#as well. so yes. men. they were on my mind last night. hardcore.

[aritamargarita]

ATTITUDE || 019

HELLO MY ATTITUDIANS (i thought that name was funny).

shout out to chapter 19. gotta be one of my favorite chapters,,it’s crazy how we made it to 19 already. this also has to be one of my favorite covers so far, the girlies look so nice here. please put your seatbelts on because this chapter is JUICY you thought last chapter was crazy? oh man. this chapter will also be split btw

now i can make this joke: 19 dollar fortnite card. who wants it? and yes. im giving it away.

VENGEANCE IS HERE. This is a very big night for you. It’s something you’ve been waiting for. Just to get your hands on Torrie and finish what she started.

The camera pans up on Doctor Smiley, who’s going through some of his notes.

“I know this night is very important to you. I’m glad you came. Debra gave me a call, she’s concerned you’ve been…..on a downward spiral.”

Once the camera switches towards you, the crowd cheers.

You’re not sure what he means. You’ve never felt better. “Well, I feel fine. There’s nothing wrong, from what I know of.”

Doctor Smiley simply nods, then writes something down. It’s silent for a moment, but he looks up towards you. “Plaid?”

“What about it?”

“New, isn’t it?” He questions. “If my memory serves correctly, that seems a little off from your normal attire.” It’s not much, but the jacket you’re wearing is telling him a lot. “Well, to be more modern, it’s just not your style.”

It makes a small smile grow on your face, the thought of Raven clouding your mind. You cross your legs. “A little recommendation from a friend, that’s all. Don’t you think I look nice?”

You’re reticent. He should’ve known. He also pencils this down, not answering your other question. “Right. I’m sure. Speaking of friends…how do you feel about Torrie Wilson? It’s to my understanding you two aren’t seeing eye to eye.”

What a wonderful question.

“When I think about Torrie, all I have are negative feelings.” You say. “I feeel…like I want to give her comeuppance.”

“…Would you say you want vengeance?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

BACKSTAGE // 6:56 PM

Earlier that night, you and Torrie were going back and forth in the training center, rehearsing the match for the night. You two had a decent amount of spots, not too over the top. All you two wanted to do was to showcase your strength and hers.

Outside of a kayfabe standpoint, having a match with her made you thrilled. It reminded you of the ones you had in WCW from time to time.

It’s shaping up to be a good night. Even the other matches had you excited.

SCOTTY 2 HOTTY & ALBERT VS. CHRISTIAN AND TEST

EDGE VS. WILLIAM REGAL (INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP)

[NAME] VS. TORRIE WILSON

JEFF HARDY VS. MATT HARDY

DUDLEY BOYZ VS. KANE AND BIG SHOW (TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS)

THE UNDERTAKER VS. ROB VAN DAM (HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP)

TRISH STRATUS VS. JACQUELINE (WOMEN’S CHAMPIONSHIP)

CHRIS JERICHO VS. THE ROCK VS. STONE COLD STEVE AUSTIN VS. KURT ANGLE

You plan to interfere with Matt and Jeff’s match after your own. Whether it be attacking Lita or purposely messing both men up, you’re there to cause trouble.

Truth be told, you’re going to try and fuck with everyone tonight and if anyone tries to fuck with your match, they’ve got a world full of pain coming back, tenfold.

But your match…..you’d finally show the WWF universe how happy you were. How happy that Raven finally took you under his wing, he made you his and you felt like you were apart of him.

You’ll tell the world as much as soon as you get into that ring.

Before that, Lita needed to be dealt with. You need to show her who she’s dealing with.

You want to get inside her head and most importantly, you want to worm your way inside the mind of Matt and Jeff. Those Hardy Boyz. Everyone loves them. You’d hear everyone scream for them as loud as they could whenever they’d show up.

Everyone loves Team Extreme!

You don’t.

You hate Team Extreme.

It’s clear to you that you have one brother wrapped around your finger already. The other wasn’t too easy to sway.

So before you know it, you find yourself rummaging through her suitcase like a madman. Cargo pants, crop tops…something that’ll make you look like Lita. Would fishnets top it all off?

For a moment, you considered buying a red wig so you could even mock her flaming hair. Is there enough time?

…Yes, yes there is. There’s always enough time. You’ll find a way to make it work after your match.

While you originally considered coming out to Edge’s match, you knew that wound was still fresh and you were still thinking of plans for him. It wouldn’t be fun if you did interference every match, honestly. You wanted to mix things up.

Actually, wait. It would make it even more interesting if it was fresh, wouldn’t it? Bah, you’ll think it over on the ride to the nearest costume or beauty store.

Either way, you needed to go and go quick, especially if you want your little scheme to work.

Wait! Maybe you’ll go out first. That way, no one would expect you coming out dressed as Lita later.

Yeah, that’s exactly what you’ll do! You already had something nice on, so why not just show up in all your glory? You may even help Edge win.

You just hope he’d be grateful, else, you’d have to teach him a few new things. You figure it’s good enough to make a guest appearance with the clothes you have on.

“Oooh, hey, [Name]!” Stacy’s voice comes from the door. She stands there for a moment before walking over to you with a smile. She looks nice tonight. “I’m glad you’re here. I just wanted to wish you luck tonight.”

You still feel pretty suspicious, but she’s not going out of her way to attack you or anything.

“You know, I’ve been looking for you!” She says, taking a seat on the small bench. She then focuses on zipping up one of her shoes. “Me and you have no problems! I just want you to rip her head off, okay?”

It’s nice of her to come and give you some sort of pep talk, despite how violent it sounded.

“Right. Yeah, I’ll do that.” You say, rubbing your temples.

“By the way, you look really tired, [Name]. Are you okay?” She asks. “Well, actually, how have you been? I haven’t been able to catch you backstage.”

It’s true, she hasn’t. Quite frankly you didn’t trust her at first, but she made her status clear the last time you saw her.

“I’ve been okay. I feel like myself.” It was a little true. Stacy probably doesn’t know about the Raven and Jeff situation, so you’re happy Lita kept her mouth shut, even if she didn’t know the whole thing in its entirety.

You take that back. You’re pretty sure Jeff told her…

“Alright…” Stacy gives you a smile and thankfully doesn’t press further. “When’s the next time we’re going shopping?”

“I dunno,” You shrug. “The next time I can actually see the Dutchess backstage?”

“Oh, you!” She bats her hand at you, then stands up from her spot. “I think we’re both really busy. I’m sure we’ll get around to it. There are so many things I see that remind me of you, I’m itching to dress you up!”

Of course. Her and Torrie always had a habit of putting you through rings of hell, dressing you up in what they think would fit you….

Stacy gives you a wink and you roll your eyes. She lightly hits your shoulder. “Don’t be like that. Hey, I’ll talk to you later, okay? I’m sure Bubba and D’von are looking for me. I just wanted to stop by.”

“I don’t mean to hold you back. I’ll see you later then.”

“You’re fine!” She reassured. With that bright smile of hers, she’s just about to leave the room before you call out to her.

“Wait! Do you happen to have a spare robe..?”

BACKSTAGE // 7:04 PM

This may have been the worst decision in your life, and shit, you’ve made some pretty bad decisions before.

Stacy was more than happy to loan you one of her robes. You were too afraid to question why she carried it around in her suitcase. You guess she’s ready for anything, even an impromptu swimsuit contest or something.

She didn’t know what you were up to and you’d rather keep it that way.

Your next mission is to find Chris Jericho. You had already changed into your ‘gift’ and put on a robe right over it. You’re a little ashamed to be doing this, especially with the cameras now on you, but Hunter asked for you to get it done.

You’re sure it’ll be worth it in the long run. Everything will be okay, even if you feel like you’re going to scream. Thanks to the advice from some producers, you find Jericho refilling a cup of water.

Alright, time to get your game face on.

You take a deep breath and strut on over to him. “Hey there.” You hope you don’t sound too forced, you really hate talking to him.

“Ugh, it’s you again.” He doesn’t seem happy to see you. “The hell do you want this time?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was about to toss that cup of water on you.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to fight or anything..” This time, you force a smile. “I actually just wanted to talk to you alone.”

“What’s there to talk about? If you think I’m dropping out of the title match, you can kick rocks.”

You try not to let his words get to you. It takes everything in your power not to reply with a snarky remark.

“Well, for starters, I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I want to make amends.” He doesn’t seem swayed, so you do your best to turn up the charm. “You know….I’ve always really, really liked you. I just didn’t know what to say.”

He raises an eyebrow, but the smirk growing on his lips tell you that you’ve got him fooled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Why should we fight anymore? Tonight, if you show up to my hotel room, I’ll make up for what was lost.” Almost on cue, you show him what you’re wearing under the robe and close it quickly.

God, you’re cringing so bad inside. One day you’ll look back on this segment and cry.

You give him one last smile and walk away down the hall.

The plan is in action. You’re sure Hunter will be happy you’ve done your due diligence. You’ve gotta throw some of your clothes back on now to make it for Edge’s match!

You’re so sure that he’s waiting on you. You just know him so well.

VENGEANCE // 7:15 PM

And you seem to be just in time. With the match just in its beginning, you nearly tripped on some cords as you made your way toward gorilla position.

They need to clean it up. What if you tripped and busted your head open? You wish you could submit a complaint somewhere. But then again, Mr. McMahon would probably pop a blood vessel trying to figure out who the hell did it.

The moment you step out onto stage, the crowd starts to cheer. This stage was huge. For a moment you stand up at the top, just watching the two lock up.

‘What’s [Name] doing out here?!’ JR asks.

‘Hey! Tell her to come over here!’ Jerry tries to get your attention to no avail.

JR can only shake his head. ‘I don’t think she wants to even be within 4 feet of you, King.’

The both of them really were going at it in this lockup, with Edge getting the best of Regal by shoving him into the corner. You want a closer look, so you come down the ramp.

It is only when the referee forces him off of Regal, was when you were noticed. He runs a hand through his hair, moving most of it from his face. He must’ve thought he was dreaming.

You open your arms. This was no dream. This was reality! He comes over to the ropes, staring down at you quizzically.

“I know you missed me!” You exclaim.

Edge is just about to respond but Regal comes over and smashes his forearm into his back. That was definitely your fault, but you shrug it off.

Regal was starting to take over, grabbing Edge by the hair and lifting him up. Yet again, they lock up, an aggressive show of strength from the both of them.

While they’re doing that, you skip on over to the side of the apron towards the announcer tables.

You can see Edge’s Intercontinental Championship sitting nearby, so you go ahead and grab it.

It’s a really pretty title. As are most of the WWF titles. Once you pick it up, you run your fingers along a continent, and the crowd looks at you curiously.

It’s not like you were gunning for it yet..though you wouldn’t mind if they put you in the running. Everyone seemed to like what you’re doing though.

‘You said she wouldn’t come within 4 feet of me, JR,’ King starts to say. ‘But I think you’re just jealous!’

‘She’s a nice young lady, I’ll give her that, but she’s got some sense.’ He responds.

‘If she’s got some sense, why’s she got her hands on the Intercontinental title?! Doesn’t she know it’s nearly impossible for a women to even hold it?’

‘I think you’re forgetting about someone…’

You’re too busy admiring the title to even pay attention to them and the match. Running a finger over one of the continents, it makes you notice how beautiful it was.

Then again, it seems to be a common theme with WWF titles. Whoever created the design needs some sort of raise. But not if it’s Mr. McMahon, of course.

You’re so focused on the title that you don’t even notice a baffled Edge making his way towards you.

“The hell are you doing?” He asks, lightly shaking your shoulder.

“I came to see you!” You say, a smile on your face. “Didn’t you miss me?!”

“..What?!“ You weren’t sure if he couldn’t hear you or couldn’t believe what you said. You figure it’s the former when he continues talking. “I don’t want you out here! Put the title down and go backsta—!”

Taking advantage of the situation, Regal had slid out of the ring and came over to shove Edge right into you. The both of you fall over, with Edge landing right on top of you.

It didn’t help you held the title in your hands. That fall completely knocked the wind out of you.

“That’s no way to treat a lady, now is it, you pillock?!” Regal taunts, grabbing Edge off of you and throwing him into the announcer table.

You groan in pain as you try making your way onto your knees. Now you’re angry! You finally get up to your feet and dust yourself off. You gently set the title belt onto the apron, before running over and jumping onto Regal’s back.

You can see the flashes of many cameras, but you’re too busy trying to claw his eyes out. You try to pry his hands away from his face, but he’s just not budging. You resort to try and choking him out to no avail.

‘[Name]’s jumping on the back of William Regal! What’s she doing?!’

‘Is she insane?! What’s wrong with her?!’

Edge watches this in awe. What the hell was wrong with you? He wants to pull you off and knock (figuratively, of course) some sense into you, but it seems like you’re helping him out in the long run.

You jump off of Regal’s back and allow Edge to come forward with a clothesline. That’ll teach him! They’ll probably be fighting on the outside for quite a bit.

Man, Edge knocking into you really hurt. You may have made it worse for yourself by jumping on Regal. You’re a bit sore and out of breath, leaning on the apron for leverage. It takes you a minute to recover, but when you do, you notice that Regal sends Edge flying into the ring post that’s behind you.

You quickly get the hell out of the way. That could’ve been worse…

“Watch where you’re going!!” You yell, trying to back away from the scene. And for good measure, you stick your tongue out at Regal.

Of course, he doesn’t notice, fiddling nearby the ring’s fabric skirt and shoving something into his trunks. What did he just get out of there?!

You don’t exactly want to stick your hand down there and find out…

That collision definitely left Edge out cold. Regal grabs him by the hair and throws him into the ring, a little too close by the ropes.

Once he tries to pin him, you grab his leg and set it on the rope. Thankfully, the referee didn’t see you put it there. Just in the nick of time too…

Regal gets off, glaring at you. You just smile in response. He could’ve won there..but no! You didn’t let that happen!

He tries to powerbomb Edge this time, just a little bit further from the ropes so there’s no accident like that again, and then pins him. Fortunately, Edge kicks out at two. This is really bad..

You’re not even sure if Edge can get up. The referee comes over and tries to check on him, so Regal turns away and fishes into his trunks for what he took earlier.

You can see it as clear as day! Those were brass knuckles. If he hits Edge with that, it’s night night for him! You don’t want that to happen, so you jump up onto the ring apron to catch Regal’s attention. You need to do it long enough so Edge can recover.

“Hey!” You yell. He’s a little bit of ways from you, so it’s hard to grab him…

He turns over to you curiously, then tries to ‘shoo’ you away. But then he just stops. Regal turns to look at you and crosses his arms. “Actually, I’m glad you’re up here, young lady, I’ve got a bone to pick with you!”

Now you’ve got him! You’re interested, too. What ever could it be?!

You don’t even get to ask ‘what is it?’ before he continues to speak. “You have quite the attitude problem! You don’t jump on a gentleman’s back! There are other ways to resolve your anger!”

It makes you remember that he too, was involved in Doctor Smiley’s session. Maybe you should heed his advice….?

Yeah, right! “The only way to resolve my anger is violence!” You say, jumping off of the apron. Regal waves his hand at you and turns around to be met with…A SPEAR!

Edge finally is able to get Regal down long enough to secure the win. The crowd cheers wildly as you grab his title and hold it up to him.

He takes it and you're outta there almost immediately, circling around the ring and heading up the stage ramp.

And yet again, Edge can only look at you in awe. You’re crazy, you have to be. But he can’t help but to admire you for coming to his aid.

While you blow a kiss from the ramp, he makes the motion to catch it. He’s a little starstruck.

Perhaps you haven’t burnt all your bridges after all.

VENGEANCE // 7:34 PM

You don't even have time to feel tired tonight. With your match being right before Jeff & Matt's, you feel like you're going to be on your feet all night. Perhaps you'll get a break before the Undisputed Championship match..

You’ve already changed into your ring gear, so now you’re waiting for Raven. Normally, you’d feel calm when it comes to matches, but with him being there, it just made you all the more antsy.

“You’re shaking.”

Your head immediately turns to Raven, who had walked up to you with his hands in his pockets. It took everything in you not to run and jump on him. “I’m just a little nervous.” You reply, crossing your arms.

He doesn’t say anything at first. “You’ll be fine, babe. Don’t worry about it.” The smirk that starts to play on his face tells half a story.

You’re almost thrown for a loop when he uses a pet name. You’re sure he was just testing it out, but it feels like you have butterflies in your stomach.

“By the way, I’ve been thinking.” He continues. “You and I were in WCW, yet you’ve never spared me a glance. Why?”

You think about it for a minute. Creative in WCW never really let you stray too far from what you’re doing, despite it being a little messy. “I don’t know. The writers over there didn’t even know what they’re doing. Look at the bright side though, I’m here with you now!”

You outstretch your arms. He stares at you for a moment. You almost think he won’t hug you, yet he comes over and wraps his arms around you.

“…I want you to prove your loyalty to me.” He says.

You tilt your head. “How?” Anything he asked, you’re willing to do.

Raven detaches from you and sets his hands in your shoulders. “There’s certain people you must get rid of. They pose a threat to not only myself, but our….” He trails off. You get what he means.

You don’t want anyone to get in the way of your relationship with Raven. Not now, not ever.

“The first person is Jeff Hardy. Once a contender for the Hardcore title…..turned nuisance to the WWF. Even worse, a nuisance for us, [Name].”

You just nod your head with a smile. Whatever he says, goes. Was Jeff really the problem?

Before he can continue on, someone from production comes over to you two. “You’re on, [Name]. Get out there.” Now you can hear your muffled music echoing over the arena.

Both of you were a little startled, but put your game faces on and head through that curtain. The adrenaline is running through your veins all over again once you’re met with the crowd.

The bell rings three times and Lillian is in the ring, ready to announce. “Ladies and Gentleman, this is a match set for one fall. Making her way to the ring, accompanied by Raven, [Name]!!”

You two walk out to stand on stage. Before you continue to walk down the ramp, Raven holds out his hand. You look at him in bewilderment, but it turns into a smile as you entwine your fingers with his. You’re thrilled he even let you hold it.

‘That Jezebel’s holding Raven’s hand!’ JR exclaims. ‘She seems to be just about anywhere lately. What’s going on in that head of hers?!’

‘I told ya JR, that mental hospital will be opening as soon as we kind find those scattered loose screws of hers!’ King says. ‘And let’s put Raven in there too! Ha!’

The both of you make it to the ring. You opt to take the steps as Raven climbs onto the apron and opens the ropes for you.

You feel elated. It’s a small gesture, but it means a lot to you nonetheless. Once you get in, you walk over and motion for a mic to speak.

Raven shuffles over to sit in the corner in the meanwhile.

“…All I have to say is one thing. The day I’ve walked into the WWF, everyone wanted to know about me..but I feel like everyone liked the thought of me.” You pause for a minute, trying to gather your words. “No one saw through me like Raven did. I can feel his pain and he can feel mine.”

You throw your mic to the side (giving it a tiny kick so it can reach the edge). Torrie’s music starts to play and you walk over to Raven’s corner to sit right in between his legs.

He’s actually pretty warm. It’s also a pretty comfortable spot. You turn your head over to the front as Torrie begins to make her way to the ring.

“Making her way to the ring from, Torrie Wilson!”

You have to admit, what she’s wearing is kind of cute. The color pink really suits her. Of course, you’d never say that out loud. You’re just ready to wrestle her.

Raven nudges you slightly, and with a whispered “good luck”, he moves away and gets out of the ring to spectate.

You stand up from your spot. Things are finally starting to heat up. The crowd is a little bit anxious.

On one hand, they hope you don’t punish Torrie too much. Then on the other hand, they hope you can get your revenge. If they’re lucky enough, maybe they’ll get some clothing shed!

Not! You don’t want any wardrobe malfunctions or any ripping of clothes tonight. This is supposed to be a serious match.

The bell rung again and you two walk around in circles. You two weren’t friends right now. You were sworn enemies, nothing less, nothing more. Torrie put herself in this spot, so you were going to make sure she regret it.

It hurts you more than anything to have to fight an old friend, but in order to get your message through her thick skull, you didn’t have a choice.

You don’t want to disappoint Raven. In fact, you just wanted to impress him. Show him you could do this. That you live up to whatever hype there is.

When Torrie tackled you down almost effortlessly, that was when you knew your head needed to be in the game. There definitely was animosity behind her hits, but rest assured there will be animosity behind yours too.

…You’re gonna be honest. Torrie is as green as grass. She always has been. Nothing wrong with that, it just makes it a little harder to carry her through the match. She wasn’t alone though, Stacy (although you technically haven’t wrestled her directly) seemed pretty green too.

You can’t help but to laugh. One time, Lita referred to those two as ‘the blondies’, notoriously known for being quite new and not knowing what’s going on.

She trashed them so bad that night, then told you that you’re the only one that could really wrestle. It was sweet, but you felt kinda bad she wasn’t fond of Torrie and Stacy.

You roll over her and start hitting her back, getting your quick just desserts.

Getting off, you stare at her as she sets her hand on the ropes in an effort to recover. Torrie takes a good look at you, her eyes narrowing once she sees you laughing.

Before she could fully get up, you come over to grab a fistful of blonde hair before slamming her right back to the mat. You’re not quite done with her yet. This is only the first stage of pain you’ll put her through tonight!

You saw a wrestler do this move a very long time ago, but you can’t remember their name for some reason. You put one foot on each side of her head and step on her hair, then lift her arms up.

The referee starts to yell at you to “let go” and to “watch the hair”.

You eventually let up, Torrie writhing around on the mat in pain. You come over and lift her face up. “C’mon, Torrie!“ You scream, slapping her for good measure. “That all you got?! Get up!”

You decide to force her to stand up, grabbing her and lifting her from the ground. She’s able to shove her forearm into your stomach, causing you to keel over.

Torrie really did get up. She grabs your hair and slams you down to the mat. It’s her turn to be in charge and she’s going to try and lay down the law.

She squishes your face closer to the canvas and uses your hair to roughly scrub it across. “You’re horrible!” She screamed. “Do you see what I have to do to you!? This is your fault!”

Torrie finally lets go of you so you can breathe for a second. The referee is chewing her out for this move, so she starts to argue with him. You slowly recover off of the ground, and since you don’t think you have enough time to get up, you use your foot in order to kick her in the shin.

She crashes down immediately, holding onto her shin.

While she’s down, you turn your head towards the front, Raven’s watching intently. Once you start to fully stand up, you can see him duck down for some reason.

But it wasn’t his fault. He was completely blindsided by someone with multi-colored hair. This person knocks him to the ground and starts laying into him with punches.

Oh no. No, no, no…

This can’t be happening.

‘Jeff Hardy has just attacked Raven!’ JR exclaimed. ‘What is going on here?!’

You don’t even know what to do. You grip the ropes, just about to abandon the match, but before you know it, Torrie’s had taken advantage. She rolls you up and then….one, two, three. You kicked out far too late.

No fucking way.

Did that really just happen?! Torrie can’t believe that happened either. Before she starts to celebrate her victory, you immediately tackle her to the ground to try and choke her out.

The referee has to pull you off of her, but you couldn’t care less. You’ll handle her right after you try and break up the fight THAT WAS STILL HAPPENING AT THE OUTSIDE OF THE RING.

You slide out of the ring in and run over towards them, doing your best to pull off the assailant to no avail.

“STOP IT! Stop!” You scream. You’re doing your best to get in between them….to no avail. Raven’s able to get up off the floor and starts punching Jeff back. They’re squabbling and you’re panicking.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Why did Jeff do that?! He didn’t even give poor Raven a chance to fight! At least he’s getting his hits in now..

Some referees have to come from the back and attempt to pull the men away from each other.

The rowdy crowd is looking on, cheering at the sight. One of the referees have to tell you to back away so you don’t get hit, so you do.

Aaaand you’re bleeding.

Oops, you may be mistaken. You’re pretty sure one of them is bleeding, but you can’t tell who. With the referees crowding around them, it’s hard to discern who it was. All you can see is some blood smeared on your arm and hand.

You simply walk away and reach under the ring to yank out a kendo stick. Torrie’s still sputtering in the ring, and with most of the referee’s attention on settling the two men, you come back into the ring for a little bit extra.

You absolutely fucking hated how this finished! This was growing increasingly stressful, so you had to deploy the cure.

Violence!

For now, you toss the kendo stick to the side. You get down and pull Torrie’s arm right under your leg, getting into position for a Yes Lock. But it’s not any old submission.

You take the kendo stick and pull it under her neck. She flails under you, so you try and lighten the hold just a little bit so she wouldn’t be too hurt later. You try to be nice, sometimes.

There’s so much going on inside and outside of the ring, no one even knows where to focus.

One of the referee’s finally notice what you’re doing. “Hey! HEY!!!” He yells, coming back in. He forces you to release your hold on Torrie and she continues to cough, trying to gasp for more air.

….You definitely lied. You’re not excited for tonight at all.

You’re not in a good mood anymore.

Y’ALL KNOW I HAD TO FLIP THA SCRIPTT. we originally were gonna win but i said NAHHH. jeff just fucked everything up. this is important heehee.

i need a goddamn cigarette after this. hope you guys saw a slight golden reference, golden!reader does the hair mare /pull thing lol it’s like HER MOVE

regarding jeff and raven. THIS IS INTENSE. THIS IS REALLY INTENSE. ALL IM THINKIN ABT RIGHT NOW IS A 12 POUND BAG OF SEAFOOD BOIL. SPICY. who ready for the matt vs jeff & undisputed championship match thooo??????

#wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe imagines #wwe attitude series #wwf imagines #wwf imagine #wwf x reader #im so mature #im so mature i got me a therapist to tell me there’s other men #2020 vision city girls winnin #coppin us both shit #BITCH WE TWINNINNNNN #— something [name] probably said to Lita idk #if you’re wondering yes. reader is dressing up as Lita #lita x reader #lita imagine #jeff hardy imagine #jeff hardy x reader #matt hardy x reader #matt hardy imagine #triple h x reader #triple h imagine #wwe edge x reader #wwe edge imagine #wwe raven imagine #wwe raven x reader #chris jericho x reader #chris jericho imagine #trish stratus x reader #trish stratus imagine

[myrcenegirl]

well my weekend was greatttttttttt

 the plans for the joint bday dinner got moved to the next day so that left me open for the rave saturday and i told my friend about it and he actually said he wanted to go. so my friend who moved dinner invited me to dinner abruptly so i was like well i made time for him today already lets go see him and got dinner with him and someone else and it was good and fun. went to get my friend for the rave. my other friend whos my main rave friend now told me she has a new bf whos just under 21 lol and wasnt sure if she should try to get him in. so i figured she wouldnt be coming. we get there super small but cute and it looks like all out of state kandi kids which is fun and the music was fun. im talking with my friend who didnt go and shes asking if like the security is cool or not and everything i tell her like yeah this dude looks like a hard ass it wont work probably but hey theres this guy here who kinda looks like him. i figure everyone here is like ya know very down and cool and so i ask the guy and he says hes from out of state and if something happened he woulnt want to deal with it like okayyyyyyyyyy whatever i understant lol.... so i tell her that and im like well hey youre not really far if you want me to come pick you up and we play it by ear i dont mind but i dont really want to like get your hopes up that youll both get inside so she says yes we go get them and she lives with a friend who stopped going out and we got to see him which is always nice, he got hit by a car that day.... but it was very light i guess and he was laughing about it.... men. shes like well i have to go to the bathroom so lets see if i can get inside and she couldve bought a ticket sure but we didnt want her to pay in case he couldnt get in so we tried to sneak her in what we did was she went in between me and my friend our arms around her and it was only a little stamp for rentry and we had already been inside a few times and the guy maybe would just recognize us. so we walk in confidently i hold up my hand to show i have a stamp and the three of us walk in without a problem so we got her in for free. her boyfriend was left outside since i didnt want it to be too big so i went outside to hangout with him for a while cause the security was like going to sit down on a nearby couch sometimes she stayed inside to keep lookout. a while goes by she doesnt say hes left the door but shes like im going to distract him try right now! so me and my friend do it again lol her little tiny boyfriend between us and we walk in and shes over by the couch with the guy trading kandi with him chatting him up lmao and we get him inside no problem. SO NOT ONLY did we get them inside it was for free! then i got to talk to a local who played and i just had to gush to her a little about the last time i saw her at a desert party and how i literally had tears in my eyes while i was dancing and she was like omg that is so nice well thank you for being the only one dancing that night (lol she remembered me....) and then she told me about the next two shows shes playing at and one is in cali and right on my bday so i might try and plan for that! and omg i also talked to another local dj who i have been trying to muster the drunken courage to talk to because he has one of my all time favorite hardcore songs and it literal does not exist anywhere on the internet so i knew the only option was to ask him directly and he was like omg dude like i actually had a hard drive crash in 2011 and im not even sure if i have that song but hey get me on facebook and ill see about it. so i have to remember to do that! and the rest of the night was very cute my friend stayed the whole time we literally have not been out together in sooooooo damn long. got home and couldnt sleep might have been the little 1/4 adderall i took lol but fell asleep at 11am and i knew the dinner plans that got moved were not going to happen but my friend text me like hey heres the time and place but i know you were out late last night so its all good and yeah i slept until like 1030 which i have been up since then... so here it is monday ready for class im probably going to get dead tired at 4pm but im going to work tonight if it kills me!!!

#another little adventurous night! good food good music good friends plans working out cant ask for more than that!

[ginwhitlock]

summary: human!JASPER/ human!BELLA. Bella is called to deliver day supplies to a very tired and mostly lost 1st Regiment Calvary, headed by no other than Major Jasper Whitlock. What will the two do once left alone to go over maps of the Tennessee hills?

fic type: oneshot, SMUT 18+

warnings: is set in the civil war, which means Jasper is a soldier in the confederacy literally only because he’s from Texas I promise, it would’ve been weird to make him union and apart of the Texas Calvary as that wasnt a union regiment, I do not support the confederacy or any of its beliefs, its just part of his backstory and this fic is centered directly in his human life (the confederacy itself is not mentioned in detail, it is just alluded to the fact). This is a smut fic but not hardcore in anyway so be warned. Oh also I made Bella and Emmett siblings. Of course. 

She almost broke his nose kissing him.

She almost shattered bone and cartilage clicking their teeth together, enamel scraping enamel.

She almost caved in the center of his face so she could lick the insides of his molars, separate his jaws to find the pit of his throat, dangle her self righteousness by his uvula.

And to think she almost didn’t go out that morning.

Isabella Marie was the kind of pretty you didn’t see right away. The layers of fine muscle and fragile skin hiding the richness of her blood-red cheeks, crisp even in the horrible heat of August. And with that heat came hot headed Calvary men with unlined coat pockets and a hunger for pretty little girls.

She met Major Whitlock three miles outside of town, the local preacher sending her out to their camp with as many baskets as her daddy’s two mules could hold on their hips. She was flushed, the slot of her breastbone slick with afternoon sweat— her riding boots did nothing but slosh around with her pale feet inside, leather no match for Tennessee mountain hidin weather.

Maybe she should’ve dropped ice down her shift. Maybe she should’ve played dead and waited for God to put her on her ass.

The thin brunette was graced with the presence of an even skinner red head the moment Stubborn Ass’s (as she affectionally called her steed in private) hooves entered the temporary camp. The mans hair fell limply in front of his eyes which were slightly sunken, the blue of his irises molting into a starved shade of dust. His lips were worse. Once pink and slightly plump, now skinny and cracked with the less than dusty air.

“Is this the 1st Regiment Calvary? From Texas?” Her voice was strained and feverish, salt dripping off her Cupid’s bow.

The man nodded and offered a hand, “Names Sargent Henry Arquette. Nice to see you Miss, the boys haven’t been able to get any supplies up here for days,” Bella grasped his hand tightly, afraid her unskilled balance would come into play, and forced her weight down to the ground ungracefully, “you’re the sheriffs daughter, right miss?” His smile seemed correct handing off his skinny face, his teeth crooked and off centered, but sweet. She quirked her lip in return.

“Yes Sargent, I seem to be your supply wagon today. There’s more back in town but I was told you wouldn’t be in for a day or so.” Flushed and overdressed, that’s how she felt. Every second.

Henry took in the view of the well fed half breeds and gestured off handedly, something she would come to learn was an action he didn’t even notice he performed. “Day. Days. Who knows until we ration it. These trails are less trails and more raccoon paths. I’m just waiting to see why the hell we’ve been sent so far east to begin with.” He had no recognition what was proper to say in front of the young lady at his side, the year had been sucked dry of any feminine… life, to say lightly. A piece of his brain nudged him for speaking so plainly, but Bella never once looked offended and twitched her head in both sympathy and understanding. She had been raised in these hills. She knew their damnation like the back of her hand. Maybe even the back of her skull.

“I’ve heard about raids up in McMinnville. Bases and such lining up and down the mountain. My brother’s part of the 16th Regiment Calvary up there actually, you know. Things are heating up in our little slice of the world.” The little thing spoke like a sparrow, her nose pointed and soft, the bottom of her front teeth pillowing into her bottom lip. At the age of seventeen she seemed somehow both grounded and unsure.

The south was ripping itself apart. And she— and the Sargent, knew it.

Bella could see the redhead start to comment on her brothers hand me down gossip when a giant of a man— boy? Man? Definitely man, by the looks of his muscled shoulders and high jaw, the darkened cast shifting just under the skin of his cheeks, the low dip of a scar just below his brow— a brow which furrowed, twisted, and arched back up into his tanned forehead when he noticed the mules waiting restlessly, tails swinging behind a girl in a kinder man's idea of a dress and interrupted the lower soldiers train of thought.

“You must be Miss Isabella McCarty. I spoke to your father when we arrived last night.” Clipped and forward were his words, his hand outstretched in front of him, decorated in mis-matched freckles and calluses she could feel pressing into the column of her throat as she placed her small palm in his. “Major Jasper Whitlock, at your assistance.”

No smile graced his face but by God she would witness his lips stretch over his teeth if it was the last thing she ever did.

Still with her hand in his she whispered “You can call me Bella. Or Bella Marie. Or Isabella Marie oh or my mother calls me Belle or sometimes when my father is upset with me he calls me Marie McCarty like my grandmother used to and um..” her tongue had to have swelled to the size of a watermelon in the three seconds it took to look him in the eyes— the swamp green eyes in fact. Eyes the color of duckweed and marigold stems and whatever leaves would stick to the blackberries in the spring.

He laughed. And it sounded like a white flag waving in her insides. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Maybe the preacher was a righteous man after all.

“I like Isabella Marie. Miss Isabella Marie.” Like rain drops on a tin ceiling.

The Arquette boy looked between the two before edging towards the black mules “Any orders where to put these, Major?” Skinny lips. Skinny spine.

Jasper had finally looked up from the strawberry cheeked girl in front of him, released their hands, and knocked his head backwards, towards the other soldiers checking tents and cleaning their own horses.

“Just take em back to the storage tent. Not like it’ll be competing for space.” The Major looked back at his men “Calhoun, Jennings, help Arquette move these rations will you? Make yourself useful for once.” His voice didn’t have to boom and condense like a rung out air horn, the cool of his vocal cords carried and personally plucked the not yet men from their activities and dragged them towards the group of three. Like some sort of magic act.

Bella was far from resigned. “So Major Whitlock, what would you like me to do?” Hopeful eyes, always searching to please. Or to piss off— as Emmett always scorned.

An upturn of lips flashed through Jaspers face and he looked to the sky for a mere moment “Mind helping me sort out some of my maps back in camp? My backwoods knowledge ain’t as sharp as my Houston kind and you seem like an expert in this area, getting yourself up to us all alone.” Bella’s feet started to move on instinct towards the felted wool tent covering a hundred or so feet behind the large man, but his hand stopped her at the shoulder, “And, if you don’t mind, would you be my guide back to town this evening? I’ve got to scout the path for the boys to pull through by the end of this week.”

She should’ve thought longer about it, linger over his words, the way his tongue flicked over his canines and brushed noticeably at the edge of his front teeth. But she didn’t. Not now. Not when the time it would’ve taken could pick at the carefully constructed wall built specifically for boys with serpent tongues. And lion hands. And bear teeth and… he still waiting for her response.

A shake to her head “Of course Major. If you’ll help me bring the mules back home, you’d be more help to me than I think I’d ever be to you.”

He could taste her self doubt. And he didn’t like it.

A jut of his brow led them through the ragged campsite, broken down cinders coating the bottom of her unusually worn boots, the lace of her dress clashing horribly with the scent of charred flesh and resting wounds. If only she knew a doctor. If only the town still had one.

His tent was one of the stronger ones, every inch placated with the spine of a book or a map binder or a drape of letters. He needed a desk and a real bed and maybe someone to make sure he stayed warm during the mountain nights.

Jaspers hands found a tiny stack of drawn maps and laid them over his now folded lap on the ground. Bella swiftly found her place at his bended knee and ran a finger over the torn edge. “These look older than my father. It doesn’t even mark the trail you follow to town.” The squishy flesh of her thumb traced an invisible oil line through the mountain and deposited itself in a town with seemingly no name, according to the parchment. “That’s home. If you’re following these maps I don’t quite understand how you ever got here.” Her eyes were full, engorged on road markers and faded city names.

Jasper softly nodded, their heads just inches from each other as she leaned in to scour the map. He had barely gotten to the camp they were in, his right hand Henry doing nearly all of the sight work. He’d be a hell of a tracker if he was a bloodhound. The blond almost chucked at the thought of Henry with big floppy mutt ears, yelping at the pretty girl almost in Jasper’s lap.

Her hair was like a chocolate waterfall. The good chocolate that mama got sent to her from her sister up north, the kind that was broken off continuously, piece after piece fed to him and his sisters until nothing was left.

Part of him wanted to see if she tasted as sweet.

He’d blame it on how damn long it’s been since he’s smelled anything other than soured sores and gunpowder. Even if Miss Isabella Marie smelled good enough to eat. Good enough to take like a man starved. And God— Jasper hungered like no other.

“There’s a river through the valley here, if you can find yourself through the woods.” Bella had found a piece of graphite and drawn in the harsh line of a hidden waterway just a mile or so from camp. She looked up at him as she spoke, her eyes warmly whiskey colored through her lashes.

His mouth clenched. “How old are you Miss McCarty?”

She blinked rapidly, like coming out of a daze. “Seventeen.”

Her hand dropped the instrument to the paper and draw up to his knee, the covered bone sharp under her knuckles.

“Do you have a boy at home waiting for you, Miss McCarty?” Hot air blew from his mouth to hers like a heatwave. Like a curse.

Bella’s lips formed a small “No” as she slid her small hand up the Major’s thigh, her singular ring gliding like margarine inch my inch as the seconds ticked by, each breath marking the two closer.

“Do you have a wife, Major?” Only whisper escaped her rosebud mouth, his face turning downwards, noses only separated by spirit.

“I was too busy waiting for you, it seems, Miss Bella.”

Her heart thumped her chest hard enough to make her ears ring.

Bella’s fist jumped from Jasper’s thigh to his army issued button up and crushed his chest to her own, her lips finding purchase slotted against his, the force clinking their front teeth together without care. His hands were gripping the roots of her soft waves, their skulls as close as their skin would let them. She wanted more, more, the heat suffocating the tent from more than the August sun. Her thin fingers slipped easily through the button gaps as his tongue invaded the privacy of her mouth. A horrible demented part of her brain screamed ‘Take, Take, Take. Mark me down and climb into the spaces that were meant to fit just us.’ Her brother had always called her too much of a dreamer. Too much of a poet and a believer and an artist. But God. This man was in her hands and she felt like a masterpiece.

A man she hardly knew.

But somehow, the scrape of his knuckles against her soon to be bare thighs felt like they had known each other at birth. Like Texas and Tennessee were just minutes from each other. As if they were the only bodies in the whole entire war.

Jasper’s hands were of no gentleman’s when he unfastened the ribbons holding her skirt to her waist, the under coat used for riding coming off like silk in his calloused palms. She was moaning into his mouth, the world outside the tent becoming buttery soft and not to be worried about. All there was was Jasper and his fucking mouth moving to her neck and his teeth toying around her jaw.

“Jesus, Major” He chuckled at her swear and rid her completely of every layer but her shift and the wool of her stockings, the small corset she wore becoming just cannon fodder for the mouth and hands of the Cavalryman.

“I love when you call me that, darlin. Wanna hear you scream it.” She had barely gotten open a single button on his shirt before he brushed the maps out of the way and flipped her on her back underneath him, the sway of his curled mane teasing her, the golden wheat just barely out of the reach of her teeth or fingers.

She wanted to use it like reins.

She’d especially like calling him by his rank then.

“You know I—“ her breathing caught the better of her as he lifted her by her thighs and dragged her ass to his kneeled position, his fingers running up her stockings with particular care, each inch another layer to her growing wetness. She didn’t let go of her breath until he had reached the skirting of her underdress, the white cotton nearly see through with the sweat sticking to every inch of her skin. His watery eyes devoured the sight with an indescribable hunger. Like a wolf hanging over a bleeding lamb.

What a happy sacrifice she’d be.

“Are you a good little southern girl, Isabella?” His fingertips brushed just under the fabric, his intent not easily hidden behind his hardened brow.

She came out trembling, she couldn’t tell over excitement or fear. “Yes Sir. No ones ever…” even her mother would blush saying those words.

Jasper finally smiled, sharp and soul quenching, like a mist of rain before a hurricane.

“I’m going to ruin you.” He couldn’t tell her about the wedding playing out behind his eyes or the static electric resonance he felt thinking about how another man would never get to lay a hand on his pretty Isabella.

His fingers slipped over her cunt, the soft curling hair tickling his fingertips. The moist warmth wet his fingers before skirting over her lips. He almost groaned. She was soaked. He had to see what his little Belle looked like in the light.

Jasper’s eyes met Bella’s giant blown out doe ones, her elbows holding up her upper body, trying to anticipate his very next move.

If they were playing chess, he was going to win. And she had always been a sore loser.

The skirt of the shift creased with the heat of his palms against her stomach, the slightly cooler air blowing across her pussy, making Bella suck in a breath through her teeth, her bottom lip becoming stuck under them with practiced strength.

Her knees knocked against Jasper’s hips as he watched the pink of her pussy clench around nothing, her wet little hole puckering and buzzing with the want of something under his trousers. He licked his lips as he had a gathered two fingers at her slit and traced upwards, her breath coming out in pants as he reached her clit, the engorged nub nearly ringing in her ears. A small circle over it make her moan from her throat. Bella had never felt someone else’s touch, she had never realized how much she wanted for it. She never knew how much she wanted Jasper to touch her.

The solider took his time as he brought the pads of his fingers back down to her achingly small hole and gathered some of her slick, the smell of sweat and Bella nearly driving him half insane as he brought a finger to his mouth, his tongue licking her clean off.

If Bella could speak to God directly and have him reply, she’d thank him for the creation of Major Jasper Whitlock.

But all she could do was cry out for more. And more he silently promised to give.

Maybe too much.

He had to stretch her out, the head of his cock wouldn’t fit into her without an orgasm in her, not now at least. Jasper slowly brought his hand back a third time and entered a single finger, her hips nearly bucking against his wrist as he slowly sat himself. A bead of sweat ran off his brow. A second finger partnered with the first after a few pumps, in and out, in and out. The near wetness coated on those fingers alone could bring him to release in his cot. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Isabella I have to—“ “Please Major I need—“

The two looked at each other, their mouths in sync as they sat, their souls intertwining and bundling up into a bramble of wonderful thorns, coy smiles gracing both their faces.

Bella sat up slowly and draped a hand over Jasper’s belt buckle. “May I, Major?” The shorty craftsmanship of the iron buckle became putty under her unskilled hands as he nodded, now without words for the angel in front of him. The belt was off before the two noticed and Jasper brought his issued pants down to his ankles and off with his shoes to rest with the scraps of her dress he had taken off so quickly.

“Do you… always go bare?” The squeak of Bella’s voice made Jasper snicker like the teenage boy he technically still was, the nineteen year old clicking his teeth together and grinning. “Miss McCarty, sometimes underpinnings only get in the way of an army man.” A deep blush settled into her cheeks as she slapped at his chest, his shirt hanging open just slightly as he pushed her back to the floor.

“Shush, Whitlock.”

His smile turned feral as the head of his cock graced the hood of her clit, bouncing just slightly with the breath of their bodies. Jasper marked in his head that this should be a sight to see on their wedding night, not their first night together, but by God was it a beautiful one.

He looked at her as he grasped one of her hips with his right hand and the base of his cock with his left. “Breathe, Belle. Breathe with me, alright?” She nodded her head slowly and brought her own hand to the tent floor, grasping tightly.

Jasper’s hand guided the head carefully over her lips and to her quivering entrance. One buck and he’d tear her to badly to bear. No matter how long it had been… he’d never rush with his Isabella. Not now.

He slowly pushed in, the stretch a burn like no other, Bella’s voice turning from a quick steal of breath to a long sigh, the air being pushed out as he took her in. Inch by inch she devoured him, the heat marking his cock in emotional third degree burns. The sky burned brighter, the colors in his eyes turned clearer. Her hips and her fragile skin and the slip of her cunt was the end of the world and the birth of something entirely new. She grasped his shoulders as he mumbled a slew of impressive praise as he allowed her to adjust and seated himself at the very base of her cervix. Her throat screamed out to him as her nails dug in his back.

A wonderful, wonderful burn.

Bella slipped a hand to Jasper’s hip to push him back, to set any and all pace so that the fire would keep burning. He quickly slotted his face in the clench of her neck and began to move his pale hips, beginning to push and pull within her very tight walls.

The tent was full of grunts and moans and breathy screams he was sure the entirely camp heard. But Jesus Christ he didn’t give a single damn at that very moment. His boys knew to stay out of his shit and they be proven that every second until his angel’s orgasm.

God he wanted to fill her up. Wanted to take all of his cum and bury it deep where the lord intended, leave her leaking and exhausted and full of everything he had. He’d empty his balls in her again and again if it meant the Tennessee flower in his arms would keep him forever.

He wanted her forever.

“Major, deeper, please God please yes YES.” Jasper’s hips were snapping at a rapid pace, his balls slapping against her ass as he drove her into the hard ground. He could feel her tighten up the way he felt the air change around him before a fight broke out, the way a horse steps on a snake without jumping. There was an electricity in the air and the moment Bella tore his head out from her and pulled him into a jaw crushing kiss, he was crumbling at her feet, her pussy clenching and spasming around his cock with enough force to take out a grizzly bear.

She locked her legs around his hips as he all but collapsed into her, his hair sweaty between her fingers as she combed through it as his dick twitched it’s last time inside her belly. Jasper’s own hands found repentance under her ass and stayed there, too tired to remove himself from her heat.

“That ride home is gonna be sweaty, isn’t it?” Her whisper made her snort and bite into the side of her neck as she giggled.

#btw the link on the summary is always the ao3 link #i cross post things there #jasper/bella #my writing #mine #writing #fic #twilight #thetwilightsaga #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper Whitlock #jasper Cullen #bella swan #confederacy tw #smut tw #smut

[tanoraqui]

okay I have to do this today because even I wouldn’t do it after the godforsaken finale airs, and it’s basically my specialty and I did spend like an hour thinking about it last night while washing dishes. Definitely partly inspired by @words-writ-in-starlight​‘s insightful post on everything Supernatural did wrong, and apologies in advance to all the characters for dragging them into anything related to Christian mythology:

Wei Wuxian’s parents die in a house fire when he’s 6(? I refuse to look anything up) months old

Jiangs are a hunter family I guess? That whole disaster of a family dynamic, except WWX dips out at some point to be idk an environmental activist bc at the time, that seems like the larger threat to the whole world. “Mom and Dad went on a hunting trip and they haven’t come back”, “bitch” “jerk”, 2 brothers in a beat-up old car, you know the drill

Jins are also an old hunting family, but more Men of Letters energy - they have a fancy bunker and do research and avoid getting their actual hands dirty. Jiang Yanli ducked out of the active hunting life a few years ago to be happily married to her peacock and settled down with a baby and she’s fine. We’re not going to bother Yanli. She’s safe and happy and doesn’t need to involved in any of this

so, WWX is the demon blood child developing exciting new abilities like telekinesis, mind control, exorcising demons by sheer force of will...etc, and Jiang Cheng is the Righteous Man. Lucifer, Michael, etc.

s1-3 probably proceeds more or less as spn canon...which I more or less remember...by the time they find their parents at the end of s1, Jiang Fengmian is...ugh, we probably shouldn’t kill him offscreen, I mean, we should probably meet him before he dies. I guess. Madam Yu lasts longer because I’m way more interested in her. But we do know that both Jiang parents are totally inclined to fling the boys into a metaphorical or literal escape boat and go hold the line for as long as possible, so...that’s spn energy...

Xue Yang is the one who’s like “fuck yeah, demon powers” and opens the gates of Hell, because I want him to have nice* things

*nice for Xue Yang

from characterization rather than memory, I’m 90% sure that Dean tried to hide his crossroads deal from Sam, but Jiang Cheng does it...better. I think it does come out, though. Right before the hellhounds do.

here’s where it starts to go farther off from spn canon. Jiang Cheng crawls his way out of the grave, gets stalked by a menacing presence that explodes windows for an episode, incidentally can’t find WWX...*Lan Wangji voice* “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition” (a baller line then and a baller line now)...and then the next episode starts with them all awkwardly standing around, and JC is like, “ok well let’s go find my brother then”, and you think there’s going to be an mdzs-riffing JC+LWJ Roadtrip To Find WWX...and they’re immediately attacked by like a dozen demons

in fact, the first time we see WWX in s4 is here, wherein he goes toe to toe with an angel and...holds his own. that’s new and terrifying! also is leading a squad of demons??

because here’s the thing: for the last 3(?) months, there’s been war in hell

because unlike Some People Mooses, upon finding out that his brother’s soul was legally nearly-owned by a crossroads demon, heir-apparent-to-Satan!WWX went, “actually fuck that” and kicked open the door of Hell (metaphorically, not loosing any demons this time) and was like, “who do I have to beat the shit out of to get a specific crossroads contract around here”

this did not work, obv. He didn’t know until it was too late, Lilith had already snapped up the contract, etc. etc.

obviously he also tried to offer himself instead, and got rejected for some reason

Since Jiang Cheng died, however, there’s been a war for control of Hell. Leading one side, Lilith, the Original Babe, who wants to break all 666(?) seals keeping Lucifer bound and in the meantime, break the Righteous Man so Heaven won’t even have Michael’s destined host ready for the Final Battle. Leading the other side, Wei Wuxian, infamous upstart, who wants to rescue the Righteous Man and restore him to life, tear Lilith’s guts out through her nose, and also stop her from doing the Lucifer thing because Wen Qing explained that yes, that’s a Thing, and it’s Bad.

Wen Qing! I’ve decided to combine Bela and Ruby’s roles and let WQ be both the cool badass example of how demon deals can go Bad and the demon deliberately leading our heroes astray for most of s3-4. Wen Qing is a very new demon; she used to be some sort of herbalist/witch but then she sold her soul in a crossroads deal to cure her brother of some lingering illness. 10 years of happiness and then boom, hellhounds. WQ is so obviously competent, though, that they (Lilith, I guess?) immediately offers her a job, with the promise threat that gee, that’s a nice brother you’ve got there, even with his Designated Chronic Health Condition getting all relapse-y. It’d be such a shame if something were to...happen to him...

we find this out at some point in last s3 I guess? some Monster of the Week case involves WN as a witness or something, or possible next victim, and WQ shows up to be A Normal Amount Of Invested In This, while desperately trying to avoid actually interacting with her brother (who thinks she’s dead). YES, the truth comes out; YES there’s a tearful reunion

now in s4, Wen Ning is fine actually, health-wise, bc he maybe made a crossroads deal with Wei Wuxian personally, and Wen Qing may or may not have admitted that she’s supposed to be working for Lilith to get WWX ready to host Lucifer? Or potentially that comes out later, idk. Either way, she’s 100% his top lieutenant in this exciting Hell War they’re waging

[insert whatever the hell (ha) happened plot-wise in s4 of supernatural]

we obviously mix up the relationships, too, bc it’s like, *LWJ internal monologue* I’m too young to remember my brother Lucifer as he was before he Fell, but surely Wei Wuxian is his Heir and Destined Vessel in truth, for he is Charismatic and Charming and Makes Me Feel Things, with his Clearly Feigned Righteous Drive and Compassion for All God’s Creatures and - why does heat keep pooling in the lower abdomen of my vessel when I look at his lips, which I am definitely doing a Normal and Not-Weird Amount - I’m just keeping an eye out for the famed Silver Tongue, and not in any way wondering how it would feel in my own mouth -

it’s actually DEFINITELY plausible for Lucifer to still be released even if our designated Heir Apparent is using his demon powers to his full potential and no one’s lying to each other about their motives. You just need to let Lilith be more scary too, and especially bc by “no one” I mostly mean Wen Qing; the angels are still totally hiding the fact that they, too, want to jumpstart the shit out of this apocalypse.  LWJ decides at the last minute that that’s a bad idea actually, gets himself discorporated to send JC to intercept WWX because he accidentally releases Lucifer, etc. etc. Oh yeah, the boys were def fighting before this, bc JC has actually fairly reasonable concerns about the sort of things WWX is getting up to in his quest to become King of Hell...

SO

...I neither know nor care what happens in s5

it does end with both Lucifer and Michael locked in the cage probably, bc I rather liked that solution. Fuck both of ‘em, basically.

I was toying with the idea that WWX also found Madam Yu in whatever hellish torment she was suffering after making a deal so her idiot son(s) would survive, and she was leading forces for him in the war against Lilith as well. If she came back to life somehow, body and all, it’d probably be compelling if she offered her own body to Michael - bc it’s her lineage! - and we’re all led to believe that she’s, uh, being a bitch and actually wants to risk destroying the world in order to destroy all demons...but then she seizes back control and flings herself/Michael and Lucifer into the Pit, because she’s just That Hardcore?

which means we’d actually have had her around and having characterization for most of s4-5, too, which would be fun

More importantly, it ends with newly crowned King of Hell Wei Wuxian appointing Wen Qing as Queen-Regent and ditching to go on an indefinite honeymoon with his new angel boyfriend (they’re going to fuck for like three weeks straight, then roll up their sleeves and go conquer Heaven in the name of free will), and Jiang Cheng gets to live out his hitherto-unknown-to-himself life’s ambition to be the sugar baby of the Queen of Hell. It’s very Hades/Persephone, except he goes back down to the underworld at least once a month. He gets his own demon squad whom he trains up in all the hunting techniques and it’s gr9. Wen Qing is reforming the crossroads deal process to make it more fair to the humans.

the end

Addenda:

it should go without saying but Jiang Yanli is definitely a recurring character, like, at least once a season there’s a filler episode where they go to Jiang Yanli’s for dinner and have to get along as a family, and also do the much easier job of defeating some sort of terrible demon that gets loose in the bunker and turns the evening into a horror movie. She’s their main research/emotional check-in person, a la Bobby, more often appearing in later seasons when there’s, uhhh, more to emotionally check in about.

Jin Zixuan is actually a perfectly competent hunter; he’s just a priss and we don’t Like him

we like Mianmian, though. Oh, I guess the official Hunter’s Guild or w/e tries to declare WWX a public enemy on account of the whole “King of Hell” thing and she’s like “actually what if you’re morons and assholes?” and joins hte team in s4 or 5? Yeah.

idk how the 3zun disaster happens in this ‘verse but I do encourage it to be happening in slow motion as a recurring subplot for several seasons. NMJ is a hunter, LXC is obv an angel, and JGY is...I wanna say one of the more human monsters, like a vampire? Or, you know, something that could be born from JGS sleeping with someone/something he shouldn’t have

#mdzs #the untamed #supernatural #ficlet #my fic #spn #ugh it'll probably fuck up hte bullet points again

[unmaskedagain]

No, Bruce! You can’t Adopt her.

This isn’t salt, Cupcake. But I’m going to do a quick drabble of this anyway because it’s an awesome idea.

The suit was a deep dark red. Darker than it used to be from what they had seen saw from the previous news reports reviewed. Her mask was black. Her eyes a startling blue and her hair a shade just touch short of being as dark as night. The girl looked to be no older than thirteen or fourteen.

Somehow she had shown up on the scene just before any of the batfamily could and immediately solve the riddles, freed the innocent civilization, dismantle the bomb with rubber duck and a hair pin, dodged the trap, and was now fighting off the Riddler and his men.

And as they watched her kick the Riddler in the face and then yo-yo away, only to spin around and do it a second time, all the batkids knew they’d have to step in.

“You can’t adopt her, B-Man,” The Redhood pinched his nose.

           Robin opened to his mouth his defend his father but quickly shut it. His four adopted brothers, an adopted sister, one sort of adopted “cousin”, and the hardcore way his father had been pushing Luke spend more and more time at the manner to the point where Lucius Fox had taken to glaring at the Dark Knight.

“…She needs a mentor,” Came Batman’s gruff response.

“You need a therapist.”

           They winced when Ladybug broke the arm of a 300 pound bodybuilder and slam him on the ground.

           Nightwing gave his dad a grin, “I’d love a new sister, OUCH!” His hand went his thigh and saw blood. He glared at Robin. “Did you stab me?”

           Robin slowly sheathed his sword. “…No.”

“Let go!” Riddler screamed as he clawed at the floor as the red menace dragged across the floor by his legs.

“Stop squirming!” Marinette barked. “You’re going to jail!”

           Somehow the Riddler managed to free himself. Then it was Ladybug chasing the Riddler around the tower.

“Come back here, you fashion disaster.”

           The caused the Riddler to pause and give the hero the most hurt look anyone of the batfamily had ever seen on him.

“Black Bat would love a sister.”

“Leave me out of this,” Cassandra’s voice rang in their ears. She was patrolling with Batwoman across the city.

           The fight ending with The Riddler hogtied, and dangling from the ceiling, while Ladybug chastised him on the rudeness of strapping people to bombs.

           Batman smirked.

“No!” Red Robin decided to step in, “She probably has parents. You can keep doing this B.”

“And another thing,” Ladybug hissed. “I’ve seen Disney villains with more style than you; you walking neon glowstick.”

           That was when Batman decided to step in. The Riddler visibly brightened at seeing him, “Bats, I don’t like this Robin. She’s mean. Bring back the boy Robin”

“That one lit you on fire.”

“…She made me cry.”

           Ladybug glared at the bad guy.

           Oh yes that was it, Batman was going to adopt Ladybug.

           Bruce Wayne was going to adopt Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl and the rest of her class had taken the Wayne internship program that lasted a little more than a month a half during summer.

           Marinette was the star. Unlike the other interns, Marinette was never late. She never complained. If someone needed research done, she was the first to volunteer and was exceptional at it. Tamara, Tim’s assistant, swore by her. The girl took to assisting the assistant to the CEO like fish to water. When they need a big name to perform at the Waynes’ annual charity Gala, after theirs backed out on short notice, Marinette had saved the day.

           She didn’t interrupt. She had merely leaned down and whispered in Tamara’s here, who then addressed the rest of the room.

“My assistant Marinette,” Tamara nodded with a relieved smile at the young girl. “Would like us to direct our attention to the front screen.”

           They all did. A few months later, the screen split and Clara Nightingale was on the screen, looking as glamourous as ever.

“Marinette,” She beamed. “Love, you are as gorgeous as ever. Now what’s this about a party in Gotham?”

           Before she could answered, there was a beep on the screen as another call came in. Marinette scrambled to disconnect it, “One moment. Sorry.” Tamara got up to help, only for the call to connect anyway.

           That was when Jagged Stone appeared on the screen, “Marinette, how’s it rocking? And Clara, I didn’t know you were on the line too. Penny!” He yelled. “I’ve facetiming Marinette and Clara. How you doing, loves?”

“Jagged,” Clara beamed. “I’m great. Xy’s been bugging me to lay vocals on his new tracks. I’ve heard better from my nephew’s garage band; and his nine.”

           Jagged winced. “That’ll tank a career. Dude’s a sound biter.” He turned his attention back to his favorite bluenette. “Marinette, what’s up? What’s with the stiff in suits?”

           Marinette blushed, “I’m Gotham working as intern for Wayne Industries.” Marinette said. “We’re in a meeting.” The young girl smiled prettily. “This is my amazing boss, Tamara!” She introduced the older black woman, standing between her and Tim. “And we could use some help with a Wayne charity event, on the 19th of this month.”

“I’m there!” Jagged grinned. “Hey! Penny, we’re going to Gotham. Marinette invited us to a party. We’re rocking out!”

“I’d love to come,” The brown-haired superstar clapped her hands. “I have been to Gotham yet. It will be an experience. I can write a song about Batman!”

“Well, we only need one of-” Marinette started but stopped herself as someone, Tim, jabbed her in the side. The only give away that something had happened was the slight widening of her eyes and then cough from Tim, when Marinette stomped on his foot. “Maybe, you guys can perform together.”

“YES!” Clara screamed excitedly. “A duet. A clash of natures.”

“Rock and Pop,” Jagged grinned his approval.

“The fans will love it,” The singer looked at Marinette. “Send us the deets. Jagged, I’ll call you in five to start composing our song.”

“Rock it out, talk later Marinette!”

           Then the calls disconnected.

“Clara Nightingale and Jagged Stone,” Bruce leaned back in his seat. “Well done, Marinette.”

           The Asian girl nodded, “Thank you, sir.” After the meeting let out, Tim, Bruce, Tamara, and Marinette remained behind as they finalized the information to send to the singers.

Bruce noticed Marinette give Tim a dark look, and then were was a huff and Tim winced in pain.

“Stopping fight with your brother,” Slipped from the billionaire’s mouth before he could stop it.

           The room froze. Tim’s face morphed from shock to understanding to an incredulous expression, “No. I’m telling, Alfred.”

           Bruce crossed his arms and pouted. Pouted. Marinette make an excellent additional the family.

           Her and Ladybug.

           He wondered how well the two would get along. If only he could get the two in a room together.

           Meanwhile…

           Lila had been feeding the class lies about her time in Gotham and living with the Wayne family. Alya believed every word, and had requested an interview with Lila’s Dami-bear.

Somehow she’d gotten stuck working in the mail room with Alya and Kim; neither were happy. She didn’t even know where Marinette ended up so she could spin a tail about the other girl threatening her to switch assignments.

           The only bright spot was the Damian Wayne frequently visited Wayne tower to learn about how the business works. However, whenever she tried to get close to him, he’d give her a look of disdain.

           That didn’t bother Lila though. As soon as he got to know her, or rather the her she’d tell him she was, Damian would fall head over heels.

           However, as the weeks went on in Gotham, she found all her plans to get close to the Wayne heir failed. She even tried visiting his home, feigning being lost, only for the Butler to send her packing. Lila didn’t even get a chance to look inside.

           When she learned about the gala, she upped her game. She found herself just “happening by” whenever Damian just happened to be walking by. One time, Lila even pretended to trip and hurt herself; only for Kim to “rescue” her and Damian to walk on by like she didn’t even exist.

           On the night of the gala, she sat in her hotel room with her adoring classmates, watching it on TV, “I’d have gone of course but Dami-bear didn’t want me to get attention from any Gotham villains.”

           Alya nodded sympathetically.

           Lila opened her mouth to regale another tale about her and Damian love affairs when Sabrina cut her off, “Hey, that’s Marinette!”

           And sure enough, the girl they had all froze out and declared their ex-friend was on screen walking with Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, a beautiful black woman, Damian Wayne, and Tim Drake. Marinette wore a stunning sliver dress that made eyes stand out even more.

“Who are you wearing, Clara!” A paparazzi called.

“MDC,” The superstar answered and placed a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “This designer here. Marinette Dupain-Cheng; she designed all of our looks tonight; including her own. Doesn’t she look wonderful?”

           More questions were thrown out.

“Jagged, why a crocodile? Why not a dog or a cat.”

“Damian, who are you dating?”

“Why is MDC with you, Tim?”

           Jagged answered first, “Well I wanted a dog. But I’m deathly allergic to fur. Found out when I was a kid. Can’t get near it. Dogs are cool but cats aren’t rock and roll enough for me.”

“I am dating no one,” Damian answered. “Any rumors that say otherwise are lies. Anyone that says otherwise is lying, and should keep in mind I will sue for defamation of character.”  

           Tim grinned at the crowd, “Marinette is Tamara’s intern. She helped organize this wonderful event. She did such an amazing job as an intern that I’ve had to stop my dad from trying to adopt her.” There were laughs from the crowed.

           Damian snorted as they walked inside, “He is not joking.” He was the one who found the adoption papers.

#marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #class salt #ml salt #bruce wayne #crack #batfamily

[sinner-as-saint]

Cherry.

Mob! Seb x Stripper! Reader Headcanon. 

A/N: Yet another filthy dream of mine inspired this, and about the title - it really doesn’t have anything to do with this. It’s just that I was listening to Fine Line while writing this and well... 

Also, NOT my GIF. 

Imagine working at a well-known club in the same city where the mob boss lives 

It’s quite an expensive club, so there were no lousy men, no drunkards or anything of that sort, but yes, there were powerful men who came in each night

And among those, was Sebastian Stan; probably the most affluent mob boss around the city. 

He was known for his brutal nature, his controlling influence, his unquestionable authority

You found that quite enticing actually as you always eyed him from afar. 

But never in a million years did you expect him to spot you in the sea of beautiful women scattered around the club

And ever since then, he was your regular client. 

And you were his favorite. 

His girl, he called you. 

He’d come in each night, walking into the club with his dark suits; looking powerful and dangerous yet breathtaking. 

He was always surrounded by guards, and with just one look of his, you’d follow him into one of the private rooms. 

He was obviously loaded, and some nights he would leave you with 5 grands or even more. 

Soon, you earned more than any other girl in the club. 

Lap dances, slow touches, neck kisses; he was obsessed with every inch of you. 

He was possessive though

He was the kind of man who would give you a diamond choker with his last name embedded on it as a casual gift. 

A token, to remind you that you were his. 

And he made sure you wore it everyday. 

You would receive gifts on many occasions; lingerie, jewelry, cash. 

He spoilt you rotten. 

Even got you a car at some point. 

Him getting jealous and almost angry whenever he walked into the club and happened to find you on someone else’s lap. 

He would feel his anger slowly taking over whenever he found you touching another man. 

He would go WILD whenever someone else even briefly touched you in his presence. 

He’d grab you by the arm and drag you to one of the rooms. 

His blue eyes would get darker than usual, and instead of being scared, his reaction would turn you on even more. 

He’d grab you by your hair and tug on it carefully; not too hard but just enough for it to hurt a little and make you understand that he wasn’t joking. 

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that I don’t want other men touching you, huh? What does your collar say? Who do you belong to?” 

He’d grab you by the neck, squeezing the sides gently but hard enough to get your full attention. 

You’d whimper under his touch, not because it hurt, but because his words and acts made a certain dampness to pool around at the base of your thong. 

And his voice...

“You belong to me,”

His low, deep, gravelly voice was all it took to make you weak in the knees. 

Sex wasn’t allowed on the premises of the club. 

But that never stopped him from touching you. 

Because no one broke rules better than he did. 

He’d have you on his lap, hands dipped into your sorry excuse of an underwear; so flimsy and thin that all it’d take would be a tug to tear it off your body. 

Fingers buried deep in you; past your wet folds as you would gently rock your hips against his hand. 

You’d shiver at the feeling of his cold rings against your wet skin. 

“Look at me,” he’d whisper, holding your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re mine” 

He’d say that often, sometimes while he tucked thick bundles of cash in your bra. Or other times while you sank down his cock. 

Very often actually. Part of you wanted to believe he meant it, yet the other part of you knew that he didn’t really mean it. 

You’d let him play with your body, and he’d give you money for it; that’s all it was. 

And you didn’t mind that one bit. 

Some days, he was different. More rough. 

He’d have you sit on him, with his cock buried in you; unmoving, while he answered calls and yelled at people over the phone - barking orders in multiple languages. 

You’d sit there, listening to how brutal he could be towards others, with his cock deep in you. 

Something about how dangerous he was turned you on immensely. 

His blue eyes were merciless but warm on certain occasions 

You’d lazily drag your fingertips across his scalp, down his jaw and sometimes you’d lean in to kiss his cheeks. 

Only sometimes he would gently push your hand away from his hair, whenever he was too heated or angry. But your hands would always find their way into his hair again. 

Many times he’d relax under your touch and he’d give in. 

He was fluent in many languages, and his accents would send tingles down your spine each time. 

His thick cock would stretch you out to your maximum, as he would just make you sit there, with one of his hand wrapped around your neck as if daring you to move. 

But you knew better. 

He had you keep his cock warm while he tended to business, and he wouldn’t move one bit unless you were whimpering loudly or trembling in his lap; begging him to fuck you. 

But even then, he would mess around with you, as if he wasn’t feeling how your walls were desperately clenching around his erected cock. 

As if he wasn’t feeling your arousal oozing out of you and smearing all over his skin. 

He would tease you until you were on the verge of losing your calm. 

He liked to pour champagne into your open mouth and watch it drip down your chin; which he then lapped up and playfully chided you for being a messy girl. 

He would lazily drag his fingers across the choker he gave you once; with his name on it. 

“You’re mine” he’d say again, whispering against your lips. 

He’d lazily caress the diamonds and then drag his fingers down your collar bones and towards your breasts while you shivered under his touch. 

“What’s that, baby?” 

You’d groan out loud at how he acted like he couldn’t see just how much you needed him. 

“Seb... please, I need you so bad...” you’d whine and try to move a little, hoping for a brief moment of ease since you had been sitting on his cock for half an hour now. 

His grip around your neck would tightened the moment you tried to move. 

His cock throbbed against your walls as well, but he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you so helpless and so needy for him. 

“No” 

He would deny you often, just to see how far he could push you. 

He’d move just a little, pretending that he was adjusting himself better in his seat, only that would make you cry out in pleasure. 

The mere friction made you weak. 

You’d push your face into the crook of his neck, and whine some more. 

“Please daddy...” 

He chuckled. 

“Oh it’s ‘daddy’ now, is it? I like that,” he commented, teasing you even more by gently moving against you and pinching your thigh. 

He’d end up fucking you each time though, no matter how much he teased you; he always made up for it.

Sex with him was never sweet and slow, it was always rough and passionate. 

He was a hardcore person after all. 

He’d pound into you until you screamed. He’d pull on your hair, spank you, bite your shoulder and fuck you senseless each time. 

He made sure to make you orgasm multiple times. Mainly because he himself could not get enough of you. 

He’d nibble on your skin and toy with your breasts. 

He liked having you on your knees, with his cock in your mouth. But he’d much prefer having you on top of him; riding him until you’re shaking. 

He’d mess you up; leaving love bites all over your body, ruining your cherry flavored lip gloss, and most importantly - he left you wanting more each time. 

Some days, you wouldn’t see him. 

Some days he was away and wouldn’t visit the club for a couple of consecutive days

You missed him when he wasn’t around, but you’d never say it out loud. 

Yet no matter how much time he spent in other countries, with other women; he always find his way back to you. 

He’d come back with gifts and extra cash to make up for the time he’s been gone. 

He’d undress you slowly, kissing your skin and telling you how much he missed having you on his lap. 

He’d caress your thighs and ask you if you had been his good girl while he was away. 

You’d say yes, but on days when you wanted to mess with him; you’d say no. 

And then you’d go on to tell him how you gave other rich men your time and how much they showered you with money

He’d get jealous so fast it surprised you. 

He’d grab you by the hips and press your body against his torso. 

“Hmm, did they now?” 

You’d nod and he would smirk because he knew you only did this when you wanted his undivided attention. 

He’d have you straddle his lap and he would gently press his thigh against your core

Eventually making you ride his thigh

He’d watch in awe how you would get yourself off just by riding his thigh, only sometimes he would hold your hips in place and watch you whine for him. 

He was well aware that no other man could make you feel the way he did. 

No man would ever touch you like he did. 

And you knew it too. 

You may give your time to other men every now and then

But at the end of the day, you’d always be his. 

#sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan headcanons #mobster seb #sebastian #sebastian stan au #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes smut #mob bucky #marvel headcanons #sebastian stan imagine #Sebastian Stan #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

[heyheydidjaknow]

I do not have a decent title for this. I’m also not even going to bother with an image (even though I know it would generate more traffic) because I’m not going to steal someone’s shit. It’s about 3500 words, so have fun with that.

Chapter 1

Dying is not fun.

I do not know if you knew that until last night. Maybe you figured that since it was romanticized so much that it would not suck as much as it so clearly and obviously did. Maybe you dreamed of dying relatively peacefully, surrounded by your loved ones. Alas, those dreams were dashed last night when you, oh so wise Y/N, decided that you were going to try baking and forgot the most essential step; taking the thing out of the oven. You remember that night so clearly, the screams of your family begging for their lives still bouncing around in your ears like a torturous golf ball that made a habit of forcing itself into your throat, the feeling of your hair catching alight as your skin bubbled and charred, and rational thought became a foreign concept. You do not remember if you had died from a heart attack or hyperthermia or smoke inhalation, but you had a general idea that, yes, that night had been your last on Earth.

So, where the fuck are you?

You pull yourself into a sitting position, your back pressed against something hard as your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness. The air smells like rotten food and exhaust engines as you pull yourself off the concrete, looking around the alleyway that you had found yourself in. It’s small, narrow, unremarkable in every way, with graffiti covered dumpsters near the entrance. Dazed, confused, generally out of sorts, you make your way to the entrance, patting yourself down for injuries you did not seem to have.

You rub the side of your face with your hand. ‘My head is killing me.’ You slip your hand into your jacket pocket, feeling a key and a piece of paper. ‘God damn it is cold in this alley.’ You zip up your jacket, walking out into the open as you pull the note out, beginning to read.

“Dear Y/N,” you mumble as you read, “we are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into our transference program, yadda yadda yadda, whoopdeedoo…” You skim ahead of some introductory jargon before getting near to the point of the note. “From this point forward, enjoy your permanent residence at ten West.. fifteenth street… apartment number six two two… New York, New York?” You blink. ‘I… that’s not my address.’ You pull out the key. ‘Wait, hold on.’ Your eyebrows furrowed. ‘New York? Wait, I was dead, wasn’t I?’ Your eyes become unfocused. ‘I don’t live anywhere near NYC. Where am I?’ You look around for some sort of landmark, street name, anything to give you some idea of where you are.

You hear a car squeal to a stop on the street corner in front of you, snapping you out of your stupor. As identical men start climbing out of the back of the vehicle, all marching deliberately towards you, a fifteen-year-old girl, your immediate reaction is to run like hell. Unfortunately for you, apparently your speed was not comparable to that of the men who quickly apprehend you, scooping you up and dragging you kicking and screaming into a van. You hear vaguely familiar voices outside, but your focus is less on the mayhem and more on the more pressing matter of getting yourself out of the van. You pound at the door, feel for any sort of locks on the inside, something, anything to get you out of the van, still screaming your head off as you hope whoever was outside had the common sense to call nine one one. You feel your eyelids droop as your breathing slows, your voice dying as your pounding becomes less intense. You slide to you knees, eyes closing even as you mentally scream at yourself to get up, keep at it. You passed out.

--

You wake up laid on the floor this time, the pulsing of electricity above your head almost soothing as you open your eyes. You stagger to your feet, looking around your well-lit enclosure, pink florescent lights lining the ceiling and walls like arteries. After taking note of your new bruises and checking to see if you still have your few personal belongings—you do—you ran over to the door, eyes fixated on the mind boggling, ridiculous scene taking place in front of you.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’ You back away from the slot in the door, trying to process the blatant larping headassery. You had not thought that you would honestly be able to say that, apparently, you were kidnapped by the mother fucking Kraang, yet, in some stroke of tomfuckery on behalf of whatever deity controls your universe, you have, obviously, been kidnapped by some seriously hardcore cosplayers. If nothing else, you must admire the obviously advanced set up.

You run your fingers through your hair, chuckling almost manically. “So,” you say to yourself aloud, “I got kidnapped by TMNT fanboys. Great. Fantastic, even!” You pace around the room, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I guess this makes me April O'Neil, then? Cool.” Your voice is extremely tight as you shake with intense, mostly negative emotions. “So, I’m somewhere in New York, kidnapped by the Kraang in the worst convention ever. Let me guess,” you laugh, losing your mind a little as you speak to nobody. “I’m gonna have a run in with the Teenage Fucking Ninja Turtles next, right?”

As if on que, you hear laser blasts and shinking metal. The high pitched beeping on an alarm sounded as you heard people—‘Male, teenagers… fuck my life,’— talking about power or something as their footsteps approach your room. You pound on the door. “Hey! Over here!”

You see a brown set of eyes look in through the window. Your suspicions are confirmed; ‘Definitely TMNT larping.’

“We found her,” the owner of said eyes, the one cosplaying as Donatello, calls to the others. Lasers shoot by his head as he turns to stare death in the eyes.

“We’ll hold them off. You pick the lock.” ‘Leonardo.’ You breathe a soft sigh of relief; if nothing else, you are apparently on the side of the people trying to get you out in this game. You hear footsteps going towards the firing.

“Don’t worry,” “Donatello” reassures you, voice tight with apparent anxiety, “I’ll have you out of there in a second!”

“Thanks, Donnie.” You give him a half-hearted thumbs up, trying to see what he was doing through the window. “Take your time.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

You sigh. “Look, man, I don’t know the script for the first episode by heart. You’re gonna have to cut me some slack for not being off-book.”

“Off—what?” He stares at you blankly.

You purse your lips. “I’ll explain if you let me out,” you promise. “Just pick the lock before the blue one gives you shit.”

“Oh, right! The lock!” He nods, grasping onto the logical thing you say and leaning down to start working on the alien technology. He pulls the cover off a control panel by your door, starting to fiddle with the wires.

You lean against the door, watching him work curiously. You hear the battle cries of “Michelangelo” and the toppling of robots as he works, clearly focused on his task. You zone out again. “This is some serious shit,” you mumble.

He mutters in frustration. The one dressed as Raph marches over, more impatient. “Oh for the love of—get out of my way,” he snarls, proceeding to take a very real looking sai out and stabbing the panel with a very in-character ferocity. You almost feel the urge to applaud the acting, and you might if this weren’t such a high stakes situation.

The door in front of you and behind you open at the same time and, deciding against getting captured again—you remember something about hanging from a helicopter in that scenario and you want nothing to do with that—you run alongside the turtles like your life depends on it, stumbling to a halt once you reach outside and slamming the doors closed behind you, blocking it with your back.

Your feet scramble to gain some traction on the cement. “Donnie,” you snap, almost impressed by the force used to pound against the doors, “put your staff in the handles of the door. We gotta go ASAP.”

“Wait, hold up.” The one dressed as Raph jabs his thumb towards you. “How do you know his name?”

You groan. “For fucks- it’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, not fucking Happy Sugar Life. Get the thing in the thing before the vine thing kills us!”

“The what?” Donnie and Raph seem much more confused than before, staring at you inquisitively and angrily respectively.

“Uh, guys?” Mikey pointed. “I think she means that vine thing.”

From the shadows emerges a towering creature made of plant life, its vinelike limbs draping across the ground like roots as it rears its ugly head. Its exposed, pulsating heart pressed against what remains of the creature’s ribcage. “You did this to me,” It growls. “Now you’re going to pay!”

“It’s-“

You cut Leo off. “Snake guy. Mutated into a weed. If you wanna kill it, go for the heart.”

He looked back at you, joining the other two pairs of piercing stares. “Cut that out.”

“Then don’t monologue and kill it before it has mobility!”

“On it.” Raph charges at its lumbering form, and within moments, it falls to the ground in a heap.

The pounding against the door is getting more intense. “Donnie! Staff!”

“Right!” He runs over, sliding his staff in between the door handles.

You stumble forward, the pounding already starting to crack the wood. “Alright, now we can leave.” Without waiting for the others, you sprint away from the building like your life depends on it. The others, clearly confused, follow.

You got a fair few city blocks away before you slow down, breathing heavy and palms stamped with the outline of the key you were holding desperately onto. “You run really fast for cosplayers,” you pant, “with all the- the paint and all.”

“Yeah, about that.” Donatello stops next to you, a thousand questions apparently swimming around in his head. “How do you know our names?” His mouth moves a mile a minute. “How did you know the weakness of that vine creature? What do you mean, cosplay? Who are you? Who were they?”

You cut him off. “One question at a time, hot stuff. Deep breathes.”

His pupils dilate. “H-hot stuff?”

Leo cuts in. “How did you know what we were—uh—cosplaying?” he asks tentatively.

“Odd time to cut the act, but alright.” Your heart rate lowers to a decent pace as your mind still struggles to comprehend what had just happened. You slow your breathing. “I mean,” you explain, gesturing with your hands, “it’s TMNT. It’s iconic.”

“Iconic?” He nods. “Well, since you know so much about it, then why don’t we test your knowledge? To see if you’re a real fan..”

“Y-you think I’m hot?”

“I don’t see the point, but I’m down.” You shrug, deciding to ignore the melting turtle for a second. “Shoot.”

He thinks for a moment. “Who’s the main character?”

You shrug. “You four, I guess.”

Mikey jumped in. “What’s the theme song?”

“Gonna have to be more specific there, buddy.”

“Is it really a great idea to just talk out here in the open?” Raph crossed his arms across his front.

“Probably not.” You look around. “Unless you have a map on you, I’d suggest we go back to your lair.”

“Our—what kind of stalker—”

“Look, honey,” you sigh, “if we’re going to go over every aspect of their lives that I know about we’re going to be here for a long time. For our purposes, just assume I know everything I need to know, and if you’re curious about specifics, we’ll go on a case-by-case basis.” You start walking down the sidewalk. “I’m guessing you guys hang out in the sewer, right?” You feel almost tempted to say that they’re just flat out psychotic, their blatant conviction in their own characters almost frightening. ‘I’ve heard of kinning,’ you think, pulling up a manhole cover you see at the end of an alley and wincing at the smell, ‘but this is ridiculous.’ You blink at the surprising lack of weight.

“Yeah.” Mikey—no, the Michelangelo cosplayer—walked over, already hopping in. “Our show must be super popular, right? Who’s the favorite character? How long have we been running?”

“Oh, you guys are—” You stop talking. “Wait, what year is it?” You start climbing down.

“Two thousand and twelve. Why?”

You step off the ladder, starting to walk behind him as he lead the way. “Well, it’s not tweny twelve where I’m from. It’s twenty twenty.”

“Wait, hold up.” He turns around to face you as he walks. “You’re from the future? That is so freakin awesome!”

You rub the back of your neck, trying to ignore the smell. “I mean,” you confess, “being from the future would be cooler if I was from a better time, I think.” ‘I wonder where they—’ You shake your head. “But, If we were running on the same time, I’d only be seven, I think, so it’s pretty cool I get to be here, I guess.”

“Dude, totally!” He turns a corner. “Our first day up top and we meet a time traveler?”

“Technically,” a voice from behind you makes you jump, “if what she’s saying is true, she somehow also knows interdimensional travel as well.”

‘Mother fucking ninj—cosplayers, focus. Don’t let them pull you in too.’ “Well, I really wouldn’t say—”

“Guys, is there not a clearly bigger concern on our hands?” You were already getting sick of not hearing footsteps. “Like, say, I don’t know, the fact she’s claiming we’re fictional characters?”

“Look, man,” you roll your eyes, “I already said I’m more than happy to answer any questions I can. In fact,” you continued, stopping in your tracks as you stared the red—clad turtle in the eye, “I’ll even stay put until we sort this whole situation out.”

“Fine by me.” Leo and Raph both face you, eyes boring into your soul as you stand there awkwardly.

“Let’s start off with the basics.” Leo’s tone is awfully light compared to his blatant skepticism. “What is everyone’s name?”

You force yourself not to roll your eyes again. “You’re all Hamatos.” You point at the tall one with the gap in his teeth. “That one’s Donatello, the yellow one next to him is Michelangelo, you,” you point at the red one with the broader shoulders, “are Raphael, and the sensei appointed leader is Leonardo. Easy.”

Leonardo nods. “Okay, you got the easy one.” It is at times like these when you wish you could read people. “What are we?”

“Teenage mutant ninja turtles.” You don’t have to hesitate.

“How did we become the way we are?”

“Splinter had a Kraang run in and you got ooze on you. Last thing you touched before you transformed was a person, so you became turtle/human hybrids.” You rest a hand on your hip. “Oh, happy birthday, by the way.”

A sea of blank faces face you. “Wait, you know who those things are?” Donatello is the first to speak after a pregnant pause.

“Well, yeah.” You shrug, the reality of the situation not yet dawning on you. “They almost take over the world in at least two season finales.

“They what?”

“Yeah.” You stick your hands in your pockets, fingering the key and note, confused by their apparent horror. “I mean, I’m still on the season three finale, but alien invasion is this show’s bread and butter for the most part.”

“I- what?” Raphael appears to be having a stroke. “What- bre- I- huh? What the-“

“Is he okay?” You look, completely unconcerned, at Donatello, who is swaying on his feet.

“Alien.. invasion…”

You blink, walking over to him and placing your hand on his cheek. You were surprised at the feeling of skin under your palm. ‘Not face paint..’ You look his incredibly pale face over curiously. ‘Not a mask…’ “Oh.” Your fingers slide down and off his jaw, falling slackly. “You weren’t joking, were you?”

If nothing else, he seems less concerned than he did a second ago.

Leonardo—‘The actual—hold on a minute.’—grabs your shoulder. “This isn’t a joke.” His face is stone. “You’re being serious, right?”

You felt blood drain out of your face. “Sadly? Yes.” You force yourself to take deep breaths so as to not pass out. “But, on the bright side,” you smiled weakly, “I can guarantee your survival for at least a few months.”

“What do you mean a few months?” Raphael is shaking as he yells, his voice roar echoing in the enclosed space. “How is it only—what the hell?”

“The show only ran over the course of an in-universe year.” You fight to keep your voice steady as dread seizes your throat. “I don’t know what happens after the year is up, or if it even lasts the whole year.”

“So we have less than twelve months to live?”

“This is so not cool.” Michelangelo is having a bit of a mental breakdown. “So, so not cool.”

“Hey, it’s not a guarantee!” You put your hands up reassuringly. “That’s just how long the show runs. Besides, it’s a kid’s show. There’s no way they’d kill off the main characters.”

“The hell they—who the hell is they?”

“Nickelodeon.”

“What the fuck is Nickelodeon?”

You groan. “Look, I’m just saying that you four are definitely going to survive the next few months!” Your voice rises easily to his volume. “I don’t know what happens after those months are up! I haven’t gotten to that point!”

“Why the hell not?”

You ran your fingers through your hair, laughing incredulously. “What, do you think I knew I was going to meet the IRL Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and had a chance to plan accordingly? No!” You throw your hands up in the air. “I died last night and now I’m here! Hell, I don’t even know where the fuck I’m going to go, fuck knowing who’s going to get the fucking axe between now and the series finale!”

“Will you two both cut it out?” Leo snapped, shutting you two up.

You put your hands up, still fuming and glaring at Raphael. He responds in kind.

“What’s your name?” He looked at you.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” Your breathing slows slightly.

“Alright. Y/N, you said you’ve seen up to season three, right?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Meaning you know what’s going to happen in the next few months, right?”

You nod at the leader.

He thinks for a moment. “Then we need to stay in contact. If what you’re saying is true, your knowledge of our show could be extremely valuable to us.”

You rub your eyes with your hands, sighing, trying to cool down. “I can do that.” You put your hands down. “If nothing else, I’m more than happy to offer up emotional support. The next few months are going to be extremely physically and emotionally difficult for you guys.”

Donnie pipes up. “Do you have a place to stay?”

You pull out the piece of paper. “I have an address and key, but I don’t know my way around NYC.” You smile slightly at the unintentional rhyme. “Do you guys know where ten west fifteenth street—wait, it’s your guys’ first day.” You nod. “I forgot.”

“It’s alright.” Donatello is oddly quick saying that. “I-if you want, I—we can help you find it.”

You rub your arm, your previous indignance replaced with extreme embarrassment at your previous actions. “Nah, it’s alright,” you reassure him. “I’m sure I can find a map or something.”

“It’s really not safe to just wander around New York so late.”

You pause at that. “That is an extremely good point.” You nod. “Alright. But I owe you guys dinner or something for trusting me this far. Also,” you smile teasingly, “what you’re currently eating is legitimately revolting.”

“Amen to that.” Raphael, if nothing else, seems to have calmed down.

Mikey hopped in. “Oh, we just found this crazy awesome food—”

“I can order pizza,” you reassure him.

He punches the air excitedly. “Let’s go!”

“If you want, you can sleep on the couch for tonight,” Leonardo offers. “It’s going to get light pretty soon, and we really shouldn’t be seen.”

You shrug. “Works for me.

As you follow the teenagers down the sewer, conversating as you walk, you take a moment to reflect on all that has happened so far. A part of you, oddly enough, is almost excited by the prospect of spending time with these guys. But a stronger, darker part reminds you sweetly of the dangers you knew lay ahead.

You close your eyes. ‘I’m never going to see my family again, am I?’

How that is the least of your worries, you don’t know.

Table Of Contents

Chapter 2

#tmnt 2012 #fanfic #donnie x reader #but not yet #We’ll (probably) get to it #3000+ words #In my defense I couldn’t find a good cut off point. #tmnt donnie #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #chapter 1 #introduction #if you think I’m naming the chapters you are wrong. #or high. #actually if you’re reading this the latter is more likely. #Possible MCD? I haven’t decided yet. #Fuck it. #major character death #Angst #probably #I’m figuring it out as we go. #I do accept constructive criticism. #i’m sorry #let me know if you have any ideas #Because I have a plan but if sure as hell ain’t gonna be pretty. #flirting? #panic #general panicking #is this enough tags #i legitimately have no clue

[remnantoforario]

Unmerry Men AKA The Problem With Robyn Hill

I’ve been sitting on this rant for a while. I’m sure there are people who have talked this topic to death since Volume 7 ended, and did a much better job than I am about to, but I still feel the need to throw my hat in the ring (or shoot my arrow at the target given the subject matter) and say definitively and without question: that Robyn Hill is a terrible character. 

Get some snacks. This is going to be a long one. 

Let me preface this rant by saying I don’t hate Robyn HIll...in CONCEPT. That last word is very important. 

The idea behind her character is a sound one: Atlas is characterized as a country with a VERY clear disparity between the rich (Atlas)

and the poor (Mantle)

So it makes perfect sense that there would be a Robin Hood (see what I did there) type character that would bridge this gap between the two and seek to make things equal, or at least a little less lopsided. As an idea this is great, but the problem (as with most everything in RWBY) is in the execution. 

Outside of Forrest extolling her praises in the back of a cop car in Chapter 2, the first time we see Robyn is when she stops Clover, Ruby, Qrow, and Penny from reaching the Amity tower site. 

During this introduction, she tries to coerce Clover into disclosing classified government information via her Semblance, and Penny has to expose her ambush tactics. Not the best first impression.

Now in a vacuum, this scene isn’t really that bad. Thanks to (clunky) exposition, we are already aware that there is friction between the military and the Happy Huntresses. As such it makes sense that we the audience first meet Robyn as an antagonistic force against RWBY and their allies.

The thing with this though is that all four of the writers of this volume forgot to lift the perception of Robyn being an antagonist until around the final third of the volume. Objectively, there is no reason anyone outside of her own group to want to trust or follow her. 

The M,K,K, & E are trying to position Ironwood and Robyn in the roles of the Sherriff of Nottingham and Robin Hood respectively. The main problem with this is that they fail to establish Ironwood as a tyrannical threat on par with the Sherriff. 

Does he make questionable decisions? Certainly. Are his choices morally wrong? In some cases, yes. But they are more often than not written in a way where the choices he makes are OBJECTIVELY best for everyone (even if they try to frame it otherwise). 

Closing the borders, hiding the Amity plan, diverting resources to FINISH said plan, and his other tactics (while at times misguided) were done in order to protect as many people as he could from Salem and her forces. They were all calculated risks that clearly took a mental and emotional toll on him. He’s a severely broken man trying to keep whatever he has left from falling apart, but everyone is working against him (including his own allies but that’s another story). 

This brings me back to Robyn. She is hailed as the “Hometown Hero of Mantle”, but all we ever do is see her take shots at Ironwood and Jacques and talk about how much the former ISN’T helping Mantle. My question to her, her hardcore cans, and CRWBY is “What has Robyn done to help Mantle?”. RWBYJNR and various talking heads mention how Robyn is helping the people of Mantle, but because the volume (seemed) so rushed to get to Salem’s arrival, we never see her doing anything that’s not directly tied to the plot. 

She’s not working on Mantle’s wall, she’s not in the streets talking to people, handing out medical supplies, giving away food, or anything that actively helps Mantle. We don’t even see her fight Grimm in the streets until the FINAL episodes of the volume. All she and her group do is actively antagonize the military and steal (which we never see them give to the poor). For someone hailed as the town’s hero, she doesn’t seem to really be doing anything to earn that title.   

After the election night massacre, she openly declares war on Ironwood essentially and begins stealing resources needed for the Amity project, until she is ultimately stopped by Blake and Yang. 

Now in theory I have no problem with Yang and Blake telling her about the Amity plan; my main hang up about it is that Robyn has done nothing to earn this trust. 

Until this point Robyn has been getting in their way as they try to reestablish global communications, but now they suddenly feel comfortable telling this sensitive information to a complete stranger and risking a leak even when they KNOW Tyrian is in the city? Instead of telling her that, why not tell her about Tyrian instead? I’m sure she would want justice for the people he killed. 

Then she is later invited to the Council meeting (despite not being a member) and made aware of classified information that she shouldn’t know of, as well as make a complete ass of herself and show why she probably shouldn’t have won in the first place. 

This leads to her finally believing Ironwood, but eventually that gets tossed out the window at the end of the volume where her actions almost directly lead to Clover’s death.  

As she, Qrow, and Clover are transporting Tyrian back to Atlas, Ironwood’s order to arrest RWBYJNRQO is issued. Now there are three things that are very important to keep in mind here after this order is issued: 

1. Clover is clearly conflicted about following this order. 

2. Qrow is calmly trying to talk things out. 

3. Robyn is NOT under arrest. 

Let me repeat that. ROBYN IS NOT UNDER ARREST.

So as Qrow is level headedly suggesting they all talk it out, Robyn (who again is NOT under arrest) starts a fight that results in Tyrian escaping his restraints, the plane going down (after Tyrian kills the pilot and co-pilot), Robyn herself being unconscious, and Clover being ultimately being murdered. 

Now tell me after all the information is presented, why we are supposed to care for this character? What have the writers done to position her as someone we should invest in? 

A lot of her accomplishments are told to us rather than shown, and whenever we do see her onscreen she’s mostly a nuisance that makes pretty much any situation she’s in worse. Yes, I know this is just one volume and she will obviously be a central character in V8 and possibly 9, but the damage has been done. Any attempt to salvage her will just be cleaning up the fall out from V7. 

Now since I’m not one of those people that likes to complain for the sake of it, I’ll voice my opinion on how Robyn could have been written better. 

The first thing we do is distance her from the Happy Huntresses. She will still be the leader, but that information won’t be revealed until AFTER the election. It’s not really a good look for a vigilante to try and run for a public office if they are still breaking the law. That’s like Bruce Wayne running for mayor of Gotham AS Batman (though the people would likely still vote for him). 

So as far as the public (including Ironwood and RWBYJNRQO) are concerned, Robyn is a normal Mantle city official and Joanna Greenleaf is the leader of the Huntresses. For those of you who don’t remember who she is (and I don’t blame you), this is Joanna Greenleaf: 

The second thing I’m going to do is give her a more established connection to Ironwood. My idea? Former military. Robyn was once a part of the Atlas military’s intelligence and recon division because of her lie detecting semblance. When she discovers corruption within the system (lets say something having to do with Faunus, the mines, Mantle, or the SDC) she exposes it but quickly becomes disillusioned with military life and is discharged. She then begins living in Mantle and becomes their representative. We can say this happened maybe five to ten years before the series itself starts. 

She served under Ironwood and has a deep respect for him, but does not agree with his decisions as defacto head of the Council. This is what leads to the friction between them. 

Next, we change up how she and the Huntresses are introduced in V7. When RWBYJNRQO arrive in Mantle the election race has only barely begun (we’re pushing it back). We see posters for Robyn and maybe hear snippets of an interview she is giving to a news station on one of the TVs. 

When the Grimm attack, instead of RWBYJNRQO running out to help immediately, they are cut off by the Happy Huntresses who quickly get rid of the monsters. Ruby and the others wonder who they are before the Huntresses scatter when Penny and the Ace-Ops arrive. The heroes are still arrested for stealing an airship and violating Atlas airspace (as they should have), but now there is some intrigue about who that group of women were. 

Forrest still gives his exposition, but leaves out Robyn because no one knows she’s their leader. 

When the gang arrive at the school they meet with Ironwood and Winter, but hear Ironwood complaining about “that woman” after having just finished a call on his scroll. 

Fast forward to the mine mission. Instead of Jacques showing up, this is where we gets their first full appearance from Robyn. She is brought via airship to the mine (along with an exasperated Winter and Penny) and begins to badger Ironwood about ducking their meeting, stating that Mantle still hasn’t received the supplies he promised days ago. You could also have her briefly greet the kids and Qrow before going back to argue with Ironwood. 

Things proceed as normal, but inbetween some of the bigger story events we see news reports of Robyn helping people around Mantle. Feeding the poor, cheering up the miners, handing out supplies, giving speeches, and other things to show that she really is the hero of the people. Not everything has to be directly tied to the plot, you can use extra devices like tv news and the like to expand on characters. They tried this in V7 but they didn’t go far enough with in my opinion. This would inform us more on Robyn’s character without her being the direct focus as well as give the audience an actual reason to get behind the things she says. 

The main aspect of Robyn’s character that I would focus on would be her relationship with Ironwood. Nothing romantic, just how their ideologies align (or don’t) and how they view each other. They respect one another. Robyn knows Ironwood is a good man, but she doesn’t fully understand why he’s doing the things that he is doing. She doesn’t know why he’s being so secretive. She wants to give him a chance, but he keeps denying her. 

On Ironwood’s part he knows that morally Robyn is in the right and genuinely wants to help everyone in both cities, but his paranoia will not allow him to simply tell her what is really going on. Salem’s reach is far and if she was able to turn Lionheart (one of Ozpin’s closest confidants) then she can get to anyone and that is frightening. 

This is why Robyn utilizes the Happy Huntresses. They are able to move outside the law and do the things she can’t (similar to Jim Gordon and Batman). She doesn’t want to condemn Ironwood because of all the good he’s done, but people are suffering and something needs to change.

Neither are wrong, but they can’t find common ground.  

I’d position Robyn more as a fringe type of character. She doesn’t directly intervene in the plot, but you know she’s always there bidding her time until she can be more prominent.

I have more ideas for her, but this post is long enough as it is so let’s just end it here. 

TLDR; Robyn Hill is a good character concept with horrible execution. Hopefully she will be somewhat better utilized in future volumes, or kill her off at the start of V8. At this point I’m good with either. 

#RWBY #Robyn Hill #Happy Huntresses #Long Post #Tyrian Callows #Jacques Schnee #James Ironwood #Joanna Greenleaf #may marigold #fiona thyme #writing critique #Qrow Branwen #Clover Ebi #this is probably one of the longest posts I've ever made #RWDE

[calypsoff]

Fifteen. Part 3

My mother has really annoyed me, I feel like she has pressured Chris by even saying that. All I said to my mother is that I am scared the pressure will get to him, will he like me as Rihanna because I am still me but I am having to put on a show and that was my worry, I said to her I see him in my future and being my husband but can he take me, then she goes and speaks on it. She didn’t need to say anything about it to him. Now I feel Chris is slightly annoyed and he probably feels trapped with me now, I sighed out looking up and my mother caught my eyes, she is watching me so closely and I would like to say why but I do know why, she is so protective of me, she worries for me because men do fall at the first hurdle, they can’t take me like this and that men lust over me “uh mom, let us clear the plates” I got up from the chair “I can help” Noella shot up “no it’s fine, you finished?” I pointed at Chris “yeah” he barely ate “and you, if you ask about him being in jail again we will fall out” I said to Rorrey, picking my plate up before walking off, I suppose I should have taken the rest but I didn’t, I just took my own and walked off. Nobody should have been speaking on what if with him, it was literally a meet and greet but here we are, placing the plate down a little too hard “are you ok?” My chef asked, placing my hand up shaking my head “fed up” I sighed out “Robbie, you are taking it to heart for no reason, I am doing what any mother should do! I need to know this man is ready for you, you love him. You are so in love with him that all you see is him, I want to know as a mother if he is the right one Robyn, I can’t just sit there and let it be when you have had men let you down, I have said nothing bad” shaking my head.

“You don’t know how him like I do mom, if you start doing too much it might push him away” my mom sniggered “then he is not the man for you, but he is answering truthfully and that is what I like to hear, I want to know the truth. Even though I knew about the jail time he still mentioned it and that shows me he is truthful, I did see the slight concern in his eye when I said do you mind that you may be in her shadow, but I think he will be ok. Robyn I am trying to be a mother to you and be there for you, I don’t know him like you do, I need to know him” nodding my head “stop worrying and making it seem we have done bad” looking down at my nails “he knows I have been speaking to you guys, I just want this to go well for him, I am worried that he will end up saying I can’t do it, he is very stubborn mom and for him to give I know he does love me, because he is giving. He came when I asked but I just don’t want it to be too much for him” looking up at my mom “and baby let me do my job, let me do what I should do as a mother. I am not being mean to him because he has such a beautiful aura around him, I like him” my smile grew “you do?” my mom smiled back at me “I like him, he has an infectious smile and I see how he makes you smile. He makes you giggle and you both just vibe together so I do like him” that has really made me smile “I am happy” I said in a whisper “you’re being sensitive” she is right I am.

Sitting back down, Chris is staring at me “what?” I questioned “I thought you was cleaning?” he pointed at his plate, I snorted laughing “oh yeah” laughing to myself “god, I am so dumb uhm. I was supposed too but what happened was” laughing again “you taking your mom for a sneaky conversation” he got me “I am going to smoke thought, coming with me? We need to go for our sneaky conversation” I groaned out “oh god” I said in a whisper, Chris got up “dessert!?” Mel spat “yeah, we will be back” I guess I better go, Chris has to be nosey and notice that I went for a conversation with my mother “can I go to the back yard?” Chris pointed, nodding my head “yes, you can go wherever you like, you can smoke inside?” Chris shook his head “your cousin is pregnant, that is rude, and this home is too nice to be smoking inside anyways, you go ahead” he gestured, nodding my head walking ahead of him. I want Chris to be settled in this home, I don’t want him to ask that if he can do something. Unlocking the door before pulling it back but it didn’t move “huh” locking it and then unlocking it again before pulling it back, didn’t move again “let me” Chris came up from behind me “I think you need to push this up and then you the click, now pull back on it” side eyeing Chris “what? I am being a hero here” the door slid open so easy.

Crossing my arms across my chest watching Chris light up his cigarette, either Chris is going to be an ass and say I put him through that, or he will tell me I’m wrong “come here” Chris turned to me, opening his arm “I missed you” walking over to him smiling a little, he placed his arm around me “it’s nice” he grinned “that you have many layers on?” Looking up at him “that too but this, all the scenery I like it. I mean your pool” he moved away from me and leaned to the pool, placing his hand in the pool “it’s heated!” I chuckled, he is so cute “it is, you can go in it? You want me to kick you in?” I jokingly ran at him, he jumped up before I did “I swear, I would pull you in with me but” he held his hand out to me, placing my hand in his “I love you” he twirled me into him “I love you too, I was angry at my mother though” Chris pressed a kiss to the side of my head “she was hardcore, but I get it, your family is cool. I will get used to your family. You think I am being quiet?” he asked “quiet!?”  I spat “you wouldn’t stop speaking but the fact you admitted to having a record without a care, that means a lot to me, you put your cards on the table and let them know which is good, you look truthful and you are” Chris blew the smoke in my face, I gagged and I don’t know why because I smoke my damn self “stop it” nudging him “are you going to take me on a tour of Cali?” I scoffed “no sir, you will get used to it yourself, oh mr I will not move here is liking Cali?” he is a damn trip “it’s dope, it looks so nice here. I could see myself living here actually” I am shook, that is crazy how he is being accepting of this “I am not going to say it” I smirked, I busted out laughing as Chris tickled me “you what?” moving away from him.

Part of me wants me to make Chris step back a little but more so that he falls into the pool but I won’t, I can’t do that to him because he may expose his moody side I can’t deal with that “ok, I am going to start taking pictures now” I am being his photographer, he is cute and very excited about it all. Taking a few more “ok done, you look good poppa” my baby is cute, walking over to him “do I look super cool at Rihanna’ house, like I just broke in” he took his phone from me “be quiet, you look like a sexy man” he loves himself “are you both coming!? We waiting on you!” Rajad screamed, oh he is annoyed “coming!” I shouted “Rajad hates waiting for his food, especially dessert, come” wrapping my arm around his and tugged at him to walk “I wish I could post this, but I know your fans will clock it” he is right they will “you said they already follow you so yeah, you posting that will just fuel it. We will do this timed; I need to talk you through some things. But I notice you didn’t eat much, why?” not like he needs to lose weight “I was just thinking, but I am not hungry either. I am also tired, I stayed awake last night on 2k and then I had everything going on, too much excitement too. Like being here, I want to wake up early, a nigga wants to explore” here he goes “you can explore, soon. Not right now” we can do that after we go public.

Chris seems to be happier; I think it’s settling to know he wasn’t offended by anything and that he understood why my mother did what she did, but I do feel he is overwhelmed “I am thinking of going to bed” is Chris being real “it’s just turned ten?” this is not him “I want to wake up early, I told you. I am exploring” I was thinking he was joking “Chris, you’re not walking around the neighbourhood on your own, I don’t care how grown you are” Noella giggled “aww let him cousin, this is like a holiday for you too. You not been here before?” she asked, “first time, I missed a lot of life so I want to enjoy it but I have security over here just blocking” he pointed at me “you got your things unpacked?” my mother walked over to us, she must be going to bed also “yes ma’am, I am going to bed” I swear he is annoying “good boy, my son’s don’t know what sleep is and Robyn is just as bad. We don’t do bed sharing in this home” here she goes “I know, I got my room, it’s nice. I am not sure where Robyn is sleeping” staring at Chris, he is deadass “good, Robyn can sleep in my bed” Chris snorted laughing “I think that is a good idea Miss Fenty, it was nice she gave up her bedroom for me too, the best room in the house” shaking my head “you are cheeky, anyways goodnight. I will see you all in the morning” Chris also shot up “where you going!?” I spat “to bed, I told you I am” he is so stubborn and annoying “I want you to stay here with us, stop being old” Chris has already decided, nothing I say means anything “come let’s walk together” Mel eyeballed me and I did her, he is really going to bed.

Rubbing my face laughing “here is us ready to play drinking games with your nigga and he going to bed? To bed!?” Mel repeated “he is tired, what can I say. I will be back though. I want to double check if he is ok and he’s not gone to the bedroom because is upset about something” I guess I got to make the effort “what do y’all think to think?” slowly getting up from the dining chair “he cool, doesn’t seem like the nigga I thought he would be” Rorrey spoke up first “he all skin and bones, that nigga is no drug lord, but I think momma Fenty likes him, she already doesn’t mind being escorted upstairs by him. I think he will be just great here; he seems a little nervous at times but you both were so cute outside. I had a little look to check if you were both good and you were being extra cute” I grinned putting my head down “that is how I like it, shut the world out. He is a good guy; just give it time and he will be one of us. I wouldn’t want to introduce him to you all if he was a bad guy, trust me. So to hear that he is liked makes me happy, but I will be back down, let me go and check. I wouldn’t be comfortable to just sit here without checking” he is such a grumpy old man but he really wants to wake up early “oh Robyn, tell him I will be awake in the morning. I can take him for a walk” Noella said “I like to go for walks now I am pregnant, I like to be active” letting out an oh “that is fine, if you are ok with that I will let him know, thanks. I don’t want him walking around alone” I am overprotective of him.

I should have known; how could I not know he would have the fire on because he is Chris and he said he would “really?” he looks so proud of himself “it’s so pretty Robyn” how can I be angry at that face, closing the bedroom door “I am glad I came with your mom, I got lost and she led me here. But this is dope” walking over to him ever so slowly “it is, why did you come up so early? Nobody said anything to you right?” Chris shook his head “I am tired, like legit. I am excited too; I feel like I am in some bougie hotel” he sat on the edge of the bed “nice bed!” he is so adorable “thank you, but before you sleep. I don’t mind you can go sleep but I am going downstairs. I have a few things to deal with but, tomorrow is a big day for you, and for me too. It’s part of your birthday, that is all I am going to say but I need you to delete anything on your social media that you deem is not good, you have some random pictures that I know you don’t care about but of Seiko, I need you to go through it, any social media Chris. I mean Twitter, Facebook shit like that. I need you to make sure they are clean from shit or take it off. I need to know if you have got yourself in some shit on there too, but I need you to do that. Tomorrow I will let you know but go to sleep, I will join you later. And” walking around the bed, I hope I can work this. Grabbing the remote “if you want to watch TV, projector will come down” I pressed the right button luckily “holy shit!” Chris spat “can I connect my phone to it” now he is doing too much “I am sure you can but don’t ask, this is me. I barely know that type of shit, I don’t have the wifi code either. I will get Rorrey to help with that” this that out of my hands with all that business “cool, what will happen? You know like when we go public? What is it like?” Chris asked, good question “erm, frustrating. It’s judgemental, your following will start jumping, your life gets stripped apart Chris and at first it will be hectic because they will want to know you, this is why I need you to do that for me, but I will be with you and we will get through it together, tomorrow will be a big day though” I believe he will be ok, I pray he will be.

#Chrianna FF #Chrianna #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

So Dick and reader in love but too stubborn to admit it. Reader has healing powers but more an exchange where she takes the pain and carries it herself and Dick is protective and forbids her to use it and they get in a fight and he blurts out his feelings (enter smut maybe?) ... they date low key (cute fluff?) until one day other titans find out. One day dick is badly hurt and they bring him back to the tower and their only choice is for her to save him ... can go where you like with it 💔❤️😭😫

OKAY! It took me a while, but there it is. It made me so happy to write on Dick for a first time fully on him (thought I couldn’t resist the slightly Jason Todd usual angst, I’m sorry, it’s just a taint, I swear). It’s 8:46, I’ve been all night writing because I really felt like so, and I just hope you like it as much as I did. AS you will quickly notice once the smut enters, the second part is not yet posted, written; without the smut alone it was something like 3000~4000 words, and it was quite long, thus, I decided to make it into two parts. As soon as the second is posted, I will edit this post and leave a link so that you can follow it. It was such a beautiful request! I tend to make my characters more... Red Hoodish? Angered? Petty, snarky? But this time it came out as vulnerable. I KNOW she can come off as intense, but it’s all for a reason; I hope I properly conveyed that. WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:

SUMMARY, PT. 1, as stated in the ask, will include: Reader with healing powers who gets included into the Titans has a close relationship with Dick, eventually. They crush on each other, quite hard, and smut eventually ensues.

WORD COUNT: 5040

TW: various abuse mentions implied, not explicit. I tried to keep it as vague as possible. JUST A WARNING for the second part, it will contain definitively ANGST. So if you are here to stay, just take that into account, Happy ending not confirmed.

It has been done before; the Robin’s have never had any unnatural powers but they’ve been prepared for every occasion. Dick wants you do the same, just in case something happens – and you can hear Kori’s scoff from the back as he proposes the weekly training to the rest in the tower. It’s not like it’s uncommon to have one on one’s; but it’s frowned upon within the tower, as when mandatory it implies that something needs reinforcement. You don’t want to be exposed, and as one of the latest additions you haven’t gotten close to the group yet. It has never been really your style to integrate yourself into already made up friendships. It made you uncomfortable, so you have been sticking to Nightwing’s schedule and company when offered; he seems to have a soft spot for you, and as much as you’ve been trying to not be too easy, you know that are crushing on him hard. From the glances here and there, the murmurs and the scoffs, you can guess Koriand’r and Nightwing are not on good terms as of now. Maybe something personal? Your first instinct was an intimate relationship; but for the moment nothing has been confirmed, even if you can see the faint jealousy in her eyes whenever he asks you to stay behind.

           You wish that every little thing imagined by each of the Titans would be actually true: hot and heavy makeout sessions in the main room of the tower; quickies in the bathrooms after sparring; maybe even intimate moments alone, reassuring him like you know he does sometimes after making a specially difficult decision (and having people go against him, all the time). But what actually happens is quite pathetic; you really do train and spar, hard. Until you are out of breath, your lungs burning and every little muscle of your body aching and begging for a rest. Nightwing is relentless; you can’t use his name yet, it’s too uncomfortable, too personal. And you don’t want things to get to that level yet, as bad as you want to kiss him though.

           The reason for the one on one’s training? None other than him not wanting you to use your powers. Abilities. Whatever the name, Dick does not feel comfortable with it, not after seeing some of your scars and the hurting nature of what you can do. Showing him was easy; he recruited you after all, and saw the conditions you were enslaved under, for a Gotham mafia serving for the constant regeneration of hurt dogs in fighting rings; sometimes men who came too hurt. Other was just simply some hardcore sparring they could have for fun, having you as a backup for curing them whenever necessary. You don’t know really when you acquired them, but for as long as you have known, you can exchange physical and psychological pain, make it yours. With physical contact, always physical contact in between, you could absorb the pain and own it; depending on the gravity of it, it could open wounds in your own body (generally arms and legs, sometimes on your sides and back, but those were hardcore ones). Psychologically it was trickier; you could absorb trauma, scarring experiences or unprocessed events from members who had been in catastrophic events. It was quite useful in Gotham where there was a shooting, bombing or slaughtered every three days. It kept them in top form, in and outside of the business – and as expected, it was the thing that hurt you the most. You were not sensitive by nature, but this made you cry. You could generally process it, in due time; but the nightmares were something out of your control.

           Nightwing’s room was the closest to yours, and he generally pounded on your door until you woke up and came up to apologize in the door. He would look at you with… Pity. You despised it. Felt embarrassed, felt less, felt little; like you were again chained to the mafia and someone looked down on you. But you weren’t there anymore, and his intention wasn’t really that of making you feel less. He just wants to hug you.

           He confesses so after your second month in the Tower, while sparring. Gar and Raven have actually welcomed you quite nicely, and you are able to use their names (not Beastboy, not Nightwing). Dick and you have gotten quite close; close enough to at least confide in you before officially explaining some plans, laying out schedules seeming as you seem to be very aware of every person’s response inside the tower

           (“No, if you assign Gar on training grounds again he will fume for days before actually getting started on it. Give him first day of patrol so he can feel better about herself, then training grounds. Maybe include Kori.”

           “No, I think Kori would be better on the front lines of the sky. Maybe borders?

           “Uh, well, I don’t mean to dwell on errors, but do you remember the last time you assigned Kori alone on the skyline frontier? It’s a bit risky, Richard.”

           “Dick.”

           “Yes, Dick, okay”

           “Well, you get a point I suppose. Should we include Raven?”)

           It was quite direct, now that you remember it:

           “Stop scoffing! God, get over yourself!”. You laugh; you joke now, a bit. It’s mostly jabs against him, seeming as you two haven gotten more comfortable and can even talk now when sparring.

           “It just was too predictable, (Y/N)!”

           “Oh shut up! You are the predictable one. I just wanted to try out a move”.

           He makes a feinting, making you stupidly step back and protect your upper body before being swept down in the floor. You fall on your ass, groaning out of exasperation rather than out of pain. He still comes to offer you a hand, with a brow arched.

           “What do you mean I am predictable? I’m Nightwing, baby”. “Baby”. Or babe. He has been calling you that for a while, endearingly you guess. Does it actually make you close? You can’t really speak on his behalf, but he makes you smile, and you would say you are friends. Maybe not the closest, not like him and Wally that go way back, but you two confide and have sometimes spent dawn talking until getting into bed.

           “You and your nighttime routine, come on. It’s always the same: making sure everyone has dinner, everyone interacts together at some point, and then sending them off early whenever they have to patrol or have something planned. Then you think no one notices, but when you ‘go to make a midnight snack’, you are just checking everyone is in their beds tucked in and fine. Not like me, I guess”. You scoff; it’s not meant to come off as a self-deprecating joke, but you can see why it comes as so when he furrows his brows. “I just meant insomniac. Fuck you”.

           He laughs and so do you, but you can see something’s bothering him. You stop smiling and while getting into a sparring position again, you look at him expectantly, before making any move. You are telling him, without actually doing so, to just spit it out with your expressive eyes. He gives in, sighing.

           “It’s just-I know it took you a lot of time opening up. And I swear I have never entered your room without permission, but finally noticing you leave it open in the night makes me sleep better… Even if your… “Dreams” seem to have stopped.”

           You don’t actually know how to take the information in the moment, quite taken back that he noticed. You trust his word, and assume he hasn’t really come in your room, not that there’s anything worthy of being inspected; you only brought a few civilian clothes and a couple of books with you.

           “Did you every try to come in? The first nights. I guess it would have been scary. Or worrying, rather.”

           “It just made me feel powerless. I-“. He stops himself. It is getting deep, and you have never dwelt on these topics before. It was left unsaid; acknowledged, but not talked upon. You didn’t want to, after all, they had mostly stopped. It was over. “Someone close to me before used to have them as well. It was distressing to see them woken and completely… Lost. Scared and alone.”

           Your mind immediately assumes things. You open your mouth, and this time it is him the one urging you to continue, with his dreamy and perfect eyes. It is going to sound bitter, and worse than that, jealous. You should have shut up, not even think about it.

           “Kori?”. You mutter, almost in silence, refusing to meet his eyes and refocusing your attention into your feet, like they were not in the perfect position to launch onto him. It will, hopefully, make your intentions less obvious.

           “No.” He’s particularly fast in answering. You can tell he is trying to see what’s wrong in your feet, you fumbling with them and refusing to meet his honest eyes, but you don’t give in. He continues, for your surprise. “My brother. He is dead.”

           Fuck. And you assumed it was his fuckbuddy. You wince, embarrassed, but he quickly comes to your rescue, just saying it is fine and that he is not grieving anymore. He hast let him go, as much time as it has passed; but something in his eyes seems broken, which is odd. Richard-Dick wouldn’t lie to you. If he was not over the death of his brother, he would tell you. It’s something that bothers you while he comes close to you, and you get yourself into a defending position. This time you don’t control it when he grazes your arm, but it goes numb from the pain: you are absorbing it.

           You fall to your knees, as dramatic as it can sound, taking your left arm harshly with your right hand, as if trying to stop the pain from getting to your hand. You groan and Dick is quickly to get next to you, confused to what might happen until the gears in his head start moving and make it click.

           “I told you not to use it!”

           “You were lying!. How the fuck was I supposed to know?!”

           “Fuck!”

           The pain is intense, but it’s short-lived in comparison. It doesn’t spread to your hand, and you are able to use it; but your arm is render useless after moving it a couple of times. You can’t feel anything inside. If someone were to break it, you wouldn’t notice.

           “Are you okay?”. Dick seems really distressed; he hasn’t been able to do anything for you, other than staring and hoping that it would go quick. You nod, biting your tongue still; once you release it, it hurts less. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me. I thought I-. God. Don’t do that again. You have to control it!”

           You close your eyes, wincing still; is he really lecturing you? You can’t believe it, gripping still your arm; still with some pressure, like it will help. It doesn’t.

           “Oh, fuck”. He sits in the mat, and you copy him as well, both of your hands in the cool material of the sparring floor. It helps a bit, and thus you lie down. Dick lays with his head next to your, but his body on the other direction. It feels actually quite intimate. “It’s just-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scold you, it just took me by surprise. I just remembered-“.

           There’s a pause, where you only press your cheek to the mat, staring directly at him, curious. You don’t need to urge him on; he will continue on his own, when he is prepared.

           “I remembered your nights. The tore my heart apart. Every time. I wished I could just-go in and hug you, like I did before. Try and make it safe for you, even if it’s just a bit”. He looks at you, your eyes unfazed, maybe confused and a little scared; not of him, just the warmness of your heart as he talks. He must misinterpret it. “No, shit, I meant-ah. I know I must sound like an asshole, right? Paternalizing and-“

           “No. Nononono” You mutter quickly, almost getting up as he makes the attempt to do so, maybe escape. You cling onto his shoulder, stopping him from actually doing so. You roll over yourself, resting now your chin in the mat. The mats are getting warmer under your presence. You can touch now where his head was, can almost savor the sweetness behind his intentions. But you can’t help but feel a bit scared; no one has done that to you before, cared like this before. You have been alone for quite some time. These kind of pretty empty words can be your downfall, because you want it. You want it so bad it hurts a bit like before. “I mean-I wanted that. It’s just-I-I have never had that. I don’t know how to accept it, how to take it. Or if I’m being stupid for taking your word as truth and I’m just being… Trapped, so that-“. The more you talk, the worse it gets. You sit up, sighing and hiding your head in your legs, for a second. Darkness makes you think better, it can calm you down amidst the silence of the training room. “I’m being really stupid here. Just please, forget it. I know what you meant, and I really appreciate it, Richard.”

           Things can get personal. You can get too emotional. And he most definitively didn’t mean it like that; it’s just you and your desperate need to feel loved, wanting to be loved. You thought it could be him, with him, but-is it too perfect? It would be too perfect. You are self-sabotaging; probably, at least, you think you are. Things are good, and you have a good friend to confide in. Feelings are just getting in the way to confuse you, to lose him-no, maybe not even that. Just use him, like he wants to use you. You are a healer, the secret weapon of the group: he hasn’t tell the rest because he plans on taking advantage of it. You are just a tool, you’re still being used by Gotham’s mafia, still chained, still-

           “No! You are not getting it! Wait stop, please! I won’t raise my voice, I-“. You have tried to escape. As soon as you stopped talking, you got up and was really prepared to lock into your room, take a deep breath, and calm your feelings down. But Dick is faster; he grasps your arm, stops you dead in your tracks, slightly pulling you into his arms. You wince, sore and still a bit hurt even when you can’t fully feel your arm. You quite thank it, given that where he is grabbing you seems slightly red. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to you stay”. He says, taken back; you can’t see it, but your eyes seem scared by his violent movements, the way he wants you to stay. He knows a small part of your life only, but he can imagine so much when your eyes look at him like a defiant small animal, terrified but putting a brave front. He feels like shit, you can tell quickly. “Please listen to me. I promise I’m not putting you in any position; I’m very aware of how inappropriate I am being, with my position in the Titans group and-and you being new. With what I said before I just meant I cared for you, (Y/N); deeply. I know it’s not been long, but I have strong feelings towards you. I’m not sure yet if they are because I see you as someone I deeply trust, or because you are something much more to me. But I know- I know I like you. And I want to do these kinds of things with you. Can I?”

           He asks permission, as he grabs your chin and pulls you closer. You won’t say no. Not because you can’t, but because you don’t want to. You’ve wanted this probably since the start and kissing him feels just like you imagined and so much more. It is like a fairytale finally savoring him: it’s sweet, it’s tentative and caring. There is warmth, no passion, just like you want it. His hands move quickly, almost possessively to your sides, slightly scratching the outside of your thighs, and you know what he wants to take, grasp. Almost like he knows, when you gasp as he moves his hands slightly, he stops touching you altogether, saying sorry quite quickly.

           “Just surprised, don’t stop”. You gasp out, going for his mouth again, with a bit more of passion. You feel his muscles underneath his training shirt, his masculine scent; he is safe, he is protection and trust at the same time. You have never cared too much about love in the situations of the like, but you need someone you can feel safe around, not judged. Trust. “I’ve wanted this as well. I just didn’t think you would want me, I’m a mutt”.

           When his blue eyes get to yours, he is heartbroken. He kisses your eyelids softly, with an extreme care. It almost makes you cry.

           “You are not a mutt. You are wonderful, caring, kind and noble. You have the warmest heart I have seen. You are intelligent, funny and just a tiny bit sarcastic. The right amount to actually offend me.” You laugh and he looks more relaxed. He is serious looking at you; his bronzed skin, sun-kissed and his perfect eyes piercing yours. Like he wants to make sure you know. You nod, slowly. “Don’t’ say you are a mutt, because you are not. You have been gifted an incredible ability; I just don’t want you to use it because you get hurt in the process. Nothing else; not because I think you would come off as weird or unnatural, (Y/N). You are beautiful. I’ve wanted you for a long time, but we don’t have to do anything. I can make you believe it other ways.”

           You kiss him back as an answer. It’s all he needs to know, all you really need to say. You still want it to happen naturally, but your hands are cleverer, know more, as they get under his shirt, touching his sides. He slightly shivers, making you botch chuckle, before he actually gets his shirt off. He tosses it aside but doesn’t instantly try and take yours as well. You kiss, deeply, tongues starting to intertwine and slight moans escaping your mouth.

           “You are driving me crazy, (Y/N). I have goosebumps”.

           “You are such a dork.”

           He laughs as well, and you stop kissing him just so that you can take off your shirt, revealing a grey sports bra; it’s not very attractive and you open your mouth, as a defense, to protect yourself from criticism. You expect it.

           “I will bring my lingerie for our next sparring session, I promise.”

           “What are you talking about? You are divine”. You feel hot, dizzy; no one has told you that. Not even in your first time, where you were supposed to lose your virginity in the midst of a teenage love hurricane. “You look so good it’s insane.”

           You giggle (giggle!) into his mouth as they meet again; but this time he is surer of his movements, he makes you step back, retreating into a more secluded area of the training room. He presses your back into the wall, slightly shivering and making you moan due to its coldness. He says “sorry”, as his thumbs play with your skintight pants, slightly pushing them down. It feels almost teenagerly as you moan into his mouth and fumble with his sweatpants, showing off a bulge against his grey boxers. It’s the sexiest thing you have seen, and you want to drop off your knees.

           “I want you to fuck my mouth”. You say, in the heat of the moment, still looking down at his underwear; and this is the moment where it changes, where Dick charges against you and starts eating your neck, his hands making their way into your bra.

           He is turned on. Maybe he didn’t know you were like this; you didn’t know he would be like that, either. You feel his hard fingertips almost tentatively graze your nipples once your bra is over your tits, discovered; they pinch them, slightly press them in, playing with them and making your stomach squirm of excitement, a slow build-up. Your knees press themselves together, but he makes his way in, separating them and making you sit on his, as his right knee presses into the exterior of your core, damping your underwear. You are wet; starting to be so, at least; the neck kisses are a weakness of yours. Quite audible and visible, one could argue, seeing as in trance as you are as he leaves marks on the skin, makes his way up to your ear where you obscenely moan as he turns you on, bites on it and whispers: “I want to make you cum”.

           “Fuck, Dick.”

           “If you want to.”

           You close your eyes, slightly chuckling, as his mouth makes his way down this time, his thumbs slowly taking the pants of you as his tongue gives some attention to your perked-up nipples.

           “They are divine. So unbearably cute and excited. All for me?”

           “Yes, yes. All because of you, for you.” Devour me, you could say, and he would bite with your hips squirming and your knees weak as he presses his knee again into your core, this time underwear fully sticking to your damp area. His mouth gets around your left nipple and bites down, gently; it makes you gasp quite loudly, your own hand trying to cover the sounds of your mouth. “Dick, I-“

           “I know. I wouldn’t have taken you as moaner, but I love it. So vocal, so sweet and cute. Just want to make you scream now, though. I want to see your blissed-out face.”.

           He is going to go down. You know it as he gets on his knees and his nose traces a way down your chest, to your stomach, and finally your pubic area. He takes your underwear down, dark, with his teeth, your stomach trembling and excited; you shiver, his tongue making his way up once your knickers are off the scene. He licks the interior of your right thigh, until he can almost taste you dripping on your thighs and onto the floor. It’s insane, but it’s been too long and Dick is giving you the right attention in all the right places, again licking a stripe up your left thigh, until he almost reaches a drip going down, leaving you hot and bothered, whiny.

           “Oh, please, please”. You beg first, quite quickly. He laughs, giving in and eating your thighs out, leaving out some marks and cleaning you, almost. But he never goes in, never touches you inside, your pussy still exposed and trembling, opening up almost in anticipation.

           “Please what? Eat or fuck you?”. His mouth. His dirty words get you off, almost, shivering and moaning. Both sound equally good, and you can feel yourself dripping a bit more, getting impossibly wet. It has never been a problem, but maybe after when it comes to cleaning-“Love, if you don’t say it-“

           “Fuck me with your fingers. Then fuck me”.

           His tongue seems like too much. Too intimate at the time. It will probably make you cum quite quickly, and you don’t want that yet. So he complies, his fingers getting covered in your lubricant before attempting to go inside. Relief is in your face as they get in, and you almost bend over him. He kisses your stomach, goes slightly down; he seems almost tentative, and you can feel he wanted to lick you up. Maybe he’s into it.

           “Next time”. You murmur; one of your hands tries to stick to the wall, to not fall onto him. The other one is on his hair, caressing him. His fingers are slowly getting deeper, two, and making you moan, close your eyes.

           “You are a bit tight, love. Nervous or-?”

           “It’s just been long, I’m just-not used to it. Please just fuck me.”

           The desperation in your voice is audible, and thus, he does not question it. He digs in a bit deeper, attempting to get three fingers, before he gives up, licking them out plainly in your sight. He, without you seeing it, has been palming himself; he is hard, twitching slightly in anticipation. You lay down on some mats that are piled up in the corner and open your legs, inviting him in: his eyes are bright, shine, as his forearms rest at both sides of your head. You would say it’s like a cage, but it isn’t: he’s not caging you, he’s protecting you from the rest of the world. He has been doing so, but offering you freedom from within. He is demanding for you to look at his eyes.

           “I’m not particularly big, but it’s going to take a bit to bottom out, okay? You don’t have to, sweetheart. Just tell me whenever it hurts, or at any discomfort. I want you to feel good.” He puts your pleasure above his, and you nod, signaling its fine; but you don’t fully know until his head gets in and you clamp down on him, feeling it foreign. It’s intense as he gets in, and your nails go into his back quickly, holding onto him. You trust him to be stable, resist as you press your fingertips only; he doesn’t tremble or budge, just moans out as he gets slowly in. “Fuck, (Y/N), I feel like a virgin”.

           You laugh out as you can, opening your legs slightly so that he can slide in easily even when you are completely closed down on him. He has to force himself a bit on you, but it’s worthy; he grazes something inside you that make you shout his name first time in the night, leaving you lax in the floor and completely open. He takes advantage, sliding himself until he is halfway there, your hips searching for him and gasping, feeling full.

           He moves just like that; cradles you almost, in a slow rhythm as he makes love to you in the floor. His arms are strong, and your hands hold onto them, almost desperately at times as he makes you moan again and again; eventually they get turned into shouts. He doesn’t get to bottom out, not completely; but you definitively can feel him in, as he groans and moans your name in pleasure.

           Like out of frustration, he turns you on the floor. Your nipples feel the warmth of the mat, your cheeks against it, in a submissive position almost, with your butt, almost automatically, in the air, on fours. He doesn’t press your head into it, but his hands take your hips like you are all his, all for his pleasure. He hasn’t gotten out, and thus he tries to get in a bit more as well; you moan, slightly out of pain, slightly out of pleasure, as he resumes his pace. It turns out to be mortal, as you get transformed into jelly, a moaning doll that cums twice under his touches, his bites on your nape and back, and the kisses in the middle of your back that make you tremble. You shiver, unable to maintain your own weight once you have cummed for a second time; he lets you rest, open your legs slightly more and relaxing as he stops, not budging in or attempting to go any further. It’s you the one that sits on his slap and almost fall onto him, clamping immediately down and almost cumming for a third time. You are so sensitive, you feel the orgasm on the border, on the brink; his pace is brutal, as you try to meet his thrusts up. The sound of skin against skin is the only thing audible, unless you are attentive enough to hear the little muffled moans by his hand; the only way to keep you down, as tears are making their way through your eyes, out of pure and divine pleasure. It’s too much, too much – and at the same time, it’s the perfect amount as he gets to come, moaning into your neck and eventually biting down your shoulder.

           He presses his forehead to that same spot, kissing it slowly as if asking for forgiveness.

           “I’m sorry, so sorry I hurt you, (Y/N). I just-“

           “I love you”. You say before, shutting him up immediately. It just takes him a second to response, looking more vulnerable than ever at your lips, your eyes.

           “I love you; just as much, if not more”. He confesses, kissing you deeply, full of care and love, respect as his hands caress both of your sides, again saying something similar to “sorry” to your body. He has not been violent; you can tell he has been containing himself, but you like that too. He cares. He is not like the rest. “Promise me you will come to my room tonight. Or I can come to yours, if you are fine with that. I don’t want you sleeping alone. I need you.”

           And no one has ever needed you like he does, like his voice shows, more vulnerable than ever.

           “Okay”. You mumble, too tried and pressing your forehead to him, kissing him slightly. “Come tonight. Only cuddles and pecks allowed, though. We are keeping it PG-13 for the tower, hm? ”

           “Whenever you are ready we can tell the rest. Under your rules, love.”

           And you think this time it will all be okay. As he hugs you closer, naked and trusting, you realize you love him, all of him; and maybe, as well, you know that you won’t be able to resist him or follow his promise. In a heartbeat, you would give your life for his.

#anon #request #nightwing x reader #nightwing #reader insert #dick grayson x reader

[possibly-starker]

CherryDust. [Starker]

Murray smiles, greeting the audience, “Thank you! Thank you, you’re really too kind,” he says, taking his seat in the iconic velvet chair.

“Today we have the honor of having Peter Parker and the Cherrybombers on today’s show!” Murray beams as the crowd goes wild, whooping and cheering, Murray winks at the camera as he begins again, “Please, put your hands together, for what I think might be the most influential band of this generation!”

The sideline band plays the Murray Franklin jingle as Peter Parker and the Cherrybombers emerge from backstage, blowing kisses and throwing up peace signs. The crowd eats it up, losing their minds over the boys. Murray gives them all sort of half-hugs as they take their seats.

Finally the crowd dies down a bit. “Boys!” Murray greets, “It’s been so long since we’ve had you on the show,” Murray starts, exaggerating his motions, “Last time we had you on you all were about 16, right?”

Peter smiles politely, “Actually, Steve was 17.” Murray nods, “Yes, of course, and although we’re so happy to have you on the show, and of course we all love you, we have to talk about the recent drama going on between you and a rival band- ElectricDust.”

The crowd boos at the name, once thought of as few boys skipping supper with their family and refusing to go to church, now associated with drugs and statism, sex before marriage and cuss words.

Peter giggles, “They’re not much of a problem, Murray. They’re just a bunch of little boys thinking that if they behave badly enough, they’ll get somewhere.”

“They’re mongrels.” T’challa laughs. The audience laughs along with him. Murray chuckles, “Yes, but what are your thoughts on their new song ‘Rotten Cherry’? People are speculating it’s about your band, Peter.”

Peter fakes a smile, “I don’t think I’ve heard it, Murray.” He turns to his band-mates, “Have you guys heard it?” They all collectively shake their heads, murmuring ‘no’.

Murray nods, “Personally, I don’t think that Stark guy could carry a tune even if it was in a bucket!” Everybody in the studio laughs again.

“Tony tries too hard to be hardcore, he ends up looking like an idiot.” Peter sneers, “He’s a child.” The crowd makes noises of agreement.

Peter fakes a smile when Murray leans over and touches his thigh, “You know, they’re degenerates, Peter.” Murray says, almost lovingly. Steve looks like he wants to say something, like he wants to stick up for his band-mate. “I know, Murray.” Peter says, shifting away a bit.

Murray looks at Peter longingly, before turning to the camera, “We’re going to take a short break, and afterwards Peter Parker and the Cherrybombers will play their new hit single- Dewdrop Daisy!”

The cameraman gives Murray a thumbs up, and the beeping light on the camera turns off.

“Why don’t you meet me in my dressing room, Peter?” Murray says, standing up and adjusting his tie.

Peter feels sick to his stomach

“Okay.” He says sweetly.

-

The mosh pit smells like weed and sex, and Tony adores it. ElectricDust had a full house, not one ticket left over. Tony cards his hand through sweaty hair, “I hope you motherfuckers are having a good night!” he yells into the mic. The crowd screams back something obscene and Tony grins.

“If you want to fuck our bassist, scream at the top of your lungs!” Tony laughs, the crowd erupts in a loud roar, and Bucky, ElectricDust’s bassist, blushes.

The crowd dies down, and Tony speaks smoothly into the mic as he adjusts his guitar strap, “This next one was written for a nice piece of ass and his cronies,” the crowd ‘ooo’s and Tony can’t help the smirk forming on his lips, “‘Rotten Cherry’ is dedicated to my very good friend, who I know inside and out- Peter Parker!”

The crowd chants Pe-ter Par-ker over and over, and Tony hopes this preformance is somehow seen by the small brunette.

He feels like a god among men.

-

“You’re fueling the flames by talking about them.” Natasha scolds, leaning against he desk as the boys sit in her office. “You’re supposed to be a good christian pop/rock band- calling people ‘mongrels’ isn’t what you guys are supposed to do.” she glares at T’challa.

“ElectricDust is a problem, I, as your manger am supposed to deal with, is that understood?” The boys look at their suede shoes and mutter statements of agreement.

“Good.” Natasha says, placing her hands on her hips. She goes behind her desk and digs in a cabinet, retrieving a sleek styled red velvet envelope, “I’ve accepted an invitation to a little something I think you all might like.” she smiles, handing Peter the envelope.

Peter holds it carefully, looking up at Natasha with wide, confused eyes. “Go on and open it, we haven’t got all day.” She says in a motherly tone. The boys all gather around Peter as he opens the envelope cautiously, as if he was scared of what was inside.

He pulls out a dazzling blue card, very official looking.

‘PETER PARKER AND THE CHERRYBOMBERS HAVE BEEN NOMINATED FOR ‘BAND OF 1981’ ALONG WITH THEIR SONG, ‘DEWDROP DAISY’.

PLEASE REPORT TO ASGARD, U.S.A. FOR THE AWARDS CEREMONY.

LOKI LAUFEYSON, PRESIDENT OF OPALITE RECORDS.’

It says, in a swirly gold font. Peter keeps re-reading it, eyes shifting like crazy, looking for a sign that this is a fake or a joke. Steve’s breath hitches and Beck lets out a whoop of laughter, high-diving T’challa.

Peter finally looks up at Natasha again, who’s smiling softly. “Is this real?” Peter asks, out of breath. Natasha nods, “As real as they come.”

Opalite Records.

Opalite Records.

Who cares? It’s only the most exclusive record brand in the world, It was only the award ceramony that turned David Bowie and Bob Dylan down- no big deal.

Peter began to hyperventilate.

-

“Dude!” Quill yelled, grinning ear-to-ear as he entered the band’s trailer, holding up a velvet envelope.

Tony looked up from his guitar, “What do you want?” Quill slapped the envelope on the coffee-table in the middle of the trailer, looking quite proud of himself. “Open that shit up, Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but leaned forward and picked up the envelope nonetheless, “If this is another bill for your porno-mags, Quill, so help me god-” he stopped mid-sentence after pulling out the card inside the envelope, face controrting.

‘ELECTRICDUST HAS BEEN NOMINATED FOR ‘BAND OF 1981’ ALONG WITH THEIR ALBUM, ‘MAN OF IRON’.

PLEASE REPORT TO ASGARD, U.S.A. FOR THE AWARDS CEREMONY.

LOKI LAUFEYSON, PRESIDENT OF OPALITE RECORDS.’

Quill beams as Tony looks over the letter, “And you said I was a shit manager.” Tony leans back into his chair, “You are.” Quill completely deflates, walking over and snatching the card out of Tony’s hand, huffing, “Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get you considered for the ceremony?”

Tony tries to look stern, but Quill looks like he’s going to bitch all day if Tony doesn’t cave in, “Fine, fine, whatever man, thanks, you did well.” Tony sighs. Quill smiles again, “Finally, I’m getting the recognition I deserve.” Tony snorts but doesn’t reply.

Quill clasps his hands together, “I’m gonna grab a beer, they opened a bar just down the street- wanna come?”

Tony shakes his head, “Grab me a pack of Marlboros while you’re out.”

-

“Looking sharp, Parker.” Steve smiles, leaning against the dressing room doorframe. Peter grins, fixing his cuffs in the mirror, “You really think so? It’s not too much?”

Steve shrugs, “It’s nice. Very you.” Peter shoots Steve a playful glare, “Is that supposed to be a compliment, Rogers?”

“You overthink things, Peter. You look fine.” Steve sighs, crossing his arms. Peter scoffs, “Fine is for church, I need to look better than fine; we’re going to the awards ceremony to top all award ceremonies, Steve. It’s going to be televised.”

Steve lets out a soft laugh, “You’re so different from the Peter Parker I knew in highschool.” Peter looks confused, “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I was a nobody in highschool.”

“You were my friend. Just because you didn’t have people fawning over you left and right doesn’t mean you were a nobody. You liked Star Wars and turning your homework in early.” Steve looks slightly offended, and Peter gives him an unamused stare, “As much as I love you, Steve, being your nerdy little highschool friend in the middle of NowheresVille, Wisconsin doesn’t get you invited to the Opalite Records ceremony.”

Steve’s offended look blends into a sad one, “We started this band out of your uncle’s garage. It was for fun. This isn’t fun, anymore Peter. It’s not fun when it’s all you think about.” he says softly, walking out of the room.

Peter doesn’t realize that Steve’s gone until it’s time to leave.

-

“Baby, listen to me,” Tony says over the phone, “I know I cheated on you, but I’m a changed man, just come to this shindig with me for a few hours.”

Pepper sighs over the phone, “You know, I would, Tony, but I just can’t be bothered right now. Goodbye, love.”

click

Tony curses under his breath as he flips through a few more pages in his notebook, settling on a one night stand he had met last week. He dials her number.

“Hi, you’ve reached Wanda Maximoff-”

“Wanda!” Tony smiles, remembering her name, “Listen, babe, how’d you like to go on a little date with me tonig-”

“-I’m not here right now, but you’re welcome to leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!” the recorded message chirps and Tony’s face falls, he slams the phone down on its hook.

He groans. He’s called just about every girl he’s ever interacted with, and not one wanted to accompany Tony to the awards ceremony.

“Woah,” Scott, ElectricDust’s keyboard player, says, entering the trailer’s makeshift livingroom, “Someone’s havin’ a bad day.”

“Wanna go on a date with me, Scott?” Tony says with a strained laugh. Scott fans himself, “On a date? With you? How could I possibly say no?” Tony buries his face in his hands, obviously stressed. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I figured.”

“Have you tried, you know, actually being nice to your dates?” Scott says, grabbing a canned beer from the minifridge. “I heard that works wonders.” Tony narrows his eyes, “What do you mean? I’m always nice to my dates!”

Scott raises his brow, opening the can, “Really? You made me drive that blonde girl home yesterday because she didn’t want to so much as look at you.”

Tony stays quiet. Point taken.

Scott takes a few sips of his beer before belching, “Hope you find somebody, Tones. You got about,” he checks his wristwatch, “6 hours before we gotta leave.”

Tony groans again and then continues to flip through his notebook.

-

The theater is gorgeous, a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and painted angels on every wall- Peter feels almost inferior in a place like this.

“Darlings!” Loki announces from across the room, striding over to Peter and his bandmates, “You all look absolutely ravishing.” he smiles. “So glad you could make it!”

Peter nods dumbly, blushing. “Thanks so much for inviting us, Mr. Laufeyson, it's a real honor.” Steve steps in, firmly taking Loki’s hand in his and shaking it. “Yes, well, the media would absolutely die if you all weren't invited- there's champagne and wine being served at the lounge if you want any.” Loki quickly says, before sashaying away.

Peter’s practically glowing as he turns to face his bandmates, “I think that went really well.” he grins.

-

“Jesus, Scott, could you be any worse of a driver?” Bucky sneers, holding onto the door handle as Scott swerves. “You’re lucky I'm not making you take the Metro, tin-man.”

The car is cramped and hot, making it difficult for Tony to snort a nice clean line. “We’re 30 minutes late,” Bucky says, almost annoyed, “Step on it.”

Scott turns around to face the brunette, running through a red light, “You know, you're a real bitch, Buck.” Tony sighs, finally getting a good half of the powder up his nose, “Eyes on the road, Scotty.” he mumbles, sinking back into the leather seat.

Scott says something under his breath, but turns back around and continues to drive.

-

Peter chokes on his sparkling water when he sees a very certain group of people get pass security.

What's worse is the fact that they're completely ignoring the dress code, showing up in denim jeans and t-shirts. Peter thinks he's going to puke.

Tony feels ecstatic when he spots that tuft of curly chocolate hair in the crowd, excusing himself from his bandmates as he pushes through the sea of Hollywood's elite.

“Parker!” he yells, and Peter tries to pretend he didn't hear it, turning away and taking another sip of his sparkling water.

“Don't be that way, princess!” Tony grins, finally catching up to the small thing, ”I just wanna talk to you.” Peter doesn't respond, which just makes Tony more restless, ”Parker, c’mon, baby! Let's catch up, preferably in the back of Scott’s car, but whatever works for you.”

Peter gives in, reluctantly, looking around to make sure nobody important is looking before speaking, “What the hell are you doing here? Did you come here just to ruin my night?” Peter hisses. Tony laughs, which just puts Peter more at unease, “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart, me and my boys were invited.”

“Unlikely.” Peter scoffs. “Invited to clean the floors more like it.”

Tony looks more annoyed now than anything, “My boys have worked just as hard as yours to be here, Parker.” Peter huffs, “You’re kidding. You don’t actually think you deserve to be here, right?” Peter let’s out a breathy laugh at the idea. “You’re nobodies, Stark,” he begins, poking at Tony’s chest, “You make music for losers, for outcasts. You’re only here because you gained popularity by dissing my band.”

Peter smiles up at Tony and walks away, leaving Tony alone with his battered ego.

-

Peter and Tony avoid each other for the rest of the night, despite their bandmates mingling and laughing with eachother, enjoying tiny cheese platters and white wine.

Peter’s too stubborn to make amends.

Tony just wants to give him space.

Finally, at around 12, the lights dim down and everyone is ushered into the seating area. Loki walks on stage, holding several envelopes in his hands.

“Thank you all for coming,” he says, sweetly, into the mic, “It means a lot to my record label that you took time out of your busy lives to visit little ole’ me.” the crowd giggles at that, Peter included.

“Now, without further ado- I give you the 22nd annual Opalite Records awards ceremony!” the crowd cheers and claps, buzzing with excitement.

Peter crosses his fingers, and Tony wishes they had something stronger than champagne.

-

After a grueling 2 hours of watching other bands and solo artists receive awards, Loki finally announces that he has the final and most important award of the evening.

“Everyone in this room is awfully talented,” Loki says, smiling softly, “But these people are just... better. Don’t take it too harshly, now.” he opens the card, slowly and teasingly, Peter thinks he’s going to pass out from the anticipation. Tony’s on his fifth glass of red wine, and he’s showing now signs of stopping.

“And the winner for band of 1981 is...”

Peter’s palms are sweaty, and he’s on the edge of his seat.

“My, what a surprise, it’s ElectricDust!”

Peter’s world comes crashing down around him, he glances over to where Tony and his goons are getting up, stumbling over their own feet.

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair.

“Woah, hey Peter, are you oka-” Steve begins, trying to comfort his friend, but Peter jolts up, interrupting him.

“I’m... going for a walk.” he declares, voice breaking.

Tony watches as Peter quickly makes a bolt for the exit. He taps Scott on the shoulder, “I’ll be right back.” he mumbles.

Scott’s eyebrows furrow, “Dude, it’s speech time! You gotta go up ther-”

“Make up something!” Tony grins, already making his way towards the exit as well, “Thank my mom for me!”

-

Peter sits on the cold, concrete steps outside of the theatre, hot tears streaming down his face. He had worked so hard, and it didn’t even matter.

“Is this seat taken?” a familiar voice softly speaks from behind Peter.

“Did you come here to rub it in?” Peter sniffles, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Tony takes a seat next to Peter, “No. I came here because I care.”

Peter laughs, rolling his eyes, “Am I supposed to believe that?”

Tony shrugs, “Believe what you want, Peter. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

They sit in silence for a while.

“Thank you.” Peter says softly, not daring to look up at Tony. “What you’re doing it’s- you’re a good guy.” he says, shyly.

Tony smiles, “I don’t give a shit about the award, or being even nominated, in all honesty, that Loki guy gives me the creeps.”

“Why’d you come here then?”

“I wanted to see you. I was hoping writing a song about you would grab your attention, but I think I like talking face-to-face better.”

Peter smiles, a gorgeous ‘I-don’t-know-I’m-smiling’ kind of smile, and Tony’s heart swells.

“I’m sorry I said all that stuff about you.” Peter finally says, gaining the courage to look Tony in the eye.

“I’ve been called worse- no hard feelings.”

Peter’s eyes light up as he giggles.

“Listen, I don’t exactly have a date for this thing,” Tony jabs a thumb at the building, “Know anybody who might wanna, I don’t know, get together? Even if it’s just for tonight.”

Peter pretends to think for a second. “I might; but he’s really hungry, so you might want to ask him after a burger. Or 5.”

Tony laughs, standing up, extending his arm so that Peter can grab it, “The night’s still young, princess.”

Peter beams, letting himself get heaved up by Tony, “We best make the most of it.”

🌻🌻🌻🌻

The absolutely beautiful moodboard was made by the fantastic @starkermoodboards !! She makes fucking stellar boards so why are you not following her.

This fic took forever to write, so appreciate it please 😔 i’m also sorry this is so long????

-Red.

#starker #ironspider #peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark #starker fanfiction #fluff #starker fic #starker fluff #tooth rotting fluff #hnghjnndh its 1 am

[star-quill]

The Way It Was

Words: 3.7k

Pairings: Javi Peña/Reader, Javi Peña/You

Characters: Javi Peña, Reader/You

Warnings: Angst, Javi's an asshole

Summary: Falling for Javier Peña wasn't your best idea, but you couldn't help it

Notes: this is msotly just angst, i'm warning yall now, there will be soft fluff and heavy hardcore filth at points

Masterlist: Chapter One | Chapter Two

Part of you hated yourself for falling for someone you knew wouldn't reciprocate those same feelings towards you. Part of you hated yourself for always going back to him and giving him exactly what he wants.

Part of you especially hated the hold he had over you. How he could just so much as glance as you and you would be ready at his beck and call for anything he wanted. How his lips just fit and melded against yours like you were made for each other. How his hands held onto your hips and kept you close to him like he never wanted to let go.

But worst of all, you hated that he hasn't called you back or even looked at you when you passed him in the hallway at the embassy, after you told him that you loved him a week ago.

You should've listened to Steve when he said the man was not into commitment. But you were too blindsided by Javi and the way he smiled at you when he lit up a cigarette after you spent the night with him. You convinced yourself he would tell you he loved you too and you could live with him and start a life with him.

But when you said those three words, those three simple fucking words, he didn't say a word. He just stubbed out his cigarette, pulled on his shirt and trousers, followed by his shoes and exited your apartment. The silence in your room was deafening, the loud slam of your door still echoing through your head. It dizzied you to the point where you just cried—cried over Javi and his stupid fear of commitment, cried over the way his lips felt against your neck and how you longed to have him back in your arms. Eventually the crying became too much and you just fell asleep, exhausted from the night's actions and Javi's behaviour.

It had now been a week since you last spoke to Javi—which you now realised your last words to him were "I love you". He hasn't uttered a single word to you since then, not even a side glance at you when you walked past him. You so badly wanted to just scream at him—ask him why he's being so cold with you, ask him why he won't say "I love you, and especially ask him why he won't even look at you, like he's completely disregarding your feelings and pushing you aside like the prostitutes he used to fuck before you came along.

Now thinking about it, you and Javi were never exclusive—he made that point very clear. But, he hasn't had sex with anyone else while you two were having sex together. If he was so afraid of commitment like Steve said, why is he so committed to being with you and only you?

You two fucked and that's it, no feelings attached—save for the ones you had towards him but he didn't need to know that. Almost always, he stayed the night, but by the time you both got any sleep it was the early hours of the morning. He was easy to you, easy to be around, easy to look at, easy to talk to—easy to fucking fall in love with.

You had had enough of his bullshit now, pushing your seat back harshly, the sound of metal scraping along the ground loudly, filling the hallway. You stormed out of your office, down the hallway towards Javi and Steve. Both men looked up at you as you walked in, both as surprised as each other to see you.

It was the first time Javi had actually looked at you since the incident between you and him. His soft honey coloured eyes making you speechless. His eyes wouldn't leave yours, but his eyebrow raised up, prompting you to give them the reason why you so swiftly came to their office.

But no words came out. In your head you had this big plan, you were going to march straight to Javi's office, ask him why he's being an asshole and demand an apology.

Well, one out of three isn't bad.

"Yes?" Steve spoke first. Of course he did, you didn't expect Javi to even speak to you after what happened. You slightly shook your head, trying to regain any ounce of confidence you had left in you. You marched over to Javi, placed both hands on his desk and looked into his eyes.

"What the fuck is your problem? You like breaking people's hearts? You like leaving people after they ay "I love you"? Steve told me you weren't one for commitment but that was an understatement." Javi just looked at you with the blankest expression on his face. He really didn't give a single fuck about you or your feelings. But somehow you still fucking loved him.

"I don't want to talk about this here—"

"Well it's now or never Javi—"

"Then I choose never."

"Fuck you, Javi. Fuck you."

He didn't say anything, just went back to doing his work. Steve glared at him from across the room, before looking up at you and giving you a soft smile, sympathising with you almost. You could feel tears prickling your eyes and you had to leave before you had a full on breakdown in front of him.

You swore you had never hated anyone more than Javier Peña. You also swore you never wanted to kiss someone as badly as you want to kiss Javier Peña. How someone who's that much of an asshole to you can still make your heart swell up and your stomach fill with butterflies, is absolutely beyond you. But Javier Peña can and he doesn't care.

He doesn't care.

He doesn't care.

He doesn't care and he never fucking will.

You kept telling yourself that, over and over. Every time Javi and Steve walked past your office, you hoped he would glance in, but he never did. Steve occasionally did, flashing you a small smile.

At least you knew Steve would tell you he loved you.

It had now been two weeks (and 3 days, not that you're counting) since Javi stormed out of your apartment. You were at home, curled up on the couch watching television. Somehow, you believed that Javi would knock on your door, you'd let him in and have a conversation with him. He might not say he loves you but he'd explain his absence from your life.

The minutes turned into hours and you felt yourself drift off to sleep, the programme on television only acting as background noise. After a few hours, you slowly awoke, the dimly light room feeling as bright as the sun to you. You turned off the television and headed to bed, feeling a lot more comfier under your duvet and against your pillows than the scratchy blanket and the arm of your couch.

You thought about Javi in this moment. Was he mulling this over as much as you were? Was he thinking of how to talk to you without hurting your feelings any more than he already has?

Then you realised this was Javi and he was probably fucking some random prostitute to get his mind off of you. Probably fucking her better than he ever fucked you, just to prove a point to himself and fuel his ego through the roof. He was an asshole and how you let yourself get as close as you did to him was hurting you so much.

Here goes another night of you crying yourself to sleep.

You turned up an hour late for work, your late night making you wake up later than usual. Thankfully you snuck in unnoticed to your office, the receptionist just nodding at you and you thanked the gods that she was a good friend of yours.

You sat down at your desk and noticed a small piece of paper folded on top of your notebook. You picked it up and unfolded it, hoping it was just a note from your boss telling you to not be late again. However, your heart sank when you read the three words on the note.

Can we talk? - J

You couldn't stand up fast enough, practically running to his and Steve's office. But to your disappointment, he wasn't there. Your shoulders dropped as Steve turned to look at you.

"If you're looking for Javi, he just left. Didn't know when you were coming in today and he gave it like half an hour before he just left. He should be back soon." You just nodded, slowly walking back to your office and slumping back down in your seat. There was no way you could get any work done until Javi got back. Your mind was racing at a million miles per hour.

What the hell did he want to talk about now that he couldn't two weeks ago?

Around an hour later, Javi walked past your office but stopped when he looked in and saw you. You glanced up at him and he nodded at you. He shifted slightly, waiting for you to let him in. You weren't sure where the conversation was going to go and didn't know if an argument with Javi in your office really was the best place to do it.

"You want to talk?"

He nodded.

"Come by my apartment later on tonight, around 7?"

He nodded, before tapping your doorframe twice and heading back to his own office. You sighed, knowing your apartment was a lot safer and at least if Javi stormed out again, you could be warmed up and comforted in your own bed.

The day seemed to drag on and Javi didn't go past your office at all until he left at the end of the day to go home. You were packing up some of your things and he stopped outside your door for a second but before you could look at him, he was gone again. You had hoped that maybe he'd offer to give you a lift home but he probably thought it wasn't right considering the situation.

Once you got home, you immediately got undressed into your loungewear, which consisted of an old t-shirt and some cotton shorts. The weather in Colombia was hot and most nights you had to sleep with barely anything on, which is why you missed the nights spent with Javi the most. You wore nothing to bed when you were with him, the room too hot to even wear anything. He wore practically nothing, save for a pair of underwear. Some nights he just lay beside you but the other nights he would lay on his side, holding you close against his chest and those were the nights you ached for the most. Just to have him close to you and touching you and holding you, it really felt like he was yours to have and to hold forever.

The loud knock at your door startled you from your position on the couch. You glanced at the clock on the wall.

7pm.

He was here.

You walked over to your door and opened it. He looked you up and down once you had opened the door, before stepping past you into your apartment. He knew the place all too well, shucking off his jacket and throwing it over your armchair before going to sit on your couch. You closed the door and went to sit on the couch beside him.

"Look, I didn't come here for an argument so please, don't start one."

"Why are you assuming I'll start it?"

"Because you're the one pissed at me."

That was true. But then again, he was the one who stormed out of your apartment in anger so who's really to blame here.

"Anyway, look.. I just.. I don't know why this is so hard for me—"

"For you? Javi I've cried myself to sleep every night for the past two weeks because of what you did! I've felt so sick to my stomach at the thought of even looking at you at work, that sometimes I didn't even want to come in—"

"Look, I know I messed up. I know that. Just listen to me, okay?"

You sighed and nodded, knowing that for whatever excuse he has as to why he's being so cold with you will end at some point and you can finally speak your truth.

"I didn't say I love you because I was afraid of saying it. I didn't say it because I don't want you getting hurt. Every time I feel close to loving someone, they almost always get hurt. That's the last thing I want for you. Because I do care about you, you know I fucking do. It's just easier to shut off my feelings and leave than let the person get hurt."

You wiped back your tears but felt the blood boil in your chest. He's still disregarding your feelings and acting like some protector not realising he's doing the exact opposite to you.

"Storming out of my apartment at 2am after I told you I loved you? That hurts Javi. You may say that you don't want me getting hurt, without you even realising you did it anyway."

Javi sat back against your couch, dragging his hands down his face and sighing. He knew he was hurting you but he doesn't know what to do with love. Especially with you, the one person in the world he cares about the most.

"I'm sorry. I really am, I just.. I've been in love before, I was even about to get married. But, I just.. left. Left her, left that life and now I do whatever it is the hell I do down here, you know, relationship wise.

Instinctively, you reached out and took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers with his. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of your hand softly. You tried not to melt under him but he was just pulling you right back to your first night together—and for some reason, you didn't hate that.

"Javi.." You trailed off, not really knowing what to say now. He just looked at you, his warm brown eyes drawing you in, showing you he's completely intent on listening to what you have to say. This is the Javi you know, the one who would listen to your problems at 3am even though he wanted to sleep. The one who would hold you through a thunderstorm and tell you it's all okay. The one who would laugh at you when you burnt all the food but walk into the kitchen and help you clean it up. The one who looked at you at 2am after spending the night together, with those same warm brown brown eyes, a soft smile on his face and his thumb caressing your soft cheek.

"Javi, I don't think I can love you anymore.."

He didn't say anything, not even sure of what to say anyway. But you're not even sure you believe what you just said. You still love him, he makes your heart shatter to a million pieces but if he asked you to run away with him and start a new life somewhere, you'd instantly say yes. You just want to fling your arms around his neck and kiss him for the rest of your life.

"I understand."

"Javi, no you don't. You're just saying that to end the conversation and move on."

"Don't you want to move on?"

"No."

He sighed, realising he wasn't going to get anywhere with the conversation knowing you still loved him. He hated himself for letting you in and get too close.

"I don't know how to go on anymore, Javi. You're all I think about. I keep thinking about all the nights we spent together, the way you lit up a cigarette after us having sex then shifting yourself to lay your head against me. The thought of you wanting to be close to me makes my heart ache. Those nights we spent just talking about nothing, laughing over nothing and eventually falling asleep in each other's arms. The way your face beamed every time you came over here. You can't just sit there and tell me you don't love me, Javi. Because how many prostitutes did you fuck when you were spending all that time with me. For a man who doesn't want to tie himself down to one woman, you were pretty committed to me."

A small tear rolled down your face and Javi's thumb came to wipe it away, making you gasp softly from the contact. It was the first real touch from him in so long and you wished it had lasted longer. It almost burned your skin despite his touch being as soft and gentle as his eyes which were still looking deep into your own.

"There was nobody else but you. It was always you, from the first time I saw you walking into the office. I just knew I had to kiss you, to know what you tasted like, to know what you liked and to know what it felt like to be in love again."

To be what? Javi loved you this whole time but refused to tell you?

"Then why did you leave me, Javi? Why did you leave without saying a single thing? No explanation, even after me saying your name constantly as you walked out on me. You didn't say anything to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not good enough anymore, Javi. It's never fucking good enough anymore. You broke my heart but somehow, oh god somehow, you put it back together again. You put it back together again and let it swell up with love whenever I saw you."

Javi's hand now moved to the side of your jaw, delicately rubbing your chin with his thumb. He wants to kiss you, you can tell. But you won't let him, you can't let him in again. Not now, he doesn't deserve you now. But he's looking at you with those eyes and you just want to give in, you want to give him your heart to break over and over again, because with Javi, you don't care. He could ruin your life forever and you would still be grateful for everything.

Javi pulled you towards him, resting your forehead against his. He closed his eyes, relishing in the contact between you two.

"What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"You should know what to do, I don't want you doing what I want you to do. I can't make your decisions for you. Just, do the right thing."

He pulled away and looked into your eyes, before flashing you a small smile. He just nodded and let go of your face. You blinked back a tear as he stood up, realising this was all for nothing.

"It might take me some time to tell you want you want to hear. But right now, we can just go back to having fun, right?"

You sighed, standing up, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt material in your hands. He wrapped his arms around you and just held you in his embrace, something you longed for for so long.

"I honestly have no idea why you chose me, out of everyone. Why me?"

"Because you look at me like nothing else matters. Like I'm important, not just to you, but at work too. You believe in me, Javi."

"Why wouldn't I? It's a real disappointment that nobody else believes your potential."

You slumped your head against Javi's chest, smiling like an idiot. You felt him laugh, the rumble in his chest like music to your ears. Hearing him say he believes in you is way more important to you than a confession of love.

"Do you have to go? Can you stay?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Let's start over. For old times sake."

"You better not tell me you love me.."

"Love you? I barely know you yet.."

This time he smiled. He really smiled and you felt your heart beat twice as fast as before. Javi had such a hold over you that you never wanted to break. He was everything to you and you knew he felt the same about you. Being with Javi felt like a dream, you had never had anyone care about you or worry about you as much as he did. He made you dizzy with love and anger, but you loved it all the same.

The pair of you sat back on the couch, your back resting against Javi's side, his arm draped over you, holding your hand. It was a moment of pure bliss and you're sure nothing could ever break it. You wish you could take a snapshot of this moment and savour it forever.

You're not sure what the future holds for you and Javi after your reconciliation but you hope to god it turns out good. You don't want to hate him again, but then again, did you ever really hate him? Or did you just hate yourself for how you still loved him despite how he acted.

You flushed the bad thoughts away as you got comfier beside Javi but he quickly sat you up.

"You still got some of my spare clothes here? These jeans aren't the best for lying down in.."

"In my wardrobe, yeah."

He nodded and headed towards your bedroom. It all somewhat felt domestic almost—you and Javi sitting together in your apartment, having a wardrobe with his clothes in it. He returned a few moments later wearing a t-shirt and some soft cotton shorts. He smiled at you as he sat down, letting you adjust to your previous position.

"Better?"

"Much."

He tilted your head so he could kiss you and your whole body was rippled with shockwaves. He kissed you so softly and gently but your whole body was on fire. He pulled away from the kiss and let you snuggle into his side.

Yeah, this was perfect.

Well, almost.

#javi peña fic #javier peña fic #javi peña x reader #javier peña x reader #javi peña #javier peña #my fics #*fics

[nicoletterogers]

task eight - high school never ends

( tw: adhd mention )

[ soundtrack ]

Let’s start with the simple stuff first. what classes did you take in high school? which ones were you most and least excited for? did you have a favorite teacher that made the days more enjoyable?

Nic propped her leg up on a chair, leaning in as she listened to the question. People never wanted to talk about high school--brought up bad memories for some. Some just didn’t care. Not for Nic--comparatively, high school was a good part of her life. She preferred college, but she didn’t hate her last years in the public school system. The blonde shrugged. “Well, I mean--I had to take the core classes, y’know? But my high school was big enough where we had a lot of really cool electives in all sorts of subjects--like I once took a class called ‘American History through Music”’and that was sick as fuck. I also took one on the World Wars. I liked history a lot back then. I guess I still do--but I don’t have a lot of time to sit and learn anymore. That’s why I’m big on documentaries. I mean, yeah, Liam of course--but also I like learning.” She paused, humming while she thought about her classes. “I hated English. Like what a pointless class--why would you have to learn about a language that you already speak? I mean, yes, i know, it’s not actually important. I think Lia has shared with me a few times the joy of what words mean--but i don’t know. I just never could figure out why anyone would want to spend more time than they had to writing papers or reading books. Maybe if i had taken a creative writing course or two--but nah. Give me AP Gov any day--or even trig. I was good at trig.” She paused. “Nah, teachers liked Liam. He was charismatic and charming, good at sitting and listening. School was never hard for me, but I didn’t possess the talent of sitting still for very long. I think I was...a sophomore in college when I first got diagnosed with ADHD. Did you know that ADHD often shows up different in women than men?” Nic nodded. “Yeah--its wild. Girls are significantly less likely to get a diagnosis growing up, which means that their symptoms go untreated and unsupported for crazy long periods of time--like sometimes 20 years. I think that’s why I really struggled in English--because the subject didn’t interest me and like hell i could just sit there and read something. But nah, teachers and I never bonded. Which is fine because I still did well in school. It just took some extra effort.”

and now, outside of the classroom. did you participate in any extracurricular activities like sports, band, or other clubs? were you apart of the prom planning committee or did your parent always sign up to chaperone field trips? or did you bolt home or to work at the end of the day?

“Oh hell yes. I was all about the extracurriculars. I did archery, cheerleading--don’t laugh--worked on the school newspaper for a year, managed the lacrosse team for a year, volunteered to be a mentor for incoming freshman and, of course, worked. Anything to stay out of my house. I mean, I loved Liam but my dad and I are like oil and water. He wanted me to be like Liam so badly--and I just...couldn’t. One, I wasn’t a guy--and that was disappointment enough for him. But I wasn’t Liam and spending time around dad just...it was so much pressure. So I tried to focus my time elsewhere. and I liked being busy--my brain enjoyed that piece. It was like my environment finally matched how fast my brain was working. Even cheerleading--the sport that made me a wear a skirt--was fun. Because nothing is better than proving a bunch of stupid high school boys that yes, cheerleading is a sport. a hardcore, badass sport. But if I had to pick a favorite, it would be archery. I think it’s because I got to teach it to the kiddos at camp later on, but also--like how powerful is it to be able to pull back on a bow and let an arrow fly through the sky and get a bullseye? Like it’s badass.” Nic grins at the memory. “Oh, and then seeing those kids at camp--especially the ones who struggle with who they are and their self-confidence--light up when they hit the target? the pride they have in themselves for something they’ve done? That shit’s an unreal high.” 

a night to remember. did you go to prom? if so, did you have a date or fly solo, and was it a good time where you danced all night, and what were you wearing? if not, did you have an ‘anti-prom’ party, or why else did you decide not to go? what about other school dances or pep rallies?

The blonde lets out a laugh and nods, thinking about the memory. “Oh yeah-- I definitely went to prom. I mean, I think I was always going to--but I don’t think I anticipated having a date. And definitely not winning prom queen, but that’s Malik for you. The kid was like the closest thing to a celebrity in school--I mean, I think so. He was the star jock and you know how high schoolers get about their sports. But no, Malik and I are good friends--super close. I love that guy, he’s such a good one. So of course I was going to say yes when he asked me to go with him. I’m pretty sure half of my squad was jealous, but like...that whole thing never made sense to me. The whole jealousy thing.” It sure as hell does now though. She thought bitterly, her own situation appearing back in her mind. “Anyway, we went as friends. I didn’t expect to win prom queen--hell, i didn’t even know people knew who I was. Weirdest experience ever to put a tiara on. But honestly--prom was kinda fun. Not kinda, I really enjoyed it. Malik and I did end up kissing, but it was one of those kisses where you realize, at the end of it, you’re way better off as friends than anything more? Not that the kiss was bad, not at all.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I wore this red dress with a slit up the side and I had never in my entire life though I’d wear something like that. It looked good though. Like really good. All that cheerleading paid off I think.” Another chuckle came out of her lips. “As for pep rallies-- I was in them so of course I was there. And I liked the energy of them. I’ve always liked big energy spaces--concerts, pep rallies, sporting events. It feels like--at least for a moment--you’re all connected by something greater than yourself. Maybe that’s like my church. I don’t know. But yeah, I liked pep rallies.”

some more of the hard hitting q’s. who did you sit with at lunch? did you keep the lock off your locker or decorate it? were your headphones always snaked through your sneeve? was cutting class a normal occurrence or would you never dare? did you ever get detention?

“I mean, I don’t think I was ever popular--but I always had a place to sit with someone. It was either with Liam and his friends--I guess they were also my friends, but I met them through Liam so it’s hard for me to associate them as just mine. Sometimes with my squad, but not often. I didn’t care for the dramatics of dates and boys and clothing talk. But every so often we had a good discussion on things that I did care about--sometimes it was on women’s rights, though that was a lot of Sammi repeating what her mother told her about feminism (not that it was wrong, but it wasn’t Sammi’s words, that was sure) or the fact that child workers were making the clothing they had talked about the previous day. I liked those conversations the best. But even still, it was usually me shooting the shit with Liam and our friends. I loved those guys so much, y’know? I still keep in touch with a lot of them--some have families, some just got married. In fact, I am going to Tate’s wedding in a couple weeks. Its so weird to think they’re just now getting married and...” She trailed. Maybe now wasn’t the time for that thought. “Detention? Oh yeah. Me and Mrs. Huxley were good pals by graduation. Mostly it was about cutting class--but everyone once in a while she’d catch me with a...special someone in an empty hallway. Ok, so it only happened twice and I never told Liam because he’d kill me if he knew. So I guess,” She looked up at the sky and chuckled lightly. “Surprise?” 

upward and onward. what did you want to be when you were sixteen? was there a career path in mind, a certain college, another route worth taking? were you excited to see your high school in the rearview mirror or was moving on bittersweet?  if you graduated, was it scary or exciting or a mix of both? did you end up where your younger self expected you to?

"Well, when I was really little, I wanted to be a sideline reporter for the Bears. Or a commentator for the Cubs. Something to do with sports, absolutely. I could never imagine leaving this city--not in a million years. Even at 31, the city still surprises me daily and i love that fact the most. You never know who you’re going to meet--its a giant present box you wake up in every morning. How could anyone want to leave that?” She grinned, tapping her foot. “But at 16 I think I had let go of that dream and set my sights on the Academy. Police academy. I did, briefly, think about enlisting. Thought that if I wanted to break stereotypes and gender roles, I could make a huge splash in the military. But something about that whole world--I couldn’t take the plunge. I think I wanted to support my community, keep them safe, make my home a home for all.” She sighed. “So I was going to be a cop. Plus Liam was already doing that and I couldn’t let him have all the hero glory.” She winked, smirking. “I stayed in state--in city--for school, saved me some money and I already knew the area. In fact, I didn’t really ever leave Chicago. Which, makes me small minded to some i’m sure--but why do I need to leave when the world seems to flock to chicago? Just because I never lived anywhere else doesn’t mean I haven’t been challenged to grow.” Nic shrugged. “But yeah, like I said college was probably my favorite time in my life. Like hands down. I mean how could it not be? Killed the beer pong scene, met all sorts of great people, honed my skee ball skills even more, learned some awesome things, found the love of my life--got married.” It was so much simpler at 20. So much simpler. When did everything go so wrong? “Yeah, sorry--this was about high school. Uhm--wait, what was the question again?”

and last but not least. if you could tell your younger self one thing - what would it be?

“You’re a strong cookie, Nic. Life is going to wreck you down to your core but don’t ever think it’ll destroy you. You’re too damn stubborn to let that happen--and that is not a bad thing.”

#tw adhd #malnatitask #[[wake up sunshine; headcannons]]

[raisingsupergirl]

My Supernatural Courage, pt. 1

*Author’s Note: Since writing this, I’ve had a thought, and I’m mulling it over. It might change my stance on things. It might not. Regardless, proceed, dear reader, to better understand where I’m coming from and where I may end up.*

I've been nervous a lot lately. I think everyone has. Not scared. Just nervous—uncertain. I've been nervous about the corona virus. I've been nervous about maintaining my hours at work. I've been nervous because I overcommit. I've been nervous because this past weekend I had to give a speech in front of my freemason brothers and had to play music in front of my church family. And, most of all, I've been nervous about the widespread civil unrest. But the weird thing is, even though national tensions seem to be on the rise, I'm finally starting to achieve some inner peace. Not because I've reached some sort of new normal or because I've given up in some way, but because my frayed nerves weren't actually about the civil unrest at all. They were about my own inner battle. And it took a bunch of local hillbillies to finally set my mind at ease.

If you've followed with me for long, you know that I stay pretty busy. A few weeks ago, I posted about how I didn't have time to truly commit to the conversation regarding ALM vs BLM. The week after that, I posted about not being ready to die because I still have "stuff to do." Well, even though I knew this past week would be crazy busy, I had one request for Father's Day weekend—I wanted to do nothing. And nothing is what I did. My family spent Saturday at the waterpark, nothing but fun and sun. And then we went out to my mom's for dinner on Sunday. That's it. No blogging. No editing. No mowing the grass. Nothin'. And it was amazing, not just because I needed a breath, but because I needed a moment to think. Creatives know that it's essential to recharge every so often. And after I took Father's Day weekend off, I had newfound clarity on, well, a lot of things.

Like I said, the following week came with its own stresses. Not only did I have a ton of editing to do along with practicing songs for the upcoming weekend's church worship team, but that Thursday night, I was to be installed as my masonic lodge's master for the upcoming year. It's been five years in the making—five years of growth, learning, mistakes, and patience. I've learned so much about what it means to be a man in that time. The core masonic principles are brotherly love, relief, and truth, and it's principle duties are to be, "diligent, prudent, temperate, and discreet." And as I said in my speech last Thursday night, masonry is a confirmation of the men we've always been and a reminder of the men we want to be. It doesn't forge us, but it does sharpen us. And as I dwelt on those principles the week leading up to our officer installation, an inner peace settled over me. But, unfortunately, as I said before, it took a bit of a slap in the face by a really ugly counter protest in a nearby town to get me there.

Growing up and living in central Missouri, you'd think I would be used to racism. And I guess I am, but only in the, "Oh, look, a black guy. How about that?" sort of way, which I guess isn't really racism, but I'm also not surprised when I see someone raise an eyebrow at an interracial couple (I also won't deny that I've heard plenty of racist jokes in my day, but I'm not going to get into the nuances of political correctness, Mel Brooks, and South Park). Again, I've always seen it as lack of exposure more than actual racism, and while I've known there were hardcore racists living amongst us, I guess it's just been an out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. But those blinders were ripped off this last week.

There was a BLM rally in a town about thirty minutes from my house. And, as you'd expect, there were plenty of people who showed up with "White Lives Matter" and "Blue Lives Matter" posters. Which is fine. As I said last week, we live in a free country, and our diverse viewpoints make up the spirit of this huge country. But this rally was pretty awful. First, there were local storeowners standing on their roofs with rifles, looking down on the protestors. I guess I get it. Protect your house, and all that. But, geez, was it really necessary to have your weapons shouldered and at the ready. And, obviously, that increased tensions, leading the BLM and ALM folks to move from "peaceful" to a little more verbally aggressive. And that, unfortunately, led a few of the more, ehem, outspoken anti-protestors to (and I almost hesitate to say it) act like monkeys and pantomime lynchings.

I've seen the pictures. I've heard the reports. The BLM protestors weren't innocent. They threw out racial slurs and accusations. But they didn't resort the that level of debased scum. And I don’t use that phrase lightly. Thinking about it makes me want to spit. Or punch someone. It's no different than making sexual jokes to someone who was molested as a child.

It's easy to write that horrible display off as a small, idiotic percentage of the community. It's easy to sigh and move on, remembering that most people aren't that way. But… some people are! They exist in my community! And those people infect the rest of us. The more they talk, the more they normalize actual (even if it's subtle) racism. Thankfully, their public actions have called them out. They've done much more harm to their cause than good. And that event was at catalyst for me. Well, that and one other.

This next turning point was a small one. It was a simple comment by a black lady. She responded to an "ALM" Facebook post. It was simple and humble. "Everyone already knows that all lives matter but everyone don't agree that black lives matter and if it is never said then we will never matter. So because I say black lives matter it's because I wanna be just as important as you would be to the world…"

Yes, I already knew this obvious truth. Yes, I'd heard it a hundred times. But the way she said it, the fact that it came from her, and the timing of it in my life just made things click. BLM isn't just a social movement with an agenda (which I tend to tie together with human imperfection, various other motives, and some of the rioting). It’s a statement. And it's a simple statement, at that. It doesn't have to be political or loaded. "Black lives matter," I said with a smile and a nod as I waited for her to cross the street. Just imagining that scenario makes me happy. Is it wrong to open a door for a woman, wave a tattooed biker on in front of us at a stoplight, or pay for the meal of someone richer or poorer than us? No. Such acts don't relinquish any of our own self-worth or threaten our futures. They're simple, humane kindnesses that make the world a better place. They're acknowledgements that we are a diverse world, and it's neat to remind specific peoples that they are important, not just to us, but to the Most Holy Lord God.

Oops. I'm sure I lost some of you just now. And that's okay, but stick with me. I'm a Christian, through and through. Christ is a part of my everyday life, and one thing that I've reminded myself of for a long time is that every person I meet is a unique child of God. Jesus told the parable of the Good Samaritan, and Freemasonry reminds us by proclaiming, "Every human being has a claim on your kind offices. Do good unto all." And even though it took me a while to get here, I've found peace in those sentiments. I'm doing what I'm supposed to do. And I'm not afraid in the slightest about the future.

When I hear about rioters pushing down statues, I'm reminded of Jesus overturning the moneychangers' tables in the temples. There are plenty of excuses to maintain the status quo, but none of them are really good ones. What are you afraid of? Losing our history? Really? I can still find MySpace comments I made fifteen years ago, and my mom still has pictures of me naked in the bathtub. We're not talking about destroying someone's personal property or threatening their lives (or livelihood). We're talking about a symbolic act of desperation. Was it smart? Or right? Or productive? Who knows, but it's nothing to freak out about!

White people, what are you afraid of? Seriously. Are you afraid that black people will enslave you? Are you afraid of economic collapse? Are your guns going to be taken from you? Your jobs? Your freedom of speech? I mean, c'mon. Even if all of those things did happen (which they won't), who cares!? … Okay, wait. I get it. Slaves care. I'm sure it sucks. But you know how black slaves survived in early American history? They relied on God! Remember the Jews? Christianity was literally born out of a nation of slaves! Oppression is woven into the story of humanity, start to finish. We're a broken world. It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven. The first shall become last, and the last shall become first. Are any of these ringing a bell?

Okay, sorry. I got a little worked up there. But I can't help it. Everyone is so afraid of losing stuff, and nobody is taking five seconds to ask why. Why, truly, are you alive? What are you trying to do? Okay, yes, I get the compulsion to protect your family and future generations. It's biological (which doesn't make it any less important). It's engrained within our race's perpetuation. But we are one race, and I’m sorry, but your family isn't the pinnacle of genetic, moral, and intellectual perfection for the human race. Your kid may have won the spelling bee, but he's not going to cure cancer.

So, ease up a little bit. Let the rest of the world have a little space. Do I agree with everything the BLM movement has been associated with? Of course not. And I never will, because there are a lot of people who hitch themselves to bandwagons, regardless of their own, personal motives. If rioters make the USA into Mad Max, well, then you'll finally be able to tell your wife, "I told you so" about all of the guns and ammo you've been buying over the years. If one truly evil civil rights activist rises up and turns us into a nation of white slaves, well, I guess we'll just have to focus in a little more on being kind to our neighbor, looking to the afterlife, and trusting in God to reward us for obeying his commandments. But more than likely, all of the extremists on both sides will be cut off from the herd, and the rest of us will (eventually) live in a slightly different-looking America than what it has been for the past couple centuries. That's the funny thing about time—the present eventually becomes history. We don't continue to live in it, and we don't forget it. We accept it, learn from it, and move on. Simple enough.

In the end, it's your choice. I've probably offended just about everyone with this post (but as usual, I did it in a super nice way, so good luck calling me out, jerk). But this has been my journey to peace with the situation. My family will live on. My nation will live on. Maybe we'll be blessed with earthly comfort, or maybe we'll be sharpened by trials and tribulations. But eternity waits for me, and while I still walk this earth, I'll have no problem praising and building up specific people and specific groups. Why? Because differences are what make people awesome, and I'm not afraid to remind them of it.

#equality #peace #finding peace #blm #alm #christianity #inner peace #civil unrest #protest

[chimchimcheerios]

Sparrington!

sorry I’m late haha but are you READY FOR MY HEADCANONS ABOUT MY FAVOURITE SHIP

@crowleyismyonlyking you asked for this too

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General:

Rate the Ship -  Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Most likely for life but with numerous small break ups in between. They can’t live without each other though!

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - They fell in love rather quickly but it took them a few years to finally to finally accept it as what it was, especially James didn’t want to accept it at first.

How was their first kiss? - Kind of messy, pretty quick and Jack was the one to kiss James first so it was a bit of a surprise but nice nontheless.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - James was going to, had been planing it for days an thinking the words through in his head non stop. Of course he got nervous and messed it up and Jack just wanted to get it over with and asked himself.

Who is the best man/men? - Will 

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Elizabeth

Who did the most planning? - James did, Jack would have taken a more spontaneous approach.

Who stressed the most? - James again or perhaps Jack was just better at hiding it. 

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? -

Sex:

beware I got some headcanons for this that don’t fit with the general idea in the fandom

Who is on top? - They like to switch it up. At first it was usually James but once the became more comfortable with each other, James finally opened up about his own desires and that he, despite popular belief, liked it the other way around too. 

Who is the one to instigate things? - Definitey Jack a lot of the time, he can be awfully annoying when he wants attention. 

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - They try. 

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

I can absolutely see them sharing small moments of affection in public that you don’t notice if you don’t pay attention and I think that idea is really cute. 

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - None.

How many children will they adopt? - Two at most.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Pretty much equal, James makes Jack do it, sharing the grossness makes it better. 

Who is the stricter parent? - James wants to be but definitely fails to be strict a lot, especially when the kids just look at him with their big eyes, he can’t help it but compared to Jack, he could be considered the stricter parent. 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - James does, Jack sometimes even encourages risky things. 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - James, he’s usually up earlier. 

Who is the more loved parent? - One might think it’s Jack because he’s the “cooler” parent, maybe he was at some point but they are pretty much loved the same for their own qualities. 

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - James is, he doesn’t even want Jack to attent them... last time didn’t end too well. 

Who cried the most at graduation? - Surprisingly Jack but James definitely had to try very hard to hold it back. 

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Jack is but if something bad really happened, they can count on both of their dads. 

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Jack always comes home with all sorts of exotic recipes and actually does try them. Are they always good? No. Does he keep on trying? Yes. 

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - James is, sometimes Jack’s food becomes just too weird. 

Who does the grocery shopping? - James does and it makes him insane if Jack asks for some questionable weird ingredients and he just can’t find them anywhere. 

How often do they bake desserts? - Usually only on special occasions, they’re not really fans of baking though James likes to eat and make pies like his grandma made them. 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - They’re meat people.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Jack loves to surprise James. James would usually ask if they want to go out, when and where but Jack loves to do surprises. 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Jack. 

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Jack, he does cook often, doesn’t mean he’s particularily good at doing so. 

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - James does most of the time but not always. Jack keeps his space in check but the rest of the place? Unless he’s told to, not so much.

Who is really against chores? - Jack doesn’t like chores, he doesn’t like being told what to do but he’s always up for helping out if asked nicely. 

Who cleans up after the pets? - Jack brought one home once randomly, well that meant it was his job to do so. 

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Jack, out of sight, out of mind, am I right?

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - James grew up in an environment where the way you presented yourself was very important, he carried that into adulthood so yes, he stresses a lot when guests are coming over and wants to make everything perfect while Jack usually takes a more relaxed approach. 

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Not while cleaning per se but Jack has a feeling for stuff like that. 

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - James, he likes the alone time to relax. 

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Jack brought it home, Jack has to do it but sometimes they both go or James goes if he wants to clear his head. 

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Every year before whatever holiday it is, they go on a massive decoration shopping trip if something is missing, followed by a day of hardcore decorating. James would be okay with keeping it simple but Jack gets really excited about holidays and James just rolls with it. Decoration is fun!

What are their goals for the relationship? - As simple as it is, be happy and free and be good to each other. 

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Jack if he gets the chance to.

Who plays the most pranks? Also Jack but James is used to it by now and doesn’t fall for it that easily anymore. 

#ask #ask game #sparrington #answered #viper-official

[vmheadquarters]

By Alexis Soloski

When we last saw Veronica Mars, the greatest private investigator Southern California has ever birthed and tanned — shut it, Philip Marlowe — she had ducked a corporate law job and returned to Neptune, her beachside hometown, resolved to defend the weak, defy the powerful, wisecrack with the best of them. Happily ever after, on her terms.

But why be happy when you can be hard-boiled? As Veronica’s inventor Rob Thomas said, “Happy and noir don’t go well together.”

“Veronica Mars,” a snappy, sophisticated crime drama about a high school P.I., debuted in 2004 and ran for three critically celebrated but lightly watched seasons, first on UPN and then on CW, returning in 2014 for a fan-funded movie.

That seemed to be the end of it. Its star, Kristen Bell, continued a successful film and TV career. Thomas went on to create and run “iZOMBIE.” But you know the noir trope where a character thinks she has outrun her past and then the past comes on at a sprint? It applies.

In a genre-appropriate twist, the show is back, revamped for the streaming age. An eight-episode fourth season will drop on July 26 at Hulu, where the first three seasons are already available.

Reboots and revivals are as thick on the ground as Neptune beachgoers. A long-gone show that returns after so many years with its original cast, led by Bell’s Veronica, and its distinguishing style (think Dashiell Hammett after a few blender drinks) mostly intact? That’s rarer, and not without its dangers.

Continuing a beloved series after so many years risks tarnishing its legacy. (If we’re being honest, the uneven third season was risk enough.) Besides, how do you make a show about a child prodigy when that child prodigy can apply for a fixed-rate mortgage?

The season’s big mystery, according to Thomas: Is a 30-something Veronica Mars “an interesting enough character on her own to continue to attract fans?”

A few weeks ago, I met Bell on a gloomy June afternoon in her trailer on the Universal lot, an overheated box befrilled in demoralizing beige. She was in the middle of a shoot for her other show, “The Good Place,” and had two caffeinated drinks going, which partly explained the pep. (The messianic zeal she feels for Veronica explained the rest.) In her costume, a lilac sweater over an embroidered blouse and green chinos, she looked about as noir as an Easter basket.

And yet “Veronica Mars,” she said, is the show that launched her, that shaped her, that taught her comedy and responsibility and a commitment to social justice. She will quit it, she said, when everyone in Neptune is dead.

“That’s when I’ll do it,” she said, pushing her cane-sugar soprano into a lower register. “That’s when I will let her go: When the last body is buried.”

“Veronica Mars,” which The Times described, on a list of the 20 best TV dramas since “The Sopranos,” as “a peerless blend of neo-noir mystery and teenage romantic drama,” was always a show ahead of its time. Its heroine, 17 when the show began, looked like a Barbie and scrapped like a G.I. Joe. She was as quick with a comeback as with the Taser she called Mr. Sparky, but still vulnerable to problems personal and systemic.

More politically minded than your average teen soap, “Veronica Mars” had love triangles and cliffhangers and, from its first episode, a sustained interest in wealth inequality. In its depiction of gendered violence, it anticipated much of the #MeToo conversation.

“It continually kept questions about gender inequality in view,” said Susan Berridge, a lecturer in media at the University of Stirling who has written about the series. “There were so many story lines involving sexual violence and other forms of gendered abuse that it became impossible to see these issues as one-off aberrations.”

If you don’t identify as a Marshmallow, the name ride-or-die “Veronica Mars” fans adopted, here’s the back story: A onetime popular girl, Veronica became an outcast when her best friend Lilly was murdered and Veronica’s father, Keith (Enrico Colantoni), then Neptune’s sheriff, mistakenly accused the town’s most powerful man. Keith lost his job and his home. Veronica’s mother deserted the family. Her former friends ostracized her. During a party, she was drugged and raped by persons unknown. At some point she gave herself a terrible haircut.

“It was an adult show about a teenage girl,” Mr. Colantoni said, speaking by telephone. “This wasn’t ‘Saved by the Bell.’”

During the first two seasons, Veronica would solve episodic mysteries while also seeking justice for Lilly and for herself. The third season, which brought Veronica to college, dispensed with the case-of-the-week in favor of longer arcs. It also assigned Veronica a nice-guy boyfriend, Stosh “Piz” Piznarski (Chris Lowell), though most fans shipped her and the poor-little-rich-boy Logan Echolls (Jason Dohring).

Facing cancellation, Thomas tried to interest networks in a revival that saw Veronica working for the F.B.I. No one bought it. Presumed dead, “Veronica Mars” was briefly resurrected when Thomas decided to try crowdfunding a movie. He raised $2 million in less than five hours, drawing the highest number of donors for any film or video project in Kickstarter history.

“Veronica Mars” the movie may not have been a masterpiece — The Times called it “a likable, unmemorable, feature-length footnote” — but it melted the gooey hearts of most Marshmallows. Thomas and Bell could have let their gumshoe-made-good ride into the sunset in her secondhand car, placating the fans with the occasional tie-in novels Thomas co-writes. (“‘Co-writer’ is being generous to me,” he clarified.)

But last year, Thomas called Bell and asked her if she would consider playing Veronica again. It was a big ask: Bell had already committed to a final season of “The Good Place” and a “Frozen” sequel. Also, noir involves night shoots and Bell has two young daughters, which means a lot of missed bedtime.

Weighing the commitment, Bell recalled asking herself, “Do I want a world where my daughters know she exists? Or do I think there’s enough out there for them to look to?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “And I thought, yeah, I have to do it.”

And — “this is going to sound so corny,” Bell added — she still needs “Veronica Mars” in her life, even after all this time and all her success. The show gives her a place to put both her anger at a world that is still unequal and unjust, and her faith that individuals and communities can make it better.

“Just knowing Veronica exists has allowed me to pull strength in certain situations,” she said.

This installment picks up five years after the film ended, with Veronica sleuthing alongside her dad at Mars Investigations and living, reward check to reward check, in the oceanside apartment she sometimes shares with Logan, now an active-duty naval intelligence officer. There are a few B- and C-plots, but mostly Veronica works just one case involving a series of bombings threatening Neptune’s spring breakers.

Thomas and Bell, an executive producer, chose the eight-episode format partly because that’s all Bell’s “Good Place” schedule allowed, but also because they were impressed by what shows like “Fargo” and “Sherlock” were able to do in short seasons. They sold the show to Hulu, which was also able to acquire the past seasons. Craig Erwich, Hulu’s senior vice president of originals, described the revival as “an opportunity to see a beloved character grow up.”

Unlike the movie, this new season doesn’t pander — a few Marshmallows may feel scorched. The emphasis on wealth inequality and structural bias is, if anything, starker. The moral palette is grayscale, and the tone (Thomas described it on Twitteras “Hardcore So-Cal noir”) is dark, though maybe not that dark. “There are a lot of jokes,” Thomas said. “I don’t think we can go full ‘Handmaid’s Tale.’”

Though the earlier seasons of “Veronica Mars” shot in San Diego, the show relocated its exteriors to Huntington Beach, nearer to Los Angeles, where Bell lives. Certain sets, like the Mars Investigations office, have been faithfully re-created and shouldn’t upset continuity hard-liners, though Thomas is wary of checking his Twitter feed once the episodes drop.

The dialogue has stayed slangy. “What’s with the fakeloo, our mark’s no Jasper,” Keith scolds Veronica in the fourth episode. (Among this season’s writers: Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. “It never got normal,” Thomas, a basketball fan, said worshipfully.) And Veronica can swear now, though not much. The sex scenes are a little more explicit, the relationships a little more complicated and the emotions real, just like they used to be. “Even when we were teenagers, we all meant it,” Dohring said.

Here’s the big change: A former child prodigy who could out detect men decades older, Veronica has become age appropriate, maybe even immature when it comes to her personal life. (If the series followed real time, Veronica would now be about 32, but these episodes edge her into her mid-30s, closer to Bell’s age.) Thomas wondered if her superpowers — her bravery, her righteous anger, her lack of interest in what others think of her — would seem as impressive on an adult woman. (Speaking as an adult woman: Yes.)

I spoke to Thomas on the telephone a few hours before I met with Bell. Before we hung up, I asked him what he thought I should ask her.

“Ask for her window of availability in 2020,” he said. “That’s what I want to know.”

So I did. Bell told me she had set aside a few months next spring to shoot a follow-up. “As long as people want to watch it, I will do it,” she said. (Hulu is “definitely open to the discussion” about making more of the show, Erwich said.)

But here is what I wanted to know. As a viewer, I’d grown up with Veronica, too. And I’d looked to her as a character who had survived trauma and had accepted how that trauma had changed her, without ever having to sacrifice her humor or her mean-street smarts or her self-confidence. “Veronica Mars was this girl that other girls and boys could look to as an option of what to do with pain, and how not to let it sink you,” Bell said.

So would she ever get that pony? Would we ever see her happy?

“I don’t think we want to,” she said, speaking as Marshmallow in chief. “We want to see her match lit. We want to keep her fight in her. When she’s truly content, the story will be over.”

#veronica mars #NYT full article #veronica mars revival #vm spoilers