it up to you Y/N...” Chris sighed into your mouth, hooked one of your legs around his hips and ground his forming erection softly against your core, giving you the precise idea he had.

“So long as you don’t go a-wall on us again, then yes. Love me, Chris.” You sighed at the motion down below and slowly under the belt of Chris’ jeans.

Tags - @patzammit

A/N: if anyone’s up for it, I’m thinking of doing a small smut following this watery ass ending lol. If anyone’s interested ofc * (:

*A/N: since school stuff has got mega crazy all of a sudden I may put a future smut off until I can get around to it!! So sorry everyone!! )):

#chris evans #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans headcanon #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans imagine #chris evans smut #chris evans x pregnant!reader #imagine steve rogers

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youngster-monster · 5 years

Text

Do what it takes to survive

“Who’s humming?”

Karjan’s annoyed voice rings out through the comm. Occam watches him through the scope of their rifle from a hundred yards above. He’s leaning against the wall he’s using for cover, hand pressed against the side of his helmet as if it would help him localize the source of the sound. Occam starts humming louder, grinning when Karjan’s head snaps in his direction. The other Titan somehow manages to look accusing through his helmet.

“Stop that.”

They don’t. Instead they point their scope away from him and towards their target. After a moment he does the same, though not without a frustrated groan. It’s only half felt: the man has the patience of a saint. Necessary, they suppose, when one has been handed off the unenviable position of leader to two Guardians who are both deeply individualistic and basically made of wet tissue paper.

“Blitz, status.”

The sound of her shushing him barely comes through the radio static. Occam tries to follow her path on the open pathway between their cover and their target — the faint ripple of her optical camouflage fades in and out of sight depending on the way the sun shines over her, and they lose track of her somewhere halfway. She reappears next to Karjan and rises from her crouch with fluid grace.

“Kell’s here, along with ‘bout a dozen Captains with all their squads in tow,” she tells them. “Won’t be an easy fight, and it’s not gonna let itself be drawn out of hiding.”

Karjan sighs. “Well, it’s not like we came in expecting this mission to be easy.”

“You got a plan, chief, or you’re just going to whine until the next fallen guard stumbles on you two?”

“Isn’t it your job to make sure that doesn’t happen?” Blitz quips back.

“I don’t know if you’ve notice, Blitzkrieg, but gunshots… are actually loud. Just a thought.”

“You’ve got a silencer. Use it.”

“Can’t put a silencer on this beast,” they say with a note of pride. “This baby can punch a hole the size of my fist through Vex plating. It’s not made to be discrete.”

“Size of your fist ain’t exactly impressive, small fry.” She doesn’t let them get a word in before she continues, “What did we bring you there for then? Because it sure ain’t for your sunny disposition.”

“Because I can shoot a fist-sized hole through whatever the fallen throw at us. And the Kell, once we reach it. You can deal with the rest.”

“People,” Karjan interjects before they can work themselves up into a full-on argument. “Stay focused.”

Blitzkrieg makes an appropriately apologetic sound. Occam rests their chin on their arm and begrudgingly wait for him to continue. He’s lucky he has a nice voice or they wouldn’t listen to a single one of his strategy talks. Who cares about plans? Occam can shoot anything.

“Did you find a way in past the guards?” He asks Blitz. She nods. “Good. We’ll follow you in, dispatch any fallen in the way as quietly as possible. Once we’re in, we go in two teams. You and I on the ground as a distraction while Occam go find themself a perch they can shoot the Kell from. If we’re lucky we won’t even have to fight the Captains, and we can be out of here by sunset.”

“And what do we do if we’re not lucky?”

He shrugs. “Fight our way out, most likely. Occam will cover us, right?” That last part is directed at them,

Blitz makes a derisive sound.

“Of course I will,” they snap, even though they don’t know whether she’s doubting their ability to hit the Kell or to cover their asses. They’re tempted to not do the later, if only to teach her. “I’m not incompetent. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

“Alright. Be brave, Guardians. Move out.”

“Hi, I’m Karjan Sim.”

Occam gives the outreached hand hovering in front of their face a dubious look, which they lift towards the Awoken’s face in a slow, unimpressed once-over.

“And I should care… why?”

To his credit, he doesn’t let his hand fall, just stand there like an idiot until they reluctantly agree to shake it to save them both the embarassment. It seems to count as a silent approval because they take a sit at their table as if they’d invited him to do so, quickly followed by the Exo following him. She flips the chair to sit on it backward, arms crossed over the backrest with her chin resting on them.

“Name’s Blitzkrieg-14. Call me Blitz,” she says flippantly, like it’s already agreed they’ll call her Blitz.

“Awfully long name to choose if you’re not going to use it,” they remark.

She doesn’t answer their unvoiced question and stares them down, inexpressive the way only Exos can really pull off, until they look away. The awkward silence goes on until Karjan figures out Occam won’t ask them what they want.

“We heard you’re a sniper,” he says, nodding to the riffle propped against their chair.

“The best there is.”

“Weird choice for a Titan,” he notes.

They’re killing enemies faster than they can kill people. It’s a form of protection, even if it doesn’t involve the shield-bashing, team-leading kind Titans are best known for. They don’t bother explaining that to Karjan, though. He looks like the kind of Titan who wouldn’t understand their reasoning. “Are you going anywhere with this or are you just here to state commonly known facts?”

“We also heard you’re a pain to work with and an all-around asshole,” Blitz quips.

They narrow their eyes, but can’t actually deny it. There’s a reason they work alone.

“Blitz,” Karjan says, in warning. He looks back to Occam and tilts his head in such a way that his white hair falls over his face, casting shadows over his eyes. “We need a third member for our mission. Someone to lay down some heavy fire while we’re fighting, keep some of the pressure off our backs, you know?”

“Don’t you already have someone to do that for you?”

“We usually find freelancers like you,” he replies. “And we don’t exactly encourage the thought of a permanent position, so most move on after a few missions.”

Blitz shrugs. “Their loss.”

Occam leans back in their chair and cross their arms over their chest. They’re not much of a team player themself. They work better on the side of the group, watching over other Guardians without having to cooperate with them. Makes it easier to work alone. But the solo missions they’re willing to run only pay so much, and there’s this one gun they’ve been eyeing lately…

They’ve got the nagging feeling those two approached them for this very reason. They are rather infamous for mostly working alone, not something very common among Titans.

“Yeah, sure,” they finally say, nodding slightly. “As long as you’re not asking me to fistfight a gate lord.” They rise out of their chair and shoulder their rifle. “When are we leaving?”

“Tomorrow morn- wait, just like that? Don’t you want to know what the mission is?”

“You want me to shoot stuff. That’s enough information for me.”

Blitz leans back in her chair as they stride past. “It’s gonna be Hive, just so you know.”

“Cool. I love getting weird organic matter on my clothes and the constant claustrophobia of infested corridors. See you tomorrow.”

Occam watches warily as Blitz sneaks up on a Vandal, all but invisible to anyone not already aware of her presence, and sink a knife in its neck. Their fingers tighten instinctively around the strap holding their sniper rifle to their back. They regret not having any inconspicuous means of fighting: in close quarter, with the imperative to be silent, they’re all but useless.

Blind, too: she’s the only one who knows the layout of the fallen lair. They follow her through crumbling hallways, sneaking between patrol routes, trusting her to lead them the right way. They glance at Karjan. He has that look in his eyes, focused, battle-ready. It makes the pale yellow glow fiercer, somehow. They have half a mind to tell him to close his eyes before the light attracts the fallen attention. Also because it’s distracting.

Distracting enough they don’t see the piece of rubble laying in their way and trip over it like an idiot. They stumble half a step before righting themself, glaring at the floor like it’s personally responsible for their clumsiness. Blitz glares at them, her finger to her mouth in a shushing motion. They flip her off for good measure.

They pick their way over to her, eyes darting from the broken ground to their surroundings. They track every sound — the barely-there fall of Blitz’s boots on the ground, the rubble crunching under Karjan’s feet. Farther away, the shuffling of fallen guards walking their patrol routes and, more distant away, the chattering noises of assembled fallen — getting closer as they walk. It’s making them uneasy, moving towards the enemy rather than away.

Blitz calls them over quietly. They crouch next to her and she jerks her head toward the end of the corridor and the fallen guard standing there, barely visible in the gloom. She signs something — they picked enough of the Hunters’ sign language to understand that she wants them their opinion on it. They tap the side of their helmet to call up the scope they had installed on the visor. It’s not much, not precise enough by far for a sniper’s work, but it comes in handy in situations like these.

“Just a Wretch,” they whisper, then, “Wait— another came up to it. They’re talking, I think. Facing opposite to us, but the way the corridor bends, we’ll have to go by them.”

She whirs quietly, the sound like the vents of a computer just powering up. Then she reaches for her side and takes out a knife from Light-knows-where. Hunters can hide those in every fold of fabric, or so it seems. Might be one of their class-specific abilities.

She hands it to them by the blade. They take it by reflex, flip it to test the balance. Perfect, as expected from a Hunter.

“You’re quiet,” she says matters-of-factually, though it’s a question, hidden as it may be. Quiet enough? They tilt their head in assent. They can move silently, sniper career oblige. “Follow me.”

With a quick gesture at Karjan to stay put they sneak all the way up to the guards, moving as one through the shadows. Another hand sign: on my mark. Then, raising fingers in a silent timer, she counts to three.

On four, they each plunge their blade in their respective fallen. The left one, Blitz’s, gets her habitual knife to the throat. Quiet and quick. The right one gets stabbed through the fourth and fifth abdominal plate, upward through the heart.

“Weird place to aim for,” she notes while wiping her knife on the Wretch’s clothes. “But efficient.”

“You shoot enough fallen, you learn what to aim for.” They do the same and hand it back to her. She waves them away.

“I got more of these. You ever looked up Thasra Xorish?” They shake their head no. “She a reef awoken. A doctor. Specialized in alien dissections, compiled a bunch of anatomical diagrams and photos in a book.”

“Interesting,” they say, only half sarcastic. Aliens have completely different anatomies from humans and, to an extant, awoken. It would be useful to know exactly what goes on in there.

“I have the book back home. I’ll land it to you if you want.”

“Sure.”

She turns around, waves Karjan over. Occam continues to look at her with… slight confusion. Odd, how you can spend so much time with someone and never truly know them. Not like they’ve been trying to, but… still. Odd.

“Ugh. You son of a bitch.”

Recognizing themself when spoken at, Occam waves a lazy hand from where they’re laying on the ground, sprawled half under the table they were drinking at just a moment ago. ‘Moment’, in that case, meaning anything between ten seconds and a few hours. Can’t look at the clock. Too blurry. The ceiling is spinning — no, the Earth is. But Occam is very still. That’s why they can see it spin now.

There’s a dull thud next to their head. They make a valiant attempt to investigate the sound and give up as soon as it becomes clear finding its source would mean moving… any part of their body, really. Someone filled them with lead while they weren’t looking. Kinda hard to move that way.

“Damn it Karjan, come give me a hand.”

“Yeah, gimme- g’me a sec.”

Strong hands slip under their armpits and, with a grunt, someone— Bitz- Bliz- Blik- she’s dragging them away from the table and hoisting them up into a sitting position. Their head hangs limply, rolling slightly as she tries to make them sit up straight. They blink blearily at the dark fabric of their kevlar jacket.

(This is Occam’s idea of casual clothes.)

A shuffling sound makes them roll their head to the side so they can watch Karj… Kar approach them. He wavers on his feet, stumble a few steps forward.

“Light, you’re drunk,” Blitz says, though she doesn’t sound exactly fresh herself. All that talk about how exos can’t get drunk, but throw enough high proof liquor at her and she starts to feel it.

“’M jus’ fine,” he says, frowns, then repeats, enunciating clearly this time, “I am just fine.” He nods, satisfied with himself, and kneels in front of Occam. “What d’you need me t’do?”

Somewhere under the fog of alcohol, a single brain cell bravely makes its way through the wasteland of Occam’s brain and, somehow, stumbles in the dark into another one. The collision gives birth to a single clear thought.

Thank the Traveler for buff men in tight shirts.

It enjoys the luxury of free, unbidden existence for a mere few seconds before it is snuffed out by the pleasant blurriness of inebriation as Occam passes out. It will be remembered fondly despite its briefness.

“Grab their legs,” Blitz instructs him. “We need to get ‘em on the… the...” She makes a sound like a printer jam in frustration when the word eludes her.

“Bed?”

“Oh fuck no, that shit’s too far.”

“Floor’s nice. Comfy.”

“C’mon. Friends don’t let friends pass out on the ground.” Then, after a moment of deep though where she wonders if they’re close enough as friends that she’s ready to carry them to their bed, her original idea comes back to her like sunlight at dawn. “Couch. That’s- that’s the word. Get ‘em on the couch.”

He grunts in agreement. Together, after a little bit of trial and error, they manage to drag Occam off the floor and carry them the few feet separating them from the couch. Blitz starts swaying them like she’s about to throw them on the couch and, when Karjan doesn’t follow her lead and their weight turns out to be too much for her precarious balance, she ends up being the one to fall in the couch instead. She drags Occam with her and Karjan follows suit, pulled forward by their combined weight. They end up in a heap of limbs, all of them too drunk to deal with the hassle of untangling each other.

Blitz, the closest to sober out of them all, also happens to be at the bottom of the pile, so she’s really not going to bother. She briefly entertains the idea of pushing the two others on the ground but the thought of having to put Occam back on the couch after it all is too much effort to consider. She closes her eyes.

Karjan, who fell face-first into Occam’s stomach and is hanging half off the couch, mutters something too muffled to understand but that sounds faintly like her name. Part of it at least.

She shushes him. “Sleep now.”

He grunts in a vaguely agreeable way and, after a minute of arranging his limbs in a way that won’t cut his entire blood circulation, falls asleep. Blitz follows suit moments later.

They split up a few corridors away from their target. Karjan and Blitz stay low while Occam climbs up to the upper walkway that goes all around the center room of the lair. There are two ways to reach it. One lays in ruin, either from time or deliberate destruction from the fallen, and the other is directly inside the room. They are avoiding both. Their path takes them through the roof: the walkway is directly underneath it and there are so many cracks and holes in the stone it should be child’s play to get in and out undetected.

Doesn’t mean it will be easy. They’re not looking forward to the climb. Clambering up rubble is simple enough but there’s still thirty feet of straight wall after that, and dragging themself and their twenty kilos rifle up a perfectly vertical surface with only small cracks and crumbling stones as their handholds isn’t their idea of a good time. Then there’s still the roof, and dispatching any fallen guarding it or the walkway. Being a sniper is more trouble than it’s worth. They should change career — maybe baking?

They stop at the top of the pile of rubble, eyeing the other half of their climb. Already they can see a few possible handholds, try to plan their way up from one to another. They bounce lightly on their feet, testing the weight of their rifle on their back. It’s heavy, but they’re used to it. Ideally they’d transmat if to themself once in position, but the fallen presence is making it too much of a risk. Something about the Ether in the air is running interference, making resurrections slow and transmating unreliable.

“You’re gonna be okay up there?”

They only turn their head, not trusting their footing enough to face their teammates. A loose stone rolling down the pile of rubble could mean a nasty fall, or worse, detection. Their comms “I do this all the time, remember?”

Karjan shakes his head, and Occam can only imagine the fond expression he wears under his helmet. The way his eyes crinkle at the corner, the soft smile on his lips— he always look at them the same way when they play the loner. Almost amused. It’s infuriating.

“I know,” he says gently, “I still worry. Ask Blitz, I still freak out when she gets a limb blown off.”

She elbows him in the side with a huff. “Mother hen.”

He ignores her interruption and gives Occam a two-fingers salute. “Just be careful, alright?”

“I always am.”

He nods, conceding the point. He doesn’t say anything else, but they all hear his usual reply all the same. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry. Mother hen, indeed.

“Signal us when you’re in position,” Blitz says. She taps the side of her helmet, where her comm is, like he’d forget its existence. “Good hunting.”

They grunt in reply and, finally free from hovering teammates, start their ascension.

It’s slow-going, but better slow than dead. But they can’t afford to linger on the fragile handholds the crumbling wall offers them, so they reach the crack in the roof faster than they expected to. Their arms and shoulders hurt from the exertion and the weight of their rifle. It’s a familiar kind of hurt, satisfying. They can feel Vitale hum in the pocket of their coat, ready to heal them, but they don’t like to let xe out in the open. Xir shell has been reinforced with whatever pieces of scrap metal were at hand, but they still don’t trust it to survive direct fire.

They keep going.

The roof is more holes than not in some part, held together by the vegetation growing through the cracks. They make their way across it silently, crouched low to avoid any possible detection. Finding the room is easy: it’s all but open to the sky. What they’re looking for is any possible hole to the side of that large one, a direct way to the walkway. They find it, eventually. The leaves growing above it must have hidden it from detection: when they hazard a look down, there isn’t a guard in sight.

It’s a short drop. Occam lands with a muted sound, keeping a hand on their rifle to keep it from knocking against anything. One glance tell them the walkway is as obstructed as the rest of the building. It’s a mixed blessing: it hides them, as well as any enemy that might be guarding it.

Better be cautious. They stay low on the ground as they start to walk the perimeter, skirting around collapsed parts of the roof and climbing vegetation, careful not to stumble on any loose stone. It pays off: when, after a minute, they do find a guard, it has their back on them, completely unaware of their presence. They dispatch it the same way they did the other guard, with their hand pressed against its face to muffle any sound it may make.

It seems to be the only guard assigned to the hard-to-reach walkway. Good. They keep walking, just to make sure, until they find a spot with a clear view of the room below. They shrug off their rifle and position themself while observing the situation.

The Kell is there alright, sitting in a throne made of torn-off pieces of machinery assembled in a vaguely chair-like shape, under a shield dome. As are all its Captains and their squads. They roam the room, stopping in small groups to discuss in their chirping language. There’s enough cover that it should be possible to take them out individually, given one is quick and discreet enough.

Karjan won’t be too mad: he’s going to be useful too. They can’t kill all the fallen without raising any alarm, and this shield needs to go down eventually if they want to get their job done. The way Occam sees it, the assault needs to go in two phases. First, the ground team takes out as many fallen as possible without getting caught. Then, when they’re inevitably caught, they rush for the shield with Occam covering them from above, destroy the generators, then take out the Kell and leave as fast as possible.

Going unnoticed is crucial. It’s going to be a hard fight if they have to face the full brunt of the Kell’s forces. Better get rid of as much of them as possible beforehand, clear a way from the single door to the outside so they have an easy retreat if need be.

The way it looks, it should be a pretty straightforward mission. Not one of the easiest they had, but not one of the hardest either. Good: they could use the break, after last time.

“Occam? Are you in position?”

They check the stability of their rifle on its support before responding. “I am.”

“How’s it looking?”

They pitch their voice low even though it would be all but impossible for the fallen to hear it from down there with the noise they’re making, and start to lay out their plan.

It’s always kind of a surreal experience to see Occam out of their armor. Or out of a combat situation, really. It doesn’t happen often: they don’t like to be idle, often running a handful of solo missions between two team assignments. But it’s obvious that they’re not suited to it all — the calm and the apparent safety of civilian life. Too jumpy, too paranoid, too much a sniper to content themself with it. They know how to survive, for sure, but acting in polite society? That’s another challenge entirely.

Or so Karjan thought.

(In hindsight he should have known better: Occam loves nothing more than to prove you wrong.)

He went out with Blitz to cheer her up from her latest Crucible loss. He brought her home afterward, even though she complains endlessly about it because she’s too much of a badass to need a knight in shining armor — she’s right about that. But the night is quiet and warm, speckled with stars, and he’s in the mood for a walk. That’s why he’s taking the long way back to the barracks, past the bars on ninth street. He doesn’t usually come in this part of the City — it’s more of a Hunter block, anyway, less rowdy than Titans’ usual haunts but more likely to get you stabbed for nothing. Not that it’s much of a threat to a Guardian, but stabbing is never really pleasant.

‘Less rowdy’ doesn’t mean it’s calm, though, as he’s soon to notice.

The Hobgoblin’s Head is a small, poorly-lit pub sandwiched between a takeout kebabs and a shop advertising its stock of Knives and Knives Accessories. He sees it often on his walks but never went inside. He’s heard the fries they serve are among the best, but not even the best fries on the market could convince him to enter a building that looks so much like it’s held together purely by duct tape and prayers. And, to think of it, he’s never seen anyone coming in or out.

That’s partly why it’s such a surprise when the door is thrown open as he’s walking past it. He jumps aside just in time for a small figure to stumble out, ducking the shoe thrown after them. The door slams shut once again, the sound ringing in the silent street.

The stranger straightens up and glance toward the bar with an annoyed scowl. The movement put their face in the ray of light streaming through the glass door, but even then it takes Karjan a moment to recognize them.

“Occam?”

His fellow Titan makes a tsk sound before turning away and focusing on him. Turned like this, backlit by the pub’s light, it’s hard to make out their face. Their eyes are two dark pits, half-hidden under messy strands of hair. They’re not wearing their usual makeup. Karjan thinks with some surprise that it’s the first time he sees their face without it.

It changes them.

“Ah. Karjan.” They pass a hand through their hair to keep it out of their face. Their nails are painted black, he notices. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Karjan bends down to pick up their boot and hands it to them silently. They grab it with a small grunt of thank and hop on one foot while they shove the other in it, not bothering to tie the laces.

“Rough night?”

The way they huff, more scorn than laughter, is answer enough. “You could say that.”

He starts to walk and, after a moment’s hesitation, they fall in step beside him, rubbing their shoulder with an air of faint discomfort. From the manhandling, or the situation? He can’t tell. He’s never seen them uncomfortable before.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, looks straight ahead in an effort not to linger on them. “What happened?”

They’re silent long enough that he figures they’re not going to answer, which he half expected. Occam is hardly forthcoming with their personal life. But they do, eventually, speak up.

“Sneaked out of a guy’s bed while he was sleeping. He, huh- didn’t appreciate that.”

“Isn’t it a bit early in the night for a walk of shame?”

They shrug. “It happened a few days ago. He just happened to be here tonight, which I didn’t expect.” Quieter, like a joke, they add, “He might have taken it better if I had remembered him.”

Whatever Occam hears in his lack of response makes them sigh with clear annoyance.

“I was busy, okay? There was this really cute guy-” They clear their throat, cutting themself off. Occam, abashed? Correct: this is something Karjan never expected. “Anyway you can’t expect me to remember the face of everyone I sleep with. I’m a sniper, not a bouncer.”

So it’s something that happens that often, huh? Karjan has a hard time wrapping his head around it. It seems to out of place in Occam’s carefully crafted loner persona, the way they keep everyone and everything at arm’s length. He can’t help to stare at them as they walk side by side, trying to find… what exactly, he’s not sure. Something in their face that betrays this new part of them, something he’s never noticed before, maybe.

It’s not often he gets to see Occam barefaced, without their helmet of face paint, and he wants to say it’s why he can’t quite look away. But the truth is: he’s seen them enough to be used to it by now, and the effect is the same every time.

Distracting. That’s what it is. Distracting enough that he walks right into a lamppost, actually.

The collision leaves him confused for a second, too stunned to feel the pain from bashing his head against a metal pole. He takes a step back, blinks, then frowns thoughtfully, but his attempt at rewinding the recent events is thoroughly derailed by the unexpected sound of laughter on his left.

A chuckle, really, but that alone is so much more than he’s heard from Occam in the last two years. His best puns get an eye roll, at best, and even Blitz’s deadpan sarcasm is only answer by a mocking snort or… like, a puff of breath with amused undertones. They’re not the effusive type, obviously. This is different. This is genuine humor. If he’d known all it took to get that reaction out of them was slapstick…

Karjan shakes his head and looks at Occam again, rubbing their forehead even though it’s already stopped hurting. He wants to be annoyed, because really, they could definitely have warned him. But their mouth is quirked up in an endearing little smirk, the kind that looks like they’re physically stopping themself from outright grinning, and his reproach dies on his tongue at the sight of it. He swallows audibly, feels a helpless smile bloom on his face.

It’s shocked out of him when he feels a hand clutch the collar of his shirt, dragging him down to Occam’s level. He probably looks like an idiot, eyes wide and mouth gaping, but it’s hard to think about that with Occam’s face a mere inch from his, hot breath fanning against his lips. They look at him through dark lashes, face expressionless save for a single lifted eyebrow, like a question or an invitation.

It would be so easy to cross the distance. But there’s a nagging feeling like a fishhook caught under his ribs, the thought of Occam running out of a bedroom to another one, the insatiable hunger that always animate them, even in such a setting. Maybe it’s stupid of him, but Karjan doesn’t want to be another notch in Occam’s bedpost.

He lets out a shaking breath then whispers, “We have a mission tomorrow.”

“And?”

“I don’t want- this to be a distraction.” I don’t want to have to think about you running off in the middle of the night.

With no small amount of frustration, Occam says, “I can be professional. Can’t you?”

Their free hand wanders down Karjan’s torso, settling on the curve of his waist. He groans and lets his head fall against Occam’s shoulder, body folding awkwardly to make that possible. Then, reluctantly, he pushes them away.

“When we come back,” he promises, his voice hoarse. “I’ll take you on a date.”

It’s a long shot, to even hope Occam would agree to a date rather than a one night stand. But it works. He has a feeling Occam’s heated gaze echoes his own when they reply, “I’ll hold you to that.”

And on those words they spin around and march off, disappearing in the darkness of a poorly-lit alleyway.

Karjan leans back against the lamppost, covering his mouth with his hand as he watches them go. His heart is hammering in his chest, an incessant chorus of later, later, later.

He can’t wait.

The plan goes without a hitch, for a while. Blitz and Karjan dart from cover to cover, taking out their targets without trouble. As soon as a Fallen is sufficiently isolated, out of sight of the rest, Karjan drags it behind whatever piece of rubble they’re hiding behind and muffles its sounds while Blitz sink a blade in its throat. It’s all very smooth and efficient and Occam is only slightly disgruntled that there’s nothing they can do to participate. If they considered lying down on a ledge some fifty feet above the ground while watching other people fight entertaining, they’d just watch the Crucible. And there’s gravel digging up in their sides but they don’t want to risk attracting attention to them by dislodging it.

They’re almost glad when it starts going downhill.

Fallen aren’t completely stupid. They notice their lookouts are disappearing, eventually, chattering to one another with some agitation as they realize they’re missing guards. They don’t raise the alarm yet. Instead some of the Captains peel away from the main group to search through the room. Karjan and Blitz exchange a look, indecipherable behind their helmets. Planning their next move, now that they’ve been spotted. Whatever silent discussion they’re having isn’t going to last long, if the Captain slowly approaching their hiding spot has anything to say about it.

Occam looks into their scope, aims the crosshair right on its head. Breathes in, holds it—

Fire.

The Captain goes down in a splatter of blood and armor pieces, a hole shot clean through its skull. The sound of the rifle echoes in the cavernous room. Occam winces as much from it as from the kickback — for all its qualities, this rifle really isn’t suited for covert work.

The remaining Fallen scatter, some clustering around their Kell to protect it while the rest converge toward the dead Captain and the two Guardians backing away from its body, guns raised.

“A little warning would be nice next time,” Karjan says.

“Less whining, more moving. We’ve still got a Kell to kill,” Occam replies, rolling their eyes. Children, the lot of them.

A single look between the two is enough. They nod at each other and each run off in opposite directions.

Karjan charges directly at a Captain, knocking it down before shoving his shotgun in its face and pulling the trigger. Its soldiers take its place, swarming the Guardian. He backs down a few steps. One especially brave Dreg leaps at him. He brings up his gun in a sharp, brutal arc. The butt of the shotgun collides with the Dreg’s chest with enough force Occam can almost hear bones (exoskeleton? Who knows how Fallen anatomy functions) crack from where they’re watching. The Fallen goes flying and crashes yards away, still twitching.

A Vandal used the Dreg as a distraction, jumping after it and swiping its knife toward Karjan’s throat while he’s distracted. The Titan falls to his knees to dodge it, summoning a shield to protect him as he does so. He doesn’t bother to look back at the Vandal, firing at the rest of the Captain’s troops. Moments later it collapses, shot down by Occam.

“You’re welcome,” they say distractedly, already busy looking for Blitz in the commotion.

She’s blinking in and out of sight, blades flashing briefly before she sinks them in the Fallen and disappear again. It’s actually pretty fun to watch her roll around, dodging and weaving through her enemies like wind. She’s an incredible Hunter and Occam would rather punch themself in the face than learn how to fight like that. Seems more likely to get stabbed herself than anything else.

Let’s get some heat off her.

They aim for the first Fallen they see aiming at her. They finger twitch on the trigger. Breathe in. Hold it—

Claws rip through the collar of their cloak, gripping the armor underneath, and they are dragged away from their rifle. Stumbling to their feet, they strike blindly at their enemy. The Fallen hisses in their ear and catches their hand with one of its own. An arm wraps around their throat, holding them above the ground, and the barrel of a gun is pressed against the side of their helmet.

“Occam,” Blitz grunts through the comm, “A little help?”

“Kinda busy right now,” they wheeze in response.

They claw at the arm and kick their feet uselessly, only managing to knock the rifle farther away from them.

Fuck.

(Why do Fallen get to be tall and have four arms and not them? Fuck the Traveler, this is the true ascension for humanity.)

In their flailing they manage to kick the Fallen’s knee with some force, helped by the steel covering the heel of their boots. It makes a pained sound and lets them slip just enough that they get their feet on solid ground once more. They grab the arm around their throat with their free hand and throw themself forward. The Fallen taken by surprise, goes flying and falls back-first on the ground, letting go of its gun in the process. But it’s not surprised enough that it doesn’t think to hold on and is only able to fall in a slightly more controlled manner after it.

They reach for their sidearm just as the Fallen — a Vandal, by the look of it — reaches for their blades. They fire as they’re shuffling back, trying to get to their feet. The Fallen surges forward and grabs their ankles with its secondary arms and pull them back. Their shot goes wide as they fall to their back, the Fallen skittering on top of them. They block one of its knives with their gun and send both flying in an attempt to wrestle the blade out of the Vandal’s hand. The other knife takes them by surprise and they’re too slow to dodge it, only managing to move out of the way so the Fallen stabs them in the shoulder rather than the throat it had aimed for.

They grunt, twist around to keep it from taking the knife out and thrusting it somewhere more lethal. They kick up their knees, dislodging the Fallen long enough to wrench the knife free and get on top of the Vandal. It reaches out for its abandoned gun. They kick it away before it can get its claws on it. It collides with their own rifle and send both careening over the edge.

The clattering sound of their fall is soon drowned out by the gunfire and shrill chattering of the Fallen. Their comm crackle to life just as the Fallen is turning back to them, snarling and clawing at their wounded shoulder.

“Occam! Support!”

“Still… busy,” they grit out, lashing out wildly with their borrowed knife as the Vandal does its best to block them with its many hands.

They gasp wetly as white-hot pain lashes through them, and the irritation fades out of Karjan’s voice, replaced by concern.

“Fuck. Blitz, can you-”

“Bit busy myself,” she snaps.

The Fallen manages to catch Occam’s wrist and twists. Occam lets outs a cry of pain and lets go of the knife. The Fallen takes advantage of it to roll them over, disregarding the blade to instead for directly for Occam’s throat. It wraps two of its hands around their trachea and use the two others to pin their arms to the ground while it chokes the life out of them.

And then—

The light goes out.

Or so it seems at first. Occam’s sight suddenly blacks out, followed by a loud, static kind of sound filling their head, like an electric generator surcharging. Soon even that disappears, replaced by the crushing silence of depth, of the buried, in water or in dirt. It is the heavy quiet of the grave, the kind that haunts Occam when the night is too dark, the same feeling of running out of air, the same yawning void in their chest as the cold seeps into their bones.

They’re going to die.

Adrenaline floods their veins, sets them on fire from within. They struggle against the weight holding them down in blind panic, rip one of their hand free, manage to wrap shaking fingers around the abandoned knife. Their chest burns, ears ringing like an alarm.

They’re going to die.

They thrust it in a blind panic and feel flesh give under the blade, feel hot blood coat their gloves. The pressure around their throat eases, just enough to breath through, just for a moment. Then claws tighten again, digging into their skin.

They’re going to die.

Even blinded Occam manages to hit the Fallen, though they can only tell where their blows land by how much it hurts their knuckles. Is it the lack of air, the panic, something else? They can’t see, can’t hear, can’t feel anything but all-encompassing terror, alien and familiar as it is, and pain. Everything is so loud and so quiet, the noise of fighting drowned out by the war drums of his heart.

They’re going to die.

They’re running out of strength, out of breath, out of time. Part of them wants to give in to the darkness, deeper than the shadows blinding them, the sweet darkness of sleep and death.

But the other part is louder.

I don’t want to die.

It’s the part of them that said dig when they only knew how to be buried, the part that said run and hide when their blood turns to ice in their veins, freezing them on the spot. It’s the voice of something hunted, something cornered, the sheer animal instinct of survival at all cost, more teeth than thoughts, as much fury as pain.

I don’t want to die.

And this time, it says fight.

So they fight.

They lash out, grip the Vandal’s cloak and throw their entire weight to the side, kicking up their legs to dislodge the weight on their chest. The element of surprise is enough to throw it off and it lets go of their throat.

Occam was trying to throw it off them and off the walkway. They didn’t expect it to grab their own cloak and drag them down with it.

They only have a second to feel the edge of the walkway dig into their back as they roll over it before they’re plummeting fifty feet down.

(The silence on the way down is— blissful.)

The Fallen hits the ground first, by which they mean that they land on top of it. Occam feels armor and exoskeleton give way under them as they slam into the ground. The impact jars every bone in their body, rattling their ribs in their chest and knocking their jaws with enough force to crack teeth. It hurts, more than they can remember anything hurting before. It feels like everything is some manner of broken, battered or bruised. But as they lay there, gasping desperate lungfuls of air, they only really register the sweetness of their heartbeat, a staccato rhythm of survival.

Sight comes back to them slowly, creeping from the corners as darkness recedes. Then sound, static, then gunfire, screaming. They blink the blurriness of tears from their eyes, struggle to rise to their feet and only manage to flop to their side, exhausted.

There is a great emptiness inside of them, a space defined by the absence of what usually inhabits it.

“Occam! Occam, come in.”

They grunt, trying to focus their eyes enough to see where the voice is coming from.

Right, their comm.

“We saw you drop,” Blitz says, usually expressionless voice fraught with too many feelings to distinguish. Anger, fear, frustration, anxiety. “You alright?”

“No.” Their voice is hoarse, their throat sore. “What happened?”

For a second they think their comm went out, but the radio silence is still filled with the same damn static. They’re just not answering.

“We lost our connection to the Light,” Karjan explains, tense. “And the Tower isn’t responding to our calls.”

Blitz swears, enraged more than hurt. “No back-up, no support, and no fucking Light.”

No Light.

No… healing, no resurrection, no absurd bending the laws of nature to beat impossible odds. Not this time. They’ve cheated Death too many times, and now Fate is coming to get its due.

“We’re overrun,” Blitz continues, hissing like an overheatting steam engine. “We’re going to die in this fucking place.”

And Occam only hears, we’re going to die.

Something inside of them reaches out, like liquid fire in their veins. The same prey heart that saved them, the rabbit-in-the-wolf’s-maw instinct. And it says,

I don’t want to die.

They roll on their stomach, get on their hands and knees, heaving when vertigo and fear and terrible, all-consuming pain slam into them. They crawl on all four, behind pieces of ruble and broken machinery. Their hand knock against the cold metal of their rifle — their beloved sniper rifle, covered in dust and blood. They can’t make their fingers let go, after that. It’s too much of a comfort to be able to carry and handle death themself.

Climbing to their feet is a process in multiple steps. First one foot flat on the ground. Push, then up, and the other, and they lurch forward — stumble with the weight of the rifle they refuse to drop. Use it as a crutch. Straighten up, wait for the world to stop spinning. Hoist the rifle up, the same familiar hold, one finger wrapped around the trigger.

Out there it’s chaos. Blitz and Karjan are fighting their way towards the only escape through a sea of Fallen, squirming with guns and blades and claws. For each they shoot down two more take its place, and the pile of bodies only grow while they weaken. They’re bloody, exhausted, armor in pieces, fighting with all they have because it’s the only hope they have left. There’s no way they can kill them all.

Without their Light, they will die.

But Occam can — run towards them, towards the door. Provide support. Or offer covering fire while they make a break for it, for as long as it takes before the Fallen notice them behind their flimsy cover. The chances are slim, but still better than if they stand there, doing nothing.

They can’t kill them all, though. Not alone, not the three of them. Not without their Light.

And, they realize, not all of them can make it out alive, either.

Karjan breathes heavily in the comm, laying briefly against Blitz for support while he reloads. “Occam, where are you?”

Too far gone to hear, running a ruthless calculus inside their head. Without support, Karjan and Blitz will be overrun, and then the Fallen will find Occam and kill them, too. But if they watch over their teammates like they’re meant to, like a sniper and a Titan is supposed to, then their friends will have a chance at survival, even if they will not. It’s a matter of distracting the Fallen long enough to flee: a threat big enough to keep them occupied while the rest run.

It’s hard to be such a threat on your own.

(That’s why Occam has a rifle that fires anti-tank rounds; for solo missions, for distraction, for heavy damage.)

But if their teammates stop running, and if Occam doesn’t. If Occam runs and they do not—

I have the book back home. I’ll land it to you if you want.

(I don’t want to die)

When we come back, I’ll take you on a date.

(I don’t want to die)

“Occam?”

Karjan’s voice is small, distant. A familiar warmth. This time unwelcome.

It’s heavy, a sniper rifle. Especially this one. It’s the weight of top-of-the-line armament. The weight of something that can punch a hole the size of a fist through Vex plating. It’s the weight of death, sure as the pull of the trigger. A responsibility, too, heavy on your shoulders. A kind of pride, a personal promise, both heavier still. It’s the weight all Titans wear, one way or another, with shoulder guards or a banner or a weapon. It’s a weight that forces you to think about every time you pick it up, makes you ask yourself, are you worthy of this? Are you strong enough for this?

Occam’s arms shake as they lift it, rest the butt of the rifle against their shoulder, but their aim is steady. The crosshair settle on its target.

Breathe in. Hold it—

Fire.

Blitzkrieg’s left knee blows up in a shower of sparks and shrapnel. She goes down hard, screaming with pure pain and rage. Her vocal processors give out halfway through, and when it picks up again her swearing is more static than words.

“What the fuck, who-”

They take off their helmet just long enough to tear out the commlink then shove it back on. Their eyes stray a second to the Guardians — Karjan stopped running to help Blitzkrieg’s up, as expected. They’re not sure she would have done the same. They’re… not sure they could have taken the shot, if it had been Karjan in the crosshair. But it doesn’t matter. The Fallen are already closing in on the two Guardians now that they’re pinned in place, unable to run with one carrying the other — or he could, but he couldn’t shoot at the same time, and that is as good as dead, as dead as not moving.

(As if they could bear to shoot him. Well, maybe they could. Aren’t they full of surprises tonight?)

Occam looks away. Throws the rifle to the ground. And then—

Then, they run.

The Drifter lays a careful hand on Occam’s shoulder, all too aware of how little it takes to spook them. Especially when they’re sleeping. Usually they wouldn’t even risk it, but it doesn’t look like restful sleep. They’re tossing and turning, jerky movements and laborious breaths, something like a nightmare. They have those often. It’s not good to let them stew in the horrors their own mind can conjure.

So he lays a hand on their shoulder, lightly. Careful not to jolt or grab them — that’s a sure-fire way to get a flailing fist in the face when they wake up. But even that isn’t enough, and they wake up with a wretched gasp, their hand rising to claw at the Drifter’s.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, trying to sound soothing even to their hazy consciousness. “It’s just me. You’re in the Tower, you’re safe.”

They don’t move for a while, panting, keeping his hand in a white-knuckled grip. But that’s normal. Their eyes are wide open and unseeing, focused on some vision already fading with awakening. Eventually they relax. Take a slow, shuddering breath. Let go of the Drifter to sit up, push off the tangled sheets and all but fall off of his cot.

It’s far from the first time he finds them sleeping in his bed. More often than not, when he does, they’re having a nightmare. He’s used to that. But he’s never seen them so shaken by one, so out of sort, so… distraught. He reaches out again, hoping to offer some comfort, some support. They don’t push him away. Instead they stumble out of reach again, eyes wild, unfocused, downright panicked.

“Occam?”

It’s just their name, but it’s enough. There’s a kind of… deep, heart-breaking grief that crosses their face, the briefest flash of pain, before they seem to shake it off. They smooth their expression into a semblance of their usual impassive mask, making a small, crooked grimace when they look down and see their hands shaking.

They still don’t say anything. It’s fine. Drifter is used to doing most of the work, conversation wise.

“Nightmare?” They glance up briefly but don’t show any reaction beyond that. “Seemed like a bad one. You okay?”

Their eyes close. Breathe in, then out — coming back to themself. Calming down.

“Yes.”

Sounds like a lie, but he’s not going to say that to their face.

“What was that all about, anyway?”

“Nightmares happen,” they snap. That would sound suspicious if they weren’t that damn prickly after every minimal show of vulnerability. Winding them down after a bad dream is always an exercise in gentleness.

Still, Drifter can’t help to poke them a bit. An attempt at lightening the mood.

“Sure it has nothing to do with the suspiciously fresh bloodstain on my wall? Or did ya jus’ feel like giving the place a new coat of paint?”

The glare they turn on him this time is downright violent now, the barest hint of a snarl as they grit out, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He watches them stalk out of the room in silence, like two ghosts passing by one another.

He didn’t expect the bloodstain to actually be connected. Fights happen all the time, especially between Guardians, especially in the dark, isolated corners like the one he took residence in. Weird bloodstains happen all the time. But this suggests Occam is directly responsible for it, or at least took part in whatever led to it. And that’s… worrying. Just as much as them fleeing the scene as soon as he starts asking about it.

But he gets it. Really, he does. Sometimes all you need is just someone who’ll not ask questions. Some thoughts, some nightmares, some secrets just aren’t meant to be shared. He has more than his fair share of those, he understands the need for silence.

Still he wishes they’d let him care, once in a while. He’s not asking for much. Not even for their trust, not that he expects to have that any time soon. They don’t even need to open up, they only need to stop actively pushing him away.

Everyone needs someone to watch their back. He wishes they’d let him do it.

Light knows they need it.

#writing #long post #destiny 2 #the drifter #my ocs #occam #violence tw #death tw

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airis-paris14 · 6 years

Text

The Wedding Pact

A/N: So I wrote something. I love this story. I’m not gonna rush it. I’ll update with inspiration. Just kind of following their story. Hope you enjoy.

Black!Reader x Chadwick Boseman.

Warnings: fluff! Slight angst. Old fashioned mother, father’s threatning bodily harm

Summary: He made a promise. She didn’t expect him to keep it.

“Chadwick Aaron Boseman, why the hell are you at my house at three in the morning.” You hissed. Your best friend of three years sat in the backyard. Less than a foot below you. The two-story cottage style home you lived in was completely silent. Except for you and the teen currently standing on the flowerbed.

“Let’s go for a ride champ,” he shook the keys to his car. ”at 3 in the morning?” You frowned. “No better time than the present.” He Shrugged. “Chadwick, my mother would skin yo black behind for standing in her flowers. My father would roast ya black behind for taking his daughter, at 3 in the morning, out for a joyride.” You chastised. “Y’all got any good barbecue sauce?” He smirked. “Aaron, I don’t understand what that has to do with anything…” you started. “If I’m gonna die. I wanna be the best damn barbecue you ever had champ. ‘Cause you gettin’ in the car.”

“Chadwick,” You whined. “Girl I’m not playing with you. Let’s go. You got ten seconds for I come to grab you out that window. Ten..” he counted. “Damn, let me grab a jacket and my keys.” You waved him off as you shut your window. Even years after moving into the house, you don’t know how you’d convinced your parents to give you the only bedroom on the bottom floor. But the easy access window had become a quick favorite of Chadwick’s. You quickly slipped on house shoes and a light jacket before letting yourself out the front door. Making sure to lock the doors. You jogged over to Chadwick’s car.

“Now where the hell are we going Boseman?” You fussed slipping into the passenger seat. Chadwick just laughed. Shutting the passenger door behind you he walked to the driver's side and pulled off. “I don’t know. Where you wanna go champ.” He shrugged. “First. I don’ told you ‘bout calling me that white ass nickname Aaron.”

“You my champ. My biggest fan, girl. I ain’t never letting you go.” He grinned. “Anyway. You mean to tell me you dragged me out of bed for a joyride. At 3 in the morning. Without a plan?” You frowned. “What else is there to do in this town?” He replied.

“I don’t know. Sleep?” You retorted. “Aww come on champ. Sleep is for the dead. We ain’t dead yet.” He grinned. “Exactly. Yet. Dead is what we will be when you drop me off at my house.”

“Anyway, I’m glad you came champ,” he smiled. The vehicle pulled off onto a side road. Rolling to a stop beside the lake. “Come on,” he grinned. He walked over to help you out of the car. The old door creaking as he pulled it open. Y'all walked over to a partially obscured area of lakeshore. Wrapping his arm around your waist, Chadwick pulled you carefully onto his lap. “Boseman stop it. You know I’m dating Eddie.” You sighed. Trying to push off of his lap. “Yeah yeah. Eddie. Now that’s a white name. You think Chadwick’s white.” He vented.

“Chadwick don’t start,” you sighed. His hold tightening around your waist. “I’m not starting nothing,” he defended, “I’m just stating the facts. We got forever. Ain’t no need to rush. I missed my chance the first time around. Best believe I’m not missing my second.” He vowed. “Whatever boy,” You grinned. “You don’t believe me?” He scoffed. “Fine,” he grinned. He sat up on the table pulling you closer. “Let’s make a deal,” he offered.

“Oh lord. Didn’t we decide your gameshow days were over?” You teased. “Shut up and listen,please. Look. In thirteen years. If we aren’t married or dating. We’ll marry each other.”

Your laugh filled the night air, before you caught a glance at Chadwick’s face. “You’re joking right?” You paused. “No. I’m dead serious.” He frowned. “Chad, you really want to do this?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t.” He replied. “But what happens when your career takes off?” You frowned. “What do you mean?” He asked. “When you become famous, we aren’t going to be just a normal couple. You’ve got to think about your image.” You replied. “I can’t think of anything better for my image than marrying the woman I love.”

“How do you know you love me Chad?” You whispered. Fireflies floating around you. “Just trust me. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. I don’t plan on going anywhere soon.”

[13 years later]

“Now are you sure you have everything?” Your mom fretted. “Yes mama. I’m a grown woman.” You smiled pulling her in for a final hug. “I know but you’ll always be my baby,” she sniffed, “Now what hotel are you staying in again? And how are you getting there?”she questioned. Fussing with the tags on your luggage.

“Chadwick is picking me up from the airport,”you started. “The Black Panther?” She teased. “Mama,” you groaned. “I didn’t even know y’all still talked,” she began. “We don’t really, But I took a chance. I called his old number when I got the job.” You explained. “So he’s for sure gonna meet you at the airport?” She asked again. “I don’t want you standing in that Los Angeles airport by yourself.”

“Yes mama,” you sighed. I’ll call him right before boarding to make sure he knows I’m on my way.”

“Fine. Now, what hotel are you staying at again.” Your mother repeated. “I’m not staying at a hotel mama,” you began nervously. “You not staying in one of those air bed and breakfast things are you? You know those things are dangerous in the big city. You know Mildred tried it, couldn’t get any money from it…”

“I’m not staying in an air bnb mama,” you took a deep breath. “I’m staying with Chadwick…”

“Oh no,oh no no no,” she began to fuss. “it’s just until I get my own place mama. Chadwick offered to help me look and save some money.” You tried to reason. While mentally preparing yourself for her lecture. “No no! What did I tell you about keeping house with a man unmarried? I don’t want you shacking up with anyone! It is a sin. I did not raise you to believe shacking up was ok! Now, you know your father and I will send you money to help with…”

“Mama, I got to go. They’re callin’ my flight,” you pretended, grabbing your carry on from the bench behind you. “Girl ain’t nobody calling no flights.” She fussed after you.

“Bye mama,” You waved handing your boarding pass to the TSA officer. “We haven’t finished this conversation young lady.” She warned as you wondered further into the checkpoint.

(Chadwick)

“Are you sure you want to do this man?” Charles asked his friend. Chadwick stood hunched over a glass case. “I never been more sure, and unsure about anything in my life.” Chadwick answered truthfully. “I mean,what? You haven’t seen this girl in years. Now you want to propose to her out of the blue?” He scoffed,leaning against the counter as Chadwick pointed out two engagement rings. “I mean does she even know to expect this? “ Charles added.

“She should.” Chadwick replied, intensely scrutinizing the two rings. “Can you do a display of four to choose from?” Chadwick asked the jeweler. “Should?” Charles snapped him back to reality. “Yes. I hope she does.” Chadwick sighed.

“Is this even the right move for you Chadwick? I mean what about your agent? Have to informed him?” Charles interrogated. “No I haven’t mentioned it to David. But quite frankly it is none of David’s business who I marry.” Chad replied. “Boseman. Come on. We both know that when you get married in this business. Your agent needs to know. He needs to market both of you now. Make sure you both appear together more often. Sell the interviews and stories. Engagements and weddings are big business. Especially if you haven’t been seen out with a girlfriend. And she’s not in the business.”

“I brought you here to help me pick out a ring. Are you just gonna lecture me the whole time?” The actor deadpanned. Charles raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to be a voice of reason.”Charles insisted. “Well trust me. It’ll work out. One way or another.” Chadwick sighed. His phone ringing his pocket. He gestured for the jeweler to speak to Charles as he stepped away. “Hello?”

“Hey Aaron. Just making sure you’re still picking me up from the airport.” Your voice floated through the phone. “Definitely,” Chadwick smiled your words warming him up inside. “We’re on the plane now, should be there in about 3 hours. It’s a non stop to LAX.” You explained. “Perfect. Call me when you land. I’ll meet you at baggage claim ok.” He smiled into the phone. “Great. I can’t wait to see you.” You beamed, your voice showering light through the phone. “He champ,” he called. Trying to catch you before you hang up. “Yeah?”

“You still want one of those simple and elegant weddings?” He asked. “Yeah, why?” You replied. “Nothing just wanting to know if I’m getting my same old champ back. I’ll see you soon.” He smiled. “See you soon.” You replied. Ending the call.

“Change of plans.” Chadwick announced. I want a simple, three stone gold ring. Can I see a solitaire cut, an emerald cut, cushion cut, and a princess cut. Maybe a one stone large halo ring as well if you have one.” The actor requested. The jeweler began searching through his catalogue to pull the various rings for Chadwick. “The phone call provided some inspiration?” Charles teased. “Yeah. Just enough to buy the perfect ring.”

“You’re a crazy man Boseman.” Charles laughed as Chadwick peered over the selection of rings. “That one,” he grinned. The jeweler gently lifted the chosen ring. He handed it to the actor. Waiting patiently. The ring was a beautiful Cartier platinum halo ring. A large square cut diamond sat nestled in the center. A ring of smaller diamonds surrounded the edge and lined the outside of the band.

“So you going all the way in huh?” Charles whistled. Staring at the large diamond in his friend’s hand. “I only plan on having to ask one woman to marry me.” Chadwick reminded. “I’ll take it,” he addressed the jeweler. The man nodded, walking to the back room to size and box the ring.

“So we are really doing this?” Charles sighed. “Yes. I AM really doing this. You didn’t do anything.” Chadwick laughed. “I was here for support.” Charles insisted. “The only thing you were supporting, was me not getting married.”

“Not true. I was also supporting telling David.” Charles reminded. “Why so he could chew me out instead of you?” Chadwick teased. “I mean that’s one benefit. But also because. I just really want you to think this through. But if it will make you happy,” Charles sighed, “then I hope she says yes.”

“Thanks man,” Chadwick grinned. The jeweler interrupted briefly handing Chadwick a Cartier bag and his card. “No problem. Now, have we thought about the proposal?” Charles started. Chadwick laughed, as they pulled off headed for Charles’s house.

(Your POV)

“Hey Aaron. We just landed.” You pulled yourself up out of the cramped seat. Excusing your way over your seatmates you grabbed your luggage from over head. “Great. I’ll see you soon then.” He hung up the phone. “No Aaron, where do you want to meet?” You rushed out, after the line went dead. “It’s nice to know one of us haven’t changed,” you groaned. Waving at the flight attendants, you took your first steps into L.A.

Following the signs, you quickly found your way to the baggage claim. Once your bag slithered it’s way around the conveyor belt, you bent over to grab the bag when a hand lugged it off the belt. Another found it’s way around your waist, pulling you back gently to set the bags in your place. “Aaron!” You grinned turning to jump into his arms.

He pulled you up in the air squeezing you. “My champ finally found her way to the city of Angels.” He teased, setting you gently down on the ground. “I missed you so much,” he admitted. “That’s funny cause you never called Aaron.” You frowned slightly. Chadwick gripped your hand in his. Pulling your large suitcase behind him, and your duffel bag over his shoulder, he lead you out of the busy airport. “I know champ. That’s my fault, and I’m not letting it happen again.” He apologized. “It’ll be hard to ignore me here,” you offered in an attempt to lighten the mood. “For now at least.”

Chadwick grinned. “I’m never letting you go,”he replied, his thoughts flashing to the large diamond ring sitting in his room. “Me neither,” you smiled. . As you reached Chadwick’s car, you noticed paparazzi jump out of their vans and cars. “Aaron,” you whispered slightly unnerved. “Get in the car and lock the door.” He ordered. People with cameras began crowding the car. He quickly ushered you in the car. He shut the door swiftly behind you.

“Chadwick who is this?” One reporter yelled out. “An african American female,” replied. He popped the trunk slinging both of your bags inside. “Is she your girlfriend?” “Did you get secretly engaged?” “Chadwick are you married?”

“Is she pregnant?” Questions flew from every direction as Chadwick climbed into the car. The engine purred to life, and you both pulled away from the madness. You both sat in silence for the first part of the drive. “I’m sorry about that champ,” he apologized. Squeezing your hand on your thigh. “Is it always like that?”you asked.

“Sometimes. Usually they just sit and take pictures from their cars. Today though, everyone had questions.” He explained.

“I’m sorry Aaron,” you admitted, his car pulling off into a nice neighborhood “no one should have to deal with that.” He smiled, “if it’s any consolation, you were a natural.”

“Thank you. I can get used to it. As long as I keep my same old Aaron, You smiled. Running your finger through his coils. “I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled, pulling the car into his driveway.

You broke out into an awestruck grin, staring at the beautiful home before you. “Boseman this is yours?” You exclaimed. “It’s yours now too. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Oh look at Mr. international man of the year. Using his three years of mandatory Spanish.” You teased. Grabbing your duffel bag out of Chadwick’s hand. He shook his head. Shutting the car trunk behind him, he began rolling your suitcase up to the front steps. “Come on let me show you around the house.” You grinned following him inside

Tags: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @nyneebee @hutchj @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @strictlyashley @afraiddreamingandloving @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @gorjiss @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @yoyolovesbucky @derangedcupcake @builtalongthewayside @ilcb7 @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219

#chadwick x reader #chadwick boseman #chadwick boseman x reader #chadwick boseman x oc #chadwick x oc #chadwick boseman x black!reader #theweddingpactfic #chadapfics

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morgansmornings · 6 years

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ship meme Jayden and Beth

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor:

It was hard to tell who’s clothes belonged to who. Red, greens, and blues clashed with pastel and paisley. Skirts and jeans tossed about being left where they landed. Fabrics of all sorts scattered and making a collage of colour across the dark brown floor that was standard within the dorms of the campus.

“Beth…. Have you seen my green shirt?”

Wha kine?

“The green spaghetti strap. I want to wear it for my date tonight.”

A pause, the shift of an over sized sweater being pulled around tawny slender shoulders.

Nooo…

“Are you lying?”

Nooo…

“Are you lying about lying.”

Mebbe…

A sigh.

“Blue one it is then.”

forgets to run the dish washer:Neat freak. Organized. Dishwasher always running both us stairs and down stairs to keep up with the health standards.

At least that was how it usually was.

But there were times that the Janissary couldn’t be assed to use Forces or Correspondence to poke one stupid button. It was usually after covert missions where she had the hardest time having the will to do much of anything but breathe. During those times she had given Beth permission to make sure that the mountains of leftovers found homes in the bellies of those that needed it most.

On this night however, Jay was not as bad off as she usually was. No, this night she was just tired. Prue was off digging into a rumor to see if it was something that she could deal with at a later date or not. So she had the brownstone to herself. Finally a moment to unwind. To come down from the soul crushing pain that was both inflicted to her prey and that she received herself.

She pulled the dishwasher open, taking a cup from the top rack and poured herself a healthy amount of cold coffee. She reached up and scratched the back of her feeling the grime clinging to her skin. Taking a long pull she immediately turned and spit the mouthful out.

“God… Damnit.” She held back the sudden urge to gag as the taste of dish soap.

“I love her… I love her so much Andy…” Jay whipped the back of her hand across her lips. “One of these days, I might strangle her.”

Though it wasn’t Beth’s fault. She did wash the dishes. She just forgot that the dishwasher was there to make things easier. pumps gas for the car:“Onna d’ese days, I’m gonna do it.” Beth said curling her legs under herself to rearrange the knitting supplies she had brought with her.

“I’ll let you pump gas into the Caddy the day you can see over the wheel kid.” A ball of yarn bounced off the door. Jay couldn’t help but chuckle. With all the powers Beth had it was a miracle she was still the same sweet tiny and innocent soul in the world. Jay was certain that Beth could achieve peace among the others and bring the Wyrm to heel and purify whatever had driven it off the deep end.

There was some mumbling that Jay chose not to make out because they wee already behind their, her, schedule. It was going to be a long drive to the east coast. Sure Jay could have gotten tickets, but there was not enough tranquilizers to put Beth to sleep long enough to fly that distance. Which is why there was a cruise bound for Hawai’i waiting for them in California. drives when they’re going somewhere:

“And then when we get there… Beth are you even listening to me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.” That was the moment Jayden pulled over into a parking lot. She knew Beth wasn’t paying attention. That much was obvious by how she was leaned against the passenger door with her chin propped on a delicate palm. Green-hazel eyes were glazed over not yet realizing that they had stopped. Jay reached over and took Beth’s hand in hers, tugging gently.

“Hey Tiny Dancer?”

“Huh?” The Hawaiian turned to look at her best friend over many lifetimes. “Did we stop?”

“Figured we could stretch our legs. And after…” Jay shrugged a shoulder and pulled her hand away leaving the keys in Beth’s hand.

“But ya alw-”

“I’m tired.” She wasn’t. “Not safe for me to be behind the wheel Tiny Dancer.”

A light began burning that settled whatever worry had come over the Janissary.

“Copy d’at Rubba Ducky.”

rearranges the furniture:It was mapped out clearly in her mind. To the point that she could walk around with her eyes closed and not once drop, trip, kick, or stumble over anything. Every item had a place and every item was kept just so. Even when she cleaned. Some called it obsession. Other called it a well maintained lifestyle.

So when Jayden opened the door and dropped her keys to the floor she knew something was wrong. Looking around her living room, pool table, and most of the bedding from her guest and master bedroom was strewn about. Cushions and fabrics lay draped up over each other and her staircase leading up to the master bedroom floor had been turned into a keep of sorts.

“Beth?”

“D’e no be a Beth. Bu’ Lady WiggleWag an’ her fai’ful sworn hound Bitestwice.”

“Don’‘t forget me!”

“An’ Lord Noah of da far off lands to the South.”

“Beth.”

“Have ya tribute ta lay before mah noble feet?”

“Beth!”

“Wha?!”

“Next time, just text me when you plan on babysitting.” Jay shook her head shrugging out of the leather coat she was wearing. Next came the heeled boot. “But if the Lady, Noble Knight, and High guard dog would allow, the council hath sent me, a humble peasant to bring tribute of cake and cocoa.”

There was a moment of muttering, hushed giggles, and the soft bouf of Prue before she was answered.

“Da lord bide ya welcome, stranger. As long as d’ere be ice cream.”

“But of course.”

falls asleep with the TV on:Beth had always had a hard time sleeping. The Sandman kept away from her and when he did come, so did the Night terrors. Which is why Beth was always working strange hours at the hospital. Or going on late night ride alongs with Luc. But on occasion there was a movie night.

And this time, the soft sounds of Beth’s little voice spoke along with Inigo Montoya as he advanced upon the six fingered man. She mimicked his elegant moves with her own hands. Thrust. Parry. Block, slash, parry. Her slender form twisting on the recliner only once nudging the familiar once.

She turned to take Jay’s hand to find the younger woman asleep on the other recliner. one foot thrown over the arm, her head lolled off to the side and one hand still in the mixing bowl of Popcorn and M&Ms.

“Good Night Jay. I mos’ likely kill you in da mornin’.” gets to use the bathroom first:Pulling herself up and out of the chair every joint she had creaked and popped as protest. Shuffling more in the style of a zombie rather then a human being she headed upstairs for the master bathroom. One hand ran through her hair to push it from her face. She could already smell the coffee which meant Prue had set it up before the sleep over ended.

Rounding over the last step she could hear her shower going. A raised brow, a deep frown, and one arm crossing over her chest to scratch the back of her shoulder. The Janissary pushed the door open with a yawn. Sitting on the counter, a toothbrush moving with far more vigor than was humanly possible at this early time of the morning. “Dude, did you even sleep?”

“MMM!!”

“Sorry. Knock first I know. But you’re dressed and a nurse. This isn’t the first time another woman has walked in on you.” “Mmm!” A finger waved way too close to Jay’s face for comfort.

“Alright downstairs it is. But I’ll remember that the next time you have to piss.” Jay moved just fast enough to dodge the tube of toothpaste. But not the bar of soap that came right after. decides the temperature for the ac/heater:“Beth… it is 89 degrees. How can you be cold?”

“Please?”

“Oh.. My Gods okay! Fine!” Jayden flipped the switch for the seats heating coils built into the Cadillac. “Now flip the vents on your side so I can run the AC.”

“But d’at doesn’t..”

“Ah! Tch!” A hand puppet came up from the steering wheel. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m hot. Driver gets control that was the deal.”

“Okay, but ya have any kine blanket?”

A pause. A sigh.

“For the last time… NO!” sets up holiday decorations:When Christmas comes to town

The lights were strung over all the windows. Garland hung from the banister and the pegs for the stair case. Gingerbread wafted through the air. The Polar Express was playing just loud enough that the girls could sing along.

And all the dreams of the children

Flour coated the front of Jay’s apron, while steady hand folded the shortbread batter together. Small feet galumphed around chasing the clicking of sharp nails. The youngest chuckled at the panicked look in betrayed dark eyes.

“Don’t look at me, you promised.”

Once lost will all be found

“Traitor!” A pathetic whine came as the Hawaiian grabbed Prue from behind, with the over sized sweater.

“Gotcha!”

It took several moments for Beth to bend in ways that would have been painful to others to get the familiar into the human made sweater. It was just this side of Ugly Christmas sweater. The soft fabric all hand woven from well kept and happy Angora Rabbits.

That’s all I want when Christmas comes to town

leaves the lights on:Prue panted hard and heavy. She was struggling to stay up right but it was hard to do with a gaping hole that the burglar left as a parting gift. The storm raged outside and had knocked the power out a few minutes before hand. Limping across the wooden floor she collapsed not but three feet from the entrance.

“Jay!” Beth’s voice echoed down the hall from the stairwell. At least that is what Prue assumed as she let out a whine.

“Beth! Hurry! She’s been shot!” Jay all but sobbed as she dropped to her knees and began petting the dog’s head.

“I..”

“Beth please!”

“Get da flashlights!” Jay nodded and turned on her phone’s light. She was speaking in half words and muted cries of heartbreak. Soon she started getting the mag lights to help illuminate the apartment. Soft but firm hands covered in some kind of gloves started prodding at the wound. Prue whimpered and yowled, but was not willing to snap out.

“Jay, ya need for get me some candles.” Beth’s voice was a salve to adrenaline fried nerves.

Minutes, hours it was hard to tell but the power came back on and Both Beth and Jay were sitting on the floor near the couch. Jay’s eyes were bloodshot while Beth’s were sympathetic. Even though all the lights were on, neither moved to turn off the flashlights or put out the candles.

uses the bathroom with the door open:Beth always had the door closed when she went to the bathroom. It was habit. In through the door, turn, close, lock. When she was done it was unlock, open, and leave. Between the Admiral and her brother it was just a habit that had been instilled into her at a young age.

So imagine the heart attach she had the first time that she came back from class to find their shared bathroom wide open. And a nude Jayden backside pointed towards her. One strong leg propped on the bathroom ledge with razor in hand.

“I’m sorry!:

“Oh hey kid. Was wondering where you ran off too. Can you do me a favor and grab me my underwear. I left them on the dresser.”

“I…” Beth learned and then made Jayden promise to never again, leave the bathroom door open after that. fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber):

Beth reached as far as she could while keeping Jayden pinned onto the couch. It would be the best, fastest, and the least amount of explaining needed. Jay however was of the opinion that He was a last resort call. Plus it wasn’t like he wasn’t already there. Watching and waiting for the right moment to interrupt the squabbling.

“I said no.”

“But he’s good.”

“No. I am not letting that happen.”

“But d’ats my phone.” Jay put her hand in Beth’s face to try and push her away.

“Ow! Stop with the biting!”

��Den gimme da phone.”

“No! I’m not calling Clint!”

“Good thing I’m standing right here then. Things would get a little awkward if the pipe keeps leaking and you both fall on the floor. Might give the next person the wrong impression.”

“HOW?!”

“I texted him before ya took my phone.” Beth said with a victorious tone as she gave a sun-bright smile.

This Meme: Accepting.Honorable Mention: @brooklynislandgirl and @multi-mused

#answers from a goat.#Dear Anonymous #Danke Anon!#brooklynislandgirl #Honorable Mention:#multi-mused #Crossing the Streams l Crossover

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janiedean · 6 years

Note

Dude you need to stop. OP hadn't even been aggressive, they just made a random statement on their own blog. It's a personal space. Why do you all have to feel personally offended when 1) it was ONE POST on someone's personal blog, and 2) you're the first whining about how everyone is always offended at nothing! How insensitive. Maybe they were being dramatic, but then what? Show a little compassion, if it bothers you so much just fucking ignore it and move on, jesus. Are you 12?

Also seriously, you're constantly whining about how fed up you are about wank and "Discourse��" in your fandoms, but then you're also continuously participating in said wank by upping it up and up. Ever heard it takes two to tango? Kettle, meet pot?

my dearest darling anon, wow, you really got irked over a post that has..... 50k notes and it’s not such a personal thing anymore at that point. I mean. 50k notes. it’s not just PERSONAL. but however, let’s go over this.

a) it’s my blog. I reblog what I want. If anything, assholes on tumblr who keep disguising their fairly immature rants as *venting* should stop, not me. also, that post has 50k notes and out of the reblogs on the version I reblogged, I didn’t even say the worst thing. did you send this message also to the previous three people in my reblog? :’)

b) one post? that reblog was already two, and if you go on that person’s blog there’s another three reblogs of that same OP with additions which are all OMG STRAIGHT PEOPLE SUCK SO MUCH. lol. venting. with fifty thousand notes. it’s not venting anymore when a post is that viral and they posted it on a public website most likely fully knowing that it would go viral since tumblr dot com is basically ‘straight is an insult but it’s okay to say it because who cares straight people can just take it *SHRUG*’.

c) HOW INSENSITIVE! MAYBE THEY WERE BEING DRAMATIC! SHOW A LITTLE COMPASSION! okay, you know what?

I’m now going to take OP and reword it with my favorite subject when it comes to show you how this line of thinking is hypocritical af. and at least it’s something I am and I can relate to so y’all can’t accuse me of appropriating someone’s struggles.

good? good!

now let’s imagine this was the op:

Being in a room with religious people talking about religious things is so exhausting.

at that, someone asks me:

What the hell are ‘religious things’?

and I reply:

sunday school and reciting prayers and going to mass and confession talk and discussing about how saudi arabia is actually a very pro-feminist country (spoilers: I heard that irl myself) without being made to feel like you are making people uncomfortable and hearing catholic people talk about how horrible it is for them to talk to atheists and christians in western countries talk about how they are such victims and their lives are shit when what this really means is they are never told that they don’t have morals because of course they believe in a deity and so they are and homophobic and racist crap that drives me crazy like how the only true family is man and woman and how great religion (ps: this was in the OP so thanks for assuming that all straight assholes in the world are also religious but okay) is and how the world is so lovely and kind and great because people have god watching out for them and he will always be with them and how religious people are like “this person is so lovely” when you know they think you’ll go to hell for being anything other than their religion or listening to religious people say atheists are the worst or talk about people who don’t want to attend religious ceremonies (ie. people who don’t want to go to masses held for dead people) as being weird or rude because WHY WOULDN’T YOU GO, or asking “but have you ever read the bible?” judgmentally as if the moment you read that you suddenly hear jesus speaking to you or getting annoyed at you when you tell them about how not nice it is to be asked all the damned time if you’re gonna kill someone one day just because you’re atheist is because it’s easy for them cause they are religious and wouldn’t know the first thing about it or having to tell people you ‘really don’t practice’ to people all the time cause they just assume you’re catholic and you’ll be getting weird looks if you don’t like, and ‘wait but really??? HOW???’ or “but you look so nice it’d be a pity if you went to hell just because you refuse to believe in god” or “well as long as you keep it for yourself but DON’T TELL YOUR GRANDMOTHER!!!” or having to hear religious people talk about how great christmas is or about the amazing shit they read in church or about how all holy books are ABSOLUTELY NOT WRITTEN BY MEN AND THEREFORE NOT FALLIBLE and about all the amazing movies about jesus or just watching people live super conventional lives and do really sexist old fashioned things just because no one is brave enough to question or think about anything… and worst of all knowing that if you were to say or talk about anything atheist everyone would get uncomfortable and not join in on the conversation and wish you had said nothing… and then people will be like “you hardly said anything”, “you’re so quiet”, “you don’t talk much”, “are you shy”, “you’re boring”.

No bitch I’m atheist and I don’t relate to nor am I really interested in any of the shit that you have been yelling to my face for the last hour.

now, I’ll tell you what would happen: ANY DECENT RELIGIOUS PERSON I FOLLOW WOULD ASK ME WHAT THE FUCK I WAS SMOKING AND IF I REALLY THINK ALL RELIGIOUS PEOPLE ARE LIKE THAT AND ALL RELIGIONS ARE LIKE THAT, AND EVERYONE WOULD ASSUME I WAS A PROPER FUCKING ASSHOLE BECAUSE I JUST GENERALIZED 70% OF THE PLANET IN A LONGWINDED RIDICULOUSLY EMBARRASSING RANT WHERE ON SOME THINGS I MIGHT BE RIGHT AND ON OTHERS I JUST SHOWED A HORRID AMOUNT OF IGNORANCE.

also, since atheists are all assholes, I’d just confirm their ideas that all atheists are assholes who think they’re so much better than anyone else.

does that post look so harmless, put like this? would it look harmless, if the category mocked was anything but straight people? let me tell you: it wouldn’t. not on here, anyway. and now we get to the best part of this frankly ridiculous ask that you of course sent on anon because like hell you’d say that to my face, hm?

Show a little compassion, if it bothers you so much just fucking ignore it and move on, jesus. Are you 12?

no, I’m 29. and OP of that post, who definitely fucking sounds like he’s twelve, because I could have written the above post about how religion sucks when I was in my dawkins phase and I was THIRTEEN and like two years later I already learned to be a little less dramatic, is twenty-seven. out of someone who’s almost thirty, I’d expect some maturity.

but never mind that. the point is: actually, I did it. I ignored a fucking shitload of posts like this since the year of the lord 2013 when they started becoming a thing on tumblr. I ignored posts saying that ‘the only good use straight allies have is getting thrown off a cliff’, I ignored posts about how horrid cishets are, I ignored posts about cishets ‘are like omg they want a cookie for being nice to us that should be the basics’ as if in some places just being pro-lgbt can’t get you fired or put you against your family or get yourself in a hospital, but of course hey, we’re straight, we’re the majority, we inherently oppress anyone who’s not, who cares, amrite? I had to watch this website spiral into a mentality where straight is an insult, basically, and so hey we have a post laughing about straight girls’s tastes, straight girls being into ***ugly boys***, straight girls being brainwashed by the patriarchy because they actually like men when they could be lesbians and be so much better off in tumblr’s amazing pastel unicorns and rainbows lesbian aesthetic where no one feels sexual attraction and everything is platonic and we don’t talk about bills because how fucking boring. I ignored all of that shit for years because y’all were VENTING and you could only do it online so hey what’s the harm in it, and guess what, I’m done. It bothers me so much because it normalizes a mentality where it’s okay to insult people for things they can’t change about themselves rather than aim at, like, HOMOPHOBES. WHO ARE THE ROOT OF THE PROBLEM. but nah, hey, I just have to scroll by the umpteenth post insulting straight people because they talk about things also lgbt people talk about APPARENTLY, because is2g I can assure you that in my fandom group of friends where *I* am camp straight 90% of the time and everyone else is not we actually fucking talk about mortgages and bills and how much renovating a house sucks and how it costs and how it doesn’t and about taxes and about how poor we’re going to be when we retire.

but apparently to OP all this kinda shit is just STRAIGHT TALKING. yeah, lol. anyway, this is kindergarten level attitude and people should have been told to can it years ago, and honestly given that ‘scroll by and ignore’ is an attitude I had for years to avoid conflict and it only caused me trouble, excuse me if I’m done helping feeding a mentality that’s completely fucking useless, because this line of thinking just alienates people. also wow now that I read this post I should feel bad for talking to my non-hetero friends about pretty much anything according to OP? some straight kid younger than me and more impressionable who might actually buy into this website’s bullshit reads this and what will they think? that every time they discuss anything with a gay friend nearby that person is seething inside and hating all of them? could happen. anyway, point is: that post is ridiculous, it has 50k notes and I’m 99% sure most of them actually agree with OP and I wasn’t taught to keep my mouth shut if I hear people saying dumbass things and everyone agrees. that’s not how you do activism. enabling this way of thinking is not helping anyone, least of all OP.

other than that:

you're constantly whining about how fed up you are about wank and "Discourse™" in your fandoms, but then you're also continuously participating in said wank by upping it up and up

so excuse me, telling people who are actually fucking wrong and spew and enable actually dangerous concepts like idk the fact that people up until eighteen years old have the same decisional capacity as five year olds, that you cannot consent to sex if you aren’t eighteen and one hour old, that you can’t date someone older or younger than you even if you’re both of age because PEDOPHILIA and that consuming problematic fiction is wrong is UPPING THE WANK?

ANON, WHAT THE FUCK. so now if donald trump does ridiculous things and says dumb shit people who disagree should just shut up and let him work and ignore it when the things he does are dangerous? anti thinking is dangerous and keeping your mouth shut and going like ‘they’ll grow out of it’ is not going to work, it’s going to make the situation worse and it’s going to get people hurt.

telling people to FUCKING CAN IT and explaining them a few basic concepts about the difference between fiction and real life is not upping the fucking wank, and calling people out on fucking dumb opinions is not the same as enabling toxic ways of thinking. good lord, if someone irl tells me that interracial marriages are wrong and disgusting what should I do, shrug and let them think I agree or MAYBE EXPLAIN THEM THAT IT’S REALLY RETROGRADE TO THINK SUCH A THING?

I mean, do you need a power point to get the difference?

kettle meet pot like hell. I never started any wank, I never posted one thing purposefully offending an entire category of people just to VENT, none of my posts ever got more than 3k notes - honest I think I had ONE that got that much and it was convention pictures of SPN actors so sure as hell I’m not getting seen by 50k people so OP actually has more leverage than me in this discourse - and assuming I’m actually doing the same thing as OP when everything I’m doing is pointing out that it’s not a healthy way of thinking and that this fucking website is turning into a worse dumpster with every passing moment since at this point the fact that I was born being fine with my sexual characteristic and liking dick is apparently enough to decide that I inherently oppress minorities just by existing and it’s not a line of thinking that activists anywhere should support, is intellectually dishonest and frankly fucking laughable especially coming from someone who doesn’t even put their face to what they ask.

and anyway, OP is a grown ass man and can take care of themselves and of a few disagreeing opinions if he wants to be on a public website where his posts go viral.

and I have absolutely no obligation to keep my mouth shut about things that are imo very fucking dangerous slip-slopes.

there. and now, since I am not going to keep my mouth shut just to make you or OP feel better, you can click the unfollow button if you dislike my opinions that much or you can stick around and learn that sometimes being an adult is a thing that should happen, especially if you frame shit as activism.

anyway, I don’t even know who you are so it’s not like I’ll miss you personally. :’)

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nanyoky · 6 years

Text

It has been a week and A HALF and it’s only wednesday i deserve so much food and the drama BETTER BE GOOD this week

of course chic’s not a blossom he’s a whatever-alice’s-maiden-name-is/jones we all know this please let the confrontation be messy with alice and fp PLEASE LORDS OF MELODRAMA

oh my god. as much as i prefer season 1 alice to season 2 alice, this reaction is great. so great. “who’s his dad? who knows! it’s a mystery! highschool was so long ago i don’t even remember everyone i dated! doesn’t matter! no one needs to know who i rode like a pornstar in the back of his pickup after the homecoming game senior year! and no one needs to know i still think about it all the time! especially when he’s talking all sarcastic with his rough hewn charm! It was one time and I definitely don’t have dreams about it ever, okay? IT’S IRRELEVANT BETTY”

oh no you guys i just thought of the fact that alice cooper likely knows where fp’s serpent tattoo is and i don’t and now i’m DISTRAUGHT

okay- like i love it when they remember people i love are friends, but why is kevin sitting in on this register interview?

....i don’t know who this dude is but kevin is excited so i’m excited for him

also why is hal talking like there’s an audience to this interview? i know i bitched about the bad season one dialogue but now it’s just WEIRD

oh noooo.... veronica actually kinda thought her mom let her invite a friend just to be nice and then had to come crashing down to manipulative reality

jughead’s back on his bullshit again *claps hands aggressively in his face* ACTUAL. AT. RISK. KIDS. SUPPORT. THAT. SCHOOL. BEING. SHUT. DOWN. STOP. TRYING. TO. HIJACK. THEIR. LIVES. SO. YOU. CAN. FEEL. MORALLY. SUPERIOR.

god i really want there to be a falling out between jughead and toni where she finally tells him off for acting all martyred when he has essentially been a serpent for a hot five minutes and sees it as a novelty that can excuse his selfish actions when the rest of them live the reality of needing a gang to survive poverty and violence and i want that scene to HURT a lot because we like jughead! we genuinely do! but he’s been such a prime fucking pill this season and he’s not going to learn and grow until he gets hurt a little bit as a direct result of the shit he’s been pulling

um so i was excited that ethel was back..... and then a characterization 180 for zero reason other than they needed someone to throw a milkshake????? why

okay that was dumb but josie’s reaction was great

like- i’m still waiting to figure out how veronica’s long con with her parents is going to shake out. they better give her a great season three subplot to make up for this messy crummy mob malarky

that was a SOLID punch

also YASSS let her snap- give us some indication she’s been holding back and biting her tongue this whole time and now she can’t take it anymore

lol leaning HARD into the crimson peak vibe with that “special tea.” they know what we want.

i. am. so. glad. jughead’s hunger strike is a joke to everyone.

but also lol: jughead: why are you being such a bastard, v? veronica: my parents don’t want me to do the thing but i’m going to do it anyway. jughead: you are my favorite friend and i’ve always supported you.

and he’s back into anti mode because betty is being softcore up for some beronica

and a hard cut to toni killing it for no reason other than that we all forgot the vixens were a thing- and toni is a swell dancer so we’re all glad to see it

THE POMPONS ON HER SNEAKERS??????

“inner circle vixens- you know who you are” PPPFFFTTT

“MANDATORY SLUMBER PARTY” GOD I MISSED YOU HBIC VIXEN CHERYL

“you were only at southside high for like- four days” thank you. and i know jughead is tying it all to growing up in the neighborhood but like- come on. jug. he’s right. you didn’t hang out with toni and sweetpea and fangs and joaquin growing up. you hung out with archie and betty and kevin. you should not be speaking for the former just because you shared a zipcode in the part of your life you won’t even remember as an adult. and if you miss your mom and jellybean so much like- call them?! why are they not brought up more often?!?!?!?!!?!?!?! when am i going to finally see neeve campbell claim her right by combat to divorce skeet ulrich in dramatic fashion when she finds out about his lovechild?????????? she killed him twice in the nineties SHE’S EARNED THIS

HOMO EROTIC BRAID TRAIN

what is cheryl wearing is that a dress? a slip? a nightgown? I DON’T CARE I WANT IT ON MY BODY

also HOLY SHIT DOES SHE HAVE HER “BURN IT TO THE GROUND” DRESS ON DISPLAY ON A DRESSFORM GOD LOVE THAT WOMAN

“wait- is this real or a game?” i stand by the headcanon that not only did joaquin tell the gang about “this is riveting-” but secrets and sins and the whole night so toni like- has tangential second hand knowledge of season 1 cheryl’s bullshit and is trying to reconcile that with the vulnerable but emotionally stunted hottie she’s learned to love

god i’m still FURIOUS that we will never see teen serpents all together i would kill for a flashback of them all hanging out on the night of jughead’s birthday and joaquin bursts through the door at 2am like “I JUST HAD THE WEIRDEST FUCKING NIGHT OF MY LIFE INCLUDING THAT TIME I STUFFED A BODY IN A FREEZER LET ME TELL YOU *EVERYTHING*”

also i just realized toni has primarily male friends so her confusion might be partially due to the fact she’s NEVER BEEN TO A SLEEPOVER?!?!?! she’s just sitting there like “oh shit- ‘i don’t feel safe in my home’ is this a game??? i haven’t seen this in any teen flicks how do you play??? are their pillow fights involved?????”

SHE JUST CALLED HER TT. LIKE JJ. as a messy bitch who loves questionable things in her suburban gothics: FUCK. YES.

there is.... something both HILARIOUSLY implausible, but also HILARIOUSLY realistic about this. “i invited you all here because i fear for my life in my own home.” “omg same let me tell you MY family drama.” sleepovers just be like that.

they just turn in after thiss???? okay THAT i don’t believe. sleepovers are the time for plotting convoluted and dangerous plans to solve your life problems, not vent for 30 seconds and then go to bed

THEY MADE EVERYONE ELSE SLEEP ON THE FLOOR BUT CHERONI IS BATHED IN SEXY RED MOOD LIGHTING I’M CACKLING

i’m trying to picture cheryl announcing the sleeping arrangements and i can’t stop laughing. “as the newest vixen, toni will have the privilege of a mattress. not alone of course. i AM the hostess after all. there is plenty of room.” toni: oh that’s so nice and not weird or suspicious of you cheryl i would love to bone- i mean sleep on the same bed three feet apart from you. everyone else: we’re still here stop being nasty.

cheryl and toni are meant to be because they both don’t remove their makeup before bed like some kind of goblins with naturally perfect skin no matter what hell they put it through

BLOSSOMS! BACK AT IT! THERE’S MY FAM! BRINGIN HOME THE GOLD WITH ATTEMPTED MURDER AND SOME CLAUDIUS/GERTRUDE- I MEAN PENELOPE ACTION

((i can’t tell if this episode is actually better or if i’m just in a better mood tonight. don’t care. having fun.))

molly ringwald!!!! missed you boo

.....who is that boy veronica just snubbed on his cupcake and kiss i only saw the back of his head but i know my TYPE when i see it

“right now i’m only interested in one girl, you.” ethel shifts uncomfortably because no one could resist that gay shit right there no matter how hard we may try

also tho- for the record, i’m with ethel, sexualizing your student body president campaign is tacky and archaic af

oh my god jughead you look like a freshman delivering his first speech at the regional finals

also lol they got like Other Serpents to fill in the club so that it’s not just the snakey core four

AND HE’S BACK USING THE TRIBE FOR HIS OWN NARRATIVE GODDAMMIT JUGHEAD YOU’RE MAKING IT SO HARD TO LIKE YOU RIGHT NOW

KEVIN THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH THIS NONSENSE I THOUGHT YOU AND I AGREED YOU WORK ON JUST BEING YOU FOR AWHILE AND THEN IF JOQUIN COMES BACK THEN YOU HAVE A LOVE INTEREST?!

oh kev i can’t stay mad at you not when you can’t keep a secret to save your goddamn life. sweet bean. precious pea. too good for this world.

oh i like this. i like betty getting FEROCIOUSLY protective of kevin- even though i’m not even entirely sure chic is as dodgy as they’re trying to make us think

ahhh there she is josie- my ambitious girl.

oh my gooooooddddddddddd. serpents why are you listening to jughead- with that edit away from the scene i thought they were gunna let him have it. why do they suddenly think he’s right????? THEY HATED THAT SCHOOL! THEY WERE HAPPY TO GO TO RHS! THIS IS CANON AND IN THE DIALOGUE! I DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS SEASON!

WUT THE FUCK BETTY. i kinda love it tho

oh lordy- heavy handed girl power political twisting- COMPLETE WITH SONG

i mean- i know that ethel has always been a very minor side character, but i’m still disappointed they’re using her for this plot when the last we saw of her in season one was her being very mature and understanding that veronica does not control her parents actions and now she’s the exact opposite with like- no new personal story to back this change up. you either get put on a bus at the end of season one or you stick around long enough to be handed a sloppily put together new personality that no one wants.

JOSIE?! honestly i know i keep saying it but this is so messy what even is this show anymore

((sorry i’m whining again- i really liked the sleepover bring that bit back))

that was a well done breakdown from mendes good job girl that built really nice

also was that a spark of season one hermione i saw???? please?????

“she wears it when she has sex with jughead” oh my. oh dearie me. this is. goodness.

betty you fell into one of the classic blunders- never admit anything you’re accused of until they have proof lol even chic is surprised that worked

alice needs a system reboot at the thought of jughead and betty boning for various reasons- not least of all the generational echo of her life

JUGHEAD AND FP SCENE. these are the only times this season that remind me of my love for that skinny little twerp. their interactions remain golden and heartbreaking and i love themboth to bits.

boys- wake up and smell the custody papers. jellybean aint comin back. good or bad idea. also jug- you’re sixteen? two years you’ll be out of here on a scholarship anyway- stop acting like people don’t move out of small towns anymore

OH GOD THEY’RE GENTLE SNUGGLING HLEP ME just bury me in scenes of these boys bonding over their pigheaded natures

like this annoys me that they’re couching this in archie drinking hiram’s koolaid because “i don’t think jughead’s fighting FOR anything.” is the smartest thing archie’s said all season

archie deserved that now go after jughead, molly ringwald i trust you to dress anyone and everyone down as you see fit

“i’m.... very well acquainted with how alluring the jones men are” yes.... yeeesssss..... yaassssss YASSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“woah- wait-” keep up betty we all knew this from alice and fp’s first interaction in season one

there she goes- puttin it together. “absolutely not” my lumpy ass

“don’t forget what he did.” “i will never forget” ......i’mma confess i honestly forgot about the murder that’s how fucking messy this season has been.

jesus christ this mutual blackmailing but also gaslighting between chic and betty is just nightmarishly stressful

YASS BACK ON CHERYL BEING THE TRADITIONAL GOTHIC HEROINE OF EVERY MOOR-SET PAPERBACK EVER PRINTED i missed this. i missed the trational gothic heroine trapped in an american/suburban gothic.

*sigh* i’ve spent all season holding out hope- giving varchie the benefit of the doubt that they were both playing close to the chest and pulling long cons on mama and papa lodge, but i don’t know. i think it’s just bad writing now.

yeah hiram like anyone would ever believe that the bulldogs would go to disband a protest of their peers with wire cutters completely of their own volition. NO ONE is going to think the developer who is essentially the only one with a personal stake in the demolition of the school might have twisted their arms. solid plan. no one will suspect you’re pulling the strings of these teens.

god they’re making this so dramatic but i hate this plotline and the lack of consistency with the serpents plot so it’s just laughable

omg omg- can we just forget the unfortunateness of this episode’s plot for jughead and instead get fucking PUMPED to see him try to get votes for student council i am READY FOR THIS TRAINWRECK

lol- if this was anyone but jughead i’d be laughing at him agreeing that she stay in the trailer without consulting- you know- the adult who owns the trailer and is his legal guardian, but this is fp we’re talking about he’s gunna be so stoked. he’s gunna buy like all new pillows and sheets and curtains and like a “welcome home” teddybear and stock the fridge full of healthy things he imagines people like betty eat. like smoothies. fp needs all the strawberry smoothies as jughead’s dowery to seal the deal

MORE MOLLY RINGWALD?! YAYYYY!!!

HOLY SHIT???? i mean- i was all for cheryl being the typical gothic heroine trapped away and called mad once she wised up to her shady family but this is... hmmm. wow. that’s..... a lot. nto sure how i feel about it.

#nell liveblogs #riverdale spoilers #not fully tagging cuz i got whiney again #sorry guys

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mistye-dawne · 6 years

Text

A Spiteful Joke

Ao3

Summary: Never assume Aizawa Shouta to do something impulsive and rash because he just might do it to prove a point.

Written for the erasermight discord secret santa as a gift to @Skiaridgyridgy

Shouta shades his irritated eyes from the blaring sun as he, Hizashi, and Nemuri boarded the cruise ship that was preparing to leave the harbor. The entire time they'd been on their way to the ship, Hizashi had yet to keep his mouth closed for more than thirty seconds. Aizawa loved his best friend dearly but lord have mercy, he just didn't stop some days and today was one of those.

The blond's topic of choice, of course, was how much he was going to miss the dark-haired man. The fourth year undergraduate had taken the opportunity to study abroad for an entire year and wouldn't be returning with his friends back home when they reached their destination. He would admit that he would miss them something fierce, but it wasn't like he was going to be gone forever. Nor would it be very hard to contact each other which was very likely to happen at least once a week.

Aizawa rolls his eyes as he listens to Nemuri comfort Hizashi and tell him that his worries are valid.

"I'm sure Shouta will remember to eat on a regular basis," she says, "you know, when he gets hungry enough and can't stand the hunger pains anymore," she then teases.

"That's not funny, because he does forget to eat," the blond whines.

"Would you stop talking about me like I'm not standing right here?" Shouta finally snaps, turning on the pair. "Look, I get that you're worried, 'Zashi, I'm actually nervous about this believe it or not, but I am capable of taking care of myself."

The blond's red eyes go wide at Aizawa's uncannily gentle words. For a second, Shouta thinks that he's gotten through to the blond but that notion dissipates when he suddenly as he walks around Shouta.

"See? This trip is already messing with you because my best friend isn't ever nervous about anything. Nor does he ever sound this nice." Nemuri flashes Shouta an apologetic look and quickly goes off after the blond, leaving the dark-haired man standing alone in the sea of people. "Now you're taking his side?" he can hear Hizashi accuse even from he's standing. "Next thing you know, we're gonna get a phone call in six months telling us that he's getting married or something."

God, his best friend really knew how to piss him off sometimes. Him... married? Shouta scoffs at the thought and continues boarding the cruise. Like he would ever do something so impulsive and rash. Though it would really do a number on Hizashi if he did because it'd be so out of character for him. With an idea of how to get back at the blond out of pure spite, Shouta checks in and goes to his room to drop off his bag.

He expected for the two to barge into his room and continue badgering him when he got to it, but there wasn't even any noise coming from their room next door. They were likely already wandering about, getting into trouble. Whatever, so long as they stayed out of his hair for a while to let him try and find someone to help him with this stupid joke.

He wasn't afraid to admit that it was stupid, but that wasn't going to stop him from having a little fun, because yes even he could relax and laugh at a good joke. And this one would be golden. The toughest challenge would be to find someone who would actually help him pull this off. But he was committed to this and would see it play before this week was over.

Shouta's never been good in large crowds, whether it be a room full of strangers or acquaintances, he didn't like it. So to get over his fear and loosen up a little, the man goes to the bar for a drink. While he's walking there, he looks around to see if there's anyone who catches his eye, because for this work Hizashi has to believe every part of it, meaning he has to be somewhat attracted to whoever agrees to help him.

He's disappointed that out of all the people on the ship so far, no one seems to strike his fancy by the time he reaches the bar and gets a drink. He was already starting to believe that this whole thing was probably a waste of time and that he should probably just drop it and ignore Hizashi's whining. The whole point of inviting his two closest friends was so that their last days together would be spent relaxing and enjoying themselves.

He downs his drink in one go, earning a glare from the bartender, then lays his head down on the cool marbled countertop sighing as he does so.

"That's an odd thing to see from someone right before a cruise leaves harbor," he hears from beside him.

The twenty something turns his head toward the direction of the voice, ready to tell whomever it belonged to that they shouldn't assume before knowing the whole story. However, the voice belongs to what he can only describe as probably one of the most handsome men he's ever seen before. Blond hair, as bright as the sun shining outside, and blue eyes, clear as the sky above.

Shouta is left speechless and quickly turns away, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks.

"My apologies," the blond says, "I didn't mean to assume anything. Maybe you're just ready to be out on the ocean, far away from your daily troubles for a short while. Though I must say, I'm curious to know what could possibly be weighing so heavy on your mind for you to sigh like that."

"Like what?" Shouta questions, looking back at him and narrowing his eyes.

"Well..." the man starts, looking like he's searching for the right words as not to offend the dark-haired man anymore than he already might have. "To be frank, like you're brooding."

Shouta jaw hangs open as he scoffs and just blinks at the blond then shakes his head and chuckles a little. "My best friend tells me that when I'm thinking about something stupid." Shouta pushes from the counter and straightens himself, holding out his hand for the man to shake. "I'm Aizawa and what I'm 'brooding' about is really stupid," he admits.

As the blond shakes his hand, Shouta notices that his grip is a bit weaker than he thought it'd be. "Toshinori," he introduces, "and I'm free until this evening if you need a stranger to vent to."

Shouta chuckles again, this time Toshinori joins in. How strange it was that just as he was thinking that it's be impossible for him to find anyone remotely attractive to help him, this man literally appears out of thin air and Shouta is unable to tear his eternally tired eyes away from those blue orbs. The next several hours are spent with them going back and forth, starting with Shouta explaining what had been bothering him.

Toshinori is intrigued by how elaborate Shouta's prank already was even though he'd just come up with it and after hearing about it, offers to help, provided that Shouta still needed someone. The dark-haired man freezes up and tries to turn down the offer, saying that he shouldn't feel obligated to help him. Though if he had spoken honestly, Shouta wouldn't have hesitated in accepting Toshinori's help as the man was very handsome and was actually pleasant to talk with.

The blond insists that it would be a simple matter to pull off as he was actually an employee for the cruise line, a pianist, and that the ship's captain was his closest friend. Could Shouta really be this lucky. Was this man actually going to help him pull this off? He'd not been this excited about something since learning that he'd been accepted into the study abroad program.

Wait, he didn't have anything on him except... yes that would work.

After making up his mind, Shouta stands up and reaches into his pocket for his keys that he didn't know why were still on him. He was thankful they were though as he unclasped the bracelet he kept attached to them.

Toshinori eyes him as the shorter man reaches for his hand and holds it. "Toshi," Shouta starts, remembering that he needed to make this believable. "Will you marry me?"

The blond smiles brightly. "Yes, Shouta," he answers the slightest hint of red appearing on his cheeks. Shouta returns it and clasps the bracelet around the man's wrist, something to make the engagement look official.

He doesn't mention what the item means to him and the blond doesn't ask, but when Hizashi sees it around Toshi's wrist he'll believe that this whole thing is real. Nemuri will too.

With the engagement 'official', Toshinori goes to his room to dress for the evening and suggests that Shouta go find his friends, mentioning that they'd probably be looking for him since as dinner was drawing near. They agree to meet later tonight, after Toshinori is done playing for the evening, so that they can talk to the captain about helping them.

Shortly after returning to his room, Hizashi and Nerumi bang on his door demanding to be let in. After doing so, he continues to get dressed for dinner as the first and last of the trip are generally formal wear. The entire time, both friends of his nose about, wanting to know where he'd gotten off to all afternoon. He manages to dodge most of their questions, never once mentioning Toshinori as it'd ruin everything if they knew about him so soon.

When the trio gets to the dining room, Shouta immediately looks for Toshinori and he practically spends the whole night watching him at the piano. Their eyes meet a handful of times and each time Shouta is caught staring, he sees the man's bright smile appear on his face from the corner of his eye when he looks away.

Nemuri notices the faint blush that keeps staining Shouta's cheeks and decides to tease both men about it.

"Hizashi, I think someone's caught Shouta's eye, help me find out who it could be."

Both men simultaneously on their food and exchange a look of pure horror. Dammit. Had he already given himself away and ruined this before it had even gotten started? He opens his mouth to deflect the woman's attention elsewhere, but doesn't get to say anything as Hizashi speaks up before him.

"It's not funny anymore, Nemuri," he chides dryly, surprising Shouta. "There's not a soul on this ship who could possibly garner Shouta's attention, let alone make him blush." The blond turns his attention to Shouta, reaching out and holding the back of his hand against his forehead. "Though she does have a point Shou, you're really red and a bit warm, are you feeling okay?"

He's silent for a moment, blinking at his friend and wondering what possible higher beings are favoring him because he's just getting far too lucky now.

"I think I'm just a worn down," he responds. "You know, from spending the afternoon on deck in the heat."

"Maybe you should turn in early. Get some rest so we can enjoy the rest of the trip together," Hizashi suggests.

Shouta is reminded how endearing the blond is. How he loves taking care of his loved one. He almost feels bad for wanting to prank the man. Almost being the key word.

"I think I will. Thank you, Hizashi."

As he stands from the table, he realizes that he is a bit tired and is thankful for the break. He doesn't miss the quizzical look from Toshinori but smiles to reassure him that everything's still fine. The visual of the blond returning the smile stays with him when he gets back to his room to sleep for a couple hours before meeting Toshi again.

The blond is still dressed in his formal wear when Shouta approaches him and his breath stills as he watches his bangs blow with the wind. He doesn't say anything for a moment, content to just admire Toshi, despite having to pull his sweater tighter against him to fight off the ocean chill.

"You played beautifully," he comments and walks to stand beside him.

"Ah Aiza- err Shouta," he quickly corrects after the shorter man glances at him. "Sorry, I'll have it down before the night is over."

"It's okay, I'm still having to remind myself about the name as well." Toshinori doesn't respond and a comfortable silence falls between the two as they stare out at the passing waters. "Do you really like living like this, Toshi?"

"You mean always on the move?" he asks for clarification. Shouta nods. "I don't not like it," he admits, "But if you asked me if I wanted to spend the rest of my life always on the water, I'd say no."

"How long have you been playing?" Shouta asks next.

"Since I was a child. My mother used to play as well if I can remember correctly."

"You don't remember?"

"She passed when I was young," he says sadly.

The silence settles again and Shouta feels a bit ashamed of asking such personal questions. He thinks he should apologize but Toshi perks up when someone calls out to him. The men turn around and Shouta watches the blond walk up to the individual who he recognizes as the captain who welcomed the passengers at dinner.

The two exchange introductions, then Shouta lets Toshi explain the whole plan to the captain, whose name he learns is Naomasa. Shouta thinks that they must enjoy doing things like this for passengers, anything to make their trips a bit more exciting and memorable. Naomasa is more than delighted to help the two and they plan to have the wedding in two nights, just enough time for them to inform more of the crew to make it all seem real.

When the captain leaves the two alone again, Shouta resumes watching the water that never ends. He should have been joking with the two, been happy that is was actually going to work but he couldn't shake the feeling that he might have overstepped some kind of personal boundary, even though Toshi hadn't said anything about it. Had the questions been reversed, Shouta would have gotten angry with the blond.

"Are you feeling unwell, Shouta?" Toshi asks, leaning on the rail, his elbow almost touching Shouta's.

"Hmm?" he hums, not looking away from the water.

"I noticed that you left dinner early and thought that maybe you were feeling sick."

"That? Actually Nemuri thought she'd try and be funny, but Hizashi was having none of it," he explains. "Though he did say that I felt a little warm and suggested I rest for a bit. There's no need to worry. I'm fine."

"Okay..." Toshi says and looks down at the bracelet, pausing like there's more he wants to say.

Shouta leans closer to the blond so that he can see his downcast eyes. "What's wrong, Toshi?"

"You've been quiet since Naomasa showed up. I know that you stepped back to let me explain everything to him, but you didn't say anything." Shouta waits for him to continue, unsure of where the blond is going with this. Toshi sighs before he continues. "You were doing it again."

Shouta's eyes widen at the statement, knowing exactly what he meant. "Brooding?" The blond nods. "It's nothing you've done, Toshi. It's me," he admits, "I was careless with my words earlier and thought that I might have offended you."

"Offended me? How so?"

"I was nosy and asked you some very personal questions without thinking. I'm sorry."

"Oh Shouta," Toshi says gently. "If I thought that you were overstepping, I'd have said something or just wouldn't have answered. You really did no harm."

"You're sure?"

"Maybe it's just my jaded point of view, but I was too young to remember my mother and though she was spoken highly of when I was a child, I didn't know her so I don't have much of an opinion about her because I only know the woman that everyone else did."

"Maybe it's better that way," Shouta muses. "I still remember losing mine. She played piano too. That was the bracelet she wore to every concert." The blond is stunned and lifts his wrist to investigate the jewelry. "When I was in high school, Hizashi used to steal it off my keys and tease me about it until one day I finally told him off. That marked the beginning of our friendship. When he sees you wearing it tomorrow, he'll throw a fit. I hope you're ready."

"What kind of fiance would I be if I couldn't get the blessing of your best friend?" Toshi asks playfully.

"A smart one," Shouta deadpans, causing the blond to laugh.

Just as Shouta had warned, Hizashi freaks out after the man introduces Toshinori as his fiance at breakfast. He'd even gone so far as to update his social media, informing everyone that he was engaged to Toshinori. He then promptly set his phone to 'Do Not Disturb' as he knew that he'd be getting all sorts of phone calls and notifications that he didn't feel like dealing with at the moment.

Besides, he still had a wedding to plan, which Nemuri was all too happy to talk with Toshi about. Hizashi on the other hand was dead set against the whole thing, questioning if the engagement was a joke. In his mind it had to be a joke because his best friend would never do something like get married to a stranger after knowing them for only a handful of hours.

"Shou," he whispers as Nemuri and the other blond talk away about cake flavors and which one of them would be wearing white.

"Yeah?" the dark-haired man replies, never once looking away from Toshinori.

"You know that I was just being dramatic about you leaving right? I was only teasing when I said that you were gonna go off and do something crazy," he says panickedly.

"Hizashi, do you really think that I'd do something like this as a joke?" Shouta questions, pretending to sound hurt. "So yeah, I'll admit this is rushed, but he's it Hizashi."

The red-eyed blond searches Shouta's eyes for something but he's not quite sure what. Maybe he was looking for the lie that he wholeheartedly believed that was there.

"You're actually serious about this, Shouta," he states.

"I am."

"You gave him your mother's bracelet."

"It's the only sentimental thing I had at the time," Shouta shrugs.

"I think it's good," Hizashi says, surprising Shouta. "That you're looking toward the future and moving on from the past."

"You make it sound like I've done nothing but reject new things in life," Shouta huffs.

"Think about it Shou," he starts, "before applying and then being accepted to study abroad you turned down every opportunity that came your way. It didn't matter if it was academic, professional, romantic, you turned everything away saying that you didn't need/want what was being offered."

"I didn't."

"And that scared me Shouta. Thinking that you were holding yourself back for my sake."

"Hizashi..."

"I still think this is crazy but if you've found someone that you want a future with, I'm not gonna say that you can't. I mean, you could have picked someone younger than you and not as well established as Toshinori here."

Again, Shouta is taken aback by Hizashi's calm persona when minutes ago he'd been in an uproar about the whole thing. Was he doing this because he actually believed Shouta's ruse? Or was he just playing along to see if he could get back at the dark-haired man? Shouta really didn't know as Hizashi had always been hard for him to read, except for the times when he wasn't.

Noticing Shouta's quizzical look, Toshinori does what anyone would do to reassure their significant other. He reaches for Shouta's hand and gently squeezes it. The heat rises to his cheeks and he turns his head to look at the blond and is met with that smile that he'd been wearing during dinner last night as he played.

It made Shouta's mind stop thinking about anything else because there was something about Toshi that seemed to demand his undivided attention. He could easily see himself falling for a man like Toshi given over time and for a split second wondered; what if?

After spending the just about the entire day together, Shouta is pleased with well Toshi had been able to get along Hizashi and Nemuri. At dinner the woman couldn't seem to stop talking about everything she'd learned about the blond, much of which Shouta hadn't known either. She commented multiple times how lucky Shouta was to find such a catch and that he was smart for tying the knot so he didn't lose this chance to someone else.

He's still a little concerned by how easy it was for them to believe that he was really getting married. He thought the same about everyone else who left some kind of congratulations on his profile. That just meant when he came clean about the whole thing it have that much more of an effect on them. They might be surprised by the impulsive act of getting married to a stranger, but learning that he actually had the audacity to lie about getting married would be a whole other story.

And it was.

The following evening after watching Toshi walk down the aisle in a white tuxedo, Shouta tokes his hand and leans up to kiss his cheek before saying thank you and turning to his two friends. He felt a little bad for Nemuri who had really fallen in love with the idea of him marrying Toshi. The woman makes it known the everyone present how upset she was and even though she was a bit hurt, she took it pretty well, telling Shouta how much of a jerk he was for leading them on but still managing to laugh a little.

She even calls Toshi one and he pouts at her with those bright eyes of his and she' unable to stay mad for long.

Hizashi on the other hand is determined to never let either man live this down, saying that he'd know it was all a sham from the beginning. He questions both wanting to know why they had done it and why they'd made it so elaborate.

Shouta is straight with him and says that it was done out of spite. Hizashi had joked that he'd go out and do something stupid, so he wanted to make sure that Hizashi was around to witness it and not across the ocean. He shuts up after that and spends the rest of the trip pretending to be mad at them. The rest of the trip is a bit of a headache for Shouta as he has to explain the the engagement wasn't real and then explain why he'd done it.

Neither Hizashi or Nemuri feel any pity for him in that regard. Neither does Toshinori for that matter which Shouta's friends find hilarious.

When they reach land, Shouta has mixed feelings about leaving. He's excited for this new opportunity to study elsewhere but now he's not just leaving behind two friends. He'd grown a bit fond of Toshinori over the week and was sad to have to leave so soon. The two exchange contact information and promise to keep in touch as much as possible as. Shouta even lets the blond keep his mother's bracelet, saying that he ever wants it back, he'll have a reason to track Toshi down.

A year passes before the two see each other again and by pure chance. Shouta gets a text from the blond one day saying that he was in Tokyo for a music competition that he was actually going to watch as a student of his was participating. They don't waste any time in meeting up to spend a little time together.

Toshi congratulates Shouta on graduating and compliments him on the shorter hair, saying that the undercut looks good on him. Shouta learns that his trip had also been Toshi's last one. The blond still played and even tutored a handful of students that were set to compete as well.

Shouta noticies the bracelet dangling around Toshi's wrist and asks about it. The blond admits that he'd been unable to take it off because he thought it too pretty to be left in a box to collect dust. The dark-haired man sees that it's been refurbished a little, but the missing gemstones are still missing. Toshi moves to remove it but Shouta stops him. It really did look good around the man's slim wrist and wanted to keep it there.

A year after meeting up again, the two get married for real which proves to be a challenge since no everyone that Shouta invites threatens him in some way if they find out that this one is fake too. It even takes them an entire month to convince Hizashi that it's real this time, but they do manage to get him to come around.

Seeing Toshi in a white tuxedo for a second time makes him wish that the first time hadn't been fake so that he could have been with the blond sooner. But it's okay really, because they've now been married for two years with a small family consisting of a beautiful calico colored cat and a one year old son they adopted after their first year of marriage.

Who would have thought that the stranger he pretended to marry after only hours of knowing him would end up being the man he got to spend the rest of his life with.

#ficsforvera #bnha #erasermight #aizawa shouta #toshinori yagi #eraserhead #all might #bnha drabbles #mistye-writes

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dachi-chan25 · 7 years

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Game of Thrones Season 7 Episode 5 Recap Pt. 1

I seriously need to vent about “Eastwatch so bear with me please.

WARNING: SPOILERS; not a D@€n€r¥$ fan; Jonsa shipper so yeah I’m biased af.

Before diving into the recap:

1.- This are only my opinions, humble analysis and random thoughts/musings about the episode, and I am in no form or way trying to convince people I know everything or that I’m absolutely right and whatever other reading is wrong, I actually Love that thing about fandom that everyone sees things in a different way, is fascinating

2.- I’m the literal embodiment of the Salt Throne, and I feel specially salty about this episode so if you are not comfortable with that stuff I highly recommend you not to read this. I will always stay in my lane and I am not closed off to debates as long as you extend the same politeness and respect of course.

3.- My analysis of certain ships/characters is based on what I think and feel as an audience, but in no form or way do I think people shouldn’t ship/like said ship/characters. Believe me on the fact I will always defend the right to love what you love, even my most hated NOTPS are valid and I will always support the shippers and multishippers even if we don’t interact.

————

1.- Back on the lake near HG, Bronn and Jaime are fine (I already knew they weren’t going to die but I am glad they don’t even have a scratch) and golden boy is pissed cuz Bronn wasn’t delicate enough during his brave rescue, and Bronn is like yeah but why did you do such a stupid ass thing she has a dragon Jamie a dragon!!!! but our Lannister boy didn’t even cared he was willing to die to get rid of D.

OK, but that was really what a hero would do??He doesn’t know D, and the good things she has done, and we know Jaime is more than flawed, he has done awfull things, and in his mind D is the biggest threat he has ever faced (I mean he is not wrong) and still found the courage to charge at her, he just watched his man die horrible painful deaths (mind you he got PTSD from his time with Aerys right then and there) and instead of fleeing like Bronn suggested he fought and was willing to die just so he could get rid of D… That really makes you think.

Anyway Bronn is like fuck you, you can’t die before you pay me dude! but you’re totally on your own if the Dragon Woman comes to KL xoxo.

I truly love Bronn.

2.- So yeah we’re strolling through the Field of Fire with Tyrion, he looks absolutely horrified (he should) while the Dothraki take swords and weapons form the dead (yikes, can we talk about the lack of humanising of the Dothraki? We only got to know them a lil’ back on s1 and s2 and still they look like terrible people with a ruthless violent culture and no real good redeeming qualities, I mean we don’t even get a lot of depth on any Mereenese, Yunkai or Astapori beyond the ohh wondrous mysha bullshit!! and then we have Dorne, you know the PoC of Westeros, storyline absolutely butchered and thrown to shit, and this actually stinks of racism) anyway we have like what 50? 100? Soldiers and I’m supposed to pat D in the back for not killing everyone??? You kidding me right? There were 10,000 Lannister-Tarly soldiers, she killed ¾ of the army, and yet she dares to say she didn’t came to murder them or orphan their children with the same condecending tone she used for the Meerenese, Astapori and Yunkaii people???? Miss me that bullshit, she had an adavantage from 10-1 there was no FUCKING way the Lannister-Tarlys were going to win, besides if she has the noble pure righteous heart she loves to parrot about she would have given them the chance to yield before she went Dracarys on their asses (you know like Jon Snow did in the BoB telling Ramsey they should have a 1 on 1 so other people wouldn’t die) she should have taken the food, but she didn’t so it would be real nice if she stopped with all those pretty but meaningless speeches that only make her look like a hypocrite (but I totally understand why she doesn’t “if I look back I’m lost” which basically means I’m too lazy and proud to learn from my mistakes and accept my flaws) anyway it all boils down to “bend the knee or die even tho I just said I didn’t came to kill you after I had already killed most of you” and I kid you not, just 5-10 people bent immediately, only when Drogon screeches menacingly at them is that most drop to their knees absolutely terrified (*instert the “this is not freedom, this is fear” meme from Captain America) what kind of choice is this???? No choice at all, is either accept me as your newest overlord or die in the flames (yikes, I never wanted her on the IT but now more than ever).

Other thing that piqued my interest is that she uses her famous line about destroying the wheel, basically this is a medieval equivalent of communism, she says there will be no more powerfull high lords and helpless small folk, okay good, totally support this, but D you seriously need to ask yourself how are you going to manage the transition and if your replacement of this feudalistic system is all the power lies in me, my Dragons and my small council if/when I’m in the mood to actually listen then no fuck you. Communism is something we know, something we’ve seen before (Cuba, Russia, North Korea) and it has failed, even if theoretically it seems the most humanitarian and fair, in practice it has always caused an awful whiplash of tyranny, poverty and opression (history exists guys, and even if Westeros is a fantasy setting, GRRM based a lot of the stuff in ASOIAF in actual historical events) our society was not ready in any form or way for that kind of government and neither is the Westerosi society, but D is not a politician, she is a Queen and therefore she doesn’t care about future problems and consequences ‘til they hit her face and then she whines and complains about it.

Fortunately the Tarlys are having none of that overlord (overlady???) bullshit and will not kneel, is no secret I dislike Randyll Tarly cuz he is ruthless with his soldiers (flogging them for real??) and the way he treated Sam (fuck him) but he has a lot of strenght and dignity, he refuses to kneel because he already chose a side and he would stand by it even if it meant death, he is a hardass motherfucker if anything, Tyrion is like dude you seriously are going to fight for my evil sister? Point is that Cersei and D really give not much of an option do they Tyrion? As a matter of fact this scene is a good parallel to Cersei’s 7x01 one in the IT trash talking D and convincing (tho she is much more diplomatic) the Reach Lords to fight with her, then we see Randyll talk with Jaime and he says he only answered the call cuz he knew what Cersei does with her enemies. Here we have D’s pretty speech about how Cersei is evil and she is clearly the better option while intimidating them with her Dragon and Dothraki.But is the same! even if Cersei is more subtle in her approach. Anywhoo Randyll is like you say whatever you want about Queen C, but she is not a foreign invader with a army of infamous pillagers and rapers and dragons who burnt all the food of the Reach (k I added that last bit cuz I’m salty that no one seems to give a fuck about the food) and I know some people have been saying he sounded racist (he does not) that is not the case at all,every country requests being a citizen (among other things) to occupy a position in the government, because you have to know the country, lived there, care at least a little about it’s people and know them and let them know you, D meets none of this requirements, and yes it’s not her fault, it’s her dad’s and Robert’s that she had to live in exile, but still she has no right to proclaim herself as the better option when she has done nothing to show it.

So Randyll is ready to die, Tyrion wants to save him (I guess to convince himself that he made the right decision in supporting D) and suggests he is sent to the Wall, but Radyll is like nah man she has no authority to make me do shit cuz she ain’t my queen. Dickon (my brave and beautiful, and dumb son) steps out and says he won’t bend the knee also, Randyll and Tyrion collectively lose their shits (bitch me too the fuck) because they don’t want him to die and let house Tarly die with him (this rings to close to Tyrion cuz his evil sis killed the Tyrells and Aerys killed a Rickard and Brandon Stark, how is this any different from what D is doing now?) but D is ruthless and says she already gave them an option, Tyrion is still trying to be like hey how about you don’t start cutting heads off??? and D is like LMAO who said I was beheading them? Tyrion is left speechless (why were you expecting dude?? You watched her burn the army and the food, and she almost burnt your brother and your bff) but really is heartbreaking because he wanted so hard to see the mericful woman he admired and believed in and only sees a tyrant.

So of course I cried, because I played myself living in denial and happily shipping Dicksa (we can’t have nice things, but my ship is not going down, you can’t kill what is already dead!!!!) and beyond that it was heartbreaking seeing Randyll holding his son’s arm and them dying on ther feet. And I was reminded of one of the heroes of the mexican revolution, Emiliano Zapata who once said “I’d rather die on my feet, than live on my knees” what the Tarlys did was a common tragic hero trope.

After the Tarlys get roasted, everyone is on their knees and I would love to slap the satisfaction out of D’s face, because this is awful.

———

I rambled far too much so this needs a part 2

#Game of Thrones #7x05 #racap pt 1 #anti daenerys #just to be safe #dachi rambles

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alive-but-at-what-cost · 4 years

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New Puppy Woes

Highkey hope my electrical bill doesn't make me cry at the end of the month...

My partner (C) and I got a new puppy and not only am I Stressed about raising her right but the learning curve is like 100x steeper than I remember it being. Granted, the last time I had to train a puppy I did it alongside my 3 older siblings so I probably had the least amount of responsibility. Potty training is the biggest nightmare. As a direct result of this nightmare (she Does Not potty outside, only uses the puppy pads and even then only about 70% of the time. Less so when we're around to witness her pottying) she can no longer be in our bedroom at night so she's sequestered to the livingroom. No crate because crates still make me ghick so I'm dragging my heels on that one but I understand that they can be beneficial when used humanely. So free reign in the livingroom. She's on her pillow, we're in the bedroom. She whines, cries, and howls in intervals. Not constantly, thank the lord, but enough to give me Anxiety. I come out, I don't make a big deal of returning because I read not to do that. I clean up her nervous pee (not a full bladder, not on the pad). Wrap C's shorts around her pillow. Turn a calming dog video onto the tv. When I get tired enough I'm going to have to leave her out here but I'm seriously hoping she just remains calm with the video playing, use the pads, and stay sleep or at the very least quiet. Worse case scenario, she knocks over and breaks the tv while howling and tearing shit up out here. Both seem very likely.

I Have To draw up a schedule for her and stick to it to the letter. She needs consistency, patience, and a bit of clever thinking... I'm trying to do my best but it can be hard sometimes. She's used to being around other dogs and puppies. We have an adult cat that she sometimes gets in trouble for being too rough with. She's better adjusted than some puppies I've met but I'm hoping to do things right enough to where she doesn't lose that and become an anxious mess.

Quick aside and Vent: This puppy belongs to C. I was perfectly happy with our 2 cats, down to 1 after my mother-in-law royally fucked up like the neglectful piece of shit she is. But C and the 1 cat that didn't get hit by a fucking car (fuck you, MIL) never bonded quite as well as the cat did with me. Honestly ever since the cats got a little older C has been feeling this way and I genuinely felt bad but I didn't know what to really do about it that would make all of us happy. I guess that decision was made for me -- taken from me, really. The cat that C Did bond well with was hit by a fucking car (fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyouihopeyouremiserableforever) and we moved and we talked and talked and talked about getting a puppy, especially when C felt sad about not having a pet to bond with and here we fucking are. I "work" from home -- which really just means I avoid difficult work-related things, avoid scary responsibilities, and do the bare minimum to clean, take care of myself, and make money -- so I'm dealing with this goddamn dog all fucking day. The large majority of the work of raising her right now falls on me and I'm lowkey bitter about it. I'm torn between feeling determined to fit this dog properly into our family so C can be happy and bond with her and being resentful that I have to go through all this effort for an endeavour that I honestly did not think I'd need to be so involved in. Nor do I really want to be. Sometimes my effort to make them bond isn't even listened to by C (which kind of spits in the face of the whole raising-your-dog-for-you thing) because puppy did Something That Puppies DO and C got mad. What the fuck!

I'm frustrated and I'd like to believe that being forced to be more organized and focused could help my own poor mental health but my toddler brain is too busy being mad that I can't just be quiet, be still, and do what I want to do when I want to do it (which is usually absolutely nothing, just the way my depression likes it).

I don't know. It could be good, all of these changes. But they're so tiring and I don't always feel acknowledged or appreciated in the way that I want to be. When I have an opinion, listen or explain your side to me. When I'm frustrated, take over for a while. When I'm concerned, listen to or reassure me. I just want them to be happy and I'm sure I can be too lenient at times but it's always out of a desire for a better outcome for THEM... Let me do the discipline and then console her sweetly. Walk her by yourself at least once without getting snippy at her. Change your body language to be more open and loving as much as possible. Talk to me... I'm worried about C's mental health as well and they always say they're fine but it's been so many years of slogging through nonverbal moods and bitchy attitudes that I don't trust that when I ask I'll be given the truth. And that hurts more than anything... I know what it's like to get worse mentally before asking for help. I don't want that for C. I think I make that as clear as I could so I just wonder if they just don't want to tell Me and that I'm the reason they're feeling worse and that's why they can't tell me the truth.

#word vomit all over the goddamn floor #i hate hate hate hate hate myself and my brain #a neurotypical could raise a puppy withour wanting to cry #a neurotypical could keep their cool with their partner and have adult conversations about rearing strategies #a neurotypical could handle a relationship work debt bills AND a new puppy after a major move #a neurotypical could fucking function in the world without endlessly taking psychic damage from their own dumbass fucking misfiring brain #every goddamn day i fucking hate you #this is why i dont look in the mirror #this is why i grimace when i see my face or hear mt voice or hear my THOUGHTS #i want to GIVE UP

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ghira-and-linky-blog · 7 years

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Tied Fate

Link's Point of view (POV)

As I made my way out of the Knight Academy, I ignored everyone that tried to talk to me. I honestly didn't want to deal with all of the questions that people shot at me just because I managed to save the world from being destroyed. So now I was headed to my favorite spot, the Academy's roof. It's my place to relieve all of my stress and anxiety. I just yelled into the sky most days. Sitting on the roof, I watched the sunset, staining the sky with orange, pink, and lavender hues.

Another day gone full of stress and loneliness, I thought to myself. I sighed. Ever since I saved Zelda, she told everyone in Skyloft that she herself was Hylia. They didn't believe her at first, until she showed them that she could use magic. Now she's never around anymore, leaving me with no one to talk to. I sighed and went to get up, when my former bully Groose walked up from behind me. He sat next to me, ran his hand through his hair and looked at me.

"Listen Link, I'm sorry for everything that's been going on lately. Since you don't have anyone to talk to, I figured you'd want to talk to me. I don't care what you say, I'm just someone you can vent to, but you shouldn't take it out on everyone that cares about you.", he sighed. I felt something wet slide down my face. Great! I was crying, again! I punched the ground out of anger.

"AAARRRGGGHHH! WHY WON"T ANYONE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T WANT TO TALK! I WANT TO BE ALONE!", I yelled, sobbing and repeatedly punching the ground. Then Groose had me in a lock hold, and I kicked him in the shin, earning a cry from him and I was released. I turned around. He looked at me with disgust.

"I thought I could be your friend Link. Guess I was wrong, huh?", he spat out. I just turned away from him. Then I my sensitive ears picked up the sound of his footsteps. I immediately turned around and punched him square in the jaw, breaking the skin and creating a gash in his face. He went to hit me, and I ducked, effectively avoiding his blow.

"LEAVE ME ALONE YOU ARROGANT BRAT! I WANT TO BE ALONE! WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ABOUT THAT YOU IDIOT SON OF A DEKU SCRUB!", I shouted at Groose, kicking and pummeling him. He picked me up, and I struggled to get out of his arms. Then the ground shook violently, forcing Groose to drop me on the ground.

'What was that?', he mouthed. I just shrugged, not really knowing or caring. And that's when the ground fell from beneath my feet.

I felt weightless, like when I would dive off the edge of Skyloft and call for my crimson Loftwing bird. Except since Loftwing's can't see at night, everyone was falling to their deaths. I looked up over my shoulder, and saw Skyloft, my home, explode for no reason. Everyone was surely dead by now, and I was falling like a stone, and I had ignored them all, just because I was selfish and didn't want to hear it. As I passed through the clouds that covered the Province of Faron, everything in my mind ceased to exist.

Ghirahim's PoV

"Lord Ghirahim, sir! News from the patrol that you sent to the Faron Woods!", the bokoblin announced, bowing before my throne. Two more then arrived, half carrying, half dragging something behind them.

"Yes? Get on with it!", I snapped. Usually the reports I received daily were nonsense, like how the weather in a certain area was perfect and how the next area was terrible. The thing that they dragged in with them stirred and let out a soft whine of pain.

"A patrol found this boy in a tree, injured and unconscious, hanging by the bottom of his shirt. He look likes the one you so often talked about.", the monster reported out. I immediately gained interest when he mentioned the boy. I widened my eyes, but only one was visible due to the fact that I cover the left side with my white, chin length hair. I quickly hid my surprise and daintily walked over to the boy. Sure enough, it was that irksome Sky Child. He was badly injured, with a large gash on his head from where he must have hit it on something, which would have explained why he was unconscious. I smiled delightedly, an idea unfolding in my mind. I would wait until the boy was well enough, then I would force him to serve under me. I smirked at the thought.

"Take him to one of the empty bedrooms, I'll deal with him.", I commanded. Then I headed to the infirmary to gather the materials to patch up the boy. I was only be nice to earn his respect, then he would become my slave. Yes, it did indeed sound like the perfect plan.

Link's POV

"Master Link, I sense that you have been taken into the house owned by the demon that calls himself Lord Ghirahim." Wait, Fi was right here in front of me, telling me that I was in Ghirahim's house. OH MY DEAR HYLIA. I'M IN GHIRAHIM'S HOUSE, UNCONSCIOUS AND UNAWARE OF WHAT HE COULD BE DOING TO ME AT THIS VERY MOMENT!

"F-fi, how long until I wake up?", I began to hyperventilate. She floated in front of me, emotionless.

"If my calculations are correct, you will awaken to a new destiny in a few moments. If you were wise, Master, I would listen to Ghirahim's every time he addresses you and do not give in to your anger.", she stated. I blinked in surprise, then nodded.

"If it keeps me alive, then I'll do it." Next thing I knew, I was in a very large, soft bed. The room was dark, but not to dark because the light from the moon came through the window. I got out of the bed and heard a little clinking sound. Looking around, I couldn't find anything that could have made that sound. Heading toward the window, I stopped when I felt a tug on my ankle. Of course, I saw the glint of a chain leading from a cuff on my ankle to a spot on the floor. Let me guess, I'm in Ghirahim's room, waiting for him to come in so that way he can torture me to death or insanity., I thought to myself. My sensitive ears then picked up the sound of footsteps from outside. I was rooted to the spot. I could hear mumbling outside the door, probably Ghirahim and his bokoblins. The door opened, and in came Ghirahim.

Ghirahim's PoV

"Well, well, well. Rise and shine Sky child. I came in to check on you, and what do I find? You trying to escape from your comfy bedroom. If you really don't like it, you could move into the cold basement." , I walked to him and his eyes gave away the fact that he was scared. This only delighted me.

"Why are you scared, Skychild? You do realize you have no reason to be scared. I'm only here to bandage your wounds so you don't die. That explosion of Skyloft disrupted my evening and now I have you to deal with, which, frankly, mixed my emotions. Having dealt with you multiple times in the past made me angry, but now your here defenseless, I can have my revenge in a way.", I walked closer to him, before teleporting behind him and snaking one arm around his waist and my other arm under his, resting my hand on the opposite shoulder. He shuddered and stiffened.

"Let go of me.", He growled. I merely sighed against the exposed skin of his neck.

"Oh Skychild, did I forget? A slave does not command his master and address him rudely.", I licked the underside of his pointed ear. He shivered again and drew in a breath. I sighed into his ear.

"Get off of me I sai-....Ah!." The Skychild cried out as I bit into his ear, drinking in the scent of his blood.

"What was that, my pet? I think that I have had enough of your mouth. I am going to make you deafen yourself with your own screams. Now doesn't that sound fun?" I chuckled darkly and threw my pet onto the bed. His eyes widened and with a snap of my fingers, he was chained to the bed.

"I think this will teach you a lesson."

Link's PoV

Horrified, I pulled against the bonds that held me to the bed. Ghirahim watched with what looked like amusement.

"Having fun Sky child? You do realize what happens next right?" , He said, a sadistic smile on his face. That just made me struggle more. He placed a hand on my cheek.

"How does it feel to be defenseless, little hero? How do you you feel being forced to be mine,hmm?", he said, tugging up my tunic and running his hand along my stomach, making me shiver. He smiled and dug his nails into my skin, making ten wounds on my abdomen.

"Cry for me Sky Child. Cry and I'll stop." he mocked me. I stared at him fiercely.

"I won't do it. No matter what you tell me to do, I won't do it." I said. He just smiled.

"I think I can get you to change your mind." Just then I felt something wet slide along my cheek. He was licking my face. I shivered as he licked my pointed ear, then let out a small, choked cry as he sunk his teeth into it.

"All you have to do is cry, Skychild. Cry and it'll all go away. Unless..." He trailed off, smirking and looking sideways at me.

"I won't do it. I don't care what you do to me. I won't do anything you say, you sick bastard." I spat at him. He raised his eyebrows.

"Then I guess you wouldn't mind this." He said as he moved to the end on the bed. Untying one of my ankles, he held my leg tightly and hoisted it over his shoulder, sliding my pants down as he did so. My eyes widened.

"You want this, don't you you little whore? You want me to make you scream, don't you? Well, I would have given you mercy, but you threw that opportunity down into the abyss." He snarled raking his nails on my thighs. Tears slipped from my eyes because it stung so bad.

Hylia help me. I'm going to be raped by some sadistic bastard. I thought to myself. Then I screamed as my insides felt like they were being torn to shreds.

"I knew I could make you cry, Skychild." He laughed. I picked my head up to look at what he was doing. He was inside of me, and my body was enjoying it. My face burned in shame. I didn't think that this would happen.

"You must be enjoying this, Skychild." He laughed, roughly seizing my hips and thrusting hip deep. Each thrust hurt like hell itself, and I was screaming,crying and begging him to stop.

He wouldn't stop, not until he left his mark on me. It went on for what felt like hours. I must have fainted, because when I woke up, I was unbound except for the ankle cuff I had on before, but I was wearing a similar get up to that bastard. It was a black two- piece, skin-tight outfit with black gloves and these weird foot things. I noticed that there was a mirror on the night stand, so rolling over, as I was still bleeding and my backside hurt, I grabbed it. My face looked red and puffy from where Ghirahim must have tried to hit me awake. My ear was also swollen from where it was bitten, but I was wearing different earrings. My blue loops were replaced by red diamond ones.

Well, that was an experience I never want to have happen again. I must be more careful and try to figure out how to escape.

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