#but one of the funny moments legitimately made me spit out my water because I wasn't expecting it

[softest-sheep]

just rewatched The Incredibles 2 and legit did a genuine spit take

#the incredibles 2 #the incredibles #lunasleeptalks #I've NEVER done that before #but one of the funny moments legitimately made me spit out my water because I wasn't expecting it #even tho I already saw the movie #I love the incredibles #gotta do art for that

[cali-holland]

Hubby- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by Anonymous: Hello my love! can I get a cute request? just super cute domestic Tom and y/n. Because we all know love isn't just about the grand gestures, but the simple moments or giggling together and making faces in the mirror as you brush your teeth, him stealing a slice of veggie off the chopping board as you get dinner ready, him complaining that you like too many cushions on the bed, the little mumbled 'love you' as you both go to sleep. I'm down for reading anything like that . love your writing :)

Prompt: Tom makes even the simplest of days amazing.

Word Count: 4800

Warnings: Swearing, sexual jokes/innuendos, some pain (Tom gets hit in the balls at one point), LOTS of fluff

A/N: this is for the lovely @cunaeparker​ ‘s writing challenge, the prompt is in bold! I combined it with the request because it just went so well with all the fluff!!

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

The familiar sound of a cell phone buzzing drew you out of your deep sleep. With your eyes still closed, you cuddled closer to Tom’s chest, hoping that the phone would quit ringing soon. He shifted underneath you as he tried to reach his phone on the nightstand, but seeing as you two were tangled up on your side of the bed and there was basically a mountain of pillows on his side, he couldn’t quite grab it without moving away from you.

“Just leave it.” You mumbled, not wanting him (a.k.a. your pillow) to move.

“Love, it’s my mum.” He laughed lightly, the vibrations running through his bare chest to your cheek. He pressed a kiss to your head, before you shifted off him so he could get his phone. He picked up the call and resumed his position as your morning cuddle buddy. You wrapped an arm around his waist and laid your head back on his chest. His free hand mindlessly found its way to play with your hair.

“No, you didn’t wake us.” Tom told his mother, but the raspiness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by her. He laughed, “Okay, yes, you did.” He paused and you could hear her voice coming through the phone. Tom looked down at you for a moment, “Are we still on for the barbecue this afternoon?”

“We can be?” You answered. You both knew he obviously forgot to mention how his mother invited the two of you to a barbecue.

“Yes, mum, we’ll be there. What do you want us to bring?” He spoke back into the phone. “Vegetables? That’s not broad at all.” You lightly smacked his chest at his sarcasm, and his free hand came down to hold the hand that just hit him, “Okay, yeah we can do a salad.” There was another pause as she spoke to him before he replied, “Y/N would love to make some dessert.” Hearing him sign you up for food, you playfully glared at him. He said goodbye to his mother and tossed his phone to the side. You sat up and straddled his waist on your knees, your hands falling by his head to keep your face above his.

“Looks like we’re going grocery shopping.” Tom smiled up at you innocently, his hands resting on your hips.

“When were you going to tell me your mum invited us over?” You asked.

“Now, I guess,” He shrugged slightly. With his thumbs drawing light circles on your hips, he teasingly added, “When were you going to give me my morning kiss?”

You shrugged in return, but leaned down to kiss him nonetheless. He smiled into the kiss, moving a hand to cradle the back of your head, keeping you in place to continue kissing you.

“Your morning breath’s shit.” He laughed, pulling away from the innocent-turned-a-bit-heated kiss as you sat up straight.

“Yeah, well you have the ugliest bed head I have ever seen.” You teased, ruffling his hair. He caught your wrist, pulling your hand down to in front of his face.

“I believe this hand’s the culprit of that.” He joked, pecking your open palm.

“You weren’t complaining last night.” You shuffled off of him and got out of the bed. Walking over to your shared closet, you started to plan out a nice outfit for the day. “Come on, we gotta go grocery shopping.”

“Wanna shower together? Save time and save water?” Tom suggested, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“You get so horny in the morning.” You laughed.

“I’m needy, not horny.” He insisted before pressing a kiss to your neck. “We’ll be conserving water. C’mon, wifey, think of the planet.”

“Alright, go start the shower.” Both of you knew you would cave like almost every morning, but it didn’t stop him from letting out an excited cheer. He pecked your cheek and left to go warm up the water.

Once you two were showered and dressed, you went to make some bacon and eggs for breakfast while Tom made you both a morning cup of tea.

“Bacon,” You stated, holding out a piece of bacon from your spot by the stove as he fixed you some tea at the island. He leaned over and ate the bacon from your fingers.

“Tasty.” He hummed, turning back to his task.

“It’s bacon, duh.” You laughed, eating a piece of bacon yourself.

“Shit. We don’t have any more milk.” Tom sighed, looking at the blank spot in the fridge where the milk would normally sit. He looked at the two mugs of tea and the bowl of sugar on the counter; without milk, it just wouldn’t be right.

“Did you finish it off?” You asked, knowing he made himself a cup of tea late last night before you two went to bed.

“Damn it, I did.” He let out a groan.

“So we need milk.” You noted, taking out your phone to create a legitimate list for the store; it’d be too long for you to remember everything. “What do we want for dinner tomorrow?”

“Wanna try that lamb recipe you found last week?” He suggested.

“Yeah, can you check what we need for that?”

“You got it.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. You’d sent him the recipe just last week, saying that it looked good and that you two should try to make it sometime. He’d never made lambchops before so he was a bit skeptical, but agreed with you nonetheless. He walked through your kitchen and pantry, searching to make sure you had all of the ingredients, while you continued to finish cooking the eggs and bacon.

“Breakfast done yet?” He asked, finishing his search.

“Yep,” You replied as you dished up the food.

“You’re the best, darling.” Tom beamed, giving you a quick kiss. You grabbed both plates while he gathered the silverware and you both sat down at the small table in your kitchen nook.

“If only we had milk.” He pouted, eating a bite of the eggs.

“Hey, you drank the rest of it.” You reminded him.

“If I remember correctly, you said it was the best cuppa I’d ever made and you drank a good half of that.” He corrected you, but you just shook your head. “Wanna make that chocolate cake for dessert? I know Harry and Sam are going to be expecting it.”

Homemade chocolate cake- your ‘signature’ dessert that all of the Holland boys loved. In fact, it was that very cake that made Tom fall in love with you. The way to his heart was truly through his stomach.

“Why isn’t Sam making anything? He’s the chef.” You laughed, thinking about how Sam was insistent on being the head chef of the family.

“I think he’s actually making bread with some sort of dip.”

“Sam’s making us bread?” Your mouth was already watering at the thought of fresh homemade bread.

“We should try making bread sometime.” Tom offered. You nodded in agreement, you’d never made bread before but it’d be interesting to attempt it with Tom.

With breakfast over, Tom started to load up the dishwasher with your plates and the frying pans while you made your way into the bathroom to start on your makeup. By the time he’d finished and come into the room, you were just about to start your mascara.

“Can I do it?” He asked, an eager smile on his face.

“Don’t poke me in the eye, Holland.” You said, trying to sound threatening. You sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread so he could stand between them. You handed him the mascara tube. He had done your mascara a couple times before (because he just really really wanted to try to do your makeup) so you trusted him to do it, for the most part. As long as he didn’t stab you somehow, then you were fine. You sat still while he applied the makeup to your lashes.

“There. Does that look good, wifey?” He stepped back enough for you to turn and look in the mirror. It was even, you had to give him props for that, but it was almost nonexistent. He was still trying to find the happy medium between applying too little and applying too much.

“You did great.” You gave him a quick kiss and hopped off the counter to full face the mirror again. You applied some more mascara on your lashes quickly and he shook his head.

“I’ll get it one day.” He stated, getting out the toothbrush as you laughed lightly at him. Tom grabbed your toothbrush and his, running them under the sink before applying toothpaste to them.

“Thank you,” You smiled as he handed you your toothbrush. 

“Can we get bananas and macadamia nuts too?” Tom asked, half muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth as he stopped brushing. You spit out the toothpaste into the sink, looking at him through the mirror.

“You want me to make banana nut bread again?” You questioned, before continuing to brush your teeth.

“It’s the best.” He nodded.

“Okay, we’ll get the stuff for it.” You reassured him. He pulled out his phone, looking at a text he’d received as you eyed him through the mirror. Even when doing something as simple as brushing his teeth, your boyfriend was just breathtaking and you felt so lucky to have him. He noticed your gaze and pulled a funny face- well, as best he could while brushing his teeth. You laughed and leaned over the sink, spitting out the mixture of toothpaste and saliva in your mouth as you coughed. If it was anyone else beside you, you would’ve been embarrassed by the unattractiveness of the scene, but it was Tom, your loving boyfriend of four years.

“God, you’re making me choke on spit.” You laughed, cleaning off your toothbrush under the faucet.

“Spitters are quitters, babe.” Tom teased you and you playfully elbowed him in the torso, causing him to yelp in surprise. You stepped aside so he could use the sink. After spitting into the sink and rinsing out his mouth, he turned to you with a cheeky grin, “I know, I know. I of all people should know you’re not a spitter.”

“Fuck off.” You rolled your eyes at him, spraying some of your perfume onto your neck. Your collection of perfume sat in the corner of the bathroom counter, right next to Tom’s own collection of cologne- ironically (but it was totally expected actually) he had more.

“By the way, my mum asked if we could host the barbecue here? Apparently my dad forgot their barbecue was broken.” He asked you as he put on cologne.

“Did you forget to tell me that too?”

“No, no, I swear she just now texted me about it.” He insisted, slipping on a watch while you put on some jewelry. The two of you maneuvering through the bathroom easily in your morning routine.

“That’s fine if we host, but that just means you’re helping me clean.” You stated.

“When do I not help you clean?” He smiled at you innocently and you narrowed your eyes at him. You both knew exactly how much he helped you clean. In all honesty, he would genuinely help you clean for a solid hour, but it was around hour 2 of cleaning that turned into a dance party for him, which turned into him distracting you from cleaning. “I can always ask if Harry could host it, but then Harrison would be there.”

“Oh no, definitely can’t handle Harrison showing up.” You sarcastically rolled your eyes. It was a running joke between the three of you that you and Harrison were competing for Tom’s attention. Harrison was like a brother to you, and there really wasn’t any competition going on, but it was still funny to joke about. “Your mum probably invited him already.”

“She probably did.” He laughed. He shoved off the numerous pillows on his side of the bed, except for the one he actually sleeps on at the head of the bed, “Do we really need that many pillows?”

“They’re comfy!” You insisted, pulling up the bottom sheet on your side as he mirrored your actions across the bed.

“I’m your pillow, you don’t even use them.”

“You’re not wrong, but we’re keeping them.” You smiled while the two of you finished making the bed.

After you two went to the grocery store (and Tom just about dropped most of the groceries while unloading them because he was carrying like ten bags between his two hands since “multiple trips are for the weak, love”), he put away the groceries while you started the laundry. While it wasn’t something his family would actually see when they came later, it’d been piling up for days and you just really needed it to get done.

“What do you want to listen to?” Tom asked as you came back into the kitchen. He sat perched on the kitchen counter with his phone in hand, small bluetooth stereo sitting beside him. Just as you opened your mouth to suggest an artist, he cut you off with a grin, “No One Direction.”

“Shawn Mendes then?” You teased, stepping between his legs.

“Nope.” He shook his head.

“Why’d you ask me then, hubby?” You laughed, taking his phone from his hands and stepping away from him.

“Hey, that’s mine!” He jumped off the counter, trying to grab his phone back.

“Too late.” You smiled as the familiar opening to “Steal My Girl” played over the speakers. You queued a few more random songs on his Spotify and handed his phone back over to him, “Now, you’re on vacuum duty.”

“You said ‘duty’.” He giggled like a schoolboy.

“Thomas,” You sighed. 

“You lined that one up for me!” He gave you a quick kiss. You shook your head at your crazy boyfriend as he wandered off to the closet where you kept the vacuum.

“Everybody wanna steal my girl, everybody wanna take her heart away,” Tom shouted along to the chorus from the other room. “Couple billion in the whole wide world, find another one ‘cause she belongs to me!”

You sang along to the song while you worked on the cake. Once it was in the oven, you started on cutting the array of vegetables for the salad. You weren’t far into the process of washing and cutting the different vegetables before Tom came into the kitchen vacuum in hand.

“Do I get some?” He asked, spying the cucumber you were currently cutting up. He walked over to you, mouth open wide wanting a slice. You gave him a piece of the cucumber and he hummed in content. He cracked open the oven slightly to smell the cake baking in there, “Damn, I should wife you up, you’re great in the kitchen.”

“Uhuh,” You laughed at his comment. While you two called each other wifey/hubby and make “wife me up” jokes, neither of you really were ready for marriage and neither of you felt any pressure to get married. “I left the beaters out for you.”

Tom smiled as he grabbed one of the chocolate covered beaters, licking it like a little kid with a lollipop. The song changed to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” and your boyfriend wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Don’t go breaking my heart,” He started singing into the beater (that had been mostly licked clean by that nice tongue of his), nodding at you encouragingly to keep singing.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” You sang back, unable to hide your smile at his antics.

“Oh honey, if I get restless,”

“Baby, you’re not that kind”

He set the beater aside to take your hands in his, pulling you in to dance with him. Your little impromptu dancing and singing party ended when the song changed and you pulled him back to the reality that was cleaning. While Tom finished vacuuming the house and cleaning the tables outside, you completed the salad and cake and cleaned the kitchen.

“Wanna watch something until my parents show up?” Tom asked you from his spot on the couch in the living room as you began to move the laundry.

“Sure, just fold these.” You said, walking into the living room. He frowned, hoping he was done with household chores. Seeing his reaction, you emptied the laundry basket of clean clothes on him.

“Hey, I’m layin’ here!” He did in his best overdramatic New Yorker impression.

“Fold the laundry, Dustin Hoffman.” You shook your head at him before leaving to finish moving the laundry around. You called back to him from the other room, “When is your family coming?”

“About twenty minutes?” Tom replied, checking his phone quickly to look at the time.

“Did you see if Haz was coming?” You asked, coming back into the room to help him fold the clothes.

“Why? You wanna see Haz that desperately?” He joked.

“Oh obviously. What’s the point of moving in with you if I can’t show off to Haz that I’m winning?” You teased. Tom threw a sock at you, shaking his head with a laugh. 

“Yeah, Harry said he’s coming. We’ve got an even number for football now.” He smiled, ready to play against his brothers.

“I’m so going to kick your ass after what happened last time.” You stated.

“Darling, you know that was an accident.” Tom insisted, still feeling a bit guilty about the incident. Last time you were playing football with him, his brothers, and Harrison, he accidentally kicked the ball in your face while you were even on the same team. Luckily, there was no mark, but Tom was even clingier than usual as he felt incredibly guilty about it. It occurred a month ago and you were ready for payback.

“I’m just teasing.” You smiled, leaning over the pile of laundry to give him a kiss. The two of you worked silently on finishing up folding the clothes until Tom’s eyes landed on your lacy black underwear, cheekily smiling at you while he held it up.

“Your boyfriend must be so lucky to see you in this.”

“Oh those? Didn’t buy ‘em for him.” You teased, taking the underwear from his hands and putting it aside. Tom’s hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you into his lap.

“I’m so lucky to have you. You’re my favorite person.” He said as you rested your forehead against his.

“You’re my favorite person, too.” Your hands rested at the back of his neck as you leaned in to kiss him. With your fingers scratching the nape of his neck lightly as they played with his hair there and his hands bringing you even more tightly against him, you two started to get caught up in the moment; nothing lustful, just passionate and romantic. You broke the kiss, your nose resting against his as you looked into his eyes, both of you a bit breathless.

You jumped hearing the doorbell ring. His family was here, and that meant the laundry needed to be off the couch and hidden in your room. As Tom went to answer the door, you hurried to move the laundry to your room, quickly folding the last few articles of clothing.

“Smells clean in here, must be Y/N.” Sam teased his older brother as he walked into the house with Tessa at his feet. He held a container of the freshly baked bread while his parents and Paddy came in behind him, bringing in the uncooked main course. Tom rolled his eyes at Sam’s comment, leaning down to give Tessa some well deserved love. You had lived with Tom for almost two years now, and his brothers still loved to poke fun at how organized and well-decorated his house is. Harry and Harrison trailed shortly after them, holding a ball for later and a case of beer as their contribution for the evening. You came out of the bedroom, having put the laundry away enough for now, and greeted your second family.

“Were we interrupting something?” Harrison snickered, spotting the underwear you had accidentally left on the couch.

“It’s laundry day. Get your head out of the gutter.” Tom quickly grabbed the offending undergarment and haphazardly threw it in your room before closing the door.

“Gross.” Harry gagged.

“So no sitting on the couch.” Sam laughed.

“Don’t sit anywhere then if you’re so concerned.” You smacked your boyfriend for his teasing comment that wasn’t completely untrue. Though you loved the Hollands and they loved you, you still weren’t comfortable with the sex jokes in front of his parents, that’s just never a good topic.

“Sam, that bread smells heavenly.” You told him, effectively changing the topic.

“Thank you. I tried a new recipe to make the artichoke dip to go with it.” He explained as you all moved out of the house to the outside table. He set the container of the table and opened it up so you could see (and smell even more) the bread.

You got wrapped up in a conversation with Sam and Nikki as you pet Tessa, who sat happily at your feet. Tom and his dad got the barbecue together while the other three boys started to kick around the ball on the grass.

“Wanna be on my team, wifey?” Tom asked you, walking up behind your chair and resting his head on your shoulder, letting his hands fall to your lap.

“Hell no, I told you I was getting payback.” You replied, making Sam laugh while his older brother pouted.

“Pwease?” He grabbed your hands in his, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Too late, she’s on my team.” Sam piped up, despite the fact that teams hadn’t even been discussed yet.

“We’re stealing your girl.” Harry said, kicking the ball over to Tom. You unwrapped yourself from Tom’s arms to stand up as his pout grew bigger.

“Aw, you’re breaking his heart. Does this mean I’m the favorite now?” Harrison asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Only if we win.” Tom stated, picking up the ball and walking over to the far side of the yard with Harrison and Paddy.

“So that’s a no.” You smiled at Harrison. Tom set the ball between the two teams, in the middle of the two ‘goalposts’ (a.k.a. the cones Tom set up on either side of the yard months ago).

The game began and Harrison was doing his best to block you from getting the ball (and keeping Tom from getting distracted by you). The Hollands were, of course, getting a bit more physical than regular football, kicking each other and shoving a bit, as brothers do. The game was 2-0 with you and the twins winning. When Paddy passed the ball to Harrison, you managed to swipe it from him. You sent it over to Sam and Tom basically slide tackled his brother to get it.

“That’s a foul!” You shouted as Sam landed on the grass with a soft ‘thud’.

“Nope!” Tom exclaimed, kicking the ball through Harry’s legs and into the goal. He cheered with Harrison and Paddy while you helped up Sam, who was fine and used to the physicalness of it all. This time, you started off with the ball and Harrison tried to steal it back, but you were too fast in swiftly kicking it to Harry, who Paddy was trying to block.

“Elbow him!” Tom called out, running about in front of Sam to block him.

“Tom,” Nikki said in a warning tone when he started to push Sam back a bit.

“I need to win!” He replied. Harry passed the ball back to you and you dribbled it down the makeshift field.

“Go away!” Sam shoved his older brother, trying to get him out of the way.

“Fine!” Tom huffed, running over to you. Harrison took it as a sign to go block the open twin.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” You asked your boyfriend as he attempted to kick the ball out from your feet, but your movements were too quick for him. You nutmegged him, sending the ball straight through his legs to Harry. Your perfect pass was defeated by Paddy stealing the ball from him. Before you could move to block him, Tom picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“Go Pads!” He cheered, holding your waist as you kicked your feet in the air.

“Tom, put me down! This is cheating!” You shouted. You felt Tom’s hand shift subtly more to your butt than your hip, making you slap his back. With you caught up with Tom, Paddy scored the goal easily.

“Hey, now, no inappropriate touching in front of the Padster.” Harry teased, seeing his brother’s hand placement.

“Shove off!” Paddy threw the ball over to his curly haired brother.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tom chuckled, setting you down.

“You’re going to regret that.” You told him, before Harry kicked the ball to signal the game was back on. Knowing his distraction would most likely not work again, Tom switched places with Harrison, going back to beating up Sam.

“Food will be done in two minutes.” Dom announced and you all knew that meant this was the speed round. The stakes were high with both teams tied. After a few minutes of Tom basically playing keep away when he finally got the ball, he kicked it over to Paddy. Harry elbowed his brother and sent the ball to you. Not even stopping it to gain control, you kicked it straight at their open goal.

It would’ve gone in and you would’ve won if Tom hadn’t jumped in the way to save it.

“Ah, fuck!” He shouted, grabbing himself while the rest of the boys grimaced and laughed. Even you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing a little at his mistake. Seeing an opportunity to make a goal with everyone paused, Sam kicked the ball in and he and Harry cheered- you won.

“Baby, you alright?” You asked, going over to Tom who was still bent over in pain.

“God, you really were going for payback.” He groaned, but nodded that he was okay.

“We won!” Sam and Harry cheered as everyone sat down around the table with Dom serving up the food.

“I’m sorry you got in the way of my glorious kick.” You told Tom, holding his hand in yours.

“Yeah, it was a really good kick.” He winced a little.

Dinner and dessert with the Hollands + Harrison (the honorary Holland) went on without any more injuries (unless you count Harry shoving a piece of cake in Paddy’s face as a joke). Goodbyes went all around as they left later, and Tom did the rest of the dishes while you cleaned outside.

“You feeling better?” You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, once you finished outside. He stopped his work at the sink.

“Better. I thought you broke it for a few minutes there.” Tom laughed, washing his hands and drying them before turning around in your arms.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want that.” You teased, “I’d have to go find another dick until it healed.”

“Is that all I am to you? A dick appointment?” He asked with a small laugh, pulling you in closer to him by your waist.

“No, you’re my favorite person in the world.” You smiled at him tenderly as he ran a hand through your hair and rested it on your cheek.

“You’re my favorite person, too.” He leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

The romantic, sweet moment was cut short by his next teasing comment, “You know, that kick was really great. I’m still impressed. You really know your way around balls.”

“Shut up and kiss me, hubby.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #saws300followerwc

[dragonsareourfuture]

Mello/GN! Reader — Shower Thoughts

I’m reading the death note manga for the first time and I recently got to that part where Mello’s just kinda. Waitin’ outside the shower for Halle bc they cant talk anywhere else without being heard by bugs. I think its really funny but I couldn’t help but imagine that same scene happening with someone with a completely different personality. So have a small thing I wrote about it. Basically the reader likes to be annoying and uses humor to deflect from serious situations. I’m not self-projecting what do you mean.

“So.” You haven’t shut up since Mello pointed the gun to your head. It’s like he’s forced you to spit out an essay of the dumbest shit he’s ever heard and you were giving him material for an ‘A+’. He has no idea if this is your way of panicking during a stressful situation or if you just like to irritate him. He just knows he’s annoyed as all hell and has the power to silence you…but he wouldn’t do that. He needs you to get to Near. Unfortunately. “How was your day?”

His eyes bore into the sink, as if willing the faucet to start up and fill the room with water so he can drown. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“You’re right, you’re right. I guess that wasn’t the best question, huh? Sorry.”

Mello hums. He’s staying as still as he can. It’s not like he thinks that any movement will prompt you to talk again, but that’s what the paranoid part of his brain is telling him. Silence. He just needs a few moments of silence—

“Ah, shit! Soap in my eye! I got—ahhh fuck – I got soap in my eye…”

“Great. Think you can suffer any more quietly?”

“Wow. No sympathy.” You pout, and the tone in your voice is genuinely upset. Most likely because he’s not playing along and not because you’re so offended that he’s being cruel to a poor, soap-blinded person. “Gevanni wouldn’t treat me this way.”

“If he could hear you I’m sure he’d want to blow your brains out, too.”

You bark with laughter. Mello hears a soap bottle fall.

“Aren’t you so cute! I certainly don’t mind if you stay here a little longer, yellow Mello! We could build you a nice lil’ pillow fort in the bathtub.”

Mello’s rubbing his temples, letting out a labored sigh. He is legitimately getting a headache from you. He thought that was just something people claimed happens when they’re being dramatic but he is actually getting a headache. But again, he needs you. And you’ve been an incredible help thus far. Despite your mannerisms and attitude, you’re actually a pretty serious and loyal person when it counts. These are all things Mello tells himself as he’s counting down from one hundred – and old anger management trick that he was forced to learn back at Wammy’s. He has found that it has little effect.

“Hey,” you call, as if bothered by the short bout of silence in the room. “I’m- shit…I’m sorry, okay? I don’t like this situation either. But I guess…I’m trying to make it a little better?”

For once, you let only the patter of water on porcelain fill the room. He can almost hear your breathing, and it sounds calculated. Mello’s headache wains.

“Thanks.” It’s all he can think to say. He knows you mean well, he always has. “I appreciate the effort.”

Your relieved chuckle bounces off the walls. It’s a sound Mello is happy to hear.

“M’glad.” And he can tell you are, as the smile you wear can be heard in your voice. “I’ll be done in a minute, I promise. I just gotta wash my hair so I’ll give you a play by play of what I’m doing so you know just how ‘almost done’ I am.”

“(Name), please don’t—“

“I’m grabbing the conditioner.”

“I swear if you—“

“I’m squeezing some onto my hand.”

Mello can feel his headache creep back into his skull. “I literally have a gun and you’re gonna make me wanna—“

“I’m putting it on my hea-AHH!” your riveting narration is interrupted by a screech when Mello punches the shower curtain right next to your face. “JESUS!”

He goes to tell you off when his eyes flit to the bathroom mirror and his words are caught in his throat. The sight that greets him is different for two different reasons. The first reason makes the second reason even more curious. Firstly, Mello has learned to accept that his face will never look the same again. His eyes wander around his left side, trace the pattern of the scar melded into his flesh like a searing reminder of how he’ll always be stuck where he is, never progressing, never rising above. But the scar has more than mental drawbacks; it also limits the physical movements of his features. Its stiff, like stone has begun to creep over the expanse of his face. So why, then, was he just able to smile so effortlessly without even noticing?

As annoying as you are…you’re the most fun Mello’s had in a while.

“Alright, I’ll stop! I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, Yeah. Just hurry up.”

“Oh right, we’ve gotta deceive my boss in a few.”

Mello snorts at how nonchalantly you say it. “I doubt he isn’t aware of us already.”

“’Us’?”

“That we’ve been conspiring.”

“Oh, right,” you chirp happily, but a tense pause follows. “For a second you made it sound like…”

“Like what?”

“Pshh, I don’t know!” you do know. “Now I’m about to get out so look away or I’ll throw soap in your eyes.” Ah, changing the subject. A classic method of avoiding embarrassment and a tactic you’ve grown so used to using it’s practically an unconscious choice by now.

But luckily, Mello doesn’t seem to want to dwell on it either. He instead focuses on your last sentence, responding by clicking his tongue against his teeth. “We’re both adults here.”

“I know that! I’m concerned that if you get a look at my godly self you won’t be able to control your adultly urges.”

“’Adultly’s not a word.”

You’re able stick your tongue out at him once you pop your head out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the rack.

“Taking the high road, I see.”

“Oh, shush. I never take the high road.” You flick water at Mello as you step out of the shower. “Alrighty. Time to go pretend to be a hostage while you threaten my boss. Oh, clothes first!”

“I’ll be here.”

After sending an affirming thumbs up, you exit the bathroom, a swirl of steam trailing behind you.

He’ll be here…It honestly is a shame he can’t stay here any longer. But it’d be suspicious. Near would find too many connections between the two of you. But…there are ways to avoid that happening.

Mello finds himself seriously considering the bathtub pillow fort idea.

#Death note x reader #death note #oneshot #death note oneshot #mello x reader #mihael keehl #mello death note #mihael keehl x reader #x reader #anime oneshot

[rueitae]

Frostbite

[Pidge is a renowned super villain. Lance is a hero in training. During their latest encounter, Lance pushes his powers to their limit and Pidge has some soul searching to do.]

A gift for @mbirdarts as she has graciously allowed me to dip my fingers into her details for this AU after I sent many pestering questions asked about it.

You can find the concept art here, here, here, and here.

The outfit inspiration is from @artylovebug here which was in turn inspired by @plancelance initial AU idea here.

This is now fic 2/4 I want to do for plance hero/villain. I am so weak for this trope and needed more. I love you all.

The fic is posted on Ao3 here, but you can read in its entirety below. About 6K words of banter, action, and hurt/comfort. ish.

~~~~~~~~~~

Pidge lets her back hit the brick wall of the alleyway, sliding down to sit on the concrete in relief. She closes her eyes and lets her heart rate slow to a rest. She has a good twenty minutes to spare before the next truck comes by this area and unloads its goods. That’s enough time to deal with her pursuer and escape.

Exhausted, but happy, she examines her latest acquisition. The disc fits perfectly in the palm of her gloved hand. The device is top of the line Galra Corp information storage. It contains hope - more hope than she’s had in a while. The style of code it holds is her father’s; the same he had passed on to her and her brother. The best case scenario is that it holds a message that the two of them were alive and well. Worse case Pidge hopes it would at least prove the Galra were up to no good.

Her lab is only a few warehouses away, further from the pier. As much as she wants to check it out right that minute - she has something more pressing to take care of.

She taps the side of her modified safety glasses and it displays the time for her in 3-D. She grins impishly. “Three… two… one…”

Lance barrels into the alleyway, tripping on Pidge’s carefully placed trap. He yelps as he is pushed into the wall, bounces over to the other end of the alley - only to ram into the dumpster with enough force to spill it, finally falling at her feet and into the pile of trash he unwittingly created.

The trap works perfectly, as Pidge expected it would. The sides of her mouth tug further up her face, thrilled at the accomplishment and seeing Lance on the wrong end of the admittedly childish prank.

To his credit, Lance lifts himself to his hands and knees quickly, glaring. “Real funny, Pidge,” he grumbles. He reaches out with a gloved hand, and judging by the look on his face, he’s just touched something extremely unpleasant. “Urgh...this is going to take forever to clean this off my uniform.”

“I told you not to follow me,” Pidge says, her smile stretching as far as her muscles will allow. Meeting Lance in costume is always a fun treat but today she can’t linger. She needs to examine the disc and can’t do so as Katie. The university computers aren’t compatible, and she doesn’t have the time to make them so, especially not when she has one ready to go in her lab. “At the same time, I’m also glad you did. I wouldn’t have gotten to try my new traps otherwise.”

Lance blinks, eyebrows rising. “Wait - traps?” His tone matches his increasing comprehension. “As in more than one?”

Pidge taps her orange glasses once more and pulls up the command she’s looking for, never taking her eyes off of the rookie hero. “This is the Warflater,” she explains. “I made it just for you.”

Lance scrambles to his feet. “Oh no,” he warns - summoning shards of ice into the palm of his hand. Frost forms up to his wrist in response to the use of his powers. “Not doing that. The last time you made something for me I ended up in the sewer.”

Necessary, Pidge thinks. If she hadn’t dumped him in the sewers a few months back he’d have been caught in crossfire. She bites her lip. Maybe she’ll tell him one day, but until he stops believing the Galra Corporation was a benevolent entity, it’s better this way.

He already knows too much for her liking.

“Pidge, come on,” Lance continues. His determined expression is replaced with one of genuine concern. “Give me the disc so I can give it back to Galra Corp. I promise we’ll find some non-villainous way to get your family back. I’ll even let you go. Please.”

“You? Let me go?” Pidge asks, pointing to herself. Her eyebrows rise in amusement. “I know where you live. I don’t know what kind of superhero decides to not have a secret identity, but you walked right into this one. You are not in a position to be making any demands.”

“Yes I am!” he responds indignantly. He points his ice shards at the ready. “I have - AH!”

The five power nozzles set up across the alley spit scalding water directly at Lance, who continues to yelp and flail in the intersection of the streams. Pidge looks on casually, unconcerned. Lance is one of a handful of people in the city who can come out of this unharmed. His ice core will keep his body temperature regulated so that he won’t get burned. The water will only be disorienting.

She still hates the fact that he can’t ever get sunburn. Some things in life just aren’t fair.

“Okay, that’s it!” Lance sputters, barely yelling words out in the bombardment. “No more mister nice- “ There, this was the moment of realization she had been waiting for. “Pidge! Why are my feet stuck?!”

Pidge slides the disc back into her pouch. A few taps on her glasses and the timer is set for the water to turn off. “New sticky web formula. Thanks for helping me test the waterproofing, Lance. See you next heist!” With Lance successfully off her tail, she turns to walk away.

“Pidge! Pidge turn this thing off!”

“Chill, Lance,” she jokes, pausing briefly in her escape. “It’ll be over in a few minutes and I’ll send Tesla to unstick you later.”

At this point Lance is shielding his face with his arms, which help his words come out more clearly but don’t help his movements at all. “Do NOT send that stupid little robot, it's just going to electrocute me again!”

“Awww, that’s mean, Lance,” Pidge teases. “Tesla really likes you. Don’t hurt her feelings.”

“It’s a robot! It doesn’t have feelings!”

Pidge chuckles to herself, smirking. “That’s what you think. See ya later, hero boy!” she calls out, relishing in the whimsical feeling of the moment.

Only to have it shatter by a laser whizzing just past her face, rooting her to the spot in shock.

It hits one of the hoses, causing a leak with a concentrated and powerful beam. Pidge turns around in horror. Blocking the other end of the alleyway are Galra security agents. She can tell from a glance they are not hired from the hero agency, but rather trained in-house specifically for Galra Corp.

They cock the guns and the largest one comes forward. Pidge’s breath catches as she recognizes Haxus, the most high ranking member of Galra Corp she’s ever seen on the streets. “Hand over the disc, thief.”

Pidge instinctively rests a hand on the pouch that contains the disc and takes a step back. There is no negotiating here. She can’t give it back to them. Even if she does, they’ll kill her or take her away like they had her father and brother.

Fighting back remains her only option.

“I’ll never give up!” She yells back, rage and determination overflowing from her very being. The traps for this alley may be sprung, but the grunts are far enough back that maybe…

Tapping her glasses once more, she enters the command code for the pier. Just off shore, the waters begin to stir

“Stop her!” Haxus snaps at his two subordinates.

Pidge jumps behind the dumpster, kneeling in case she needs to move again at a moments notice. She concentrates on her work despite the barrage of fire, stealing a look whenever she can to see if they are coming.

The Galra Corp flunkies scream as the scalding deluge from the remaining four hoses turn from Lance to them. Pidge grins in triumph as the force pushes them back off of the pier into the whirlpool she’d set into motion with her first action.

“Pidge - what was that?”

Lance is soaked, and clearly not pleased - looking utterly pathetic as he stands still thanks to the webbing all over his boots. His homemade hero costume sags with water seeping out of his pockets.

To Pidge’s flustered horror, it outlines each and every inch of his build. She forgets the situation at hand as her mind freezes as much as his powers.

He crosses his arms, his eyebrows raised. “I’m the wet one, but you look like the fish.” He smirks, as if a lightbulb has gone off in his head. “You like what you see? Not that I blame you,” he finishes smugly.

Pidge becomes acutely aware of the intense warmth has invaded her cheeks. “You look like soggy bologna,” she sputters lamely

Lance bristles indignantly. “I do not!”

Feeling sufficiently redeemed, her confidence returns with Lance once again becoming the flustered one and not her.

His body of all things?! This was worse than she first thought.

It isn’t even the main thing she likes about him. If they were at the university, maybe she could pull it off as a legitimate crush. Lance likes Katie, of that Pidge is nearly positive. Hunk’s questioning gazes and the way he remembers her class schedule, buys her ice cream, or recalls the name of her favorite robot - something she told him only very briefly in passing - is enough for her to get the message.

The only reason she hasn’t done anything about it is due to her commitments as Pidge. She refuses to believe her father and brother are dead, and rather are being held by Galra Corp against their will. She needs to rescue them, no matter what it takes.

Even if she has to break her own heart in the process. Because if she’s honest, she likes him too.

As Pidge, she can at least hang out with him like this and that was a small consolation. Her smart remarks were returned, and she can pretend it isn’t flirting.

She can also enjoy the soft looks he will probably give to Katie later tomorrow after she spends tonight pouring over the information on the disc.

Pidge opens her mouth to enjoy one last quip before leaving him.

The reverie turns out to be her downfall.

“Pidge, look out!”

She only has a split second to notice Lance’s alarmed face before she tumbles across the ground, unable to move her arms and legs. Once she stops, Pidge finds herself bound by a weighted net. Its purple glow gives it away as Galra Corp.

But she’s taken care of Haxus.

Pidge worms herself around to catch a glimpse of her attacker and forgets to breathe.

The massive form of Sendak blocks the opposite exit. The man answers only to Zarkon himself. If he’s here, the information in the disc must be valuable indeed.

Lance stutters as he takes in the scene, settling on addressing Sendak first. “I had it handled!”

You idiot, Pidge thought. Sendak has a nasty reputation and is not above harming heroes. Lance has to know that. Pidge prays he does. If not, he’s in just as much danger as she is.

“My apologies,” Sendak replies coolly. His smile was is not kind. “I had an opportunity, I thought I’d best take it to capture the thief as quickly as possible.”

Lance huffs and crosses his arms. “Thanks for the help, I guess.”

Pidge uses their conversation as time to escape. The net runs on quintessence, as all Galra Corp products do. She feels around for the power source, familiar enough with the tech to disable it with her eyes closed - or hands behind her back in this case.

“You’re the newcomer with ice powers, aren’t you boy?” Sendak flexes his left arm; a weaponized prosthetic.

“I’ve been doing this for almost a whole year,” Lance defends. “I’m not exactly new to this.”

Sendak draws back his clawed arm, and aims at the hero’s feet.

Pidge isn’t sure what comes over her, because screaming “Don’t you touch him!” and drawing Sendak’s attention away from Lance and onto her, deterring her escape attempt, is precisely what she did not need to do.

“Lance, no!” she still screamed his name in horror when Sendak doesn’t stop. Lance braces himself, wide eyed.

He is fine.

Sendak holds the torn pieces of Pidge’s sticky web in his mechanical claws. “She squeals for you more than for herself. I find that fascinating.”

Free, Lance seems to get the hint that he and Sendak are not actually on the same side. “Oh, um, thanks?” he says, taking an unsure step back.

Pidge holds her breath as Sendak does not answer right away. “Mr. Zarkon appreciates your services, but it is no longer needed. I will take charge of the thief’s punishment.”

Desperate, Pidge makes her break for it, rolling as fast as she can manage towards the water before Sendak can make his way towards her. Breath is taken out of her lungs as she is slammed face first into brick. She tries to plant her feet back the ground, but Sendak’s arm holds her dangling against the wall.

“H-hey, I don’t think she’s going anywhere. No need to do anything drastic,” Lance says.

“When dealing with thieves, it is best to add some finality to the approach,” Sendak squeezes and Pidge groans in terror, pain nearing unbearable. “You may report to the hero division that the felon 04032073 is taken care of.”

“Wait, hold it. This is not what I signed up for,” Lance says assertively. “Pidge may be a criminal, but she doesn’t deserve whatever you’re going to do to her.”

“This is a Galra Corp matter,” Sendak interrupts. “Do not make me report you to your supervisor.”

“Shiro would agree with me,” Lance says, standing his metaphorical ground. His voice brims with a confidence Pidge wishes she shares. She knows that Sendak is going to take his annoyance out on Lance before killing her. She closes her eyes in earnest. There is only one way they are getting out of here, and that’s if she uses her powers.

Pidge has been careful about them, never using them since she assumed her alter-ego. With only a quarter of the population born with superpowers, her plants would make her far too identifiable to Katie Holt.

No choice now.

“Then you leave me no choice.” Sendak drops Pidge and she lands on the concrete, breaking her concentration. She looks on in horror as Lance has summoned his own powers to face Sendak. Maybe in the past she might have been flattered that someone outside of her own family would show that much anger and determination for her life. She did not want it to be Lance. Not with Zarkon’s right hand man powering up his gun and pointing it at him.

An explosion of cold stops any other action.

Pidge turns away as sub zero temperatures blast against her body. Once calm, she turns to survey the scene. The cold has made her entrapment brittle, breaking apart without any effort.

Sendak towers above her, frozen stiff, icicles fraying off of him everywhere. He has taken the brunt of Lance’s attack, unintentionally shielding her.

She carefully side-steps the Galra man to look at the rest of the scene. She throws caution to the wind when she sees Lance on the ground, unmoving.

“Lance!” Pidge rushes over to him in concern, sliding onto the ice without a thought that it could break her ankle if she wasn’t careful. Immediately tapping her glasses, she scans his vitals. His heartbeat barely exists.

Pidge finds it a little easier to breathe. Like her own powers had physical consequences, so did his. Still, seeing him like this sends shivers up her spine. Lance is animated and talkative, not silent and still.

Even if this were natural for him, Pidge is sure it isn’t healthy in the long run. She needs to get him to her lab. The same lab where she has prepared for this eventuality, and hates herself for it.

She cares about him too much for her own good.

“I can’t believe you went and did that - you don’t even know its me,” she confesses quietly.

She places a hand over his frost covered body. Even with gloves the ice burn is nearly too much and she backs off momentarily. Pidge steels herself. He saved her. It’s her turn to save him.

~~~~

A few blocks away from the scene of the fight, the upper lefthand corner screen of Pidge’s lens flashes green in sync with the control panel on the side of a warehouse. A task that would have normally taken her seconds seems an eternity with shaky hands. A door opens at her feet and a gated platform rises to fill the space.

She drags Lance onto it, her hands numb after carrying him from the alleyway. Pidge is positive she will have to treat herself for frostbite too.

“Idiot,” Pidge whispers harshly, dropping to her knees once the elevator is safely carrying them underground. Tears stain her eyes and sobs hitch in her throat. “You’re a quiznaking idiot.”

Lance doesn’t respond and Pidge instead focuses on what she can do. She holds onto him tightly, despite the cold screaming at her to let go, trying to transfer her own body heat to his.

The elevator comes to a stuttering stop at the entrance to the underground laboratory. The gate pops down automatically, creating a cagey ramp for the last few inches to the concrete ground.

The lab itself is open, with no walls between the tiny living space or the various experiments that lay in wait on a wide assortment of tables. Miraculously, a tree takes up much of the space, roots making the concrete floor uneven and trunk sitting majestically in the middle. Pidge has her computer set up adjacent to it. From atop one of the monitors, a tiny robot putters down from it’s charging perch.

“Tesla, get the anti-grav table,” Pidge orders, voice still a bit hoarse. “I need to move Lance.”

The small, green robot beeps; the markings under its eyes glowing a cool white in acknowledgment of the order.

Pidge doesn’t have time to waste, her next command comes in quick succession. “Computer, reroute the water from trap number 14 to the sink. Fill the basin.”

Tesla nudges the anti-gravity table towards the ground near Lance. Although not Pidge’s original intent for it, she needs to use it as a gurney. In the background, a faucet opens on the computer’s command and water begins to pour into an antique wash bin - one of many that were long abandoned when the manufacturer moved out of the warehouse above decades ago.

She manually maneuvers the table under Lance, moving his body onto it in short spurts; first a shoulder, then a leg, then midsection - repeat until he’s secure. Pidge is able to lift the table and its weight to her own waist height, she then pushes it forwards towards the water.

“Hang in there, Lance,” she mutters.

Pidge soaks her own hands in the hot water first, feeling relief. Then she takes a cloth, dunks it, and places it on Lance’s forehead without wringing it out.

The basin is too small to immerse him, which is what he really needs. Their respective college apartments are too far away, though, and he needs immediate warmth. She dunks a larger towel into the water and places it along his chest.

She pulls her knitted hat firmly on his head, letting her long hair go free.

Out of towels, now she waits. Pidge hates waiting.

She bites her lip in thought as she examines him from head to toe. His clothes will need to come off once they thaw. Just the thought of it made her blush, but she knows they are doing more harm than good for him right now.

In the meantime, she has to make do. She tugs on his boots, getting them off after some physical effort and throws them to the side. Pidge repeats the process with his socks. All she has left is a thick blanket that she hopes to keep dry for Lance once he recovers enough.

So she wraps her arms around his feet tight, soles up against her chest, using her own body heat as much as she can. Pidge nearly lets go just from the sheer cold, but forces herself to hold on.

“I’m not going to let you down,” she promises, eyes squeezed shut in determination. “I don’t know if you can hear this, but you mean a lot to me - both versions of me.” Pidge opens her eyes mid-reverie and blinks, having spoken herself into a conundrum. “Well, I mean, I’m not two different people, I’m just pretending to be. Pidge is just a nickname my brother gave me. You can call me either one, I don’t care.”

No signs of moment from Lance. The silence from him begins to unnerve her. His vibrant personality is one of his bright spots.

“Don’t think this means I’m going to take it easy on you,” she continues, breaking off that particular train of thought. “I still have to find my family. I can’t let Galra Corp catch onto me more than they already have. I’m just one faceless bad guy in a city full of them.”

No response. Tears well up in her eyes, her heart turning as numb as her hands. “Please wake up. You weren’t supposed to do this for me.”

There is no change in Lance’s condition. Pidge growls. This is taking too long, and it isn’t enough. Pidge anticipated Lance overusing his powers, but berated herself in not preparing for this magnitude.

Lance needs to be in a bathtub. Pidge doesn’t have one.

Angry at herself, Pidge forces herself to watch the ice crystals that methodically form on her arms. They are pretty, in an objective way. She just hates that she hadn’t known the extents of Lance’s ice powers. When they’d first met, he hadn’t even been capable of handling them properly, let alone create a blast large enough to suffer this type of consequence.

She had been so wrapped up in searching for her missing family, she had forgotten to pay attention to her friends’ progress.

And supposedly cares.

Lance is the only one who knows why Pidge really stole from Galra Corp. Even if they stood off against each other time and time again, he never failed to at least try and be on her side in any way he could considering their positions - like today. A gesture she usually rejects.

Up until now.

“...Dad always said his coworkers were like family. You’ve tried to have my back.” Pidge smiles warmly. “It’s about time I had yours, and trusted you to have mine.”

Pidge removes her gloves and rolls up her sleeves. “It’s going to be hot tomorrow. You better appreciate this because I’ll have to wear long sleeves.”

Digging deep, she calls upon powers she hasn’t touched since childhood. Her face twitches as moss and seedlings grow from her skin; the consequences for using her own powers.

Small, but stringy vines extend from her tree. Pidge wills them to snake into the hot water and then wrap themselves around Lance and the table.

With them, she fastens something that resembles a bathtub - funny looking as it still floats in the air. Making sure there are no leaks, she gently raises his head to rest on the edge. Pidge then takes a spare hose and fills the makeshift container. Once all but Lance’s head is below water, she places the smaller cloth on his forehead.

Pidge scratches at her arms, the plantlife making her annoyedly itchy. Ugh, they are on her cheek this time too. No robotics club tomorrow for her. She’ll have to call Hunk to pick up Lance later anyway, might as well apologize for not being able to continue working on Funbot. There is still plenty of time before state competition at least.

Pidge groans. This could take days if it was anything like her plant-skin.

Back to waiting.

~~

Hours later, Lance has visibly improved.

The frost has gone from most of his body, and Pidge has been able to remove his uniform. It currently hangs to dry on old pipes, long since decommissioned and drained. Tesla works hard to blow dry it, moving in a rectangular formation while distributing jets of air from its mouth port.

Pidge refuses to remove his underwear. It’s bad enough having to stare at the rest of his naked body, watching for any sign of infection.

His eyebrows move - scrunched as if not wanting to wake up after a good nap.

“Lance? Lance!” Pidge perks up from her poor seat posture; hunching over the side of the plant tub.

His eyes open slowly, and Pidge makes sure her face is the first he sees. He closes them again and groans before opening them again. “Katie?” he asks softly.

Pidge’s brain freezes for longer than she likes. She seizes her hat from his head and hastily sticks her hair under it - away from his field of vision.

“No, just Pidge,” she tells him coolly. “Katie is your friend from school. I brought you to my lab. How much do you remember?”

Pidge feels unguarded as Lance studies her face, as if looking for something. She doesn’t know why it feels like he sees straight into her soul.

He doesn’t speak immediately, instead observing his surroundings. His mouth parts limply, eyes falling back to Pidge. “Lab? The secret one?” He asks slowly, face seeking comprehension.

Pidge nods. “That’s right. No one will bother us here.” She gives him a stern look. “But you are going have to promise not to tell anyone about it. It’s secret for a reason.”

“What did you do?”

“Huh?” Pidge says intelligently, eyebrows rising.

She notices what seems profound about Lance now. Despite being fully awake, his eyes are dim. They search her heart because they are… soulless; blank.

“Your lab,” Lance continues in near monotone, “did you run experiments on me?”

Pidge flaps her mouth in surprise before she can properly form words. “That was one joke I made months ago, Lance,” she replies earnestly. “I wouldn’t ever do anything to harm you, not for real.”

Lance does not respond, his gaze wandering around the room.

“Lance, what do you remember?” Pidge prompts again.

“Sendak. He was going to kill you,” Lance responds.

Pidge bites her lip. “Yes, he was.”

Silence from Lance again. It feels wrong.

“Is that all you remember?” Pidge asks again.

“Yes,” Lance says, now looking down at the bath he’s in.

“I have plant powers,” Pidge confesses, rolling up her sleeves to show him the small prairie that remains on her arms. “You attacked Sendak with what I’m assuming was your entire power core. Your whole body was covered in frostbite. I made this so I could get you in warm water - to help heal you. I don’t think you’ll need to see a doctor since this is your body’s natural response to your powers, but you probably shouldn’t do any hero work for a while,” she rambles. “It might even be best if you stay here. If it’s anything like my powers it’ll take days for the effects to go away - I have to wear long sleeves on the hottest day of summer thanks to you,” she grumbles.

Now that Lance is awake and on the mend she doesn’t feel too bad quipping with him. Her heart drops when he doesn’t so much as acknowledge it.

It seems his body warms quickly, but his soul takes longer to thaw.

“I think it’s time for you to get out of the water,” Pidge says. “I’ve got a warm blanket and a pretty comfortable couch waiting for you. I know it’s not quite your standard for bed, but it’s let me doze off hundreds of times.”

Lance doesn’t move.

“Lance,” she pleads, heart aching to see him like this. “Get out of the water.”

On that request he does. Pidge assists him by lowering the table and offering herself as support.

“Tesla, get the blanket please.”

The little robot zooms past the humans and flips the blanket onto itself. Pidge grins in pride at the sight. Tesla makes an excellent ghost, Pidge decided, she’s going to rock Halloween this year.

She wraps the blanket around Lance for modesty and warmth, carefully guiding him over to the well loved cushions. Once he lay stretched out, Pidge begins to feel better about the situation as a whole. His body is out of danger and she can relax.

Lance seems to sense this as well. He is sleeping again before Pidge can give Tesla a good pat of thanks for its good work.

She kneels beside him, taking a moment to brush a loose strand of hair from his face. “I meant what I said. From now on I’ll be a better friend as Pidge. No more tricks. I’ll let you help me find my family.”

Reaching over, she wraps her arms around him and rests her head to his chest. “You deserve that and more.”

Time to wait again.

~~

It was the next day before Lance stirs again.

Pidge has spent the hours pouring over the disc she recovered from Galra Corp. It did turn out to be her father’s code. Pidge is convinced there is a message in here for her. She sits in her old office chair, glasses glinting off the computer screen as her own program ran the code through, looking for any familiar patterns.

A thud and a screech of “What the heck?!” reminds her of her guest.

She twirls herself around to face him, relieved to see him up. “Good morning, Lance. Sleep well?” she says cordially.

Lance does not take it that way.

“Pidge? Where - where are we?” he whispers in panic. Pidge can’t help but grin at the sight of a fully recovered Lance flustered and out of sorts.

“My lab,” she answers, intertwining her fingers together. “I told you that yesterday, but you obviously don’t remember waking up.”

Lance gapes, panic growing on his face. “Your - your lab? As in your secret villainous lair?”

Pidge frowns, annoyed. “It’s my lab, and it’s secret, which means you cannot tell anyone about it - including Hunk.”

“I can’t promise that!” Lance exclaims. “Hunk finds out everything eventually. He’s my best friend!”

“He’s also insufferably nosy, which is exactly why he can’t know. Got it?”

Lance nods three times in quick succession, clearly nervous. He gulps. “You’re not going to do any weird experiments on me are you?”

“What is with you thinking I would do something like that?” Pidge wheezes, strained that this of all things is what he’s concerned about.

“Oh I don’t know,” Lance glares, “maybe it’s all the traps I’m lucky enough to test for you. All I ask,” he says much more calmly, holding his hands aloft in surrender and causing the blanket fall to the ground, “is that you do not harm my face.”

Pidge stares incredulously. “You are an idiot.”

“I am not!” Lance says, offended. He pauses before he can begin his rant and make the mistake of looking down. He screams and wraps the blanket hastily around himself again. “What happened to my suit?!”

“It’s drying over there,” Pidge points over to where Tesla is ironing out wrinkles with its laser eyes. “Although I don’t know why you even need it if you don’t bother to hide your identity.”

“A hero has a suit because it’s what heroes do! And I’m a professional!” He pauses, confusion flickering across his face. “Why do I not have it on? Who-?” Lance stops and a light seemed to go off in his brain. He turns a deep shade of red. “Holy crow - you undressed me?”

“I had to,” Pidge says, finally standing. She let the banter and teasing melt away in return for concern. “I don’t know how much you actually remember, but you saved my life by overusing your powers. I had to treat you for frostbite literally everywhere.” She sighs. “You slept for nearly 24 hours.”

Lance falls silent. He stares at her, just as when he first woke, but this time with a mix of concern and admiration.

“I did huh?” His laugh is hollow. “My first major job and I attack a Galra Corp executive, and save a thief. What a hero I am.” He then smiles genuinely. “But I’m glad it was you, Pidge. Sendak was out of line and you’re just trying to find your family.”

Pidge returns his smile, warmth in her heart. “Thank you Lance, for everything.”

“I guess we’re even then.” He scratches his head. “So my ice powers make me freeze up completely huh?”

“That’s right,” Pidge confirms, scientist mode kicked into gear. She whirls around in her chair and brings up Lances stats on her largest monitor. “This is your biorhythm through the last 20 hours,” she explains as Lance stands behind her chair. “As you can see from your heart rate, you were basically in hibernation. The applications to your powers expands two fold if you can use this for infiltration missions.” She grins smugly. “The bad guys won’t pay attention to you if they think you’re dead.”

“I’m a hero Pidge, not a spy,” Lance insists dryly.

“It’s your information,” she shrugs and turns to face him. Pidge sighs. She needs to tell him. “Look, Lance, your heart rate wasn’t the only thing that was affected. Your emotional response was as well. You woke up once and you were not yourself.”

Lance frowns. “I don’t remember anything after Sendak turned to face me.”

“...probably for the better.” Pidge is relieved; her identity is still a secret. She has no intention of telling him that if she can help it.

Lance’s eyes widen. “Oh no. If I’ve been asleep I missed my study date with Katie! She’s not going to be happy.”

Pidge smiles knowingly. “I’m sure she’ll understand. The hero business is pretty unpredictable.” She frowns, running his words through her head once more. “Wait - date?” Her heart beats wildly. “You like this girl, don’t you?” she finishes quietly.

“I might.” He glares, but his blush is unmistakable. “I just - I don’t want to look like too much of a goof. She’s too important. So don’t you dare bring her into this,” he rolls his wrist looking for the proper word, “thing we have going on.”

Pidge makes care to bite the inside of her lip to resist reacting to that particular statement. “Actually, Lance, soon we may not have to fight anymore,” she deflects instead. “This disc I got from Galra Corp hopefully contains a message from my dad, or proof Zarkon is up to no good. If I can get the hero association to buy it, then we’ll finally be on the same side.”

His face is oddly neutral for this type of good news, but he eventually smiles. “It’ll be kind of weird. None of the other bad guys ever monologue or exchange witty banter. I’ll miss it.

“But,” he continues, a sad smile on his face, “it’ll be worth it to find out what happened to your family. I really do hope you find something.”

“Thanks,” Pidge tells him sincerely. She turns back to her computer, not trusting herself to say anything else.

The silence is uncomfortable. Lance breaks it.

“So, I should probably be getting back to my apartment.”

“I already called your friend Hunk to pick you up at the pier in a few hours. He’s taking you out for pizza, you need the calories so eat whatever you want. I need to stay here and study the information on the disc,” Pidge says automatically, busy typing away.

“...How do you know Hunk’s number?”

Pidge stops typing. “I hacked the phone company,” she lies quickly. “I called with Katie’s number to keep this place hidden. Remember,” she swivels around to glare seriously at him, “do not tell Hunk how to get here or I will continue using you to test my traps.”

Lance brightens, his smile wide. “Really? Just like that? No more traps? And you won’t involve Katie in any of your schemes?” he finishes suspiciously.

Pidge nods, equaling his smile. “No more traps. Consider us a tentative working relationship.” No promises on Katie.

“I swear I won’t say a word then,” Lance promises. He pauses and sniffs at the air. “Is that Green Lion body wash?”

Pidge groans. At this rate her double life is definitely doomed to unravel.

#plance #pidgance #flirtyrobot #au: superthief #voltron legendary defender #vld fanfic #rueitae #my writing

[cecke8]

Your Ginger Housemate - Part 13

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So I’ve been trying to create more of an idea of what I’m visualising through the pictures I’m adding. If you refer to Part 12, the picture of the alley is what I visualise behind the apartments. So that’s just something to link and think about. 

How could I do something like that? I almost lost control after all this time making sure all I would “behave myself”. Make sure I’m always in a good mood. Make sure I always rein in my anger. Make sure I don’t scare her anymore! That was the deal I made myself when I started living there.

Okay sure, I frighten her sometimes - like when I’m standing in the doorway for a while, but I’ve always scared people from time to time. I guess it’s because, ever since I was really young, I developed the habit of walking really softly. 

No one would hear me enter rooms, so they’d turn around and I’d just kinda’ be there. Funny though. Their fear fueled me. Still does, so I just let the habit become an advanced skill of mine. But that fear is reasonable. The fear I must have just given y/n was worse. A lot worse. 

How could I do something like that? Ugh! 

I kick a trashcan and it goes clattering down the alley for a good five, seven meters? I couldn’t care. The heavy throb in my toes signifies that I belted that thing pretty hard. I’m not gonna lie, it felt good. I feel so wound up, but why... Y/n’s parents! No wonder I wound up. 

Behaving “normally” is exhausting me mentally and physically. I have to be so careful all the time. I probably shoulda’ started with a more... cocky persona? That’s how she would define it anyway. Maybe Tyrone shoulda’ been a little less reserved? But then her parents wouldn’t adore me as much as they do. Well, her mom anyhow, her dad is a little trickier. 

That’s why I pestered y/n for as much information about her parents as I could get. I wanted to know what they were like so I could figure out the best persona to take on. Patricia, I figured - and figured correctly - would be the most susceptible to charm and modesty. Brandon seemed to be a typical dad. He likes a guy who is dedicated to his aspirations, career and is polite to the women in his life. Simple enough. Seeing and listening to them interact with y/n really set it in stone and told me exactly what to do. Unfortunately, it’s the most restricted I’ve ever been. Even at the circus, I wasn’t as reserved. Jeez, I woulda’ snapped years ago!

I’m striding down the alley, so deep in thought, I’ve just realised it’s drizzling. My hair feels dishevelled and strands keep getting in my eyes. I wrench the grey hood over my head to stop water running down my back. At least only the hood and end of the sleeves are cotton on this thing. The rest is leather. It’ll stand the rain for a while longer yet.

Jeez. What is wrong with me. It’s broad daylight... well it’s raining, but all the same. 

This alleyway is particularly unique because it’s like a separate, hidden street. Almost every apartment block connects to it through the fire escape. Y/n’s is special because her apartment has the lowest ladder. Few rungs up and I’m good. Easy to escape undetected, if dark enough. It usually is. That’s why I chose her apartment. It was a good choice apparently. I haven’t felt at ease like this since before... before he left. 

Bad thought. Shut up!

I’ve almost gotten to the end of the street-like alley and am becoming more aware of the piercing throb in a couple of my toes. I know it’s painful, it’d almost a searing pain if I wasn’t so ignorant towards the feeling. Over time, that sorta stuff had really just been covered in a layer of numbness. It’s as if my pain receptors have been covered with a heavy layer of fabric. Like a tarp. I know the pains there, it just isn’t a direct problem for me anymore. Some would call it a high pain threshold - and sure, that’s part of it - but it also comes from years of experience.

Just before I get to a legitimate street, I turn left into another small alleyway. Every time I enter this one, my breathing becomes heavy and it feels like all my muscles have tightened. I don’t know why, but I hate it in here.  It could be claustrophobia, but I refuse to admit I have such a feeble fear. 

It’s a darker ally, sheltered from the rain so you’d think it's dry. It’s not. There are numerous vents and drains that lead back here resulting in constant clouds of steam, mist and drips of water. This alley could only fit one person, there’s barely a gap between my shoulders and the wall. 

After manoeuvring under pipes, between vents and over grates, I arrive at my destination. The only abandoned apartment block in the neighbourhood. 

It’s a rundown piece of shit that can barely keep out a draft. However, it’s pretty handy when wanting constant entry whether this is scaling the broken fire escape, easing through a smashed window or picking the lock to the door. 

Yeah, I’m pretty equipped. This jacket has a fair few inside pockets. Perfect for a small collection of pocket knives, a standard revolver and a small lock kit. 

“C’mon now, daddy needs to get dry,” I whisper as crouch down next to the door. I prepare the two small instruments for the lock and get to work. There’s no need. The door creaked open. I roll my eyes. 

Terrific. Someone else is here. 

As I sneak through, I hear voices arguing. 

“Marty, shut up will ya? There was no noise.”

“Terrance, honey, it might be a good idea if he goes and checks hmm? Just in case.” 

Great, three people. And one with keen ears apparently. 

“Yeah. That’s right. Just in case. She’s right.” The guy who I’m guessing is Marty retorts. 

I dunno how I’m gonna deal with the trespassing trio. Maybe when the Marty guy comes round, I’ll kill him. Not with my gun, it’ll be too loud. Ugh, but a knife is too messy - even if it is an enjoyable mess, it’s not something I want to deal with yet. Maybe I’ll knock him out and tie him up. Same with the others? Might work.

“Deedee love,” - seriously? Deedee? - “we can’t keep being so paranoid. No one's there.” 

Time to make an entrance. 

I sneak around the corner, hoodie down and just to be theatric lean against the wall while a twirl a knife around my fingers. 

Yep, there’s three of them. The blond chick Deedee, and the two males. Dunno which is which, but they look pretty similar. Might be brothers.

It takes a while for anyone to notice me. They’re all too entranced by the fire they got going on. Great. Thanks for stinking up the place guys. At least put it near a vent. Sheesh.

Finally, the guy facing me looks up and goes stiff. His mouth opens to yell but I put a finger to my lips. Tellig him to keep quiet. But the other guy has seen gaper and whips around. 

“What the fu-”

“Uh-uh. Don’t swear. Not in front of the lady,” I grin as she too whips around. With bulging eyes, the trio watches me walk over and stop next to them. I swing back on my heels, hands behind my back just to mess with them. 

“You know, you're stinking out my crib. At least put the fire near a vent. Idiots.” I shake my head. They just stare. The dude with blondie starts to stutter.

“Well spit it out,” I mock.

“W-w-we don’t want no trouble man. We’ll leave. We didn’t know anyone else was using this place.”

“Oh really? So you didn’t go upstairs?” They all sake there heads. The girl is clinging on to guy number one for dear life. 

“Oh, goodie,” I say in a sing-song voice, and then drop my smile, “then leave.” I glare at him. He seems to wanna argue, but I start throwing my knife up and down. He gets the point. Hmm... can’t have them blabbering my whereabouts. They seem like the sort to shut up if I threaten ‘em enough.

Before they can react, I lunge at the dude who must be Marty, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and pressing my knife against his neck.  Not enough to kill him, but enough to pierce the skin. I feel the small drops of blood trickle past my fingers.  A little more pressure wouldn’t hurt... 

Restraint Jerome. Restraint.

“Now you two better not leave just yet. I need to talk with, Marty was it?” I ask in his ear and wait for him to nod, I nod also, “Mhm. Because if two leave, then I kill this one and come after you. Got it?” They nod vigorously. I lean in and start whispering into his ear. Occasionally looking at the others with a grin.

“Now, I’m guessing you know who I am. And you know that I’m on a lay-low at the moment. And quite frankly, it’s nice. So I’m gonna’ let you leave. But you’re not going to tell anyone I. Because trust me, I know how to find people, and I will find all of you. But if you leave, don’t come back, and don’t squeak, you live. Yeah?”

He nods. Shaking violently, he tells the others that they’re gonna leave. I let him go, but not before cutting him a little more.  

So much for restraint.

**Later**

It’s been a couple of hours and no one has come to investigate. So maybe they did keep their word. I’m a little pleased, but some action would have been fun. I shoulda’ done more to scare ‘em. 

Turns out I dislocated three of my toes. I’ve had it happen before, so I knew how to fix ‘em. Hurt like hell, but nothing I couldn’t laugh off. They’re a deep purple, and too tender to put my shoe on comfortably. So I’ve just pressed them against the cold concrete and laid back. It makes me giggle. Gotham has such a gift for turning things into an ice pack.

 Laying down like this is really making me how boring my life has become. I’ve been cooped up too long. But any funny business now would give Y/n too much trouble with her parents.

I hope she deals with them properly. At least lies convincingly. I can’t help but sigh. It’s strange, but I think I’m feeling... remorse. Ha, yeah. remorse for scaring her. I can’t deny it. She’s driving me crazy! 

She seems so insecure when she talks about herself, but there’s a confidence in her eyes that she doesn’t let escape. Even though emotionally, she’s an open book, I barely know anything about her. We barely know anything about each other. But her smile and her laugh are intoxicating. 

Oh, her laugh. It’s so free and contagious. It’s so hard not to laugh with her when I’m trying to string her on. She makes no sense and yet it’s like I’ve known her forever. Not seeing her for days is gonna be hard, but it will be necessary. 

I hope she doesn’t stay too upset. I wanna be the one to make her laugh strangely enough. I’m gonna have to give her a good sorry present, and I think I know the perfect thing.

Taglist: @sp00der-m00n @unicornwitch870 @skellingtonarmy @rockyrocket15 @thegirlofwolvesandfangs @hahaha-141 @purexuncreative @aqswdefrgthzjukilop

#Yourgingerhousemate #jerome valeska #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska fanfic #jerome valeska xreader #lovingjerome #Gotham #gotham fanfiction #DC comics #Cameron Monaghan #x reader

[kingofattolia]

a list of things about Star Wars: The Last Jedi

TLJ felt like watching two completely separate movies. .. .  one i deliriously LOVED and one i spit upon and shake its profane dust off my sandals

THE GOOD

“ive got an urgent message for General Hux” “YOUR REBELLION IS DOOMED” “yeah... im holding for General Hux”

it straight up took me a minute and a half of this scene to figure out this was actually the start of the movie. it felt like one of those pre-movie skits where it seems like a movie but then anthropomorphic M&Ms tell you to turn your cell phone off. was it just me or were there a LOT more comic moments in TLJ compared to almost every other star wars movie? anyway i loved it even tho it gave the movie a slight someone-made-this-while-high-on-LSD feel 

Leia USING THE FORCE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

R2 playing Luke the “you’re my only hope” recording of Leia, i almost died

FORCE SHENANIGANS. we saw more powerful, dramatic, and varied uses of the Force in TLJ than we have ever before seen in a live action media and i was L I V I N G

“you’ve closed yourself off from the Force”

Rey and Kylo’s foRCE BOND TALKING like this.. . . is so interesting .. .  and it wasn’t only Snoke doing it because they did it again after he’s dead...

Rey lifting 30 giant fricken boulders without even breaking a sweat after having one (1) single “training” session

Kylo remotely activating Anakins lightsaber

projecting himself........ across the entire galaxy. . ..

Yoda. in the former EU the Force ghosts had a non-negotiable expiration date a certain time after their deaths. Obi-Wan couldnt just come back and visit Luke forever, he faded away at some point. is this no longer true??? DOES THIS MEAN ANYONE CAN COME BACK IF THEY WANT??? why was yoda so physical even as a ghost that he could whack luke on the head

summoning lightning like alright this is a new Jedi power im adding to my arsenal

Leia’s mary poppins action

Luke vaulting across the cliff to stab fish

POE'S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT he turned from a kamikaze into a leader who's able to see the big picture and walk away, im so proud

everyone..... messing with Hux...... i loved this

Snoke smacking him into the floor

Kylo smacking him into the wall

Kylo force choking him

slowly taking gun out. . . . . HES AWAKE ABORT ABORT... slowly putting gun back . . . Hux is going spend every waking moment wishing he took that shot

Finn's character arc, like what an awesome Slytherin. the contrast between him and the codebreaker 👌👌👌👌 & where he makes the choice REBEL scum 👌👌👌

LET'S GO, CHROME DOME

i cant believe Phasma died again lol. her backstory novel was SO DRAMATIC and she just dies over and over

when Kylo does that little skid out into the hallway to look for Rey

Chewy breaking down Luke's door

when Luke kisses Leia on the forehead . . . .

kylo KILLING SNOKE I AM LITERALLY SO HAPPY. I AM SO HAPPY. IM SO

this had to happen, it was so obvious but i didnt think they would actually do it, Snoke was so boring and useless, i am SO GLAD they didnt drag him out..... I AM SO HAPPY HES DEAD

it was truly awesome... i couldnt stop grinning it seeing it the 2nd time... "I CANNOT BE BETRAYED, I CANNOT BE BEATEN, I CAN SEE HIS MIND" & then he narrates the entire process of Kylo killing him i was LIVING. everyone theorized for so loooooong and so hard about what form Snoke's control over Kylo took and how it would be possible for him to break it,, , , and then he just DOES IT JUST LIKE THAT by SHEER MISDIRECTION FOLKS I AM SO ALIVE

THE TEAM UP FIGHT

i love lightsaber fights so much i would very nearly give up my critical integrity for a single awesome duel and this was,,, so awesome

when Rey drops her lightsaber to catch it again and cut that guys knees out from under him

when Snoke is cut in half and then the lightsaber rockets towards Kylo and Rey's hand SHOOTS INTO THE FRAME to catch it 👌👌👌

when Kylo takes on FOUR OF THEM AT ONCE

"THE SUPREME LEADER IS DEAD" "long live. . . the supreme leader .. "

not gonna lie, i am such a huge fan of supreme leader!Kylo. CAN HE EVEN LEAD ANYONE??? DOES HE HAVE THE CAPABILITY?? HONESTLY WHAT DOES HE WANT TO DO? WHAT WILL HIS SELF-DIRECTED MISSION BE? VADER NEVER GOT TO BE ANYTHING BUT AN ATTACK DOG, WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING TO HAPPEN

I HONESTLY HAVE NO IDEA BUT IM SO HYPE TO FIND OUT

THIS IS BRAND NEW

"finn! rose! you're not dead! where's my droid"

the little slave kids from Canto Bight. did the kid at the end use the Force to pull his broom!??!

"that library did not contain anything the girl Rey does not already possess" Yoda thinks hes so funny. REY STOLE THE LIBRARY LMAO... thanks Rey... im glad someone around here has a brain...

the Falcon swooping in to draw off the TIEs on Crait

"OH, THEY HATE THAT SHIP"

Vice Admiral Holdo's lightspeed kamikaze. . . aside from the drama of the moment & making Hux look stupid, just visually it was awesome

absolutely every single thing said by either Hux or Kylo in Kylo's command shuttle above Crait

"i want every gun we have to fire on that man"

"blow that PIECE OF JUNK oUT OF THE SKY"

when kylo's like "concentrate all fire on the speeders" and then Hux immediately shrieks "CONCENTRATE ALL FIRE ON THE SPEEDERS" and Kylo looks at him like 🤔

"do you think you got him?"

when Luke faces Kylo

WHEN LUKE FACES KYLO

this scene makes the movie for me honestly. as of now im in a state of uneasy ceasefire with TLJ and the sequel trilogy as a whole. if the scene of Luke facing Kylo did not exist, TLJ would probably be dead to me

"did you come to SAVE MY SOUL" "no."

absolutely everything about Luke was so completely epic in this scene. even though he barely said anything, even the way he stood was epic. im not sure how Hamill did this but it was everything i ever wanted

"i failed you, Ben. I'm sorry." "i'm sURE YOU ARE"

the contrast between Kylo's fighting stance and Luke's

when Luke steps out from the massive cloud and duSTS OFF HIS SHOULDER

this fills me with so much pure glee i could literally ascend

"if you strike me down in anger, i'll always be with you. like your father."

the slow, dawning horror when Kylo starts realizing Luke's not actually there

"see you around, kid"

"SEE YOU AROUND, KID"

"SEE YOU AROUND, KID"

my favorite line in the WHOLE THING i could Scream

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

AHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHH

"SEE YOU AROUND, KID"

when Rey slams the door in Kylo's face

THE BAD

Luke should have LIFTED HIS X WING OUT OF THE WATER WITH THE FORCE AT SOME POINT GOSH DARN. i knew from the moment we saw the submerged x wing that this moment was meant to happen.... but then it DIDN’T. like PLEASE. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD I NEED TO SEE THIS

the casino subplot. . .  it was awesome for Finns character development but couldn’t he have developed character over an actually materially relevant story arc.. . .

BB-8 didn’t fight Dark BB-8 like what the hell honestly

for what earthly reason does Kylo need to wear his pants up to his armpits. is he TRYING to look like a doofus

why wasn't Lando the master codebreaker. like quite frankly, give me one good reason. why. no. there are no good reasons. when is Lando going to come into it you cowards

honestly....... what the FRICK was that horrible backstory behind what caused Kylo to turn

WHAT THE FRICK

im trying to keep my cool but this is a huge, enormous, and vital problem i have with this movie and whoever came up with that should be shot

Luke, in a brief moment of insanity, ignited his lightsaber over his sleeping nephew's bed to assassinate him because of a vision

LUKE SKYWALKER the guy who wouldnt believe that DARTH VADER, ENSLAVER OF WORLDS, SLAUGHTERER OF CHILDREN, MASS MURDERER OF THOUSANDS, was a lost cause and who refused to kill him, TRIED TO KILL HIS APPRENTICE IN HIS SLEEP

like... do you see my problem?

character assassination. it is ludicrously greater-than-Anakin Skywalker levels of overreaction to a Force premonition that Luke would see a vision of darkness and instantly move to slice his sleeping, defenseless nephew in half, and even in Luke's version of the story Luke is legitimatly the bad guy. he brought about the future he was afraid of, just like Anakin

because of this background, every interpretation is blown wide open to reasonably see Kylo as the victim and Luke's actions as those of a villain. of course he had to defend himself? it's legitimately possible to construe the subsequent killing of the other students as self-defense as well. if they wake up to find Ben having "killed" Luke? anything could have happened, Kylo could honestly have done barely anything bad up to this point and have been driven to the dark side on that one night

it's going to take.... so much work.... to walk this back. obviously Kylo's a villain now, because of what he's chosen to do since then, but for Luke to come out of this not looking like trash, they would have to provide SO MUCH more backstory including the "dark" things Kylo had done to make Luke suspect him, and have him probably be actively seeking darkness while under Luke's tutelage. and then Luke still seems like a fool and a betrayor

maybe they WANT Luke to come off as a legitimately bad person? i've seen some interpretations of TLJ as tearing down "legends" by showing everyone as flawed people, teaching the lesson of not deifying people to Rey AND the audience as well. if thats true and they actually want me to believe Luke is not worth believing in, i'm sorry but i reject that

luke skywalker is not a bad person

rey said "you didnt fail Kylo, Kylo failed you" WHICH... its true that Kylo failed in all his actions after this. but if this is the unmitigated truth about what happened that day, Luke definitely failed Kylo, thats not really arguable

i spit this backstory out of my mouth and stomp on it

bye felicia

"the legacy of the jedi is failure and hypocrisy. at the height of their power they allowed darth sidious to come to power and wipe them out" ok true. "it was a jedi master who was responsible for the training and creation of darth vader" YOU TAKE THAT BACK

a related point..... Luke is a coward.

i'm not saying that the only kind of Luke i would accept is HEROIC LEGEND LUKE WHO BURSTS FORTH FROM HIS ISOLATION AND SINGLE HANDEDLY DEVASTATES THE FIRST ORDER. but at the same time, his isolation is NOT in any way comparable to Obi-Wan's. "i came here to die" ok buddy.

dying is all well and good, hiding from your failures, being broken for a while after taking a hit like that

what i am NOT able to forgive is how he abandoned Leia

???? the frick???

"so many losses, i can't take any more" "sure you can" STORY OF LEIA'S LIFE

"im from the resistance, your sister Leia sent me" boy when she says jump you better say "how high?" honestly YOU OWE IT AT LEAST TO YOUR GUILT TO DO THAT FOR HER

HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE? SHE'S ON HER OWN DEALING WITH EVERY PROBLEM IN THE WHOLE GALAXY AND HE'S DOING WHAT? YOU'RE TELLING ME LUKE WOULD HAVE ABANDONED HIS SISTER LIKE THAT??? AND WHEN SHE SPECIFICALLY ASKS FOR HIM HE SAYS "no frick u" ?!?!?

if that's Luke Skywalker then Luke Skywalker is a useless coward

that is not Luke Skywalker

honestly everything Rey said was spot on "Leia sent me here with hope. if she's wrong then she deserves to know why. we all do"

the overall thesis of the sequel trilogy seems to be "there's no point to any of this"

a powerful student turns to the dark side and destroys the Jedi Order. an authoritarian regime destroys the republic and takes over. a small band of resistance fighters rallies against great odds. a Force sensitive from a desert planet teaches herself the Force from old Jedi books after her teacher evaporates into the Force after teaching like 1 lesson. everyone Leia loves dies

guys... i'm tired

it's just exhausting. what is the point? in the sequel trilogy we've seen the republic destroyed, the resistance decimated and harried from place to place until theyre down to 12 people on the millennium falcom. there's only one movie left. they're going to come back from nothing and destroy the first order and then smile at each other in the ashes?

why?>??? what are they going to do? build a republic again? is rey going to build a new jedi order? we've seen how that worked out

there's nothing to believe in here. HOPE is such a strong theme in the sequel trilogy. "as long as there's light we've got a chance" "leia sent me here with hope" "the galaxy has lost its hope, the spark is out." "hope is like the sun, if you only believe in it when you can see it you'll never make it through the night." like good grief. constantly hammering on the need to have hope, but WHY?

what's the point of defeating the imperials, spending your life trying to build something good in the galaxy, trying to build a family, when you're only going to have to do it all again in your old age, when everyone you love is dead?

i cant see any hope if this is the ending for the OT characters, so i powerfully struggle to care about and cheer for Rey, Poe, and Finn. what's the point in anything they're doing? what's the point in the sacrifices they're making? it might turn out just exactly like it did for Luke, Leia, and Han, spending their old age in loneliness, sorrow, and violence

if this is the way history repeats itself, you probably should just make out like the stuttering codebreaker. "dont join"

#grace for ts #the last jedi #lists of things with grace #star wars #here they are the extremely belated bullet points #this is long as heck #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #TLJ #tlj spoilers #the last jedi spoilers #i both enjoyed it immensely and left with a bad taste in my mouth hhhhhh

[itriednottothinkaboutit]

Day 1: At Watford

This is my first Carry On ficlet (it’s more like a Simon POV ramble) — I hope you enjoy it! 1695 words.

Before

I thought it was a coincidence. The moment the thing inside me let loose (the red hot spiky thing that felt like a hand pushing my face under water and blood rushing in my ears louder than 100-foot drop waterfall), the heat pipes in the room burst and the sprinklers went off and the fire alarms kept blaring because the room was filled with smoke even though I couldn’t see any fire but I could smell it despite the water pouring down on our heads. There was screaming, naturally. And all the chaos you’d expect with four adults trying to evacuate twenty or so orphans with any semblance of order amidst a freak explosion of unknown origin. What ever happened to “stop, drop and roll”? “Duck and cover”? “Keep calm, carry on?” “Standard emergency procedures?” It was more like “Everyone yell as loud as you can and try to get the hell out of here right quick we need to take a headcount where the hell is the bloody fire brigade we’re all going to die so unbridled panicking is clearly the only option!”

Coincidence my arse.

My bunkmate at the time was a real rodent-faced bully named—get this—Rabbit. (Don’t think that was his given name unless his parents were real wackadoo hippy types so I can only assume he chose that noble moniker himself or it was foisted upon him as an insulting nickname and he chose to live with it and own it, which would have been cool if he weren’t such a sadistic prick). He was all pale and jumpy and the whites of his eyes always looked a little pink and he had really unfortunate stick-out-y ears and was probably the fastest kid in the home on the football pitch that year so it made a certain level of sense. Anyway, I hated him. I’d just turned 11, he was 13 and we were made to share a bunk in a room with two other lads. My strategy as far back as I could remember was the nose-down, keep-to-yourself, don’t-get-noticed method when it came to potential bullies but Rabbit had it out for me from the first day he moved in and tried to force me to give up my rightfully earned bottom bunk (which I had already set up with towels/jumpers hanging round for privacy curtains and all my pictures taped up to the wall). When I refused, he got all up in my face and the next thing I know we’re having it out and I accidentally slam him into a rung on the bunk’s ladder causing him to chip his front tooth (which gave him even more of a rabbit look, come to think). You’d think after that inauspicious beginning the powers that be would have thought it wise to switch his room, but no, not only did they keep us as bunkmates but I had to give up the bottom bunk and had my sports and telly privileges revoked for a month and was told that if I was caught fighting ever again they’d put me in for another transfer. Rabbit and I kept fighting after that but just not with any adults around. It was never that I wanted to—I honestly avoided him as much as I could—but the whole bunkmates thing put a damper on that particular strategy. The day the pipes exploded, Rabbit had me pinned to the ground and was performing his patented “B.B.” move (short for Bollocks Buster…not much further explanation needed) which in addition to the knee-to-bollocks situation also involved this Chinese water torture-style loogie move where he would let a bit of spit dangle slowly above my face while I could do nothing but squirm under the weight of his loathing and his muscles that had had two whole years more than mine to get to the point where it was not only easy but fun for him to ruthlessly torment a younger and smaller boy. I hated him so much right then and I wanted him off of me so badly I thought I would explode. And then I kind of did. Along with all the heater pipes on the 2nd floor of the care home.

After

After the explosion, after the funny guy with the long beard and posh accent and green cloak and weird tool belt showed up to let me know I’d be enrolling in a special school for kids with extraordinary talents like mine (‘What talents?’ I’d asked, genuinely curious because I’m rubbish at maths and only so-so at sports but he just smiled all Chesire Cat like and patted his chest and said ‘The talents right here’ as if that was any help at all) and after I was pretty sure he wasn’t a psycho here-kid-have-some-candy-it’s-in-my-van type because the other adults seemed to trust him (I suppose he brought some legitimate birth certificate papers with him though I’ve never seen them) and because he knew all about me, knew every home I’d lived in, every school I’d attended, and knew things sometimes spontaneously combusted when I was around (I’d thought I just had terrible luck with being around faulty explosion-prone electronics but it turns out I was the one doing the exploding, go figure), after he explained to me about Normals vs Magicians and told me I was ready to return at last to my rightful place in The World of Mages (which is not actually a “real” magical place, like how Narnia is, but more like a secret society, which was wicked confusing at first) and that he would be taking me to a place called Watford School of Magicks, (which is actually a real place) and that Watford would be my real home, if I wanted it be, for the next eight years. After my heart did a funny terrible leap thing when he said the words ‘real home’ and he gave me the choice whether to stay or go with him, after he gave a name to that ferocious monster-fireworks-lightning storm feeling inside me and called it ‘magic’, after I decided to believe him and trust him 100%, after I let myself, after we packed up all my worldly possessions and stuffed them in a duffel bag and traveled further than I’d had my whole life and ended up at the iron gates of an honest-to-god castle with an honest-to-god moat and flying buttresses and all that Medieval stuff, after I’d had my first taste of Watford food and nearly lost my god-damn head from how incredible it tasted, after it seemed liked I’d finally managed to scrape a bit of luck for the first time in my life and thought I might actually have a shot at a bit of happiness after all because as far as I could tell Watford was the happiest place in this world or any world full stop. It was only after all that that I realized I’d be forced to live with a roommate again who disliked me the minute he clamped eyes on me. I guess some things never change.

At Watford

At Watford, the parts of me that didn’t make sense before, the thing inside me that felt out-of-joint and freakish and too much pressure to stay locked up inside the walls of my body, well, that part of me still doesn’t make a ton of sense here but it’s at least more socially acceptable when I go off than it did when I was around Normals. (And the heater pipes must have some special magickal protection because they’ve never combusted around me here. Yet).

At Watford, I’ve got Penny. And Agatha. And The Mage. And Ebb and the goats. I’ve got The Sword of Mages, which comes when I call it. I’ve got lessons (and Penny to help me try to be less rubbish at lessons). Sometimes I’ve got football. Sometimes I’ve got VIP missions for The Mage. Sometimes all of Watford and everything and everyone in it feel like a part of me. Even Baz, as much as I’m loathe to admit it. 

Oh yeah, at Watford, I’ve got Baz. Even though I can’t really help that part. (It’s the damn Crucible’s fault). At Watford, I’ve got our room. The same room I’ve lived in the whole time I’ve been here. (I never had one place that was mine for that long before).

Rooms at the care homes were made of cinder blocks and had terrible florescent lighting and stains on the carpet and of course, the dreaded bunk beds. Some of the homes were better than others in trying to make the atmosphere cozier but the vibe across the board was more bunker/prison cell than Martha Stewart. We could put things up on the wall of course, which I did at first, until another kid tore it down or vandalized it or made fun. I learned pretty early on that it was best to keep the things I really cared about hidden.

At Watford, I’ve got a whole en suite (well, Baz and I have got a whole en suite). I’ve got a feather bed and a bathroom to ourselves (with a tub with claws and everything!) and a window that overlooks the moat and a desk and a wardrobe for my uniforms. The floors and furniture are made of dark, gleaming wood. The type of buttery wood you just want to rub your hands all over. I wish my cross was made out of the same dark wood, but it’s metal. (I should look into that, whether a wood cross would be a vampire deterrent or not. Probably not).

At Watford, I’ve got my (technically unconfirmed) suspicion that I’ve a roommate who’s a vampire that would love nothing more kill me and take down The Mage and all he stands for. Funny enough, I still prefer that over Rabbit.

At Watford, I’ve got the Humdrum after me and the mysterious magic holes and the prophecy to live up to. I’ve still got to fight. A lot. (Some things really do never change). But I have something now I didn’t have before. Hope.

#carry on countdown #coc 2017 #simon snow #carry on fic #mine

[imagine-loki]

A Warrior’s Life

TITLE: A Warrior’s Life

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Seventy-Five

AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Viking Loki coming to your village, raiding, and pillaging, before deciding there is something about you that intrigues him and deciding to take you back to Asgard with him. There, you are forced to learn a new life and language, and though you hate what has happened to you, you learn that Loki is not as bad as you think.

RATING: Mature

If Maebh was in anyway sea sick on the way to Vanaheim, Loki could not tell, she stared ahead, her face one of determination as she looked over the water. Loki said nothing, he stood nearby, thinking of what had to be done. Liulf was staying with Thor and Sif while Danu, Krustrim and Vali stayed at the homestead with Frigga. They both thought of the prospect of their daughter being mentioned again, in truth, whoever got to the creature that mentioned it first was not going to leave much for the other.

"What is the plan?" Loki asked, standing beside Maebh, not looking at her.

"We bide our time, we listen." She stated plainly, "See what they say, when they have said their piece, then tell them to get stuffed."

Loki chuckled and looked at his wife lovingly. "You are terrifying, my love."

"I am aware." She grinned back. "And you can hold that lustful look until later."

"Can I?" Loki asked with a brow raised, "I am not so sure."

It was five days before they hit Vanaheim, as soon as they disembarked they were informed the Midgardians would arrive in the morn, tired, sea-weary and anxious, the pair and those with them swiftly readied themselves for bed. Loki ensuring to show his affections and lust for his wife as much as he could before their enemies arrived, not knowing what manner the talks would take, and if all would go well.

*

Maebh glared at the men that sat across the table from her and her husband, from the moment they entered the room, their disgust at her was blatant. A woman in talks was clearly something they were appalled by, a woman of their land that had changed to the side of the enemy, married and bred to one, that was unforgivable in their eyes. "Are we going to just stare at one another for the day or is there something you three mongrels actually want, I have better things to do with my life that sit here and be reminded that my countrymen have the appearance of farmyard creatures?" Loki chuckled beside her.

"You would do well to know your place woman." One growled.

"I know it well Diarmaid, it is above you by birthright and marriage on two lands, not just one." She growled back. The man stared at her in shock, as did the two others. "I recall you, almost as well as my parents poor maid did, she died birthing that child you forced into her, but you had never cared, the younger the better if I recall, you eyed my sister and I, but I was getting too old, I would actually survive childbirth had you been stupid enough to consider trying your actions on me." Loki looked at his wife in horror since she had not shared that information with him beforehand. "I would wager it is you that wants my daughter."

"I have a son." Diarmaid began, slightly less confident in himself since she had recognised and exposed him.

"My daughter will be the first order of business then, and here is all that will be said on the matter, she is not a bargaining tool, she is not for sale, and she is not to be mentioned again." Maebh stared each man in the eye as she spoke, and beside her, Loki used his own cold gaze to reaffirm her words. "She is to be given to a man deserving of her that will know her worth, not to be raped and beaten to some filthy little Midgardian scum."

"You are Midgardian, or has your time with the heathens made you forget?" another of the men spoke.

"It is because I am Midgardian I can confirm as to what Midgardian men are."

"The men you associate with now are not all too much better."

"They have their bad eggs, as all groups do, the difference is the last Aesir man I saw rape someone, I personally pulled his head back by his hair and slit his throat so deep I cut all the way back to his neck bone. I will not hesitate to perform such an act again on any who dare try and imply my daughter is to be of their charge."

"We will need reassurances that anything agreed here will be kept, such agreements are commonplace, you know this." The final man spoke, rationally, though fearfully, seeing that Maebh would very much do as she said from the murderous look in her eyes.

"We are willing to discuss assurances, but our daughter is not one of them," Loki stated with a calm that terrified the men more, for his eyes show his ire at the manner the men spoke of his wife and daughter.

"He speaks, we thought she had your manhood in a box." Diarmaid scoffed.

"My wife does the most of the speaking because any stupid enough to think she is incapable of commanding a room learns swiftly they should have appealed to me before angering her." Loki chuckled, sitting back in his seat. "I find it funny, as soon as men assume my wife is the one who dictates everything is when they begin to realise they are the losing side, you have started already, meaning this will not end well for you," Maebh smirked next to him. "Now, regarding your demands."

The men were laughed at on more than one occasion. To their disgust, Maebh's dealing with Cathal and her being the only legitimate heir meant she was well within her rights to allow the 'heathens' to populate her lands, after all, they were hers to give. They wanted her to get them to leave, that began the first major rounds of laughter, as too did their demand that they give the castle over to Ui Neill. Seeing they were going to get no leeway, the men asked for a recess in hopes to think through a new strategy. On their return, the Aesir seemed even more confident, which irked the men more. Finally, they realised that Asgard would not falter in the slightest, and swore that should Ui Neill, or those loyal to him who dare come looking for trouble would not be returning from their journey.

"So you expect us to simply allow your kind on our land?" The man named Eoin snapped.

"It is not 'your' land, it is 'our' land. A dowry, from my wife to my family, she and I are wed, there is no discussion to be had on this matter," Loki shrugged.

"She was to be wed to Queen Meadhbh's son."

"Who died when Ui Neill took over, I could not marry a dead man." Maebh scoffed. "This is farcical, my father died three days later, no talk of promising me to another and my pregnant mother fled with me, so I can affirm that in the two months between our fleeing and her dying birthing my brother in a shack, there was no other, leaving me the right to choose a husband and a dowry for myself."

"Cathal.…"

"Thought me dead you idiot and should he have realised I was not, would have tried to wed me himself to get the crown if he could have." She snarled in retort.

"He did not know you had survived and had he have known, would have done all in his power to keep your line in power before those heathens killed him," Diarmaid growled.

Loki had to inhale deeply to ensure he did not rise to his feet and strangle the filthy creature across from him for effectively confirming his wife's claim that the man that had caused her all her suffering would have done such a thing; the idea of that old man, of her own blood, trying to force her to carry his child solely to take her throne boiled Loki's blood, he was incandescent with rage.

"Well, at least you are not denying it, but you are wrong on the other account, I threw Cathal down a stairwell before decapitating him myself, and if I am honest," Her grin was almost sadistic as she looked back at him. "I have never felt such joy in my life as when his head fell to the floor independent of his body, and coming from a woman that has been through all I have, that is saying something. I would even have called it pleasurable." The men cowered at her for her words, her complete honesty at her words terrifying them all. She rose to her feet after that. "I have no idea what you planned on achieving by coming here; if you planned to get us to up and leave, or to simply roll onto our backs and show you our bellies like inferior hounds, you are so poorly mistaken it is borderline pitiful. As for comments regarding our daughters, I will say this once and once only, I would not give over the daughter of the lowest whore to ever set foot on Asgard to Midgard, for even that poor creature is above even your beloved Ui Neill himself." She spat. "Those lands were mine to give, and from what has been reported to me, they prosper as well as they ever could after my uncles terrible and inexcusable reign. So go tell your king to take the longest, rustiest weapon in his arsenal, bend over, and shove it so far up his arse he skewers himself like a pig for a spit," she stated before walking out of the room.

The three men watched her leave before recalling her husband and the rest of the Aesir had remained and looked at them. "I think it is safe to say that my wife covered most everything we have to say on the subjects brought to the table here today." Loki grinned at them. "I would stay and discuss other matters with you all, but frankly, I rather cut off my own manhood than remain in the company of you all any longer." Loki chuckled before he too rose to his feet and left.

*

"Maebh?" Loki found his wife less than half an hour later, standing on a beach, looking at Midgard, her old home, a mere few kilometres away. "Is everything alright?"

"There was a time I wanted to go back there so badly. I even contemplated doing so after my mother died, and we you came and took me away, I thought I could never want something more, but now, I see it and shudder. They are all there, my kin, those of my blood. Did anyone ever find my siblings, did the brothel keeper find them and bury them, did animals…"

"Maebh, do not speak like that." Loki held her against him. "I feel so guilty."

"Why, you never suggested those men come to our cottage."

"If I had gotten there faster, if I had known…"

"But you did not, you could not…" She looked at him lovingly. "What was left of my siblings, those were just bodies, my brothers and sister, they were not in them any longer, they had left the world. I just hope they were buried with my mother, but it does not matter too greatly if they were not, they are free of suffering, they will never have to worry."

"What do you believe comes after death?" Loki asked curiously. He had always believed in Valhalla, the great Gods and all those once loved but lost, reuniting once more, he never asked Maebh her thoughts on it.

"I have no idea, I suppose I like to believe that we are not bound to this realm, forced to roam it lost, I like to think when the time comes, I will see them again."

"I dreamt of them." Maebh frowned and turned to look at Loki. "When I was injured on Svartálfheim, while I still was on the brink of dying, I dreamt of them, talking to them, them telling me to return to you, that you would have my guts for it when we met again otherwise." Loki had all but forgotten of the peculiar yet so real dream he had while delirious with pain after saving Thor's life. "I never remembered until now."

Part of Maebh wanted to be annoyed at Loki, for him forgetting, not because he forgot, but because more than once she would have loved that information before that moment, hearing it now made her feel happy in some small way, but she said nothing, processing the idea and smiling to herself for a moment before she turned to her husband and gave him a loving kiss. "We should get ready for the night." Nodding Loki took her hand in his and walked back to the dwelling they were staying in. As he went to take off the attire he had on for the day, he watched his wife, noticing she was not doing the same, when he went to ask her why, she simply smiled before leaning in close to whisper something to him that widened his eyes.

*

Night and its associated darkness had fallen on Vanaheim, the waters were somewhat choppy and the wind had picked up somewhat from the day, in the dwelling the Aesir prince and princess were staying in, they stood over the bed and watched as the pelt moved slightly from its occupants breathing before plunging their daggers and swords in several times, a grunt of pain was all they heard before the only sound was metal sheathing themselves in bodies. When there was no more noise, the killers pulled back the pelts only to find the bodies of Diarmaid and Eoin, hog-tied against each other with dried blood on their skulls indicating they had been rendered unconscious before being placed in there. A shout went up to say the Aesir had been aware of their plan and the men stepped out of the building. A moment later, before they had the chance to assess themselves, another shout filled the air before several flaming arrows fell from the sky and onto the ground around them, setting hay alight before building burst into flames. It was then, as the would-be killer of Loki was surrounded in flames closing in on him, he realised there was a smell in the air, the smell of resin and animal fat, both highly flammable, both surrounding him completely.

On the hill close by, Loki looked at his wife in awe as she looked down at the man who seemed to realise his imminent death, his sword covered in blood, telling her he would have killed her or her husband without a second thought. She had seen Diarmaid walk to the beach with a large red sheet of material and wave it until there was a returning signal from the other side, then he walked away. Maebh had watched as sails were readied on boats on the far side before Loki had come to speak with her, she had foreseen the attack and she had set a trap for them. She turned and walked the short distance to the horses she had ensured were readied for herself and Loki, mounting and turning it to where they needed to travel, Loki and the other Aesir immediately following suit. It would give them some distance between them and the Midgardians. Even if some survived the attack, some of the arrows were aimed at their now flame-engulfed boats, their own included. It would be morning before Ui Neill's forces would even come over, and with all the horses gone or slaughtered, it would be even longer again before they were able to follow them, giving Loki and Maebh a fighting chance of getting to another area they could sail home from, over three hundred kilometres away but through hostile lands.

#loki #other #submission #submitted fic #wolfpawn #chapter 75 #a warrior's life #viking au #village #raiding #pillaging #intrigues #asgard

[autisticsheith]

“slav has been greatly and painfully misunderstood by this fandom” - a manifesto, by me

Okay, this started in a fandom saltiness discussion on — in which I literally said, “I AM ALWAYS UP TO BE SALTY ABOUT SLAV.… More specifically, about how fandom treats Slav” — so that’s where it’s coming from, and I have done very little to clean it up after copy-pasting.

TL;DR: The VLD fandom tends to treat Slav as either hilarious or completely above reproach (sometimes both), which annoys me — because he actually is a fascinating character (at least, he is to me), and I dislike the way he is boiled down to either a joke about, “LMAO SPACE OCD!!!” or turned into a “~pure precious cinnamon roll uwu~” who only resembles his canon counterpart kinda vaguely, if you tilt your head a bit to the left and squint

As a character, I think Slav can be fascinating because, if you actually examine his actions? He is a fucking dick

He’s a reclusive genius who has the intelligence and skill and talent to get away with being a fucking asshole, and yes, he clearly has SOME kind of issue (whether it’s ““space OCD,”” literally seeing all of the possibilities in alternate realities, or some cracked out combination of both)…… But he also isn’t an ~uwu precious cinnamon roll~ and his legitimate issues are not an excuse for the ways that he treats other people (which are largely abysmal)

Like, let’s get this out of the way: Slav is not completely ignorant of how the fuck social cues and nuances work, the way that I’ve seen some people try to say of him in fandom. He picks up on them pretty well, actually, and he figures out exactly why Lance mistook Laika for Slav when Lance had spent however long with her, only hearing her go, “YUP!!” and didn’t put two and two together

So, it stands to reason that Slav KNOWS what he is doing and KNOWS how to act in ways that DON’T make everyone get pissed off at him — but he CHOOSES NOT TO ACT LIKE THAT. Instead, he CHOOSES to act like a big bag of dicks and make everyone else do things his way, even when his way is obstructive as Hell and slows everything down

And let’s be real: Shiro had to all but bodily drag him out of Beta Traz, even going, “Hey man, we’re working with the Blade of Marmora to take down Zarkon, we need you” didn’t get him up and at’em at first, and Slav fought Shiro about everything, every step of the way.

Consider this: Slav fought to stay somewhere that he was constantly tortured and pumped for information that would be used against and used to oppress the people of the entire known universe because he was so completely certain (despite acknowledging, when it’s convenient for him, that there are infinite possibilities and things could always go in so many different ways) that fighting Zarkon was a lost cause and didn’t want to be bothered. He is so certain that he is going to die that he doesn’t even want to TRY (“Oh noooo, even worse. In 98-and-three-one-hundredths of a percent of realities with a prison break, I DIE.”)

When Shiro shows up to break him out, he tries appealing to Slav as a potential rescuer (”I’m here to rescue you, I’m a paladin of Voltron”).

That fails, so he tries appealing to Slav out of some belief that Slav might care about the life and freedom of the peoples of the known universe (“What? We’re finally going to stop Zarkon. We have the Olkari and the Blade of Marmora on our side. But without you, we can’t do it.”)

Slav only finally relents because the Blue Lion can emit a frequency that falls within his lucky range of terahertz — and even then, he fights Shiro every step of the way, about absolutely everything

While Shiro is, y’know, putting himself on the line and risking death to save this asshole who he just met and doesn’t even know for sure can help (—which, yeah. Ulaz is trustworthy and Shiro cares about him, and Kolivan clearly backs up his recommendation if saving Slav is so necessary to the plan. But Shiro is still going on hearsay rather than direct evidence, and he doesn’t really have a choice on that, but still. He is risking his life for an asshole who might not even be all he’s cracked up to be, because Shiro believes that Slav is necessary to take down Zarkon)

And then Slav gets going with the, “YOUR ROBOT ARM IS FANTASTIC DON’T YOU WANT TWO OF THEM” shit

Just. Oh my god. I get it, he doesn’t know how Shiro came to have that arm, but COME ON. It’s understandable that Shiro might not appreciate that shit, and Slav is so flippant about it because thinking about other people’s perspectives or experiences is not a thing that he cares about doing

AND THIS! IS!! AN INTERESTING!!! CHARACTER!!! (to me)

Slav is interesting because he’s an asshole. He’s someone you would only put up with if you needed him, because he uses his intelligence to make himself totally necessary and uses his legitimate problems to generate enough fucking sympathy that people feel bad about trying to argue with him

It isn’t even entirely the fandom’s fault when we mischaracterize him, because Show treats all of this as funny — and okay, yes, I laughed at some of it as much as anyone else did because Josh and Iqbal Theba sold it with their voice acting — but if you take a closer look at what Slav does and how it affects the people around him, literally none of this is fucking funny

And he clearly has the potential to NOT BE THIS GUY, because Mirror!Slav is a badass. Yeah, he still talks out his ass about alternate realities — and apparently he does it enough for Sven to be Exasperated by it, but Mirror!Slav puts himself on the line to save other people (both when he tries to help the Paladins and in general, as a member of the Guns of Gamara)

Mirror!Slav LISTENS to people — like, yeah, he’s all, “None of you have ever rescued me from any goddamn place” but in that particular scene, he isn’t exactly acting in a way I’d call unreasonable. He and Sven just wandered into five armed, unknown combatants who started babbling about Sven being some dude called Shiro AND one of them is Altean, when the Mirror!Alteans are an evil empire (and she’s the spitting image of their evil empress from 10,000 years ago)

But then, when push shoves, he listens to what they’re saying and makes the same, “OH GOSH YOU’RE FROM AN ALTERNATE REALITY” conclusion as Pidge, and HE CHOOSES TO TRUST THEM. Sven is the one going, “dude are you sure about this, it’s dangerous” while Mirror!Slav is all, “If they’re really my friends from an alternate reality, they are probably cool people and we can probably trust them, now let’s go fuck shit up for the cause of galactic freedom”

Mirror!Slav tells the paladins to get the Hell out of dodge while he patches Sven up when Slav Prime is That Asshole who, after the big fight with Zarkon when they have no idea if Shiro and Allura are going to be okay, is all, “IT’S COOL GUYS, I’M OKAY” (“Oh great, Slav made it” — Lance, being 5,000% Done and rightfully so).

Slav Prime is also the one who refuses to let Shiro step on a crack because of some infinitesimally small chance that it MIGHT break his mother’s back IN SOME FUCKING REALITY — NOT EVEN THE PRIME REALITY SPECIFICALLY, BUT IN SOME REALITY. And the one who refuses to go on one of Shiro’s alternate escape routes because you can hear the water running — it isn’t even running into the escape hatch, there is no direct risk of drowning, but OH MAN you can HEAR the water running!!! and Slav is afraid of drowning

Thing is? I get it. Triggers suck. I have triggers of my own. I have dealt with panic attacks, OCD, intrusive thoughts, and so many other things that the fandom likes to attribute to Slav (whether there’s a good case for that in canon or not) — but when it comes to triggers? Sometimes, they are unavoidable and you have to deal with them, and yes, it fucking sucks, but you CAN do it.

An example of a moment when enduring the triggering material and dealing with it would be helpful? When the fate of the entire known universe is on the line and you are obstructing the fight for freedom and peace by being a difficult, egocentric asshole who expects everyone else to cater to you

This is basically where my characterization of Slav in the latest chapter of my fic came from. In my AU, he’s…… well. A difficult, egocentric asshole who gets annoyed when people don’t give him what he wants because Fuck You He Is A Genius, Y’all Just Can’t Keep Up, and he wants Shiro to be his friend because he actually acknowledges that Shiro is kind of a genius in his own right, but Slav just…… Doesn’t Understand

(Read: CHOOSES NOT TO UNDERSTAND)

[this is where @dratiniquest chimed in to say that my take on Slav is kind of like the fusion of Rick Sanchez and Sheldon Cooper]

He doesn’t/chooses not to understand why Shiro doesn’t agree with a life philosophy that basically boils down to, “I am a genius, therefore I should get what the fuck I want, when I want it, and everyone should just agree with me unless I acknowledge their genius, everyone else is too small-minded to keep up”

He also doesn’t get why Shiro…… has no desire for “greatness,” like?? You are a genius, Takashi. It is so rare that Slav acknowledges this for other people, so you are pretty amazing. Why don’t you want to do great things

Shiro: “……Because I already tried doing that out of loyalty to the grandfather I was named after, and it made me miserable and eventually suicidal (whether actively or not), helped me develop an eating disorder, kept me in an abusive relationship that almost killed me more than once, and landed me in rehab for alcohol and opiates at twenty-three. Greatness is overrated”

Shiro: “I just want to make my music, stay sober, keep not hurting myself, maintain the relationships I care about, and someday, wake up next to the guy I love and be able to genuinely mean it when I tell him, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is’”

Slav: “……………freaking weirdo”

Also belatedly: yes, Slav kind of is a fusion of Sheldon and Rick, like. He’s a Fluorite level fusion. Sheldon, Rick, Slav Prime from canon, a little bit of Mirror!Slav, and my conspiracy theorist father.

[and then the conversation kinda turned to yelling about how Sven is fine because he got to the space hospital and anyway, the point is that Slav is really interesting in canon, but oh my god, the majority of fanon!Slav is nothing like how Slav acts in canon]

#vld slav #meta #headcanons #slav #fic: but boys spring infernal #characterization #mirrorverse #shiro & slav #mine: meta #mine: headcanons

[tellerford13]

MO ASTOR- CHAPTER 20

We don’t own the bikes, brothers, or any “related” Sons of Anarchy, trust us, if we did we wouldn’t have the time to write. No money is being made from our stories. So, please don’t sue. It’d be a fruitless endeavor indeed. That being said, Harley, Journee, and any other newbies are ours, and we don’t share. :Whispers in creepy voice: “My precious.” The universe This reality is a mix of cannon, and our own ideas. We strive to keep the boys cannon, but since we will be shifting around some of the events, that will reflect in our writing and their personalities as well. It’s our goal to provide you with quality fiction, and solid, fleshed out OFC. We appreciate constructive criticism and love LOVE reviews, they are a writers life blood and definitely help encourage us and inspire us. We will be posting on our Tumblr where we’ll have fun pictures from time to time as well. http://tellerford13.tumblr.com We’ll also be taking requests for one shots, preferences or imagines for all things Sons at our other Tumblr, so check it out and send your thoughts!http://tellerford13oneshots.tumblr.com/ And just for fun, we’ve decided to start a Pinterest for the story! So if you want a glimpse at our girls and see into our world, check it out! https://www.pinterest.com/tellerford/

                                                           A/N: Sorry this is coming in late tonight. Mr. Teller didn’t want to stop talking. Chibs has so much to say too so … we’re breaking our every other week rule for the next chapter, so expect an early Valentine’s day present. ;)

                                              Mo Astor Chapter 20

Jax

“You got plans tonight, baby?” Mom asks as I wipe my hands off with a rag done with the final oil change of a day. Perk of the job here, I don’t do weekends.  

“No. You need me to do something?”

She sighs. “Listen. Lee ain’t Wendy or any of those other waste off skins you’ve had for girlfriends. You need to put some effort in to keep her. It’s Friday night. A nice dinner and a movie or something goes a long way. You guys are more than just friends now. You can’t keep treating her the same way you used to.”

“Do I do that?”

“Take it from the lady who works in the office with her and the garage with you. Yes, you do.”

“Trying not to make the same mistakes Ma. I know how Lee is. You hold on too tight, and she gets antsy.”

“Ain’t nothing confining about a little romance. Trust me. Your Father was good at that.” She shakes her head and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “That man had a way of making me feel like I was the only woman in the world he saw. Even with all the things he had on his plate. He made time for me. It’s why I was willing to walk to that man. Loyalty and love are everything. You do whatever you have to do to keep that once you have it.”

The sincerity in her voice opened my ears wider than they usually were when she spoke. Even after all this time, I could tell she missed my dad. What they had was special, and I respected her advice when it came to that. I’d seen this life chew up and spit out so many couples.  Hell Bobby was on wife number four, and still dreaming of forever after, because the big softy was romantic to the core. Maybe that was a requirement for all Elvis Impersonators.

“What would you suggest? And don’t play dumb, cause if you brought this up, you already have a plan.

She smirks and blows out smoke. “Can’t fool you, can I baby? Get her out of Charming. Go up the road to that nice new Italian restaurant they opened. There’s a movie theater near there or a place to go dancing. I know she and your sister always liked to go do that. Those two damn near gave us gray hair being out all night, after losing the prospects we assigned to trail them.” She shakes her head, and I laugh.

“And then you put me to the task.”

“Hah. Yeah, I did, and I think it made it worse instead of better.”

“What? They were safe, weren’t they?” I say with a sly grin.

“Yeah, and your rap sheet got longer.”

“And people got the picture and started staying away, didn’t they?” I took the job of guarding my girls very seriously. There was a time when Sugar got locked up, and Baby J had come to live with us for a spell. Given Menace’s position, and the fact that Sugar’s parent’s hated the club, there was no way Sugar could leave her or send her off with family. It had cemented our sibling-like bond.

“That they did, baby. You did a good job with those two. My little Samcro princess and my bonus baby.”

I shake my head at the satisfied smirk that lines her lips. She’d gotten exactly what she always wanted, Lee and I together and Baby J with a Son. One she respected and liked. I don’t know what woman wronged my Mom in her life, but she couldn’t stand ninety percent of females. Hell, I only think Aunt Luanne and her work so well, because Luanne is a follower who knows her place. My Ma’s shrewd like that. Can’t bitch too much when she’s taught me everything I know about ensuring my place and never letting anyone else get the upper hand.

I keep my mouth shut until I’m ready to make my move. It allows people to underestimate me. I like that. It gives me a chance to come up with a plan and execute it flawlessly. You make mistakes in this world, and you end up in a pine box.

“So dinner and a movie or dinner and dancing? I think I can manage that.”

“Good. And this time…keep your hands to yourself unless someone tries to touch her. Nothing ruins a night out worse than arrest.”

I snicker. “I Hear you.”

“Good. “ She tosses her butt to the ground and stubbs it out with the toe of her black high heel. “You might want to make reservations. Be a shame to make the drive and not get a table.”

“Why don’t you do it Ma. Since you did everything else.”

“It’ll be my pleasure.” She winks and walks off as I laugh.

Her words had me thinking about our interactions in the garage. We weren’t stiff, but I kept my hands to myself. Lee had always been the type to keep business and pleasure separate. She had to, in many ways, to keep her legitimate standing with the upper crust of Charming. Her beauty, schooling, and good reputation allowed them to overlook her Samcro ties. She was a much-needed bridge. One they should know had been claimed.. There’d been a number of square ass dudes who’d tried to tie her down. They didn’t see at heart; she was always made to be a biker’s woman.

She’d never be happy with some laid back, casual dude who wanted 2.5 kids, a white picket fence, and nothing to do with her family. Hell Tig, the most fucked up of us all, was her father figure. Someone outside the life would never be able to handle or understand that. Civilians were too damned judgmental for their own good.

I move to an area where I can see her without her seeing me. Dressed in a well-worn pair of faded jeans with ripped knees and a Samcro t-shirt she’s knotted at the waist to show a sliver off tan toned flesh, she’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever set eyes on.

I don’t want her doubting her importance or her place in my life for a second. I’ve always been good at pushing her boundaries without toppling her. I have no problem doing that now to let everyone know we’re very taken. It’s healthier than killing people who cross a line with her.

She turns her head towards my mother, and genuine adoration colors her brilliant blue eyes. Seeing the affection between two off the woman I love most makes me smile. Yeah, she deserves more, and I can step it up and give it to her.

I finish cleaning in the sink, scrubbing my hands with the orange scented Pumice soap, careful to get under my nails and around my cuticles. I had plans for these tonight, and they needed to be spotless to be worthy of entrance into hot, wet places.

Satisfied with my hands, I splash water on my face and pat it dry with paper towels and pitch them in the bin. It’s Friday, and I’m calling it a day. We don’t have any pressing repairs that can’t wait or be finished by a prospect.

I make my way to the office and lean into the door.

“You about done in here, Lee?”

“I don’t know?” She turns to face my Ma. “Am I?”

“Yeah, you two get out of here. I’ll close down tonight. Unlike you two, my only plans are a party at the clubhouse.”

Lee looks at me confused, and I smirk.

“What’s she talking about?”

“Mr. wonderful here got you a table at that new Italian place at seven tonight. If you hurry, you’ll have enough time to get all dolled up before you leave.”

“Did someone mention dolls?” Tig asks shuddering as he comes into view, silent like always.

“Yeah, Tiggy. The kids are going out for a nice date.”

“Where you taking her?” he asks, eyeballing me.

I stand my ground forcing myself not to respond to his lasers as they bore a hole through me. I ain’t going anywhere, so he needs to get used to it.

“The cute little restaurant up the road,” Mom says.

“Apparently that’s where we’re going,” Lee says with an almost shy smile I know I want to see more often.

“Huh,” Tig grunts. “Take care of my girl.”

“Always do,” I say refusing to back down under his crazed glare. Tig could back up his bark, but I had no plan to give him a reason to do that.

He nods and walks over to kiss her on the forehead. “Have fun tonight.”

“I will, Tiggy,” she says kissing his cheek. He softens, and I turn away feeling like I’m intruding on a private moment.

“Well get out of here before I change my mind,” Ma says waving her hand.  I wrap my arm around Lee’s waist, lift her off her feet, and carry her off.

“What are you doing?”

“Escaping while we can. It takes two seconds for shit to go to hell around here,” I say.

She giggles and relaxes against me. “Well, I’m going to need my purse.”

I return to the office and Ma hands her purse. “Ah, to be young and in love again,” She says.

Lee tenses and I squeeze her and jet out before my mother can freak her out more. It’s funny…I’m usually the gung-ho one who jumps into everything, but I can’t with her. At least not on the surface. She’s had too many men who counted disappoint her.

I ignore the whistles and hoots sent our way as we exit the garage into the sunshine.

“How long you need to get ready?”

“How pretty you want me?”

“You’re already drop dead gorgeous, Lee. The clothing doesn’t change that.” She gasps. “Oh, I forgot how much of a charmer you could be.”

“Just stating a fact, darling,” I say as I brush her lips with mine and set her down by her car.

“I’ll meet you at your house in say … one hour? It’ll give us both enough time to clean up and then hit the road?”

“Sounds good, to me Teller.” She pauses and studies me.

“What?” I ask.

She shakes her head and smiles as she unlocks her car and slips into the driver’s seat. I’m getting under her skin. Darling, you ain’t seen nothing yet.

I hurry back inside to my dorm and open my closet. Tucked in the back are a nicer pair of jeans and a button up. A knock sounds on my door.

“Yeah.”

I pull out the black button down and glance over my shoulder at Candy. The slender bleach blonde is poured into a pair of low-slung jeans and a crop top that barely covers her implants. Turgid nipples push out the thin white material.

“Ma need something?”

“No. I just thought I could help you get cleaned up.” She enters the room swaying her nonexistent hips.

“I’m taken.”

“Never stopped you before,” She purrs.

The words make me wince. She ain’t wrong.

“This time’s different.”

She pouts. “You sure about that? We always had a good time Jax.”

“Out.” I snap my fingers and point, and she huffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she stalks out.

I walk over, lock the door behind her and place my head against the door.

Sending away free pussy isn’t easy for any man. Especially when it’s a habit, but I’d cut my own arm off before I hurt Lee. She’d been betrayed enough to last a lifetime. Pushing away I head for the shower, wishing I could wash away my shady past as easily as I do the sweat and grime of the day. I let one heartbreak color my entire view on women, and now I had to pay for it, in the form of convincing my woman I could stay true to her.

***

“This is really nice,” Lee whispers as we walk up to Host/Hostess podium.

“Yeah, it is. I’m starting to think we might be missing out not getting out of Charming more often.” “Hah. Don’t let Gem here you say that.”

I smirk. “You know I’m smarter than that.”

The clientele makes me glad I left my colors at home and stepped up my attire. Blending in is an important skill to have, and while dressing up isn’t my thing I can do it when necessary. Lee’s little black dress and sky-high heels are worthy of a suit. The strapless number shows off her delectable collar bone and strong arms. I want to cover her in hickeys so any man would know in a glance she’s taken and well pleased. I find myself staring down anyone who looks for too long. I covet the shit that matters to me.

“Can I help you, sir?” The man in the black slacks, white button up, and black tie asks.

“Yeah, I have a reservation for Teller at seven.”

He opens his book and searches. “I see you here sir. Just one moment and I’ll show you back to your seat.”

I nod my head, wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to my side.

“I can’t believe you went through all this trouble for me.” The awe in her voice makes me feel like I’m on top of a mountain.

“Anything to see you smile, darling.”

She peers down, and a pink tinge appears on her cheeks. She’s got her walls down. It’s a beautiful sight because I know it doesn’t happen often.

“I want to believe that.” I tuck my finger under her chin tilting her face to look up at me.

“You should because I’m going to be spending my time proving it. You know I’ve never been an all talk kind of man.”

“I do know,” she whispers and I can’t help but peck her delicious looking lips.

We’re shown to our table, and I know mom must’ve pulled some strings because it’s a damn Chef’s table, set apart from the main room.

“Oh my God,” Lee whispers looking over the table.

“I know,” I say equally impressed.

The candle light flickering at the table paints her face in shadows. I’m lost in her eyes and in the moment. I’ve never done anything like this with a woman. It’s intimate and grown up as hell. What we’re doing isn’t playing at a relationship, it’s building a strong one.

We make small talk as we drink wine and eat food I can barely pronounce. I never imagined I’d be here doing this, but she looks right at home. It drives home just how unique my woman is; like a diamond made under pressure in the earth.

I reach across the table and take her hand, willing her to understand how much she means to me, even if she’s not ready for the words circling around in my brain.

I’ve been hit by lighting.

My eyes are opened, and my hurt is about to explode, yet I can’t say a word. It’s like having a secret too big to keep under wraps. My thoughts flash to Baby J. She’s a safe place. Once she comes back from her honeymoon, we’ll talk. I need help figuring out how to handle this. The last woman I gave myself completely panicked and bailed. That left a mark, and I refuse to watch Lee do the same. She’s a runner. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. I can’t find myself on the wrong side of her walls. It would break me to lose all those years we’ve spent being each other’s best friends.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks as she scoops up a bite of Death by Chocolate.

“How lucky I am to be here with you like this right now.” I bring her hand toward my mouth, brushing her knuckles lightly with my lips.

She smiles and tilts her head. “Laying it on thick.”

“Being one-hundred percent real. The way we always are with each other.”

“I’m not used to this side of you.”

“What side?”

“This grown up serious side. It’s dangerous.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because it makes me want things that scare me.”

“You’re not alone in that, babe. But we both know I’m good at getting what I want, and the way I see it, as long as we’re on the same page, that’s not a bad thing.” I shake my head and smile at her.

Her brow furrows. “And you think it’ll be that easy.”

“Not easy, but when you really want something, it doesn’t matter how far you have to go. It’s never too much.”

Her eyes widen, and I clear my throat. Time to shift topics. “So, what do you want to do next?”

“There’s more?”

“If you’re up for it. I know accountants keep early hours.”

She kicks my shin under the table, and I jerk laughing.

“Oh screw you, Jackson. I see I need to remind you where I come from.”

The fire in her eyes makes me grin.

“The let’s pay the bill and see what you got.”

“What are my options?” She asks, sounding more like a general preparing for war than a girlfriend on a date.

“Movies or dancing?”

“Oh, Teller. I’m going to mop the floor with you. You’ll be begging me to leave before the night is through.”

I toss a couple hundred on the table and stand ready for a night of grinding and debauchery with my woman.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Jax Teller #chibs telford #Mo Astor

[lefkowritesthings]

The Impossible Fish

“It’s… impossible,” said Dr. Cannon. 

“Improbable,” said Dr. Webb. “Very little is truly impossible.”

“Well, this is,” said Dr. Cannon. In front of us stood Dr. Friede, and in front of Dr. Friede, there it was: this hulking, barbaric, globular, breathing object. It was a ghastly specimen of an impossible geometry, immense, spitting and mewling away on the dissection table.

“This,” said Dr. Friede, “is a fish.”

“It simply isn’t,” said Dr. Cannon. “The physiology is completely at odds with the class, so far as I’m aware – certainly with any species I can think of. There are no fins, no gills. It isn’t even in water.” 

“Ah!” said Dr. Friede. “But this is what is so intriguing.” He gave the beast an unceremonious shove. It rolled across the table with increasing speed before dropping off the side and plunging into an inflatable kiddie pool laying in wait. The resulting thunderous geyser of water somehow dissolved into a delicate plop. The four of us leaned over the pool. Sure enough, there it was. A fish. 

“It’s a fish,” said Dr. Friede. 

“I don’t understand,” said Dr. Cannon. 

“It’s remarkable,” said Dr. Webb. He began to chuckle. I stuck my hand into the water, feeling around. The fish – like a mid-sized guppy, I thought, and blue – circled my hand, then flitted between my fingers. It certainly felt like a fish. I looked up at Dr. Friede and said, “Wherever did you find this?”

Dr. Friede, perhaps surprised to hear me speaking, took a moment to answer. “I’d rather not say.”

“You must have invented it, then,” said Dr. Cannon. “Some trick of the eye.”

“No, Charles,” said Dr. Friede. “I can assure you its provenance is legitimate, as is its status. Subject it to any tests or examinations you’d like, so long as its in water. It will pass with flying colours. It’s only when you take it out that… well, that thing happens.” 

“How do I know the other thing even exists?” said Dr. Cannon. “And what is it?”

Dr. Friede caught Dr. Webb’s eye. The two knelt to lift the pool. They struggled back to standing position, as if supporting a considerable weight (which it certainly didn’t appear was the case; the fish looked rather small). On the count of two, Dr. Friede and Dr. Webb poured out the contents of the pool. Water splashed across the table and onto the tile, and, lo and behold, the blubbering monstrosity sat in front of us once more, no blue guppy to be seen. 

“So you see,” said Dr. Friede, “I think I’ve found an impossible fish.” There were some moments of quiet before he continued. “I know it will be controversial. That’s why I’d like one of you gentlemen to study it and publish findings with me.” Dr. Friede paused, then turned awkwardly to me. “Sorry, Nadine, but I feel a partner of significant professional standing will help the cause immensely.”

“No offense taken,” I said. 

“Well, as amusing as I think it would be,” said Dr. Webb, “I have to decline. This falls too far outside anything I could claim as expertise.”

“I decline as well,” said Dr. Cannon. 

“A shame,” said Dr. Friede. “I suppose I’ll have to investigate this impossible fish on my own.”

——

I know for a fact that Dr. Cannon did not think it was a fish. He grumbled as much, and constantly. Every pipette I’d hand him or reading I’d jot down was another excuse to rail against Dr. Friede’s cavalier approach, or else his myopia. “Surely he’s not setting out to redefine taxonomy,” he’d say. “Jonathan’s a pompous, foolhardy farce of an academic, but that would be beyond the pale.”

Dr. Webb, on the other hand, seemed broadly tickled but wouldn’t share his thoughts, at least with me. “It’s quite the project,” he’d say. “Fascinating.” No position was ever formally taken. I did, however, catch him skimming Dr. Friede’s reports more than once, always furtively and with a tiny smile. 

What did I think? I suppose I wasn’t sure. At the time, I was still finishing my PhD. I was a mere speck compared to these titans of thought, all of whom seemed to disagree. I had lab hours every weekday, however, so naturally found myself wondering. It didn’t make sense that it was a fish, at least in the strictest sense. I may not have been at the top of my class, but even I could tell you that. Despite this, I couldn’t shake a feeling. I’d felt this mystery at my fingertips. And what I’d touched certainly had to be.

——

The university was at a funny juncture. Funding was elusive and money was tight (though when wasn’t that the case?). The Vice Chancellor was particularly focussed on those projects that were, if you’ll pardon the contextual pun, splashy. And so, in what I suspect was a monetarily-motivated move, the university threw its considerable weight behind Dr. Friede.

It was formally deemed the Impossible Fish and it was everywhere overnight. Nature featured it in both academic and more consumer-friendly contexts. VICE filmed an online feature about it. Dr. Friede went to the White House. SNL spoofed it (an “Impossible Pop Star”; the sketch, featuring Katie Perry, wasn’t very good). The public was presented a concept that was entertaining, if confusing. It was catchy enough and bendable to metaphor. So suddenly, whether or not it was Impossible, a Fish this thing was. 

——

It was a Tuesday night, long after everyone had left the lab, when I had my first conversation with the Fish. 

I may have invited said conversation, but only accidentally. Dr. Friede and I kept the Fish in a tank at the back of the lab, as it tended to freak out visitors otherwise. Dr. Friede had just gone home for the evening. I remained to do some final tidying up. I was wiping down the glass and talking nonsense to myself, as I often do when I’m alone. It was innocent. I assure you. 

“Fish, fish, fish,” I said. “Are you a monster? Or are you a fish? What a funny fish, or faux fish, as it were.” 

“I am a fish,” said the Fish. 

I stopped everything, instantly. The voice I heard had no clear origin. It wasn’t behind me, nor to my side, nor in the distance. It felt like it was in me, but not of me. And even though I had no reason to think so, I knew it was the Fish. It had to be. I didn’t question it. Instead, I said, “hello.” 

“Hello,” said the Fish. 

“How’s it going?” I said. 

“Not so bad,” said the Fish. “This tank is kind of small.” 

“Sorry about that,” I said. “I’ll ask Dr. Friede if we can get a larger one.”

“Please do,” said the Fish. 

I nodded. I processed. “So you’re really a fish, then, huh?” 

“Of course,” said the Fish. “You see me. You’ve felt me. You know me.” 

It was all so ridiculous. “I know I have,” I said. “I know you do.”

“Are you surprised?” said the Fish. 

“Oh, it’s not that,” I said, fumbling for the right phrasing. “It’s just….” There wasn’t any getting around it. “I’ve seen you out of water.” 

“How could you judge me by that?” said the Fish. 

“I don’t know,” I said. “It seems a sensible enough way to judge things.”

“Have you ever heard the term ‘Fish out of Water’?” said the Fish. 

“Of course I have,” I said. “It’s a metaphor, or idiom, or something. A turn of phrase intended to encompass someone ill-suited for something or somewhere. Because, you know, the flopping.”

“Have you paused to consider that there might be a different origin – a different intent – entirely?” said the Fish. 

I paused and considered. “No,” I said. “I have not.” 

“Nadine,” said the Fish. “This is what a fish is. Me. I am a fish.” 

I stared at the Fish hard, and for a good long while. Eventually, I decided. “Hello, Fish.”

“Hello.”

“Goodnight, Fish.”

“Goodnight.”

I finished tidying up and left the lab. I felt strangely euphoric. It was a fish after all. And it had spoken – to me! I felt important, special, valued. It didn’t even trouble me a few days later when I realised I’d never told the Fish my name. 

——

Two weeks passed. I hadn’t fully written off my conversation with the Fish. I had, however, began to question how much of it had been embellished in my memory. Sometimes – often – recollection is coloured that way, forced into a rose-tinted, romantic realm and out of its natural state. But then the Fish spoke to me again. 

It was the same as before, this voice projecting from within me. We made some small talk. It asked again about the tank. I said I’d follow up. We spoke again at the end of the week. Soon we spoke every day, eventually even those when I didn’t visit the lab. I found I could respond to the Fish by thinking about words instead of saying them, even if it was initially alarming. I surrendered to the disorder and unpredictability of our conversation. I let it intrude upon my mind. I did not love the Fish, nor hate it, nor fear it. It was a fish, after all. I simply found it fascinating.

Then the Fish stared asking for things.

I’d gotten the Fish a bigger tank in the end, one that might more comfortably house its fully-realised form. Following that, the Fish asked if I could negotiate time spent in the air, ideally outside of office hours. It took a month or so to convince Dr. Friede to let me supervise these sessions. Then it wanted me to read it things, to feed it things, to attend to an increasingly manic set of whims and whimsies. It was hard to keep up. 

Meanwhile, Dr. Cannon and Dr. Webb began to complain about my lack of focus on their projects. I was apparently missing details, forgetting specifics – to be blunt, screwing up. Dr. Cannon in particular was livid about the delay in some protein sequencing that he claimed delayed one experiment indefinitely. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I had no choice. The Fish was with me always, and very difficult to ignore. 

After all, the Fish was still perplexing to me, which must have made the situation more intriguing. Attempts to suss things out were, frankly, addictive. Not that the Fish gave me any clarity on the matter, or would ever let me tell. The Fish only spoke to me, it said, and it liked it that way. Should I seek any assistance in my own interrogation, it would be my word against, well, a fish. I had to keep going as things were if I were to ever figure the Fish out. And when something big and impossible and intriguing asks of you, how can you say no?

——

It was months and months and months after the Fish had first showed up when it asked what I now surmise it had always wanted to ask me. 

“What if,” said the Fish, “ I didn’t have to be in the tank at all?”

It was a Friday evening. A previous version of me would have been out, drunk and sinking into the depths of some anonymous bar in Bushwick, but this me wasn’t. Something about the Fish’s question jarred. It didn’t feel quite right. So I turned to the Fish and said, simply, “Why?” 

“Why?” said the Fish. Its voice dripped with incredulity. “You ask me ‘Why’?” 

“Well, yes,” I said. 

“You’ve never really questioned me before.”

“I supposed I haven’t had the occasion.”

“I simply like it in the air,” said the Fish. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, in and of itself,” I said. “But…”

“But what?” said the Fish. 

“It just isn’t very fish-like.”

“Oh Nadine,” said the Fish. “I thought we were through with this.”

“Yes, no, we are,” I said. 

“I am a fish,” said the Fish. “I am.”

“I know,” I said. 

The Fish was quiet for a second. “But what if I want to be something more?”

I held my breath as long as I could. “What’s wrong with being a fish?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” said the Fish. 

“So what do you want?” I said.

“Nadine,” said the Fish. “Think of the potential.”

“I thought you liked being a fish,” I said. “I thought you were a fish.”

“I am,” said the Fish. “And I am so many other things.” The fish began to grow, its guppy-like qualities mutating with every centimeter it gained.

“But that’s impossible,” I said. I backed away from the tank. “This is impossible.”

“What’s so impossible?” said the Fish. “You’ve seen me like this before. You see me like this all the time.” It was now double its initial size, starting to lose its fish-like shape entirely, and still growing.

“Fish can’t do this,” I said, continuing to back away. 

“This Fish can,” said the Fish. “This Fish can do anything.” It grew and grew. 

I was nearly at the door by this point. “Why are you doing this?” I said. I found I was somehow in tears. 

“You pretty idiot,” said the Fish. It was large enough to fill its tank, which shattered. Glass flew everywhere, grazing the Fish and littering the lab. The Fish wriggled, howling, bleeding, laughing. “I can do WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT.”

I fled the lab, leaving it and the Fish behind.

I tendered my resignation the very next day. Shortly thereafter, the lab closed as well. Dr. Friede was fired and accused of fraud (this seemed fair, as he’d clearly known the Fish wasn’t a fish for a while). Dr. Cannon found a new post in the equivalent department at a rival university, escaping relatively unscathed. And as far as Dr. Webb was concerned? He’d known better than to engage and had set up an additional lab affiliation so as to sit this project out. It was I alone, for a moment, off to ponder my next steps.

You know what they say.

#fiction #short story #science fiction #magical realism #fish #impossible fish #strange