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lacontroller1991 · 2 years

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FEBUWHUMP DAY 9: Rick Flag x F!Reader

Author’s Note: YES I KNOW THIS IS TAKESHI, BUT IT FITS WHAT I HAVE PLANNED... (I’ve also had this work for months now, but finally finished it, it’s shorter than I would like, but I still hope you guys enjoy)

*NOT EDITED, PLZ EXCUSE MISTAKES*

Also for this to make sense, see TIMELINE

Febuwhump Master List || Main Master List

Febuwhump Day 9: Kidnapped

Warnings: Graphic violence, murder, blood, kidnapping, language, killing spree, use of weapons, a darker Rick, PTSD, childhood abuse, interrogation

“Hey Flag, I found her,” Economos states through a straw, looking at the screen as the red light blinks a signal of your location.

“Well, where the hell is she?”

“Some dust ball called Texola, Oklahoma? Why the fuck would someone take her there?” Rick goes rigid at the mention. Why would someone take her there? Unless, unless they are after him. Clenching his jaw, his nostrils flare as he eyes the screen.

“Alright, I’m gonna get the team.”

“Waller’s not gon-”

“I don’t give a fuck. I’m going after (Y/N).”

“Boy, you better get your ass back in here,” Rick’s father threatens, a leather belt wound up in his hands.

“Richard, please, leave him alone,” Rick’s mother steps between her husband and her son to try to alleviate the tension in the room.

“Get out of the way, woman. Boy over here needs to be punished.”

“It was just a B, dad. I was the highest score too!” Rick frantically looks around, looking for cover from his father’s wrath.

“’Just a B’,” he mocks, harshly gripping Rick’s arm causing the younger man to wince. “No son of mine gonna get a B,” he roars before bringing the belt down on Rick’s rear end.

Rick is snapped back to reality by Harley’s nagging.

“Hey Flag, what’s gotcha day dreamin’?” She slots herself down next to Rick, swinging her legs as Rick sighs.

“Harley, I’m not in the mood.”

“He just missing his piece of ass I reckon,” Digger jokes, fiddling with his boomerangs and Rick shoots him a glare. Digger immediately shuts up.

“Who would even take her to this dump? There ain’t shit here,” Floyd comments as Harley wraps her bat in barbed wire.

“Ya, this is a shit hole.”

“They took her to get to me,” Rick answers, shutting his eyes, his hands gripping his gun a little tighter.

“But why here?”

“I grew up here. In 1992 I moved here with my dad and mom because my dad was placed in protective services.”

“5 minutes til drop,” the intercom comes on and Rick looks over the group he gathered. Despite them being criminals, these were the ones he trusted most. Rick cocks his rifle and stands up, turning to them.

“Kill anyone who isn’t (Y/N),” their eyes widen in shock at their commander’s command and Harley is the first to snap out of it, standing up and throwing her bat over her shoulder.

“This gonna be lots of fun.”

----------

“You’re mistaken, Rick won’t come. He won’t,” you spit the blood out and onto the man, earning a slap across the face.

“If he is half the man I’ve heard he is, he will,” the man grabs a taser and sticks the end to your neck, the electricity effectively knocking you out.

----------

“Alright, we’ll splint into two groups, Deadshot, you and Harley will take the right side. Boomer and I will take the left. We go in together. On my command,” Rick whispers to the team as they nod, preparing for an onslaught. Rick starts creeping in on the building, relatively small and possibly easy to take over; but, Rick doesn’t care. All he cares about is you.

“You're a failure. I can not believe you are my son,” Flag Senior spits, crumpling up the paper and throwing it in Rick’s face as he remains rigid. “You’ll never get into West Point with these grades. You’ll never be anything.”

“Hey Flag, Flag,” Digger’s voice pulls Rick out of his thoughts once he noticed the Colonel had stopped moving. “Come on, mate, snap out of it.” Rick shakes his head, returning his face to the eyesight on his gun. “Yo, you good?”

“’m fine,” Digger and Harley share a look across from the field before shrugging it off. Approaching the door, Rick presses his back against the outside wall, motioning for the others to follow suit. “On one,” he holds his hand up and counts down before kicking in the door, gun up and shooting each person in his way, taking out the henchmen. “Deadshot, get an advantage point.”

“Yes boss,” he rushes up the stairs, leaving Harley and Boomerang with Rick.

“You two, watch my six.” He quickly makes his way through the halls, shooting down everyone he comes across.

“With the way Flag is going, we might not even be needed,” Harley quietly comments to Boomer who only shrugs.

“No harm done to me,” they continue following Rick down the halls. Coming across a big door, the group slows to a halt. Rick takes a shaky breath.

Kicking in the door, Rick surveys the room and sees red. There you are, hanging by your wrists by a chain, beaten and bruised, unconscious and bleeding. “You mother fuckers,” he grits out, raising his rifle and pressing down on the trigger, using rapid fire to plow down person after person.

The gun clicks, a sign showing it’s empty. “Shit,” he unholsters his glock and aims at the heads, brains splattering against the wall before his normally hazel eyes, now a dark brown with anger, fall onto the man standing in front of you.

“Ah, the famous Colonel Flag. I was wondering when you would come and collect your whore.”

“What do you want with me?”

“I want you to pay,” he grins wickedly, pulling out a knife but Rick is quick. He immediately tackles the man and fights him for the weapon.

“Flag, I can’t get a clean shot with you on top of him,” Floyd’s voice vaguely echoes in the back of Rick’s head, but he doesn't pay attention, nor does he pay attention to the way Harley and Digger just sit idly by, kicking the henchmen after doing nothing.

After successfully getting the knife from the man, Rick sits on top, the knife pressing against his throat.

“You wanted me? You used my girl to get to me? Well now you have me,” Rick seethes, all of his principles, morals, and ethics long gone. He plunges the knife into the man’s side, causing the man to scream. “Didn’t think Flag had it in him,” Boomer picks at his cuticles with the edge of his boomerang as Harley watches.

“Dontcha think we should stop ‘im?”

“Nah.”

‘You’re worthless.’ Stab. ‘You’ll never be anything.’ Stab. ‘You’ll never find love.’ Stab. Stab. Stab. Rick stabs the man one more time before rapidly pulling the blade out, the red blood spraying across his face as he leans back and heaves, staring down at the lifeless man.

Wiping off his face, he stands before delivering a kick to the side, throwing the man over the platform before he rushes over to you and yanks the chains down, you falling into his arms.

“Darlin’? Come on darlin’, wake up,” he shakes your body as you slowly stir awake.

“Rick?” He smiles softly, pressing his lips to your sweaty head.

“Hey baby. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.” He holds you close and rocks your body, burying his face into your hair as you look around the room.

“What happened?” Rick pulls back and looks around the room, slightly appalled by the mess.

“What they hell did you guys do?” He gears his questions towards his companions as they laugh,

“We ain’t do shit, mate. That was all you.”

“Yeah Flag, I ain’t neva seen ya like this.” Rick looks up to Floyd.

“Was this really all me?” The assassin nods, pointing to the man who was holding you hostage. Rick looks over and holds back the bile in his throat. Noticing his embarrassment and horror, you quickly pull his face towards you.

“Hey, you did what you had to do to save me. You saved me,” you bury his head in your chest, kissing the top of his hair. “You saved me, Rick.”

----------

Meanwhile, Waller rewinds the tape with an amused smile plastered on her face.

“I never knew he could be so violent.” Harcourt comments as Waller pauses right over the part where Rick digs the knife into the man.

“Neither did I.”

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid @yelenas-lova @himbovillain-anon @babblydrabbly @a-reader-and-a-writer @fairchildflag @siliethkaijuy @infatuatedjanes @niki-xie

Joel Related Tag List: @aestheticallywinchester @loverhymeswith @xoxabs88xox @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o @witchygagirl @the1redrose @ratcatcher2world @green-socks @heart-0n-fire @weallhaveadestiny @yourjacketisnowdry @rachelh1992 @tompetersebbuckyhazleo @a-girl-who-loves-disney @knivesareout @bubblegloopswampwitch @waspswidows @burntghoost @mattymurdocksbitch @katjnordstrom96 @bb-skyrunner @11thstreetvigilante

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nevermindirah · 3 years

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Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

#nile freeman #linguistics #TOG POC Love Fest #nileweek2021 #tog meta #tog #long post #mine #antiblackness #jewish things #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really want to talk about it

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thatlowiqbabe · 3 years

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Hi! I was wondering if you could write something for HoO boys being your boy friend? Also, do you think it’s possible for you to do a trans (ftm) hispanic demiboy? Thanks!

Oh yeah sure! As a Demi-Boy it's my duty!

This is over 900 words so there's gonna be a part two (sorry bout that)

HOO Boys with A Hispanic!Demi-Boy! S/O

Frank Zhang

"Wait your a demi-boy? Like cause you're a demi-god orr"

"Oh okay, totally unrelated gotcha."

You probably came out to Frank after the Son of neptune, scared you'd never get the chance to tell him.

He asked some silly questions but obviously accepted you! He would do more research via internet but demi-gods and phones don't mix

(What do you mean he's been asking other trans demi-gods how to better understand, you obviously got the wrong chinese-canadian shape-shifting son of mars)

Anyway he loves you, and tries to switch pronouns often ❤️ (if you use multiple)

If you're ever feeling dysphoric, he'll turn into an cuddly animal of your choice to make you feel better.

Will turn into a bear and (threaten to) eat a transphobe

(They probably taste funny lol)

(If you're bilingual) You, him and Jason sit in a circle and speak in spanish, canadian french, and latin, knowing damn well y'all don't understand each other.

Y'all be looking like this

Don't even try having Thanksgiving with him

"Happy Thanksgiving!"

".... I'm canadian."

"Oh, uhhh happy thursday then??"

Like sir, do you want some turkey or not?

Jason Grace

"So wait, if you're a demi-god and a demi-boy do they like cancel each other out?"

"I- baby no—"

"Can I call you God-Boy?"

Y'all give him a minute, boy brain ain't right after getting knocked out so many times 🤣

Being called God-Boy does make you feel powerful ngl

You probably "dated" during hoo, and after you started dating for real came out to him.

Uses both pronouns, like every other paragraph. (If you use multiple)

If you're a greek demi-god, he loves to take you over to Camp Jupiter, and take you on tours around the parthenon and go on dates

If you're roman, he takes you out to Camp half-blood and maybe even tour manhattan!

(Gotta be a group date though, he's been at Camp Jupiter since he was 3 and only left on quests, he don't know where he going)

(If your bilingual) He'll teach you latin if you teach him spanish! It's always cool to know another language, especially if you're partner speaks it.

If you're dysphoric, y'all take naps together.

You don't have to stress, whatever's outside can wait a while, right now it's just you and him ❤️

You're his little God-Boy, he loves you

What do you mean he specifically asked to do whatever chores you had that day? Uh-huh couldn't be him 🛑🖐️ stop playing

Don't let him meet your mortal parent

Boy be so nervous he don't know what to do

"Jason, dear could you pass me the (fav. Food) "

"Yes (Mr./Mrs/Mx.) L/n, I will have a ham sandwich "

"..."

He left with a ham sandwich and a red face

He got invited back over, so it wasn't too bad tho lol

Leo Valdez

He already knew you were a demi-boy!

You probably came out to Leo before y'all started dating, and maybe before y'all knew you were demi-gods, he just has that "yes I'd beat a bitch's ass and lose, and what about it?" Energy y'know??

Obviously you could trust him.

Will try to to use both pronouns, but might stick with one for a while before switching it up and then sticking to one again

Y'all probably talk shit about people together honestly.

Let's be honest, if you were bilingual, with a boyfriend who was also bilingual, and y'all didn't like this one person you'd talk shit right in front of them.

If you're really petty you'd make it obvious too.

If you're ever feeling some dysphoria, don't worry cause Leo got dis-for-ya!

Iamsosorry

But seriously he'll build you tiny trinkets and stuff to help you feel better

Greatifyoureahoarderlikemelol

If you want, you could help him with building, or even build something yourself!

(You: somehow builds a bomb or something equally dangerous

Leo:

)

Y'all like to make smores, and probably sing the campfire song from spongebob while doing it

(Whether it's on Leo or an actual campfire depends on y'all mood)

"OUR C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G SONG"

"Hey, you did it without stuttering this time!"

Nico di Angelo

"So you trans your gender??"

"Uh no, I'm transgender, it doesn't work like that—"

"How do you trans your gender?? Is it a like a process to get your gender trans or does it happen all at once?"

This boy a whole boomer, lord have mercy 😭🖐️

Growing up in early 1900's he doesn't really understand, but he'll try.

If he feels like he's bothering you with too many with questions, he'll go bother Annabeth instead.

Uses both pronouns, despite not knowing how you can have more than one. (If you use multiple)

Will do his best to get rid of any internalized transphobia he might have. Even if he grew up around Bianca, it was a hateful time back then and he might have biases.

You're dysphoric, but how??

He understands how dysphoria works, as much as it pains him to know that you're hurting, he didn't understand how it could effect someone like you.

You were much braver than he was, not being outed and actually coming out on your own. You were the man you said you were and more.

Sometimes y'all just lay down outside under a tree and he'll sing to you.

(Y'all know I'm talking about Soldatino don't even play)

Those days can go from bad to okay to great, depending on what y'all do afterward.

Sometimes y'all go out to eat at McDonald's via shadow travel, and I hope you got cash cause the seven gonna want some too lol (this includes Rachel and Will btw)

"So you're ordering (big af order) to go, for just the two of you?"

"We're eating for nine."

"No baby we're eating for eleven remember?"

Cashier, who's just trying to earn they minimum wage:

I don't know how to end this lol

Um part 2 will be out soon, maybe like a day from now if I don't forget lol

Thank you for requesting! I hope it was up to your standards, if not then I hope you enjoyed it anyway, cause I enjoyed writing it!

If you're interested in my writing pls request, I only have one other to do so it might be done soon!

Also, I hope Leo's bilingual hc isn't offensive in anyway. I'm just realizing how rude that may sound. If it is I'll write a new one. I'm not bilingual but if I was that's what I'd do. Again, I hope I didn't come off as ignorant on that hc.

#percy jackon and the olympians #hoo #heros of olympus #headcanon #poc reader #request #jason grace #frank zhang #Leo Valdez #nico di angelo #x trans reader #trans boy #non binary #non binary reader #male reader #black writers #hispanic reader

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seraphdarlimg · 3 years

Text

wish I were (pt3)

harry appreciates reader in his speech but finally talks to her when she runs off crying

part 1

‘heather’ by conan gray WARNINGS - ANGST, swearing WORDCOUNT - 3,501

_________________________________________________________

My head was empty while I appreciated the company of a glass of wine and city view of the venue. I leaned against the railing of the small balcony nook I found, away from the crowd of people as Bowie was played faintly through the speakers.

I arrived to the party alone. Even if our relationship is awkward at the moment, I couldn't miss his birthday. Especially if it feels like it would be the last one I attend for a while. It took me only a few seconds to find him talking to his management team, a conversation that I didn't want to interrupt. And for the next twenty minutes I find myself isolated from everyone. Maybe because I know the relationship topic would inevitably come up at one point during any conversation I join into. But also because I didn't know how to approach Harry himself anymore. I can't bring myself to start the conversation, but for him, it seems like everything is good and normal.

I promised myself to only one glass of wine, so when I finished that rather quickly then intended, I honestly didn't know what to do with myself. As much as I've been trying to think like Harry and feel completely normal again, I hated how much our relationship has effected me. No matter how many times I've told myself that it's better this way, I've avoided hanging out with mutual friends to keep away from a conversation about Heather.

I took a deep breath and turned around, looking into the venue to catch Harry smiling and nodding to Gemma. One arm across his chest while his cheek rested against the other. He looked too good this evening, wearing a worn vest and matching bell bottom pants. I allowed myself to stare till his eyes glanced in my direction and catch mine.

I soften when his smile grows wider and he excuses himself away from the conversation. "For some reason, I'd knew you'd come here when we checked out the space." He says as he walks out into the balcony. "Almost had a reservation sign put up with your name on it."

He engulfs me in a hug, nuzzling his face into my neck. I slowly wrapped my arms around him and find myself resting my head on his broad shoulder when I realize this was our first hug in weeks. Oh how much I missed this feeling.

"I appreciate the thought but damn, am I thought obvious?"

"Oh I just know you too well and you love me for it."

I feel goosebumps, finding ourselves though pulled away, still in each other's arms while I smile up at him. I hummed In response before holding up a finger and turning to get the small box in my purse. When I turn back around he has a sly smirk on his face as he looks at the box wrapped with a yellow bow I hold out to him.

"Happy birthday Harry. I wanted to give this to you in person." He takes the box and unwraps the ribbon and opens it. I hold my breath, watching his reaction as he stares at a familiar string of pearls. He runs his fingers through them, a look of admiration set on his face as I twiddled my fingers.

"I always let you wear mine so I just thought you'd like a pair of your own."

"You know me well too."

"And you love me for it." I chuckled, immediately turning around and looking out onto the view as he situates himself next to me, the box once again closed and held tightly in his hands. "I'll wear these till I wear them out. Oh! We'll wear them at the same time like friendship necklaces." He tells me, giving me a side hug and squeezing my arm.

I laughed at the thought, "Only we could make friendship necklaces out of pearls worth hundreds of dollars."

We stayed quiet for a while, just enjoying each other's company. The elephant in the room knows it's been a few weeks since the last time we shared a moment alone. I'm just not sure how he feels about the reason why.

"Shouldn't you go back out there? Supposed to be a good host." I nudged his shoulder with mine, not wanting to take him away from his party and not knowing how much I could take how hard my chest is beating at the same time.

"Well you're here. Almost thought you wouldn't show since you're weren't early."

"Can't I be fashionably late for once?"

"Glad you are though, bubs. Honestly was about to spend the night a sad man when Heather canceled."

Here we go, the one topic I dreaded would come up. Of course it would be with him when it does. "Oh. Uh she isn't here?"

"No yeah she ehm. She left yesterday for Paris. Last minute gig she booked." He shrugged it off like it was not a big deal, but he's playing with the yellow ribbon in a way that tells me otherwise.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure she'll make it up when she get's back." He scoffs, undoing the bow he just made with the ribbon. "If by 'make up' you mean a few hours in bed before she jet sets to Milan for a few months then yeah."

"Harry, you should tell her that you want her here."

"No, no it's fine. She can do whatever she wants, it's her career."

"It's also your birthday. Shouldn't girlfriends or whatever you two are right now care about that stuff?" I sighed, gently taking away the ribbon and box from him, wrapping it back while he turns and rests his back on the railing, crossing his arms and facing the entrance back into the venue. "That's the thing, I don't know what she wants out of this. I never did even when we were really together. When we were, it's so picture perfect and then when we'd get busy with our own lives, it's just so on and off. We blamed it on bad timing and long distance in the end but now that I think about it, we didn't know where to go from there."

"Do you know what you want now?"

"I think I do."

I tilted my head, growing frustrated but kept my tone calm. "Then why don't you just talk?"

"Ugh you know I'm not a confrontational person bubs." He finally looks at me, seeing me roll my eyes while he laughs it off. I shake my head, tapping on the box as he reaches out to rub my arm. "You're a dummy, Harry."

"Why do you call me that?"

I glanced at him, shrugging. "What do you mean?"

"What happened to 'H' hmm? Been calling me Harry for a while." Though his tone was lighthearted, his brows are furrowed and I can feel his intense stare.

"It's your name isn't it?"

"Obviously, but...I don't know, never mind-"

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..." We suddenly hear from inside, making us both turn at the same time to see Jeff holding a cake and a crowd gathered around him, slowly walking towards the balcony where the birthday boy was. His smile grows back and we exchange a look before I hand him back my present and walk back in towards the celebration.

***

"Well, I am a man of a few words... but a good comedian doesn't repeat the same joke two years in a row. Ehm, I'm gonna do what I know best which is to spew whatever I feel from in here and hope it sounds somewhat poetic." He laughs a little at his own joke, making little hand gestures and smiling when he gets the laughs and smiles back from his words. His eyes stray to the people in front of him and to the side in thought at times, but he makes the effort to look at his friends, family members and co-workers who he is ultimately grateful for. My eyes soften at his toothy grin, knowing I look like a complete fool as I stare at him in complete adoration despite it being completely obvious how enamored I am for this man.

He gives short thank you's to the his band members and relatives he's grown close too. I laugh at his awkward jokes but also the narcissistic ones he makes that boost his confidence a bit. He has one thing prepared to say for everyone that makes them melt. "Thank you Jeff for having to deal with me another year as well, while you do look after me I am always appreciative of how you act more as an old grandpa than a dude in a business suit."

"I also want to thank Heather..."

My smile dies down a bit, knowing he would want to say something about her even when she isn't here. What made my chest hurt once again was the realization that he hadn't said anything about me yet. I had anticipated it, wondering what he would say but he had skipped right over me. I placed my hand on my knee to keep it from shaking as Harry said her name instead.

"I'll just text her later but I wanted to thank her for allowing me to write about her and being an overall beautiful person."

Thinking his speech was over and accepting how little I meant to him, he finally calls my name. I froze for a bit, looking up at him to see him already looking at me. He paused a bit, an amused look on his face when he sees how caught off guard I was.

"I saved the best for last for two reasons, one because she looks adorably silly right now..." He chuckles when I save myself with an eye roll and stuck my tongue out at him.

"And two, because I knew it'll be harder for me to come up with the words to describe how important of a person you are to me."

The curiosity and need to know what he would say about me, as well as the internalized emotional stress grew. His tone was softer and he seemed more calmer than he was a few minutes ago. The sentence already began making my heart pump and ache, and the recent events that had shaken up our relationship almost thrown out the window when he continued.

"You're so good to me and I can't thank you endlessly enough for everything you've done for the past year since I hired you. Not only was it the best decision I ever made because of how talented you are, but it also gave me the opportunity to really know someone like you. I was in a bad place when you met me and I'll never forget the kindness and patience you showed me even then. And though you call me a 'boomer' so many times and constantly come up with better melodies than me, it's worth every witty joke and bad pun just to see a smile that lights up the room. Your friendship is worth every time you complain about my kale chips."

His eyes were caught on mine from the beginning, both his hands are holding his wine glass though he held confidence in his speech. It felt like just us two in the room, his words giving tone of a very intimate moment shared between two bestfriends. I bit my bottom lip, can't seeming to stop smiling.

"And though you'll be off writing more amazing music with different amazing artists - only temporarily - know that I'll always be rooting for you and always will be -"

He breaks eye contact for a moment, but that moment was enough. "- will be uhm, proud of you." His smile grows ten times wider and he sounds relieved when he looks off onto the entrance of the venue as someone arrives. His eyes go back and forth, distracted but wanting to finish what he had left to say.

"Through thick and thin, love, you always were able to be there for me."

At that point he was fully looking at the person who arrived and I didn't have the guts to turn around to see who it was. My smile instantly dies and the warmth in my chest was just filled with a familiar pang that hasn't left all this time.

Because there she was, though out of breath and all over the place, just looked perfect as she grins and mouths 'happy birthday' to him while he haphazardly continues empty compliments that are now meant for her. My vision is blurry but my eyes are stuck on the actual person he deems important in his life. This lovely being who canceled last minute but makes it in time so he'd be truly happy.

He meant to say all of it to her. You just happened to be here when she wasn't. He doesn't love you like he loves her and he never will. He never had.

It was hard looking back at him, already knowing the way he looks at her. It was deja vu. She shows up and he's instantly mesmerized.

But I did and it suddenly was all too much. Because he glanced at me when he was saying his last words, seeing me silently cry in the middle of the crowd and looking distraught. And it all grew too claustrophobic, needing to get away and leave because all I felt now was anger.

"Hey, you okay?" Gemma asks, her brows furrowed in concern. I force a smile and nodded before excusing myself. "Yeah, just fine."

***

I pushed open the door and quickly walked out of the lobby and onto the parking lot, ignoring the distant calls of my name that grew louder and louder. I hugged my coat, trying to breathe but grew more frustrated with the growing ache in my chest. I sobbed, knowing he was catching up and didn't have the energy to deal with him right now.

"Hey, what happened - are you okay?" Harry had took hold of my arm, turning me around and all I could do was push him away. "Bubs, talk to me please."

"Stop, please I'm so tired and I physically can't be near you." I softly said, not bothering to wipe away tears anymore. He looks confused and I only scoffed at him, crossing my arms and moving back when he stepped closer, holding out his.

"What do you mean? Please let me- you're crying." He tries coming closer but I shake my head, dodging his embrace because I knew I would instantly melt.

"Yes, I'm crying! I've been crying and hurting all month because of you Harry!" I cried and he instantly freezes. "You keep doing this shit and all this time I've been coming up with excuses for it. That- I don't know, maybe that you can't help what you're feeling or that I really can't blame you- but now I do! Because you know exactly what you're doing and it's so shitty that I had to realize it this late."

"W-what are you talking about?" He's nervous.

"Oh shut the fuck up you know exactly what I'm talking about. You've avoided actually talking ever since we kissed, even before Heather came back into the picture. You completely pushed me to the side the second she gave you her attention and ever since then our whole relationship has changed Harry! And either you're so fucking oblivious or too much of a coward to face it because you just acting like everything was fine and normal broke my fucking heart even more. It obviously meant so little to you but fuck, it-"

I took a deep breathe only resorting to another sob as I placed a hand over my heart. "It meant so much to me."

I see him crying too, fumbling with his fingers and trying to hold those tears in only to lose some as he's stood still, not knowing what to do. He's guilty, his need to hold me and cry gives it away but I couldn't allow him that. And he knows it's something he doesn't deserve.

"I would of understood Harry. That you didn't feel the same fireworks and butterflies like I did when we kissed - as cliché as it fucking is. That you've fallen in love with Heather when she came back because I honestly still can't blame you for that, she's an angel. That you can't control who you love, but you never said anything. You just lead me on and didn't talk to me - why didn't you just fucking talked to me Harry, aren't we supposed to be best friends?"

He's now only inches away from me, taking hold of my hands because I was too worn out to even pull them back. "Yes! Yes, we are and I'm a stupid idiot. I'm sorry I- I should of just been upfront with you but I was so confused- and I still am. I just- I meant everything I said earlier and more because I'm always thinking about you bubs-"

I laugh at this shaking my head, not allowing anymore hope to built up. "I am! Mitch and Jeff are so fucking tired of hearing about it, but honestly so was I. But only because Heather was still in my heart and I just didn't know what to do or wanted and please believe me, I never ever wanted to hurt you."

"Why did you kiss me then?" I broke out of his hold, stepping back once again.

"I don't know darling, It just felt right and I didn't think. I-I just thought you'd leave if you knew I wasn't sure."

"Being honest about it with your supposed best friend was going to make it worse?"

"I just...I didn't want to lose you."

"But what now? you got her back, so what am I to you now? Was I supposed to be your distraction, the only option left for you to turn to? Because you fully well know that I'd drop everything I was doing just to comfort you when you were low Harry. I canceled set plans and promises because you simply asked me too, and I did since I'd always foolishly put you first because I thought you'd genuinely liked me."

"Bubs-"

"Don't. Harry you can't just put me on the side and come back to me later on if your relationships don't work out, that's not fucking fair! Ever since we met all I've been getting from you are mixed signals and I couldn't confront you about it because you'd always avoid the topic, making me feel damn silly for even thinking that way. It's just- you can't build up expectation of something between us simply because I'm the safe second option - fuck that hurts saying that."

"I- I didn't mean to make you feel that way-"

"Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing Harry. You're just to arrogant to own up to it. So fucking immature, all you had to do was talk!"

"Okay, okay I'm sorry let's talk, please! Don't walk away like this, we can talk now and fix this."

"No. You only want to talk now because it's convenient for you. That's the thing Harry."

"Stop-"

"You say you didn't want to hurt me, but you didn't want to hurt yourself first. And I just- I just hate how long it took me to realize how mean you are Harry."

"Don't call me Ha- you don't mean that."

"I do! and you know it too." He's struck by it and I'm giving up. Hurt is evident in his face and it doesn't feel good to make him sad, but now all I feel is disappointment and pity for myself.

"Since you couldn't have the balls to talk to me, I just always really wanted to tell you that I love you. Really fucking love you. As if you didn't already know, but... I guess it never really even mattered."

He calls my name deflatingly when I turn around, walking away. His last attempts of apologizing and begging for me to come back to him drift off into empty words that I block out as I stepped into my car and drove away. The time it takes for me to drive felt like days pass, but now turned to seconds when I turned off the engine and idled inside. I was still crying, still processing, all while replaying our last moment together. The one spent on the floor of the recording studio with a makeshift picnic before I spend the next days erasing it from my memory.

I sent him a text before going inside, turning off my phone right afterwards to avoid the rest of the incoming calls and text messages begging to fix what was left of us.

'I'll email you the lyrics to the last song tomorrow. Then I'm done.'

____________________________________________________________

A/N: i’m hurting. but this is the second to last chapter of this mini-series, pt4 is the finale and will be out soon :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #one direction #harry styles blurb #heather #wish I were

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jrumbots-sandals · 3 years

Text

Okay, so I wrote a HC fanfic, because why tf not. The idea wouldn't leave my head, so now you get to deal with it.

Based on @mayflowers07’s "I can be the one you call" series. In that series, there is an established code word on the Hermitcraft server for when a prank goes too far or when a hermit is in danger: "blue creeper." When a player says this phrase, everything stops to help the hermit in need. Please go read their series--it's amazing! The premise of this fic comes from that series as well, so I take no credit for the idea, just the execution!

This is my first HC fic ever, so there's probably a lot of errors when it comes to canon. Impulse and Tango are probably OOC. Timeline is all over the place because 1. I've been watching a lot of hermits, and 2. I'm watching everything out of order. Let me know your thoughts if you like! I mostly wrote this for me, but I wanted to share it anyway.

Anyway, here goes.

The Sleep Prank

WC: 3540

Bdubs was tired. It wasn't uncommon; he was, after all, the sleep master. He had a natural ability to fall asleep as soon as the sun began to set.

Today, however, was different. Where there was usually the pleasant sleepy feeling that accompanied the end of each day, today there was frustrated exhaustion. All because of Tango and Impulse's stupid prank.

It had been going on for three days now. The prank was funny at first— a TNT explosion rigged to blow when Bdubs went to hit his bed. The first time it had happened, he had just finished clearing out most of a nearby sand biome, grabbing a large quantity for the concrete shop. At 10 pm precisely, he took out his trusty bed he travelled with, he set it on the ground and prepared for his nightly shreep sleep. When it happened, he had shrieked loudly and fallen off the bed, causing his fellow Boomers, who were hiding behind a nearby dune, to cry with laughter.

"Very FUNNY!!!!!" he had yelled in his trademark over-exaggerated voice. "Mess with ol' Bdubs while he's tryin' to sleep. You think that's FUNNY, don't you?!"

"Yes, actually," cackled Tango. "It's hilarious. Oh, your FACE…"

The laughter went on for several minutes, Bdubs pretending to be angry while the other two collapsed on each other in laughter. But Bdubs had taken the prank good-naturedly, and soon enough the other two left and he was alone again. Slightly shaken up, he picked up his things and headed to his base, ready to actually get some sleep.

The second time was still funny. Impulse and Tango had trapped his home beds to do the same thing, which didn't hurt Bdubs or any of his things, but did make him jump out of his skin. The two had clearly been expecting this, because soon after, his communicator buzzed:

ImpulseSV: TANGO IT WORKED

TangoTek: HAHAHHAHA YESSSS

TangoTek: Get some nice sleep Bdubs? >:)

Glaring at the offensive messages, he typed back:

BdoubleO100: NO >:(

BdoubleO100: YOU FOOLS SCARED ME SO BAD

BdoubleO100: You guys are the WORST

BdoubleO100: Trapping my BEAUTIFUL HOME

Bdoubleo100: I'll get you for that

Bdubs laughed as he typed out his mock rage. But it was all in good fun, both Bdubs and the Boomers knew.

Now slightly wary of the many beds he had around his base, Bdubs got up from the current bed, no real goal in mind besides getting away from the beds for a little while. It was 10:32 now. Usually, he would already be asleep, ready to skip the night and start on more building projects in the morning. Nursing a slight headache, he picked up a book from one of his many decorative bookcases and sat down away from any beds to read.

20 minutes later, eyes heavy from reading and body tired from the day, he cautiously hit a bed for the third time. Nothing happened. He sighed in relief, already starting to fade into sleep.

And then it happened again. An explosion of TNT, to his right.

"AAAAAGH!!" he screamed, again startled by the prank. This time, he heard a dispenser fire, and suddenly he had a piece of paper in his hand:

GOTCHA!!!!!! — your fellow boomers :)

With a stab of annoyance, he crumpled up the paper and huffed downstairs. Grabbing some rockets and a few blocks of wool, Bdubs took off into the night, heading...somewhere. He didn't know where he was going, besides away, away from his base and the stupid bed prank.

He touched down a few hundred blocks away from his base, finding a decently-sized patch of grass sheltered from the outside by the overhang of a small cliff. He spread out the wool and placed a few torches for safety. Without a true bed, the game's code wouldn't let him instantly sleep and skip the night like usual, but he could still sleep the old-fashioned way. Though not as substantial in length or quality, he would still get some rest, ready in the morning to dismantle all the stupid bed traps around his base and then get some real work done.

Sighing quietly, he laid down, closing his eyes and falling into an uneasy rest. It only lasted half an hour or so, just long enough for Tango and Impulse to find him and set off some more TNT. He woke up in a panic at the thunderous sound, disoriented.

"WHAT THE FU-"

He was interrupted by his two tormentors howling with laughter, peeking out from behind a tree not far from his sleeping spot.

"Sup Bdubs! Get some good sleep?" Tango called, smugly.

Impulse was doubled over beside him, absolutely cackling. "Yeah, you thought you could run away huh? Oh Bdubs…"

"Oh veRY FUNNY!" he tried, but his voice and face betrayed his tiredness and annoyance.

"Ha, ha, yes hilarious, now will you leave me alone?"

Tango gave him a cruel smirk. "Well why don't you try to sleep again and find out?"

His heart sank, seeing how invested the two were in this prank. They really weren't going to let him sleep.

"Please?" It was a pitiful request, free of any of the usual amusing inflection in his voice. Tango and Impulse looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Finally, Impulse spoke.

"Okay, if you can make it to tomorrow without sleeping, we'll let you off the hook. We just wanted to see how long you could go," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, Bdubs, it'll be a great challenge for you! See you in the morning then?" asked Tango.

Bdubs considered their offer. What choice did he have? He could make it through one night.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll just...read or something."

The Boomers smiled.

"We believe in you!"

"Bye Bdubs!"

They flew off into the night, leaving him to face the rest of the long night alone.

***

It was painful, but Bdubs made it through.

Grabbing his things, he took off back toward his base, thinking about the day ahead. He had some farming to do, a small shack to finish detailing, and the concrete shop to restock. Not to mention finding all the Boomer traps in his house. Then he would go to bed early and be done.

The day passed uneventfully, with no bed-related explosions, thankfully. Bdubs dug out all the blocks around the many beds around his houses, ripping out the offensive redstone wiring whenever he found some. He pocketed the TNT. It served Impulse and Tango right.

Bdubs really didn't do well without at least 8 hours of sleep. It was just how he operated. A full night of quality sleep was essential to keeping up with all the building work on the server and keeping up his happy, boisterous personality. The effects of no sleep were already wearing on him. He had been grumpy and distracted all day, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to not fall asleep on his feet. While working at the concrete shop earlier, he had dropped a block of the stuff on his foot. Swearing loudly and hopping on one foot, he slammed the door and left the building, only to find someone he really didn't want to see: Impulse.

"Hello, Impulse," said Bdubs stiffly.

"Bdubs! Get some good sleep? Oh wait!" Impulse chortled.

He restrained himself from telling Impulse just exactly what he thought of their stupid prank and no sleep challenge (some of the younger hermits were nearby, after all). Instead, he forced out a laugh and put on an overexaggerated expression of indignance.

"You and Tango, I can't believe you would mess with my sleep. Do you KNOW how hard that was? I'm-I'm gonna fall over or something!" He yawned dramatically, pretending to start falling.

Bad idea. He lost his balance for real and fell, slamming into the ground. Impulse just laughed and helped him up, unaware that he wasn't joking.

"Boomers gotta boom, Bdubs."

"Fair enough. Imma get you back though. So you better WATCH OUT!" Bdubs grinned mischievously as Impulse sprinted away in mock fear.

Once he was out of sight, Bdubs slumped over, rubbing his hip where he had fallen. This prank was really starting to take a toll on him.

The rest of the day passed fine, but Bdubs was on edge, finding himself becoming annoyed at little things— the sound of blocks scraping against each other in his inventory, the lowing of animals around the village, the rockets being fired by a passing hermit. He brushed it off, knowing he just needed sleep.

That night, he looked cautiously at his bed. Even though he had checked underneath it earlier and found nothing, the Boomers were some of the smartest redstone workers on the whole server; they could definitely hide traps Bdubs would never find. And now that they knew that disrupting his sleep would get him so riled up, they were bound to do it again, even if he had technically completed their challenge.

Sighing, he flew back to the grass patch from the night before, this time with more wool. Settling down, he tried to fall asleep and realized he couldn't. Despite being bone-tired from last night and a long day today, sleep wouldn't come. A slight panic came over him. He had never not been able to fall asleep before. Was it stress? Anxiety? Both, probably, he thought.

Sighing, he propped himself up against a nearby wall and slapped on his communicator, needing a distraction. He scrolled through the day's messages, laughing at some:

Grian: Guys mumbos AFK again

Grian: What should I do to him

Iskall85: push him in a hole and then cover his floors with ice lol

Xisumavoid: New potion building is open! Free for all my hermits :)

Stressmonster101: Are u tryin' t put me outta business?

Stressmonster101: ill get u for that X, i will

Smiling at his friends' antics, Bdubs moved to get back into bed. But he was still uneasy— something felt off. Scowling at the thought of being woken up by another explosion, he turned over and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to sleep.

Except his paranoia had been for good reason.

Because moments later, TNT went off, startling Bdubs awake. Well, not awake. He never really got to sleep, but he was getting close, and now the goddamn TNT was back.

Groaning in frustration and cursing under his breath, he sat up to look for the victory message he had come to expect. Sure enough:

ImpulseSV: WE GOT HIM AGAIN BOYS

ImpulseSV: aGAIN AAGSAJH

TangoTek: Take notes, ladies and gentlemen

ImpulseSV: Bdubs weve been waiting like an HOUR for you

TangoTek: WORTH IT

TangoTek: lol

Bdubs played along, sending a funny message back, but he was privately glad it was over the communicator and not in real life. He was pretty sure he would have straight up punched the two in the face if they had been nearby. He had done the challenge. It had been over 24 hours since he had slept. Couldn't they leave him the hell alone already?

He thought about trying to be serious with him and ask them, point-blank, to stop. Surely they would see how much they had put their friend through and end it. They weren't that cruel. Right?

Huffing in frustration, he packed up everything he had brought and trudged back to his base. If he was going to get pranked again, he may as well be comfortable at home.

Once he reached home, he threw his things down unceremoniously. Dammit. He should really be sleeping by now. Instead, he tapped his foot anxiously, trying to figure out what to do. He really didn't want to risk another bed-splosion.

He went an hour or so wandering around his base, organizing things and doing odd jobs here and there, and by then it was 11:23. But Bdubs couldn't get himself to try the bed, no matter how much his tired body screamed at him to. He wouldn't do it, not when he knew he would probably just be woken up again. So he kept finding things to do. 11:30 turned to 12 am, turned into 2:30, turned into 5:00 am, and suddenly it was light outside.

Oh. That was bad. He hadn't slept in two nights.

Closing his eyes where he stood, he swayed slightly as he clenched his jaw. Two nights. Goddammit. He realized with horror that he could feel tears beading up in his eyes. This wasn't sustainable.

He took a deep, centering breath and thought about everything he had to get through to finish this never ending day. Groaning at the thought of getting through another day, he made a decision. He would just have to talk to Impulse and Tango. This wasn't happening anymore after today.

***

So today, he was tired. And crabby. He had been awake for over 80 hours, and Bdubs was in a mood and a half because of it. He snapped at Scar during a mayoral meeting, shoulder-checked Mumbo "on accident" while passing him in the shopping district, and kicked down a particularly ugly flower in front of the Barge. He looked terrible, too, with dark bags under his eyes, uncombed hair, and wrinkled clothes he hadn't taken off in two days.

Several hermits passing through the shopping district gave him worried, questioning looks, making him even angrier. He tried to reason with Ren, who saw him and stopped to say hello, and tell him he was perfectly fine, thank you very much, but his argument was weakened by the way he tripped and nearly faceplanted over a small bump in the road.

"You really don't look good, my dude, you need to take a break or something," laughed Ren, lending him a hand to pull himself and looking at him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Well I'm fine, so leave me the hell alone," he snarled in response. The other man had just raised his eyebrows and walked away.

After, he decided to go to his concrete shop to calm down and try to get away from everyone. He pulled out a spare bed and looked at it longingly. Maybe the prank was truly over now? It had been a bad day, and he was so tired…a nap wouldn't hurt.

Lying down gratefully in the comfy bed, (had it always been this comfortable? surely not) he felt the familiar pull of sleep. Just as he was about to doze off, it happened again.

The godforsaken TNT went off.

Bdubs lost it.

"GODDAMMIT TANGO AND IMPULSE YOU SONS OF-"

He was interrupted by laughter from the very two he had just cursed at. They emerged from a door in the wall sneakily hidden by pistons, cackling and falling over each other.

"Oh my God, he actually fell for it-"

"I can't believe it worked-"

"No, Impulse, cause he's so predictable-"

Bdubs closed his eyes, ignoring the way it made the world spin around him, just trying to block out the incessant, annoying laughter filling his ears. He could do this, he just needed to put on a smile and pretend it was all funny-

"He can't go ONE NIGHT without a bed, the precious baby boy," wheezed Impulse.

"Widdle Bdubs is scawed of the dawk, isn't he?" mocked Tango.

He tried to block it out. It's funny, it really is, it's just a prank. Chill out, Bdubs.

"What would we do without him protecting us from all the scaaawy mobbies?"

Tears welled up in his eyes for the second time that day. He was actually afraid of the dark, deathly afraid. It wasn't just a joke to him, they didn't understand...

"Oh, I'm Bdubs, I have to sleep in a bed otherwise i'll get SCARED-"

"SHUT UP!" roared Bdubs. "SHUT UP GODDAMMIT THIS ISN'T FUNNY-"

"Oh but it IS, Bdubs," Tango wheezed, "Cause you fell for it like FIVE TIMES AHAHA-"

He couldn't do this.

"BLUE CREEPER!" he finally yelled, desperate to stop their taunts, to stop everything about the awful prank. The laughter of the other two men died down, finally quelled by the use of the code word.

"Oh shit, Bdubs, are you good?" asked Impulse.

"Yeah, man, sorry, that was the last one we set up," said Tango, shrinking back a bit.

Bdubs hated that they were so suddenly worried about him. As if they hadn't just been making fun of something very important to him, as if this was all a joke. It wasn't funny. They knew he needed sleep and that he was afraid of the dark, of the mobs-

"Bdubs? Buddy? Hey, are you alright, what's wrong?"

But he wasn't paying attention to them. Breathing heavily, he pushed past them, running somewhere, anywhere but here with the other two. He found a corner and pressed himself between the two walls, hiding there for a moment, before reaching for his communicator.

BdoubleO100 whispers to Xisumavoid: blue creeper please come please need help i cantt do it anymore

Tango and Impulse found him there, and they approached him like he was a scared animal, hands raised and eyes wide. Bdubs just hid from them, hoping that-

Teleported Xisumavoid to BdoubleO100.

Thank God, he thought, as he saw the familiar yellow armor. Because suddenly the admin was there, looking at Bdubs with deep worry and care.

"What's happened?" Xisuma asked gently, tipping Bdubs' face up to meet his eyes under the visor. He jerked away, trying to hide his face and his tears. Xisuma instead posed the question to Impulse and Tango, who were looking guilty as hell.

"We sorta played a prank on him…" Impulse said sheepishly.

"Yeah," Tango added, "we just thought it would be funny-"

"To do what?" the admin cut him off sternly.

"...To make TNT explode every time he tried to sleep."

Xisuma glanced back at Bdubs with worry in his eyes. "Why would you do that? You know how he feels about the night!"

At the mention of his fear, a sob escaped him. He slumped to the floor, exhausted. He was so tired, so angry, so embarrassed. He looked back at X, sending a plea with his eyes.

"Please, 'suma, I just...just wanna sleep."

"I know, my friend."

Xisuma left the builder on the floor and stood up to face the pranksters.

"I expect you two to take down everything you set up to explode. Then I expect you to apologize to your friend once he gets some real rest. You took it way too far." He made sure to look both of them in the eye through the tinted visor.

The other two Boomers expressed their agreement and walked out, clearly embarrassed.

An ugly part of Bdubs' mind said good, they should be embarrassed. But he could barely find the energy to be mad anymore. He just wanted to sleep.

Xisuma turned back to him and helped him off the ground. Bdubs all but collapsed into the admin, finally letting some of the tension in his body dissipate. Xisuma shifted to support his mostly dead weight, chuckling softly and giving him a gentle hug.

"Sorry...couldn't take it anymore...goddamn TNT... bullshit," he mumbled.

"Hey, it's quite alright. Let's find you a bed somewhere in my base. I'll patch the code so you can sleep in an actual bed during the daytime. Does that sound okay?"

Bdubs half-sobbed, half-laughed into Xisuma's shoulder. "Yes please. It's… been… long few days."

Teleported Bdoubleo100 to -487.00, 45.00, 1,256.00

Teleported Xisumavoid to -487.00, 45.00, 1,256.00

Once they both successfully reached Xisuma's base, the admin pulled out a bed and set it down in a small building that definitely wasn't trapped. Seeing Bdubs looking at it nervously, Xisuma dug out the blocks underneath, showing no redstone trickery. At last, Bdubs let himself fall into the bed, eyes sliding shut instantly, his body finally free of the tension of the past three days.

Xisuma gently laid a blanket over the man, ruffling his hair fondly and smiling when he moved his head to get closer to the touch. Bdubs mumbled something, trying to thank X, but it was incoherent, his brain too tired to form actual words. The last thing he heard before drifting off was...

"Goodnight, Bdubs."

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfiction #my work #bdoubleo100 #bdubs #hermitcraft season 7

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leupagus · 4 years

Text

Who’s your County Executive? and other steps to becoming a valuable pain in the ass

I fired off a tweet thread this morning, but I feel like a lot of folks here might benefit from this info, too. Which is: if you want anything to change, from police abolition to getting statues removed to passing local ordinances requiring masks to removing local legislation putting limits on abortion (just for some random examples), you need to get real familiar with your local reps. As in, you need to know who they are, what they do, how they’re elected/appointed, how long they’ve been doing that job, what their history is and how you can pressure them into doing what you want. Using hashtags and sharing links and signal boosting can only do so much. Talking to the people who are actually able to implement the change you want is a huge part that I don’t think gets discussed enough; and although it requires some preliminary work, once you get into the groove it’s surprisingly easy.

First, find out where you live! Which you may think is a stupid step, but —do you live in a city? Are you sure? I live in a city, for example, but I actually live in a township/suburb of that city, not the city proper. (Fortunately due to what I suspect is some white flight-related weirdness, I can still hassle the city proper.) There are entire towns inside of some cities, like West Hollywood and Los Angeles. Double-check; you might be surprised.

Then, find out who’s in charge of said place. There are quite a few people, actually. You probably have a mayor — but they might be called a supervisor. Or you may have a city manager, or executive, or clerk, or all three, or someone else entirely, who’s actually doing the day-to-day running of the place — for instance, while Austin has a mayor, it also has a city manager, and the city manager does WAY more than the mayor does. You also have people at the county/parish level — a county executive is I think the most common term, although sometimes it’s the county clerk, who can have entirely different duties depending on the county. Whatever way it works where you live, find out. While you’re at it, find out who’s in charge of your local elections. Sometimes that’s the county clerk (actually I think it’s almost always the country clerk, but sometimes it’s the county auditor or something weird like that); sometimes they’re elected and sometimes they’re appointed. Find out. Get names, put their contact info in your phone. (More on that later.)

Then, find out who represents you on the city/town council and the county legislature, or whatever they’re called where you are. Finding out what district you’re in can sometimes be hellaciously frustrating; when in doubt, an email to the county or city council can often get you an answer if you provide your address. Also bear in mind that different places have different ways of apportioning council members; sometimes they’re all “at large,” sometimes they’re elected according to districts, sometimes it’s a combination of both. Sometimes (not often I don’t think) they’re not elected at all but appointed by someone. Find out who! And don’t leave out things like school boards and zoning boards and community college boards and anything else you happen upon that has a representative you didn’t know existed. They exist, and I guarantee they’ve got power.

Note: find out who represents you state-wide, too. Often calling the governor isn’t that effective (at least for me, calling Cuomo ain’t gonna do much; if you live in Delaware or Montana or Iowa or somewhere relatively less populous, definitely get your governor’s information), but your state reps are usually pretty eager to talk to constituents, even — and this is really important these days — ones who aren’t of the same party. I’m represented by a GOP state senator, for example, but he ended up voting for this bill that just got signed into law. Most states are bicameral (except Nebraska, heyooo), so you likely have a state senator and a state rep/assemblyman/whatever. Make sure to get info for both. (Unless you live in Nebraska, in which case tell Ernie I said hi.)

Next, find out what the court system looks like where you are. Are your state/county/district/etc judges appointed? Elected? What are their terms? Who’s your District Attorney? Who’s in charge of your Public Defender’s office? (I actually haven’t bothered to look up that myself until today!) What courts handle which offenses in your area? Collect that information.

And what do you do with this info? You put it into your phone contacts, or whatever you use to keep your contacts organized, I dunno, maybe you still use your Wizard from 1992. No judgement. However you do it, put all of these contacts somewhere they’re all together — for example, if you have a letter in your directory that isn’t used much. I have a kind of weird method of organizing my contacts, which is that I put their first and last names (and their handles, if I know them online) in the Firstname field, then the Lastname field I use to say how I know them. So all of my New York-based friends are listed as “NYC, Holly Golightly/moonrivergoddess” or whatever. So for me personally, I just put all my political contacts under “Y” as in “Y do I have to keep pestering you to make you do the right thing.” So a county clerk would be listed like so:

Y, County Clerk Horace Vandergelder

In the “Company” field, I usually put their party and when/if they’re up for election next as well as term length, so Horace would be “Dem, 2020/2024.″ And then I might add any links I thought were helpful as well as notes about, say, what staffer I may’ve talked to or if there’s an important bill coming up etc.

And now you’ve got that information, it’s time to fuckin’ use it. Was there a protest that happened in your area that ended in arrests or violence? Call your mayor, register your displeasure. Call your DA, ask if anyone’s being charged. Call your city council member, ask them what legislation they’d support to end police violence. What do you know that you want them to know? Alternatively, was there a protest in your area that was really great and positive? Call these people; ask if they attended. If they did, offer support for them and say that you want them to follow up with actionable steps. If they didn’t, ask why. (BTW, it’s election season — look at the candidates, too! That state senator I mentioned earlier is retiring this year, and a pretty awesome Democrat is in a good position to get his seat; I’ve started volunteering for him in part because he’s got a history of agitating for police reform and has been regularly attending the protests here.) You can email, too; you’re welcome to c&p form emails, but once you have all these people’s contact info at your fingertips you’d be amazed how easy it’ll be to write something from you, that will be far more effective.

It’s also important to keep a record for yourself of who you’ve talked to, when you talked to them, what they said, if you want to follow up etc. I’ve got a little section of my planner for this; it has dates, names, topics, the works. It’s been really helpful to me over the past few weeks making sure I’m exerting pressure to a variety of people in a variety of positions, not just repeatedly calling one office and leaving the same message over and over again.

But if you really want to, as I put it on twitter, tighten the sphincter of local government, nothing beats face-to-face (or, these days, facetime-to-facetime). And here you’ve got a shitton of options. You can see if a particular politician/government office is taking virtual one-on-one meetings, where you can lobby either your politician or (more likely) one of their staffers to support legislation or policies or whatnot. This is, and I cannot stress it enough, HUGELY EFFECTIVE, especially if you are a demo they don’t often see (aka if you’re not a white Boomer). Local politicians are both desperate for and terrified of an engaged constituency; they want you to care but they’re very much aware that anyone showing up to an office (or a zoom meeting) could make their lives very, very difficult.

If one-on-one isn’t your style, there are also committee meetings, which... holy shit, you would not believe the number of committees there are. Committees for art festivals, committees for transportation, committees for public safety, committees for pretty much everything you can think of and a few I’ll bet you can’t. Noodle around on your councils’ and county’s websites, including their facebook page (nine times out of ten there will be more — and more up-to-date — info on the facebook page) to find out what committees meet when. And here is where your specific priorities will be important, because usually you can attend and in some cases even become part of these committees. Do you want to advocate for better public transportation? Find out when the transportation committee meets. Go to that meeting. If they have a Q&A, get some fuckin’ Qs ready and demand some fuckin’ As.

And then there’s the big kahunas of council meetings and state legislature sessions. Most city/town councils have a segment of their weekly/monthly meetings to hear from the public (this is different from a public hearing, FYI, although they too are really important and you should find out if there are any going on where you live and when). Do you have something you want to get in front of the whole council? Get your ass on the list! In Austin I think you had to call or email the council’s office by the day before; in my town you just roll up and get in line when it comes time. Then for state legislatures, often there will be specific bills on which they ask for “citizen input” or however else they describe it. This is less practical because we don’t all live in easy distance of our state capital, but if you do, consider getting involved there. (And right now with the pandemic, your state legislatures may have new rules about citizen participation that actually make it easier for you to get involved, for once.)

Mostly, though, this is about local involvement — find out who’s in control of your city, your county, your precinct and district and all the other ways your home is demarcated. Talk to these people, even if it makes you nervous; their power to make effective change comes with their responsibility to listen, and your power to make them listen comes with your responsibility to speak.

#you want your city to follow in camden and minneapolis's footsteps?#then CALL THEM UP #protesting sometimes works #advocating sometimes works #if you are only doing one of them that's fine #but doing both is more effective #and if what you want is change then you will want to be at your most effective #ergo this post #politics!

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hi Steph!

I’m sorry it’s my first time sending you an ask, so I dunno which button I clicked man. Sorry about that.

Ok, so what I wanted to request! I love your blog. You’re really kind and genuine, and I’ve found some great fics to light up my day from here. But sometimes, the posts are suuupppeeerr long, and I may not be looking for this info exactly? Like it clogs up a lot of my dash. So I wanted to request if you could use a “read more” feature after a brief, at least for the fic rec posts.

I hope I didn’t offend or anything. Thank u for all the kindness you put into the world each day. Have a good day fren!

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, okay, you’re not going to like what I am going to say, but you are very respectful and were smart and sandwiched your issue in compliments, so Ahhhh, I feel conflicted now.

With all due respect Nonny, this is my blog and I get more engagement on my lists if people can see the full list; many people prefer it that way, and honestly I get crapped on either way, so I’ve made the executive decision to not cut my posts. The only time I do is on “second” reblog on super long LONG lists so that I have a “cut” and “uncut” version of the post, but even those I’ve been reducing.

I’ve tried both ways, and full posts get better notice. All I want to do is share my love of fics and content with y’all, and the best way to do that is to just have it all there so people know what they’re getting.

Plus, am I to just “readmore” every single reply on my posts? A lot of the reason my blog has stayed as long as it has is because I’ve always been a very interactive blog. People LIKE seeing their replies added to a comment thread on my post, and it helps smaller blogs get noticed. It’s not much on the surface, but I’ve had smaller blogs come to me DELIGHTED that their name is now attached to one of my posts that are going through a “popular reblog cycle” (that is, a post that is being interacted with for a good few days before I actually finally add it to the month-reblog queue). It helps create a sense of community, I feel, and that’s one of the things I am very honoured to be: a starting place for community.

And this is just in a general sense and NOT directed at you, more at the people who shit on me in the notes of my long posts, but I don’t GET people getting upset about my TEXT BASED POST WITH NO IMAGES IN IT, but not on any of the image or playlist posts I reblog, which take FOREVER to load on mobile. I GENUINELY don’t get it. I don’t even use the app on my phone, I’m logged into the browser on my phone, because the app is garbage.

The problem is the app, in my opinion. That’s the gist of it. It loads slow, it scrolls terribly, and the UI is annoying, but instead app users blame the bloggers and not the fact that Tumblr staff ignore every suggestion we make. And because more of the newer people use their mobiles these days, us old-time Tumblr users are expected to microblog like the shitty sites that are Twitter or Facebook. Tumblr is a blogging platform, like LiveJournal, laid out all nicely and clean and honestly, (the royal you) you’re getting exactly what you signed up for: long posts, opinions, and interaction. If one wants shitty layouts, shitty comment threads you can’t follow and reactionaries, go to Twitter. Call me a boomer, whatever, I just find Tumblr so much more appealing now more than ever.

Sorry, I’ve needed to get this off my chest for awhile now. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being pedantic. I don’t care, really. My thoughts on this: if (the royal) you don’t like the content, or find stuff annoying, don’t follow me.

Because you know what a lot of my longest posts are? Helpline numbers at the bottom of posts. Useful links. And just stuff that make people happy. People in despair are not going to click on a read more of a post. People who want links to resources aren’t going to click on a read more. People who just want happiness after a stressful day are literally just scrolling to smile, and they ain’t gonna click a read more.

YES, there are reasons read mores are good, absolutely. I just PERSONALLY don’t like them because I like engagement. I don’t get much of it anymore on my posts, EXCEPT the fic rec posts, and THOSE work better as a full view.

BUT NONNY PLEASE KNOW I AM NOT UPSET AT ALL WITH YOU, and you’ve given me a great opportunity to discuss this thing that I’ve put off for awhile because the other people were less-than-kind, and it only made me NOT address it out of simple spite because I’m nothing if not a passive aggressive old lady.

So, here are a few ideas you can implement:

If you like my posts but not the longest ones, I always tag them “long post”. Tumblr finally has its own tag blocking feature, so just block “long post”. All of my very long lists will be blocked, and you can decide if you want to click on them based on what the additional tags are. I try my best to tag all my lists appropriately.

Similarly, you can “tag block” my username, and only click on the posts you like the tags for.

DON’T TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY, PLEASE, this isn’t a “so there!” comment, I promise!!: You can unfollow me if you’re only following me for the fic lists, and instead follow me on Twitter at @inevitablyjohn1, which is used only to promote my new lists and art. Every Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday I post up the Wednesday Reblog, Five Fics Friday, Fic Rec Roundup, and Fic Rec Sunday, with a link to each post :) Then you’ll get all the lovely full lists I post 4 times a week. OF COURSE, this is the option I don’t want to happen, because I love all my lovelies and you’ll miss out on the random fics, insightful asks, and suggestions I get throughout the week, BUT I want you to enjoy your time on Tumblr, and if my blog is causing you stress, it’s the last thing I want to happen. I love all of y’all too much to see that!

THAT ALL SAID, Nonny, I’m really sorry to disappoint you, and I hope you understand my POV on this. I just don’t see any benefit on my part, for MY blog, which I run for MY happiness which has the side effect of making other people happy. I also hope you will still stick around regardless, but I care about your well being and I understand if you have to leave.

AND everyone, please don’t be harsh on this Nonny! They asked a question respectfully and deserve our respect in kind.

I truly wish you the loveliest of days, Nonny, and have a great week! <3

#steph replies #my blog #blog things #tumblr things #ironically:#long post #Anonymous

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

Text

Whole Lotta Love

Synopsis: For some people, Valentine’s Day is another word for "stress", especially when you don't know what the other person is expecting. Several years into their relationship, Bucky’s pretty sure he has a good understanding of the Reader, until a word from Sam makes him question everything he thinks he knows. The race is on to make their first Valentine’s Day since saying their vows a special one, but as per usual, fate has it's own ideas about what will make the holiday truly memorable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Author's note: This fic contains references to earlier stories. For more information, click the series masterlist link. As always, the reader is unnamed so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I think of her as an OC.

The song referenced is Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran

Series Masterlist

A The Song Remains The Same Fic

---------‐-----------------------------------

“So, Valentine’s Day.”

Bucky doesn’t look up from his laptop (or more specifically, the field report he’s typing) at Sam’s words. Despite his concentration, he can tell that his partner is staring at him, boring holes into his back with his gaze.

“Uh-huh.” He’s listening, but so far, he doesn’t care.

“What are you doing for it?” For Valentine’s day? Um…

“Not much.” It’s a Tuesday this year, right? Then probably working, like most other people, he’d imagine.

The room is silent as he types, so Bucky assumes that settles the matter. That is, until Sam mutters a quiet, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“About what?” How many paragraphs does he have to type before he can pass this off as a full report? When he joined the Avengers, he thought the hardest part of his job would be the bad guy of the week, not doing paperwork!

“You’re really not doing anything for Valentine’s Day? Seriously?” He nods absentmindedly and clicks the save icon. He’ll finish this tomorrow. It’s five o’clock. Time to head home. Home to-

“What’s your wife gonna think about that?” He shrugs and cuts the power to the laptop.

“She thinks that the whole holiday is a rip-off. See you Monday?” He turns around for confirmation, only to catch Sam staring at him, mouth hanging wide open. “What?”

“A rip-off?” Is he just going to be stuck repeating himself?

“Yep.” Told him that the first February 14th they spent together.

“And you actually believed her?”

He nods. “She’s not one to lie.”

Sam nods incredulously. “Uh-huh. And are you planning to ever have sex again?”

He’s not going to dignify that with an answer (because really, isn’t it obvious?).

“Fine.” Sam shrugs. “You do you, man. All I’m saying is, if I had a wife who looked like that-” he indicates the lock screen of Bucky’s phone (a picture of her laughing, telling him to put away the damn camera after wrestling the dog for the tie to her favorite robe). “-I’d have my V-day plans set up a month in advance.”

Normally Bucky would take what Sam says with a grain of salt, but he is after all a man out of time, so maybe it’s worth considering that his partner may be right.

“What would you suggest I do?”

“Outside of the bedroom?” He narrows his eyes at the Falcon. “Okay, bad joke.” Sam scratches at the back of his head, thinking. “I don’t know, man. That’s your girl. You know her best, but flowers are always a good place to start.” Good to know that hasn’t changed since the 1940s. Although, last time he brought her flowers, she spent the afternoon sneezing until he eventually convinced her that it was okay, he wouldn’t be offended, she should throw the damn things out. Then again, that was before she was a super soldier.

“Flowers.” He repeats, earning a nod from Sam.

“You can get creative. Do a little research. But I’m just saying, when a woman waits five years for you to reappear, the least she deserves is a few flowers.” On that, they can agree.

He must bid Sam some sort of goodbye and make his way through the Avengers compound, but he’s unaware of anything until he’s in the parking lot, sitting behind the wheel of his car, googling “What to do for your wife on Valentine’s Day.” There’s a web page that boasts twenty different selections. Might as well give it a look.

___________________________________________________________________________________

She’s nearly home when her phone dings with a text from Barnes. “Just got in. Forgot to get milk. Can you swing by on your way, or should I go to the gas station and pick up a gallon?” A frown forms on her face. It’s pretty rare that Bucky forgets things. Must’ve been a hell of a day at work, then. Either that, or his brain has completely turned to mush thanks to typing out field reports. Either way-

“I got it. See you in twenty.” She thinks about tacking on a “love you”, but the light turns green before she can.

The grocery store is packed thanks to so many people getting off work. There’s only three carts left, all with bad wheels. She chooses the least squeaky option and, grabbing an add on her way, heads into the grocery store. Milk, and if she remembers right from this morning, they’re running dangerously low on coffee and tea. Despite caffeine having absolutely no effect on their enhanced bodies, both of them are nightmares to be around in the mornings without their beverages of choice. Force of habit and all.

She’s halfway to the checkout when she sees it. A sign, decorated in garish shades of red, pink, and purple. “All Valentine’s Day chocolates 10% off.” Shit. Yeah, that is coming up. To tell the truth, she’d completely forgot all about that day halfway through February. For most of her life, it only meant giving homemade cards at school when most kids had store-bought. Then, once she reached adulthood, it was a reminder that she was destined to be alone. Who would want someone who’s on the run, and what’s more, sees the future? Once she and Barnes got together, it didn’t change much. That first Valentine’s Day, he mentioned the holiday, and she shut it down immediately. They were both broke (or at least, he had no legitimate way of making money while she was broke), and celebrating a mostly commercial holiday seemed like a waste. Plus, she didn’t want to put a strain on a new relationship. Over the years, the subject never came up again, and she’s content for it to stay a non-starter, thank you very much. In her opinion, you should show your partner you love them every day of the year, not shoe-horn it into one twenty-four hour period. Call her unromantic if you must.

She’s completely immune to the various displays of cheap chocolate in heart-shaped boxes and overly sentimental cards as she approaches the register and starts to unload her items. Milk. Tea. That one specific brand of coffee that he likes because, “It tastes like what we drank in basic training. Terrible, but I kinda got used to it, so now everything else tastes like it’s trying too hard.” whatever that means. He’s right; she’s tasted it, and it’s fucking awful. Still, every morning, he drinks at least three cups while she drains her pot of tea.

“You got a hot date for Valentine’s Day, hun?” The cashier asks her, never breaking her rhythm as she rings up the items.

She chuckles. “As a matter of fact, yes.” The cashier’s eye go wide, and she holds up her left hand. “And every other day.”

“Ooh, nice. How long have you been together?”

“Nine years.” Wait… “Or four years, depending on which of us you ask. He blipped, I stayed.”

The cashier nods. “So are you older than him now?”

Physically? They’re not completely sure, but if you calculate the times he was off the ice with HYDRA and add that to the age he was before the serum, then they’re not far off. But chronologically- “No, he’s still older.” And yes, it will always be funny that Sam responds with “Okay, boomer” whenever Bucky makes an outdated reference (even if he’s off by a good twenty years).

With a little more light chatter, she pays for her items and leaves. Now, for home.

As soon as she opens the front door, she’s greeted by their dog, Sarge, barking excitedly and hopping around like he’s on a trampoline despite missing a leg. Bucky’s not far behind, placing a quick peck on her forehead before taking the bags from her and unloading them in the kitchen. Tonight’s his night to cook, but unless her nose has suddenly decided to give out, he hasn’t started dinner yet. She doesn’t mind taking over tonight, and when he sheepishly apologizes while she begins her preparations, she brushes it off. Although, for the second time in an hour, she’s seen proof of his unusual absentmindedness. Oh well. She’ll ask him about it later.

Despite being relieved from tonight’s chef duties, Bucky stays in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar scrolling through his phone as she cooks. His expression is neutral, which can mean one of two things; a) he’s just killing time and there aren’t any interesting posts or articles vying for his attention, or at the opposite end of the spectrum, b) he’s deep in thought, possibly angry, sad, or even frightened, but he’s gone into Winter Soldier mode and shut down so that she won’t pick up on his mood. Damn the man and his poker face.

Eventually dinner is served and she sends him off toward the fridge in search of two beers while she serves their plates. Just as she’s spooning a generous helping of salad into her bowl, it happens. A vision, but a limited one. All she’s seeing is a phone. Well, that and the hand holding it. She’s not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed that she immediately recognizes the hand as Bucky’s, but that goes by the wayside as she takes in the article he’s reading. “Should you do something for Valentine’s Day even is she says no?” It’s a thread on some anonymous discussion board. The reply that has his attention is in reference to a now divorced individual who “was dumb enough to believe that, on our first V-Day as a married couple, she didn’t want anything.” Oh boy. Not good. This will be their first Valentine’s Day since exchanging vows, and if the fact that he’s read this reply (if not already read, will read soon) means that it’s at least crossed his radar that she might be feeding him bullshit. That’s not the case, but after his research, she knows from experience that no matter how much she tries to convince him otherwise, a small part of his mind will be stuck on, “But what if this is a big deal?” Which means-

“Doll, are you just gonna stand there with the salad tongs in your hand?” That snaps her out of it.

“No. Just a vision.” He frowns as she passes him his plate.

“Anything important happen?” Should she say?

“No.” She’s not sure if the smile or not, so she takes a bite from her roll to cover it. “Random sneak peek.” It’s not a lie. What she saw really isn’t important. Still, if he’s in that mindset, she should probably go on and do something for him just in case. After all, why should it only be the ladies who reap this holiday’s benefits?

___________________________________________________________________________________

Not flowers. That’s the one thing that, after copious amounts of research Bucky is one hundred percent certain about. They may still be a common romantic gift, but since they were also a go-to back when he was courting girls in the 1940s, it’s safe to say they’ve been overdone. Plus, he doesn’t really want to remind her of that time she had such a severe allergic reaction to the flowers he picked her on a walk through the park in Bucharest that her eyes nearly swelled shut and she sneezed herself sick. That doesn’t exactly seem like prime romance.

Chocolates or other candies have the same issues as flowers. Contrived and predictable. A bottle of wine is nice, but neither of them can so much as get mildly tipsy thanks to the super serum. The fourteenth is his day to cook, so he guesses he could do some reading and try to create something a little more special than spaghetti (he thought about going to a nice restaurant for dinner, but there’s a few issues with that, not the least of which is they’re likely to be recognized without their disguises, and he’d rather not look at his wife through sunglasses on Valentine’s day), but that seems a little underwhelming.

As he loads the dishwasher (she fell asleep half-way through the third episode of whichever nonsensical comedy they’re watching this week, so he sneaked back downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes), he thinks back to the dozen separate articles he read on the subject of Valentine’s Day gifts. Jewelry was a common theme, but that’s out. She’ll say thank you to his face, but worry about the cost behind his back. Plus, he has absolutely no idea what she’d like, and there’s no sense in purchasing something only for her to hate it.

Another common one was lingerie. Bucky almost choked on his tongue when he saw some of the examples given with that option. None of it looked comfortable (in fact, he’s still scratching his head about how you even put on one of the pieces that popped up on the web page) and he doesn’t want to give her the impression that she has to dress up for him. Even putting all that aside, he has no idea what size she’d even wear. He likes to think that he knows his wife pretty well, but somehow, in all their years together, it never occurred to him to ask her for her clothing sizes. That, and have you even seen the bra sizing system? Does it make sense to anyone, because to Bucky, it’s all gibberish. 32 B? 36 DD? What the hell? Somehow, when HYDRA was training him to extract information, they failed to go over the translation of a woman’s bra size. He supposes he could ask, but he’s not sure there’s a non-suspicious way to work, “Hey, sweetheart. What size are your breasts?” into casual conversation.

Sam said to get creative, so he tried to think outside the box. What’s something she really needs? A new vacuum cleaner is the first thing to come to mind, but he’s not stupid enough to think that would make a good gift. He knows she’s had her eye on a set of throwing stars, but that doesn’t seem to correlate well with what this holiday is all about. That’ll keep until her birthday.

He’s still wracking his brain for anything at all that might work when he feels a wet nose poking at his hand. Sarge. “Hey, boy. Has your mom gone to bed?” The response is a quiet “woof” and lick to his palm. He scratches the mutt behind the ears, smiling to himself as Sarge’s back leg thumps at the treatment.

“What do you think we should get our girl? Huh?” There’s no reply (of course not, he’s talking to a dog), but he nods, pretending all the same that Sarge has offered up a suggestion. “A bone. Yeah, somehow I don’t think that’s her thing. Try again.” The dog blinks at him lazily. “No, you’re the one who wants new tennis balls. Not Mom. Although you’re right about her liking peanut butter.” At this rate, he might as well get her a bone and some tennis balls, because he’s sure not coming up with any ideas.

She likes music. The thought pops into his head while he’s brushing his teeth. All sorts of music. Over the years, he’s tried to make sense of the songs he’s heard her listen to, but has yet to find a discernible pattern in her listening habits. She doesn’t seem to stick to just one genre or era. More like she picks songs by how they relate to what she’s feeling at the moment. Wait a second-

“A mixtape.” His reflection mouths the words back at him. Despite technology having moved on from the days of burning CDs, she still has a thick stack of the disks stored in a cabinet and plays them on the regular. He’s even seen a few that she made herself, pasting together the songs she likes to make a “Cleaning mix”, “Workout Mix” and “Pissed off Mix”. Bucky’s sure he could figure out how to burn a CD, but it’s not like she’d be able to listen to that everywhere she went. That leaves a playlist. She uses one of those apps to listen to music on her phone, right? Surely he can put something together for her using that.

Quietly, he climbs into bed next to his sleeping wife and pulls her back against his chest, slinging one arm over her waist as usual. He closes his eyes, but his mind is alight with activity. A playlist. Of course. He’ll put some extra effort into whatever he cooks that night, stop by a bakery and pick up some sweet treats for dessert. Hell, maybe they’ll both dress up and act like they’re on a date. Then, once they’re sitting down to their meal, he’ll pull out his phone and hit play. It’s perfect. At least, he hopes it is.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Putting on a lacy bra and panties set underneath her regular work attire seemed like a brilliant idea this morning. Today’s a short day; she’s only got three classes to teach, and Rhodey called last night to tell Bucky that he’s suspending work hours at three pm “Since most people have holiday preparations to make.” Her plan was to be waiting on the sofa in the living room when he arrives home, professional button-down blouse open just enough for him to get a good look at what’s underneath, pencil skirt pushed up enough to reveal the stockings and garters she’s donned for the occasion. It’s fun, with just enough cheesiness to match this whole holiday. And, well, it’s a guarantee that by the end of the night they’ll be in bed together, both rumpled, sweaty, and satisfied. Perfect, right?

Wrong. On her drive to work, her skimpy underwear began to ride up, giving her a wedgie, and there was no way to adjust without running the risk of wrecking. She was so distracted by her discomfort that she missed her exit, and by the time she arrived at the college, she was running so behind that she didn’t get the chance to run to the bathroom and readjust. Her lecture on sentence diagrams was pure torture before the underwire from her bra decided to join in the fun and poke her directly in the ribs, but with that addition, she was especially impatient with her students’ tendency to joke around a little too much in class.

Luckily, she had just enough time to wrap the exposed metal bit in tissues before her next class, which eliminated the pain in her chest, but did nothing to alleviate the discomfort once her stockings began to slide down, having at some point disconnected themselves from the garters. She taught like that for the next two classes, but as soon as they were over, she pealed the whole ensemble off in the teacher’s restroom and changed into her gym clothes. Alright, screw the whole seduction routine. She needs to blow off some steam and fast, or else she’ll be in a bad mood all night.

That’s why, thirty minutes later, she finds herself in the training room of the Avengers compound, working over a punching bag. “Fuck-” Her fist connects, making the bag swing crazily from it’s hook. “-this- whole- day!” It goes sailing, and she feels a little better.

“Ouch!” The voice comes from behind her and she whirls around, gaze resting on-

“Sam.” The man in question holds up his hands in an “I surrender” gesture.

“Don’t shoot! I come in peace.” Rolling her eyes, she holds up her middle finger, receiving a snicker in acknowledgment.

“Just working off a little frustration before I head home.”

“Good.” Sam chuckles. “’cause otherwise, I’d be worried that when Barnes pulls out his dick tonight, you’ll bite it off.” She thinks about telling him that there’s no chance of that, but she might just cut off his if he crosses her. However, that jogs her memory.

“Has he left yet?” Sam nods.

“About an hour ago. Said he had to pick up groceries.” Shit. There goes her plan to shower, throw the damn lingerie back on and proceed as planned.

Bidding Sam a hasty reply, she makes tracks towards her car and, once inside, heads for home. Fine. New plan. She’ll shower once she arrives and then when the evening is drawing to a close, wait for him in bed. Nodding to herself, she puts the car in park and climbs out. Now, to psych herself up enough in the next few hours to put the damn lingerie back on.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Where did he go wrong? It takes all of Bucky’s self control not to spit out the spoonful of sauce he just tasted. This was supposed to be an easy recipe for Chicken Alfredo (or at least, that’s what the website boasted; he should’ve known better than to get his information from the internet and stuck to a good old-fashioned cookbook from the library). Not… whatever the hell this is. Maybe even if the sauce is nauseating, the chicken is okay?

He pulls open the oven door, and immediately smoke billows out, making his eyes water. Okay, chicken’s a little well-done. Who is he kidding? Black. The chicken is burned black. And the pasta… he lifts the pot lid and stirs, only to come to the realization that the pasta is completely stuck to the bottom of the pot. Wonderful.

It’s inevitable; over the years, he’s had his fair share of cooking disasters, but usually he does okay. Tonight though… who the hell up there did he piss off, because the only explanation for how badly this is going is his karma coming due.

Still holding the offending spoon, he looks over at Sarge, who’s staring at him, long pink tongue sticking out as he pants. “Trust me, boy. You don’t want any of this.” There has to be something else he can pull together on short notice. Normally he’d be worried that she’s running late without so much as a text, but today he’s relieved. At least if she’s running behind he’ll have time to… what? Maybe order takeout? Before she gets-

“I’m home.” Shit.

Sarge yips, shaking with excitement, and starts towards the kitchen door, then turns back, uncertain. “Go on. I know you’re dying to jump on her and lick her face.” Something they really should be training out of him because he’s getting too big for that sort of behaviour but, well… there’s a reason they call them “puppy dog eyes.”

Not needing to be coaxed, the dog takes off, tripping a little in the momentary lapse in his memory that he’s a tripod, but easily catches himself and goes on his merry way, leaving Bucky to clean up his mess. From the sound of things, a game of fetch is going on in the living room, so she should be distracted for a while.

He manages to pour the sauce down the drain and scrape most of the pasta into the trash while Sarge is acting as a decoy, but there’s absolutely no way he can dispose of the chicken without tipping her off (damn enhanced senses, it’s a wonder she hasn’t already smelled it). Finally, he decides to just go for it. She’s going to notice whether he throws it out now or two hours from now. Might as well get a head start on cleaning.

Sure enough, not ten seconds after he empties out the oven, he catches a movement in his peripheral vision, and the familiar sound of her breathing tips him off that he’s no longer alone.

“Hey, Doll.”

“Hey, Bucky. Did something burn in here, or-” He holds up the pan for her inspection before continuing his scraping.

“That’s one way to put it, yeah.” He slams the lid back on the trashcan and turns on the tap, intent on rinsing out the pan. “Another is whoever the god of culinary arts is has it in for me today.”

She chuckles. “You know, that would be funnier if we didn’t actually know a god.”

“Yeah, but he’s in control of thunder.” He meets her eyes, smirking slightly. “Although it did look like I electrocuted the bird.” Her lips quirk up into a smile, and he takes the opportunity to kiss her, cupping the back of her head gently to hold her in place when she tries to move away, muttering something about being sweaty.

He’s not entirely sure how it happened, but by the time they come up for air, her back his pressed against the wall and he’s got her pinned in place. Not that he’s complaining.

“Anyone ever tell you that the tip of your nose turns pink after you’ve been kissed?’ Her cheeks go rosey in response.

“I think so. One guy did. I told him it’s only when I’m kissed properly.”

He really would like to continue the playful banter, but there’s still the small matter of whatever it is they’re going to eat.

“What do you feel like for dinner tonight?”

“Apart from electrocuted chicken?” He responds with a swat to her ass, which earns him a snicker. “Let’s keep it simple. Pizza. Your choice of toppings.” Right, that’s easy enough. Plus, if they have to wait longer than thirty minutes, it’s free.

“Okay. I’ll order while you shower?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He’s just pulled up the menu on his phone when the sound of her clearing her throat attracts his attention. She’s standing in the doorway, combing through her freshly let down hair with her fingers, a playful look in her eyes.

“Or you could join me. Just a mild suggestion.”

Dinner can wait for a while.

___________________________________________________________________________________

The Brooklyn townhouse they live in has many nice features. There’s a functional if small screened in back porch, big enough to hold a table for two and a grill. Two bedrooms, on the off chance someone from work needs to crash for a night or two. A kitchen with a dishwasher. A working fireplace. Good closet space. And an en suite bathroom.

Maybe it’s a little ridiculous to call a bathroom luxurious, especially when, in comparison to what’s featured in many brownstones, it’s more than modest, but she can’t help but think of it as such. There’s a double sink so that in the morning rush to get ready, Bucky’s able to shave and brush his teeth without having to wait for her to finish applying her makeup. Shelving above the toilet makes certain that even if the last person to shower took the towel with them, another one is on hand. Speaking of the shower, it’s not the largest one in the world, but both of them can fit in comfortably at the same time, which is what’s lead to their current situation.

She’s just finished allowing the water to course over her body, easing the sweat from her skin, and is about to begin the process of washing her hair, scrubbing her body, but she hesitates. She might as well ask. It’s only practical after all.

“Do you want to start now or get cleaned up and have dinner beforehand?” It’s obvious what she’s referring to, so she doesn’t bother to spell it out.

His brown knits, and if she didn’t know him as… intimately… as she does, she’d actually believe he’s confused.

“Oh, so you’re just assuming there’s gonna be sex involved at some point tonight?”

She shrugs, wringing out her hair.

“Seemed like a safe enough bet.” She glances pointedly between the two of them. “After all, we’re already undressed. “

His laugh is a quiet huff, barely discernible over the sound of the water. “Then I’d say start now, have dinner, then go for round two. Sound about right to you?”

She nods. “Solid plan.”

“Then get over here.”

Unlike the welcome home kiss they shared not half an hour ago, this one is less tender, more electric. Hands twist in hair, bodies press together. Tongues begging for entrance quickly give way to teeth nipping at bottom lips, an unspoken sparring match for who’ll be in control this time around. Ultimately he wins, grasping her hips and lifting as she wraps her legs securely around his back.

There’s no need for prep; the teasing of their earlier words is foreplay enough. Back pressed against the wall, her body easily welcomes him in as she braces one arm against the glass shower doors for balance. Any concerns about slipping and falling wash away as they move together like so many times before. She’s sure her nails will leave marks on his back, fingertips digging in for purchase and it’s a guarantee her hips will be littered with fingerprints from his grip, but she can’t find it in her to care, and if the desperate, bruising kiss assaulting her lips is anything to judge from, neither can he.

“So damn good, Doll.” It’s panted against her neck. “Always. So damn perfect for me.” All she can manage is a moan in response.

She feels him twitch inside of her and knows he’s close. So is she, but she can’t quite get there without-

As if he’s read her mind, he reaches between them to touch her where she needs it most, and on instinct, she readjusts, locking her arm around his neck to stay in place. “Let go, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” She couldn’t disobey if she wanted to.

“Fuck.” As her walls contract around him, he pulls out just in time to paint her middle with his release.

“That’s one word for it.” She’s still fighting to catch her breath, but she shoots him a shaky smirk, which he returns.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mrs. Barnes.” Snickering, she releases him to stand on unsteady legs and pecks his legs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Barnes.” Maybe there’s something to this holiday after all.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“You want the last slice?” Bucky considers it for a moment before deciding-

“Nah. You can have it.” It may not be exactly what he planned, but it’s been a good night. Between the two of them, they’ve gone through two large pizzas while watching the new version of Beauty and the Beast (she rolled her eyes when he asked if this was her way of saying he reminds her of a certain hairy, horned character) in their pajamas.

“No, really. You take it. I don’t want it.” She nudges the mostly-empty pizza box towards him. The noise makes Sarge lift his head from where he was snoozing beside her on the sofa. That gives him an idea.

“I don’t want it either, but I can think of someone who does.” He cocks his head towards the now-drooling dog. “How ‘bout it, boy? Wanna help us out?”

Snickering, she picks the pepperonis and pieces of sausage and ham from the pizza, forming a pile. “Here, Sarge. Catch.” She tosses a coveted treat in the air, and Sarge’s jaw snaps, swallowing it whole. “Good boy.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.

“You know, I actually did have something planned for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She nods.

“Absolutely. Had a whole seduction plan laid out. Tiny underwear, lacy bra, and stockings with garters included.” Huh. Guess she wouldn’t have taken the “lingerie” option the wrong way. He’ll file that away for future use… along with a mental note to ask her bra size. “That is, until I tried wearing the damn things for longer than an hour. Turns out, hiding a dirty secret under your clothes is more itchy than sexy.”

He can’t help it. He laughs, producing a pout from her which quickly turns into her own quiet laughter.

“Well, that fits in perfectly with my fancy dinner going up in smoke.”

“We really do have shitty luck with the whole “romance” thing.” She’s joking, but he decides to respond anyway.

“I don’t know about that.” Entwining his fingers with hers, he lifts their hands, twin wedding bands catching the light. “You waited five years for me to reappear after the blip, and I convinced you to elope with me. Seems pretty romantic.” Although, that reminds him…

“Don’t move.” Releasing her hand, he stands and goes in search of his phone.

“Bucky, what-”

“Don’t move, Doll. Stay right where you are.” Ah. On the kitchen counter, just where he left it. Jogging back into the room, he resumes his place on the couch next to her. Ignoring her questioning gaze, he pulls up the app and, selecting the correct playlist, hits play.

Immediate recognition blooms on her face at the opening lyrics. “She is the sweetest thing that I know. Should see the way she holds me when the lights go low.” He’s not one for modern music, but when he was googling “songs for Valentine’s Day” and this one popped up, he couldn’t help but think that the lyrics were fitting.

“I didn’t know you’d heard this one.”

He chuckles. “Even old men have a few tricks up their sleeves. That, and a wifi connection.” She rolls her eyes but leans closer, which he takes advantage of to show her the playlist.

“This is the app you use, right?” Receiving a nod, he continues. “Feel free to scroll through and add whatever you want. I haven’t listened to all of them the whole way through, but they seemed to fit the mood.”

Her hand closes over his, covering the phone. “Thank you, Bucky. It’s perfect.”

As the singer goes on about how hearts don’t break around here, he presses his lips against hers.

“I love you, Doll.”

“Love you.”

Not bad for a disastrous Valentine’s Day. Not bad at all.

#marvel #the avengers #bucky fanfic #bucky x original female character #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky barnes smut #smut #fluff

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bre-meister · 3 years

Text

Baby gates

Some cute fluff to start the new year off right ( Domestic Greens featuring Robin/Mike)

The Believes were very close with the Jojos (all three sets of them). Playdates between their children most often turned into the children playing in one room while whichever parents were present talked in another room.

Which, was how Robin and Mike Believe found themselves sitting in Buttercup and Butch Jojo’s kitchen sharing drinks as their boys played video games in the adjacent living room.

The conversation between them was pleasant and flowed easily. Occasionally a scream or enthused battle cry floated in from where the boys had situated themselves in front of the television - Buttercup always said that’s how they knew things were going well. With any child, especially Bruce Jojo, rambunctious noise was always welcome but silence never boded well.

Eventually, Buttercup’s attention was caught by a little figure making her way towards the oven, probably enticed by the sweet smell they were giving off.

“Butch!” she directed her husband’s attention towards their toddler.

He swooped in managing to pick her up right before her hand closed around the handle. Not for the first time, Buttercup found herself sighing in relief while wishing that their oven was a bit higher up like the one in her childhood home.

Robin also let out a breath she hadn’t been holding. It took her a moment to realize what had happened - her eyesight and general reflexes not being as fast as those of her superpowered friends. However, as soon as she saw Butch holding little Butterfly while standing near the stove well, it didn’t take the intellect of Blossom or Brick to put two and two together.

“What do you think you’re doing, baby girl?” Butch asked his daughter while playfully bouncing her on his hip.

Buttercup recognized it as a gimmick he used to easily direct their daughter’s attention away from something and on to him. She had to admit it came in handy too often with their curious girl.

Butterfly giggled, reaching out to pull on her dad’s hair.

“Dada” she giggled.

Butch blew a raspberry on her cheek as he carried her out of the kitchen, Butterfly’s cute baby squeals continuing to pervade the air as they went.

“That was close.” Mike interrupted the silence.

“Have you guys tried putting up some baby gates? They helped me and Mikey a lot with Noah when he started to get more mobile. And I know you said that Butterfly is a lot more adventurous than her brother was.”

Buttercup took a moment to consider how to respond to her friend’s suggestion. It was good advice, just not necessarily for a baby with superpowers.

“Well we used to have a few around the house - by the top of the stairs, the kitchen, ya know typical places babies shouldn’t be. Then Bruce broke two of them with his super strength. So the professor made us some super proof gates out of some special alloy or whatever that Bruce shouldn’t have been able to break.” Buttercup explained although her attention was mainly on trying to separate the sounds of Butch and her daughter than from those of Noah and Bruce.

“Shouldn’t have? Did he break them again?” Robin’s brow arched in confusion as she asked her question.

“No. He really couldn’t. And trust me, the boy tried. Unfortunately, he discovered he could just fly over them.” Butch said, returning from depositing Butterfly back on her play mat with some of her toys.

“Oh.” Mike’s tone reflected that of a normie who’d just realized that superpowers negated most of the effects of baby proofing.

Well, Buttercup had to admit that even as supers, she and her Chemical X powered family members had also been there at one point or another.

“Yeah. Little Bruce saw Butch float over one and decided that he wanted to be just like Daddy. So we kinda just gave up on them.” Buttercup’s tone was dripping with sarcasm and Butch didn’t miss the hard look that was sent his way.

“So,” she continued, still glaring at the man next to her, “we gave them to Bloss and Brick who have had a considerable more amount of success than we had with them. Maybe because Brick has a brain.” the last part was said quiet enough that only Butch would have been able to hear.

“Hey, I’ve apologized a hundred times! How was I supposed to know he would try to copy me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he follows you around like a shadow?” Buttercup emphasized, “Especially at that point in time.”

All Butch could do was raise his hands in surrender and he pitifully offered,

“...I’m sorry?”

The apology was only met with silence.

“One hundred and one and still no success,” Butch mumbled under his breath.

“Try ice cream and chocolates, that’s what I do with Rob.” Mike leaned over closer to Buth as if he were sharing the secret to world peace.

“I did, that’s what lead to apology twenty five through thirty.”

“Oof, that bad huh?” He patted his green-eyed friend’s shoulder in support.

“Keep going Mike and you’ll have something to apologize for soon,” Robin interjected, arms coming up to fold across her chest. She was not amused.

“How about we stop by that’s Ice cream parlor you like downtown on our way home?”

“Hmm,” her tone said she wasn’t impressed but her body language conveyed the opposite.

Mike was in the clear...for now.

“Anyway, I still fail to see why we needed baby gates in the first place. Our kids are literally bulletproof! A tumble down the stairs isn’t gonna hurt ‘em! Hell, Boomer fell down a flight of stairs at least once a week when we were kids.” Butch steered the conversation back to him trying to defend himself.

“You want our kids to be like Boomer?” Buttercup deadpanned, turning in her chair to face her husband dead on.

Butch’s face screwed up in thought as he thought it over. After a few moments, he visibly deflated before admitting that Buttercup had a point.

“Touché” he ground out.

“I’m genuinely surprised you know what that means.” Mike teased.

Buttercup and Robin chimed in with their agreement. Butch simply shrugged, seemingly over his earlier point being deflected. He carried on, ignoring his friend’s usual teasing.

“Hang around Brick long enough and you pick some things up.” was his simple response.

“Sure. Although, I suppose you do make a good point - I did get into a fair amount of...scuffles at a young age.”

The aptly names toughest fighter, sat back as she thought over several of her more brutal battles when she was merely the age of five. Bruises, cuts, and burns didn’t mean that much when the ‘X in her veins had them healed within minutes. Although, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try to keep her kids away from the pain that was still associated with those types of things.

“ And you certainly turned out well,” Butch reached out until he could touch Buttercup.

Wrapping his hand around her wrist he pulled until she, a little reluctantly moved. Now that she was sitting in his lap as he wanted, he continued,

“The most beautiful ray of sunshine in the whole world and I’m lucky enough to call her mine.”

“Aww.” Robin’s reaction to the green’s antics was much sweeter than her husband’s barely constrained,

“Yuck.”

“Was that apology one o two?” Buttercup asked, trying and failing to contain her smile.

“Did it work?” Butch’s face was hopeful as he awaited his verdict.

“Hmm...I suppose you’re forgiven. Now, get your slimy, snail self off me ya big lug, we still have company,” Buttercup tried to get up but was held down in Butch’s grip for a bit longer.

“I haven’t gotten my ‘you’ve been forgiven but don’t do it again’ kiss yet.”

Butch stuck his face up, comically nuzzling her cheek with his nose and making juvenile kissy noises. Buttercup laughed but still indulged her husband. Their lips met in a cute, chaste kiss that Butch would be the first to admit he’d wished lasted just a bit longer. But, he supposed that wasn’t something he wanted to start considering he was in no position to finish it - kids and company and all that.

“How many times has this kind of stuff happened that you have a name for it?” Mike inquired, a little confused.

“...too many” Buttercup supplied flatly, no longer trying to wiggle out of her husband’s arms and instead, settling in with her back to his chest.

Their friends didn’t seem to mind as they laughed. Eventually, Buttercup joined in. To anyone on the outside, Butch would have seemed annoyed as he mumbled incoherently as the three continued to laugh at his expense but those that truly knew him would have noticed the small smile as it inched up his face. A clear indication that he was enjoying himself, here amongst his friends even if he was the but of the joke. And for ruining a baby gate of all things!

Meh, he thought, they were annoying anyway. This is much more fun.

#PPG #ppg greens #ppg fanfic #ppg buttercup #ppg butch #robin/mike #My writing #cute domestic fluff

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seedfamilysimps · 3 years

Text

Impartial Judgement

Welp, I did it, I completed the prologue of this *gestures erratically* If you wanna know more about my Oc Brooklyn Reid, here's her little story. Pre- New Dawn, Post-Ending of Far Cry 5. Also actual Dialogue from game spoilers.

CW: Normal Far Cry 5 content matter, nothing NSFW...yet.

Brooklyn x Joseph

“Forgive them Father, they know not what they do.” Brooklyn Reid looked down on a scarred, battered and bruised man, not all that many years ahead of herself, and felt nothing. Sure, she was sore, and angry, and still reeling from the effects of the bliss on her already addled mind, but she thought she would feel something. Anything, at all really. Looking down at Joseph Seed, she didn’t want to smash his face in with her boot, or cry about the amount of bodies tacked to his name. All she could think about was Jess’ words, about how it was all she could think about, killing the Cook but after he was dead, she didn’t feel better. Would killing Joseph really make her feel better?

Brook didn’t really have time to think about that too much, or about the prospect of killing him and ending it here and now, before the Sheriff was hauling him up by the shoulder.The Father never broke eye-contact with what felt like God himself, staring up into the heaven’s with his radiant and broken gaze.

"When the Lamb opened the seventh seal… there was silence in Heaven… and the seven angels before God were given seven trumpets..”

The only sound she could register was the Prophet’s voice. The ground rumbled with every booming word he spoke. The hairs on her arms and neck rose with the warm breeze. “And there were noises, thundering's, lightning's, and an earthquake… and I heard a great voice from the temple say to the angels”

There was a bright light in the distance, and she briefly wondered if the sun had suddenly grown closer, or if she had been caught unaware by a grenade thrown by a Peggie that was hanging back. “… go your ways… and pour from the vials, the wrath of God upon the Earth." It is finished child." Joseph was looking right at her, but almost everyone had scattered, she only barely registered being screamed at to get in the truck as the Sheriff hauled Joseph forward like a scolded child. Now, awareness suddenly thrust into her chest as she slammed her foot against the gas pedal. Eyes focused solely ahead, hardly registering the screaming and fighting behind her. All she could focus on were the trees dropping like flies, and the animals scrambling from their woodland hiding spots to she hoped; safety. The next voice she could register was Dutch’s, he was frantic and she couldn’t parse the details much past, ‘Get to the bunker’. Brook drove what felt like forever, until right as she was about to turn a familiar four legged figure jumped from the dust, “We don’t have time!” Came Pratt’s scream from the back of the cabin.

Brooklyn didn’t respond; she was not leaving her best friend behind, the brakes screeching to a halt as Hudson opened up the door, Boomer was trained better than to waste any time, jumping in and licking Hudson’s face rapidly. “I’m not leaving him! “ Cramming himself between her and the so-called-but-might-have-actually-had-a-point Prophet, growling low but not attacking him. Joseph seemed to be contemplating something as he recoiled from the dog.but Brook couldn’t think of much past ‘We’re going to fucking die! And it’s Joseph Fucking Seed’s fault!” The Deputy continued their speeding exit, the bunker drawing ever closer, “We’re gonna make it! Holy shit! Dep! Watch Ou-” Then the sound of screeching metal was the last thing she could hear, even louder than that though, feeling as though it may have been in her mind to begin with, a crooning hum. ‘He has the voice of an angel..’

Then as darkness consumed her she heard nothing.

#oc:brooklyn reid #fc 5 #far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #Boomer #x: Judgement #fanfic #my fic #mine

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vacation-grif · 3 years

Note

What kinda feelings?

A LOT, ACTUALLY. Like I said before, the RTNY group was telling me to skip it because it wasn’t a good season, and I want to express how much I wanted to just form my own opinion, only to end up agreeing with them in the end. Let me break this down as best as I can now that I am on my PC. I mean no disrespect to the director and writer, as well as the cast and crew. Honestly, I’m worried that my opinion makes me feel like a boomer at this point.

First off, if anyone was going to tell me that I’m going to have headaches over bright flashing lights and colors over a Red vs Blue series, I wouldn’t have believed you. As I said before, they should’ve just called this “Red vs Blue: Epilepsy Warning THE M0VIE”. I understand that they are using the Unreal Engine, because my god the graphics on this is INSANE. But everything is...too bright. TOO. BRIGHT. Everything has a lens flare no matter where the camera turns, and with the high paced action, all the lights and colors, it HURTS.

Next, this is a fully CG-animated season. We haven’t had one like that in SUCH a long time, and this is the first in the 20-ish years of Red vs BLue. When I was a kid who didn’t have a cellphone, I could only imagine what Red vs Blue was like when my best friend would play it over our landline on a weeknight before we would go to school the next day. And I would come over and be like, HOLY SHIT. IS THIS FUCKING HALO?! So imagine my excitement when after 8 years of Red vs Blue using Halo 1 to Halo 3 assets, you see a Warthog just crash through the walls of Valhalla, something you’d never see in a Halo game. A fully animated scene of Grif running over Washington (hell yeah), and an angry Washington outside of his game model just climbing onto the hood of the car and shooting at Grif through the windshield at pointblank range. Then cut to episode 10 of the same season, Tex makes her triumphant return, fully animated instead of her Halo 3 game model. And in the last two episodes of the season, you get OUR VERY FIRST FREELANCER VS FREELANCER FIGHT. You find out this was the work of the late Monty Oum (rest in peace), and until Season 10, Red vs Blue was THE HIGHEST POINT OF YOUR FUCKING LIFE.

Then we go to Season 12 where the animation post Oum (he was working on RWBY at this point but iirc this was just before he died) was choppy at best and didn’t feel right until Season 13, where within the one year the animation team REALLY stepped up. And this actually carries over into Season 17, Singularity, where it became more animation and less game effects, or rather it was balanced. It wasn’t extravegant like Oum’s works, but given that these are the Simtroopers, some Freelancers, some Mercs, and time gods, it felt par for the course. It felt right.

We cut now to these upgraded graphics, which felt like when you were playing on your Xbox 360 and you jsut FUCKING SHOT into the Xbox One. It was, as you would say, unreal (lol). But it felt...off. The first two episodes, the entire action didn’t feel like what you spent 16 seasons watching. It felt like a whole another beast entirely. With the use of super powers, you would think oh the Freelancers had that! Yes, but those were all suit enhancements. These...didn’t feel like it. Zero’s and Phase’s teleportation didn’t feel like something that Fragmented AI can control. Shatter Squad’s at least felt more at home.

The models themselves were a bit off too. Choppy at best, but understandable given that they were using the Unreal Engine. But you notice that they do a lot of hand on hip pushed out to the side type of thing a lot? Everyone does it. Except Raymond, West, and the big dude. Like the SASSY STANCE. Also, there was way too much power stance. Where if your feet were shoulder width apart, it was a bit wider, and also the pelvis was out a little more. A bit weird. Finally, everyone has an ass. Everyone. Even West. West has an ass, it was like, everyone was dummy thicc and the clap of their ass cheeks was alerting Viper.

Next, voice acting. I...absoultely could not stand the voice acting. It was completely over the top, overdramatic, over exaggerated. Granted, I’m a singer, a perform, but I’m not exactly a good actor myself in the few shows I’ve actually done. It felt like watching an anime. When you wtach something with dialogue of your own language, you can tell when you feel something is to over the top. If you watch something of a language you don’t speak, it’ll go over your head, unless you start to speak that language, and you speak to people who speak that language, then you start to pick up what is regular speaking and what is acting. When an anime gets dubbed, most times, the voice actors tend to over dramatacize in the same way the Japanese due, and some times it works, most times it doesn’t. This is because the Japanese way of acting comes from kabuki theater. When English dubbers do that with this weird over emphasized emotions, it is extremely offputting.

In some places, the voice acting is poorly done. Jen Brown’s performance from just getting out of a hospital to giving an expositional lecture about the new cast in literally 5 seconds of time was...off. Carolina should’ve had more time to recover, especailly after losing Washington, one of her closest surrogate family, she felt...a little too calm and normal. Not like the Carolina who was hesitant but trying her best to be a whole better person (see the Paradox Arc, S15-17). It was jsut quick shift, and now she’s making snarky remarks in that Jen Brown voice she does (my god step on me please) and also being a mother hen. Also, she really calls Washington David way more this season than she ever did before that.

Fiona’s performance was shaky at best in my opinion, I don’t know her very well outside of what everyone says. All I know is that sometimes, the way she emphasizes some of her lines don’t fit the situation very well. I think East/Phase was a lot better done than One imo. But she was mostly angry and competitive.

Raymond is the textbook definition of what I hate about taking a character’s role and making it their entire personality. Think of it like watching Power Rangers, and all of their roles is just defined by the shit they say. Jason is the jock, Kimberly is the pretty girl, Trini is......I’m not gonna lie, I don’t...know what to classify Trini, Zack was the cool guy, and Billy was the nerd (Tommy was Jock II also the rebel/loner). Raymond reminded me a lot like Billy, where Billy was defined by being so smart, half of his dialogue was just look at me, i’m fucking smart, let me use all of these big words. Half of Raymond’s dialogue was, look at me, i’m the tech guy, I’m nerdy and loveable, it felt like it was too over the top of trying to stand out. By the end of the season, after East’s big reveal, I started to like him a lot more because he knew what was more at stake. I want to say that my initial impression of him was immature at best.

West was too stiff. Just.. Too stiff. I get he’s old. But show some emotion, please.

Why am I emphasizing on this more? When you listen to the dialogue of RvB, and then you listen at this, even with the return cast of Carolina, Washington, and Tucker, the direction was different. I think it’s because of the new medium with Zero being all super animated like an action, where RvB was just a bunch of net videos that you’re gonna laugh at with well timed jokes. It was super casual, but also super real. Geoff and Gus and everyone else aren’t big actors or anything, but that’s what made it feel real. That’s what made RvB feel like its own thing.

In terms of writing, I get that this is RvB meets FnF (Fast and Furious). But I honestly feel that it doens’t belong. The story of Shatter Squad vs Viper would have been a lot better if it didn’t have the RvB name tacked on. It’s such a cool concept, but given what RvB was before, the tonal shift is jsut too great, especially when you only have 3 of the previous cast returning.

Speaking of, what happened to Tucker?! What happened to the guy who became a leader? Responsible? Not as arrogant? Maybe playfully arrogant at best, but not stroking his ego? What happened to HIS SWORD? Did they forget how Tucker’s sword works? That it only works IF HE DIES? Tucker didn’t die, and yet Phase was able to use his sword (which by the way is now hers). One of the earliest stories/gags of RvB and they just...retconned it and threw it away! Also, Tucker’s voice acting did NOT match the scene at all. It’s like watching a video game that was localized from Japanese, and the dubbers spoke too fast before the character could finish. Tucker moves outside of his dialogue and there is this weird seconds of silence. That...that was just a BAD return for him.

My final thought is that, if RvB Zero is not...the RvB I grew up with. Maybe the jokes are dated, but the memories of what RvB was is still real. This just...doesn’t feel like RvB anymore. This should have just been it’s own show, it’s own story, replace Wash and Carolina and Tucker with new characters, it just wasn’t their place to be in this.

The only thing I liked about this? I’m glad Danielle (I’m assuming this is how you would spell her name) didn’t go AWOL and returned to the team. I actually really liked her the most next to Axel. She was done dirty, but she still held on to that one bond she had as East that Zero didn’t give her as Phase.

I know this is probably not a great opinion, and I really hope that Rooster Teeth finds the ground they want this series to go in. Sometimes, you have to try new things, or else staying stagnant will make it go stale. It’s all about trial and error. I don’t know how everyone else feels about Zero, how the new audience and the old audience feels. RvB as a whole wasn’t perfect. They had their down moments. But when you feel that way for an entire season...it’s a problem.

#grif liveblogs #grif liveblogs rvb #rvb #red vs blue #red vs blue zero #Anonymous #spoilers #rvb negativity

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aclosetfan · 3 years

Note

if you are still taking prompts

may i suggest

“he focused the sound of her feet walking towards him. damn, he is so fucked”

@over-under-through1 (Lol you don’t even have to request stuff btw, Id literally just write stuff for you b/c youre so nice)

I thought of a few ways I could go with your prompt, but everything was coming up either hella boring or too predictable. I can’t say I’m too happy with what I wrote, but I know you like the greens so I settled on fleshing out a scene from a never written fic about Bubbles and Boomer’s engagement, and Bubbles forcing their families to meet (against Boomer’s recommendation). The twist is that everyone already knows each other, and unsurprisingly, no one likes their bridal party counterpart. (no powers au)

For the sake of context: Butch and BC are both the kid-siblings in this story. They know each other because they go to the same high school. Butch is one strike away from being sent back to juvie, and BC has the incredible (self-imposed) pressure of living up to her amazingly successful older sisters. Prior to the blue’s engagement, none of the green’s interactions had been particularly positive b/c Butch is considered a bully and BC’s best friend (only friend) Elmer is often bullied. BC’s personality is very closed off and Butch thinks she’s creepy. (lol I could go on forever about the potential outline of this story, but this is enough for a dumb excerpt)

-------

Prompt: He focused on the sound of her feet walking towards him. Damn, he was so fucked.

Summary: Butch needs a hero, he’s holding out for a hero—wait no, not that one! He wants another hero; he’s holding out for literally any other hero. Buttercup would just like one night of normal jogging.

Pairings: greens (but not romantic more like the very, very beginning of a positive relationship)

Genre: friendship/action

Rating: like 18+ for language and violence; t/w: thinly veiled sexual harassment (just threats, NO action—located towards middle) My warning/rating is just precautionary. Honestly, didn’t write anything that wouldn’t be shown on TV.

He was slammed against the fence by the scruff of his collar, and it was the first time that night that Butch thought, maybe, things weren't going to work out in his favor. "Come on, guys." He coughed, still recoiling from the punch to his gut, "Three of you, one of me? You may want to call the rest of your friends over and make it a fair fight."

The smart and playful banter was neither appreciated nor reciprocated, as another jab connected with his stomach. He gagged, and they allowed him to drop to his knees.

"What?" He coughed, as bile burned the back of his throat, "Skipping the dirty talk? Got somewhere better to be?"

"Do you ever sssshut up?" Snake, one of Ace's fave little goblins, growled.

"My incredible wit is half my charm, and you want me to s-s-s-sssshut up?" Butch argued back, mocking Snake's ever-present lisp. It wasn't the smartest move, but the way Snake's face contorted into something uglier, Butch believed his inability to keep his fucking mouth shut had been worth it. Snake kicked him fully to the ground and pinned him there. Face smooshed in the dirt, he cursed at them, and Snake pulled his hair, peeling his head off the pavement.

"What you sssay, kid?" He hissed.

"I said," Butch spit, "how's it feel to finally be the guy on top?"

Snake smashed his head down hard onto the pavement, and Butch saw a wave of stars.

"Piece of sssshit!"

"Takes one to know one, right?" He groaned as his vision became less and less spotty.

"I jussst," Snake chuckled, "I jussst can't fucking wait to sssee you get taken out."

"Like murder? Or on a date, because, like, you're not my type."

That earned him a punch to the back.

"Ssshut the fuck up, man!" Snake huffed, shoving his face back into the dirt.

"Fuck thisss kid." Snake said to the other two idiots, "Billy, hold him down. I'm gonna get Ace. Tell him we found him."

Butch tried to break away, as soon as Snake had let him go, but Big Billy, the biggest, dumbest, motherfucker that Ace probably kept around for his size and his size alone, stomped down on his back, replacing Snake, and effectively keeping Butch in his place on the concert.

"Yeah! That's right, pillow princess! Run home to daddy!" Butch barked after Snake's fleeing form, before a foot connected with his head. This time his abuser wasn't Snake or even Billy. No, this painful encounter was best accredited to Grubber. Grubber was another one of Ace's favorite minions. He was a short ugly man who, Butch swore, was suffering from some thyroid disease that made his ugly eyes bulge.

Butch couldn't tell if Grubber was dumb or smart. Butch couldn't even tell if Grubber was human. He looked more like the reanimated corpse of a dog-troll with the way he hunched and let his tongue lull out of his mouth. Regardless, the guy haunted his nightmares.

Butch let his head drop back to the ground in a daze and cried out when Billy applied more and more of his weight onto his back with a giggle. Butch was sure he'd end up snapping in half.

Mentally, he pleaded with the universe for a miracle. He had never been much of a believer in anything before. He figured when he died, he'd just die. Really nothing more to it. What he had not figured on, in all of his existential wonderings, was his death taking place in the middle of an abandoned McFatties parking lot, and frankly, he found the whole ordeal a little unfair. An abandoned McFatties parking lot was possibly one of the worst places he could think of to die in, and that was coming from him, a kid who had been forced to visit the state of Ohio once. So, mentally, he pleaded with the universe for a miracle.

"Hey!" A voice cried out, and because he was 99.9% sure he knew that voice, Butch filled with even more dread, taking back his pleas to the universe that had only happened mere seconds ago. He actually didn't need a miracle. He needed the sweet release of death.

Please. Please. The Death. Please! Not this! I don't want this! He mentally chanted, Death, death, death!

"Duuuh, hello?" Billy asked the parking lot, and Butch lifted his head a bit to get a look. When no one presented themselves, Grubber and Billy shared a look before shrugging, and they continued to bounce on his back until a brick sailed through the air and hit Grubber on his head. The shock of it caused Grubber to bite down on his tongue, and he cried out in pain.

"Grubber?" Billy asked, his voice thick with worry.

"Get off that guy!" The “mystery” voice rang out, and another brick flew through the air and hit Billy on the shoulder.

Big Billy stumbled off of him and looked around, "Who threw that!"

"Go!" The voice was closer, and Butch could hear the sound of running, "I'll call the police!"

The threat was enough for Grubber, who was still clutching his mouth. He grabbed Big Billy by the shirt, and they took off.

"We're telling!" Billy cried out like a five-year-old as another brick made contact with his back, "We're gonna tell on you!"

"Yeah! Keep running!" The "stranger’s" running came to a halt a little away from him, and yep, he 100% knew that voice. He groaned, his eyes screwing shut with pain, as he laid out on the pavement. He focused on the sound of her feet walking towards him and groaned again. Damn, he was so fucked.

"Shit are you ok—wait, Butch?" Buttercup asked, barely masking her surprise.

"Don't tell my brothers." He cracked an eye open when he felt her standing over him.

"I could care less." She scoffed at his weak begging, "Are you dying?"

He flexed and wiggled, but besides some major bruising, he seemed to be functioning well enough.

"Like," he grimaced, "not physically."

There was a shout, and Buttercup bristled above him. "Good enough, now get up," She huffed, yanking him up and his knees locked in pain.

"I take it back." He bent over, clutching his stomach, "I take it back, I'm dying."

"They were over here, bosssss!" The Snake called from around the corner.

"Well, now's not the time." Buttercup hissed at him and threw one of his arms over her shoulder to help drag him along, "I'm really gonna need you to get your shit together."

"Give me a minute." He hissed back, gritting his teeth, as he tried to get his legs to corporate, "Internal damage doesn't just fix itself. I don't have fucking superpowers."

"Consider getting some," She huffed back as they hobbled along in the shadows, ducking into a random alleyway.

He scoffed, "What are you even doing here?"

"What are you even doing here?" She echoed as they exited the alley and took a random right. She was moving them towards a bus stop. The street lamps shone over the bus stop bench like a spotlight, and the seat sang to him like a siren. His head was still reeling from the blow Grubber had dealt, and sitting down was exactly what he needed to stop the world from spinning.

"Touché." He said after a moment. Her business was her business. His was his. He was fine keeping it that way.

They made it to the bench, and Buttercup set him down. He slumped, holding his head in his hands as she paced around, peering into the shadows that the bus stop lights couldn't reach.

"Buses aren't coming anymore." He mumbled, and she looked back over at him with a frown, "Obviously, I know that."

"Then can you stop pacing.” He demanded, “You're giving me a headache."

"I'm giving you a headache?" She scoffed, "Listen, get up. We need to get somewhere with more people."

She was right; he knew that. The street they were on was desolate. They were still too far from both the City's hustle and bustle and the neighborhood cop patrols in the outlining suburbs. This was an awesome no-man land for shitheads like Ace and Co. to hangout.

At the same time, though, it hurt to move.

"Are you suggesting we run away?" He snorted, putting on a brave face, "Not my style, cupcake."

"Don't call me that." She shot back without missing a beat, "And I'd say this is more of a tactical retreat. I can't spend the rest of the night saving your ass. There are better things to do to waste my time with."

He stood up with the full intention to say something witty and badass back, but he moved too quickly and swayed. Little black dots filled his vision, and he plopped right back down onto the bench with a grimace.

"Five more seconds," He ended up spitting out as he gripped his head in his hands.

"Okay, for real, are you going to be okay?" Buttercup asked, kneeling in front of him, "Your head's bleeding."

He brought a hand to his forehead and tried to swallow the wince as his fingers brushed the wound. He frowned and examined the blood on his hands, "Well, that explains a few things."

She frowned back at him, "You could have a concussion. We need to get help."

"Probably not." He waved away her concern, cracking a smile, as he thought back to a particular conversation they had had in the school cafeteria not too long ago, "I've been told I've got a thick head."

She opened her mouth to retort, but somewhere in the shadows, there was a scuffle, like the sound of a can being kicked, that made her snap her mouth shut. She stood, whipping her head in every which direction looking for something terrible to appear.

"You're gonna have to walk faster." She looked back at him, "You're too heavy to carry."

"Excuse me, ma'am, it's not very polite to comment on a person's weight."

Buttercup glared down at him, "Do you really think right now is the best time to be a smart-ass?"

"Yes, in fact, I do. It's how I cope, thanks."

"You cope with humor?" Buttercup blinked with a dry stare, "Why?"

"Well, Ms. Doom-and-Gloom, I know this may be hard for you of all people to understand, but laughter is the best medicine."

"No," She snorted, rolling her eyes, "I'm aware. I just don't get how it works for you since, you know, you're not funny."

Butch opened his mouth to retort, but a hand shot out of the shadows and gripped Buttercup by the shoulder. She gasped in surprise, and he shot up a little straighter, ignoring his headache.

"Gotta say, Butcie-pal, I agree with the girl. I neva thought you were too funny either." Ace leered, "Who's ya pretty little friend, anyway, hmm? I don't think we've ever been introduced."

"Oh," Buttercup grimaced, shaking her head as she flicked Ace's hand from her shoulder, "no. No. Touching me won't be necessary."

"Fancy seeing you here, Ace." He gritted out through a forced smile, "A little birdy told me you got out of the joint early."

"Good behavior." Ace's face split into an equally condescending smile, "Did ya miss me, kid?"

"I've been countin' the seconds, buddy."

"Wait, Ace?" Buttercup's eyes went wide with recognition, "The Ace? From the Gang Green Gang?"

"The very same." Ace winked down at Buttercup, his sunglasses slid down his face as he checked her out, "I see my reputation proceeds me."

Buttercup ignored Ace, and whipped back around to glare at him, "Seriously, Butch? You were fighting with the Gang Green Gang?"

He rolled his eyes, "Oh, I'm sorry, did I not get around to telling you that, Buttercup? I've been a bit preoccupied."

"Buttercup?" This time Ace froze with recognition, and jabbed a slim, long finger in Buttercup's face, "Now, hold on. I know you."

Buttercup's lips pursed as she hit his hand away, "No, no, you don't."

"Yes, yes, I do." Ace continued to wag his finger in her personal space, "You're that prissy prosecutor's sister, ain'tcha, the one who had the pleasure of locking me up for three years?"

Buttercup's eyes darted over to Butch before going back to Ace, "Can't say exactly. The City has a lot of prosecutors."

Ace's face broke back out into a smile, "Yeah, yeah. I remembers seeing you in the paper, right next to ya sista."

Buttercup frowned, "Not ringing any bells."

"Aw, come on, don't play dumb with me. We're all friends here. Your sister, she's the one with the red hair, wears a ribbon, funky eyes. What was her name again? Tulip? Rose?" He snapped his fingers in though a few times, "Something floral."

"Blosssssom?" Snake suggested from behind.

"Ah!" Ace's smile grew, "Blossom! Yes! Thank you, Snake!" He grabbed Buttercup by the shirt and dragged her close. Practically nose to nose with her, he smirked, "Ringing any bells now?"

"Just a few." She glowered, no longer feigning cluelessness.

Ace threw his head back with a laugh, "This is the night that just keeps giving, boys! We've caught this shitbag." He jabbed a finger back at him on the bench, "And now we've got Blossom's pretty little sister to play with." He pulled her closer by the sleeve of her shirt, smashing her against his chest, "The only thing that would make this better is a beer! You drink, sweetheart?"

Butch scoffed because even though Buttercup was obviously a secret witch necromancer in her spare time, he wasn't a fucking degenerate who enjoyed watching men scaring girls, "Your issue's with me Ace, leave her out of this."

Ace threw Buttercup away, pivoted on his heels, and stalked back over, "Oh, oh, don't worry 'bout nothing Butch. I haven't forgotten about you. Sees after me and the boys get done having a little fun with your girlfriend, I'll be taking care of you."

Butch bristled in sync with Buttercup, "Oh—"

"—no—"

"—Wait!"

"Time out!" Buttercup cried, forming a 'T' with her hands, "I'm—"'

"—She's—"

"—not his—"

"—girlfriend!" They denied simultaneously.

Ace blinked, "I'm threatening both your dignities and your lives, and that's what you're choosing to focus on?"

"Yes!"

"Alright." Ace conceded, shrugging. "Say, fellas, get Butch's. . .acquaintance?" Ace asked, looking at him for confirmation.

"Eh, sure—" He conceded with a shrug, as Buttercup huffed from behind Ace, crossing her arms.

"—I wouldn't even say that."

"Yeah, okay then," Ace corrected himself, ignoring Buttercup, "Fellas, get his acquaintance nice and ready for me while I have a few words with the kid. Don't rough her up too much, though. You know how I like to work with a clean canvas."

"Ssssure thing bossss,"

"Oh, hell, no." He heard Buttercup growl, but his view of her was cut off by Ace, who pulled him up by the scruff of his collar. The adrenaline was pumping once more through his veins, so this time, standing at least didn't hurt.

"Seriously, dude, I don't think you wanna fuck with me like this." He threatened, but even he knew how empty it sounded.

"Seriously, dude," Ace mocked with a smile, "I don't think I give a fuck. Gotta admire your balls, though, kid. Takes a lot of guts to talk to me like that."

"What's your fucking deal anyway? I did what you asked for, I—"

Ace, a cheap bastard who fought dirty, kneed him hard in the groin. Butch let out a strangled gasp, and Ace laughed, letting him drop to the ground.

"It's that fucking mouth of yours." Ace answered, squatting down to get in his face. His breath smelt like cigarettes, weed, and rat piss, "Anyone ever told you it ain't becoming cussing in front of your elders all the time?" Ace reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack. Taking a cigarette, Ace offered it up, "Want one?"

"I don't smoke." He replied curtly. It was a semi-lie. He smoked. He just wasn't an avid cigarette smoker. Considering his family, though, he did, in fact, fancy himself a professional second-hand smoker. Brick chained-smoked. Boomer was always in a perceptual state of "I'm quitting tomorrow." Mojo could typically be found puffing on some pipe or cigar. And HIM was more of a social smoker, but a smoker nonetheless, since he liked using the cigarette sticks that made him look like Audrey Hepburn too much not to smoke.

If he died, Butch had always figured, it'd be lung cancer that took him out.

"That's smart." Ace nodded, chuckling, "It's shit for ya anyway, but what vice isn't, right?"

Butch watched Ace wearily as he searched around for his lighter. The pain in his groin had subsided into a dull ache, but he stayed on the ground. With Ace, he had to play it smart. Five against one weren't numbers in his favor, and there was Buttercup to consider, unfortunately. The little priss was probably scared shitless.

Ace flicked his lighter on a few times before it caught light and puffed his cigarette for a moment. Finally, he looked back down at Butch and exhaled a cloud of smoke in his face. It didn't bug Butch, but Ace seemed to think it was pretty funny.

"Now, kid, these manner problems you seem to be still having, I think, you know, that someones gotta teach you a thing or two. Seems like your shitbag brothers ain't doing too good a job, huh?"

"Don't talk to me about my brothers."

"Yeah?" Ace smiled, the cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth, "And whatcha gonna do, huh, do I gotta remind you about the position youse in?" Ace stood up and kicked his foot hard into Butch's gut. Again, he lost the air in his lungs.

"Fuck you." He coughed, and Ace shook his head.

"See again with the cussing." Ace sighed, "Figured since your brothers are too good for us now, that they'd do a little better by you, but I guess somethings neva change. Once a rat, always a rat, right?"

Butch opened his mouth to retort, but the commotion behind Ace caught his attention. Ace didn't seem to notice as he continued to lecture Butch on manners, respect, and a bunch of other things gang-bangers seemed to believe they automatically deserved. Through the gaps of Ace's legs, he watched as Grubber hit the ground hard.

His eyes widened as Buttercup swooped in on the fallen man, stomping down onto his back to keep him still. The taser in her left hand sparked to life as she spun around and lodged the offending weapon into Snake's neck. Snake cried out and made a swipe for her arm, but she ducked down, invading his hold. Squatting on the ground, Buttercup jabbed the taser into Snake's crotch, and the noise he made was finally enough to get Ace's attention.

"Wha—" Ace started, his sunglasses sliding down his nose in shock. Butch probably didn't look any better.

Buttercup ignored Snake's pleas for mercy and kicked his feet out from under him. He collapsed to the ground, still holding himself in his hands, and Buttercup smirked. Using her hands to launch herself into the air, she flipped away from Big Billy, who had been clambering up behind her, without a second glance. Billy’s nose was already bleeding, and based on the feral way Buttercup was taking the gang out, Butch would have placed money that a good headbutt had caused it.

Billy was too slow for Buttercup. Butch didn't have a clue where Arturo was, but if she kept bolting, he was pretty sure she had a clean and clear shot out of danger's way. To his surprise, though, Buttercup didn't run away. After landing her flip, she slid to a halt and turned back towards Billy. Squatting down low, like a sprinter, she took off back towards him at top speeds. Butch knew Buttercup was fast since she was always running everywhere like a madwoman, but he didn't think she could go that fast. She was on a high-speed collision course with Billy, a guy four times bigger than her, and it was the first time in his life that Butch had ever seen her smile like that.

Billy was ready for her, though. His arms were opened up wide as he got ready to grab her. Butch almost called out to her in warning, but instead, he watched in astonishment as she collided with Billy at a nearly perpendicular angle. She jumped slightly up before impact and threw her weight down onto Big Billy, using her shoulder to break his block and knock him off balance. The force of her momentum caused the big guy to stumble off to the side. He cried out in surprise as he tried to steady himself, but Buttercup didn't give him a chance. Like Snake, she dropped to the ground so that she could kick his unsteady feet from out underneath him. And like on Snake, it was quite effective.

Billy hit the ground with a loud crash and Buttercup stood over him, clapping the dust off her hands as she shot Ace a look.

Butch shared a bewildered look with Ace for a moment, before they both turned back to the fight.

"Billy!" Ace cried out, "Get up, you lug!"

Billy didn't get up, but he did start crying, and Butch laughed, "Ah, come on Ace, the bigger they are, the harder they fall, right?"

Ace glowered at him and called out to both Snake and Grubber, who both, in turn, moaned from their spots on the ground.

"Arturo!" Ace shouted, "Where the fuck are you?"

"Here, boss!" Arturo cried, sprinting out of the shadows and towards Buttercup with a battle cry. He lunged for her, but Buttercup seemed unfazed as she reached into her hoodie and pulled out a can. She sprayed whatever it was into Arturo's face, and he dropped mid-lunge to the ground with a horrible cry. She sprayed his face two extra times for good measure and then pocketed the can of mace like it was as unimportant as Chapstick.

She whipped her head back around towards them and again shot Ace a death glare.

"Holy shit." Butch blinked and then let out another short laugh, looking back up at Ace, "Like damn, dude, you're so fucked."

Ace balked, taking a few steps back. He began to root around in his pockets before pulling out a switchblade and flicking it open, "Don't take another step!"

Buttercup brushed some dirt off her jacket as she continued to advance, "What, Ace? Is the canvas not clean enough for you?"

Without his lackey's, Ace trembled with fear, "I said, not another move."

"Cute knife," Buttercup shrugged, nonplussed, as she reached back into her pocket, "Wanna see mine?"

Ace looked between the two of them, as Butch began to find his footing once more, then at his fallen minions. He dropped his hands and backed further away.

"This ain't over!" He sneered and took off running.

Buttercup pulled her hand out of her pocket, sans knife, and dropped to her knees to inspect him.

"Do you just piss everyone off for fun?" She asked, helping him up.

"Something like that," he shrugged.

Behind them, Billy began to groan as he attempted to pick himself off the ground. Buttercup's eyes went wide.

"Let's go." She hissed and pushed him into a run. She pulled him along for a moment as she ran before letting him go and taking off on her own. He tried his best to keep up, but the beating he had been put through quickly caught up with him. He slowed to a stop and watched her disappear into the distance. Taking a few deep, heavy breaths, Butch bent over and put his hands on his knees.

In. Out. Wince. In. Out. Wince.

He wanted to call out to Buttercup, but she was long gone, and, for once, he couldn't find his voice.

What a fucking night, though, he ended up thinking to himself.

There was nothing else that the world could throw at him that would surprise him at this point.

But right on cue, the world took him up on that because immediately after he spoke the challenge into existence, red and blue lights flashed behind him. A cop car chirped, its siren turning on and off once to get his attention. Butch slumped further down with a sigh, because of fucking course. He should have known better.

Jumped and thrown back into juvie all in one night—it was a new personal record! He couldn't wait to hear the opinions his family would have. With another heavy sigh, he threw his hands into the air and turned around to face the officer since he wasn't too particularly keen on adding "racially profiled and shot in the back" to his long list of shitty sob stories.

"Well, well." The officer stepped out of his car, but Butch couldn't see which one since the officer had neglected to turn off the headlights shining right in his face, "What do we have here?"

He kept quiet because he knew his fucking rights. The cop stalked up to him and blinded him with a flashlight. He didn't quite understand why that had been necessary given the patrol car's headlights, but cops were a different breed of stupid in this City.

"Now, if it isn't the most illustrious Butch Jojo. I've heard about you, kid."

Butch grunted back.

"Hmm, not much of a talker?" The cop asked conversationally, and Butch twitched with annoyance. He didn't get why everyone—especially adults—always wanted to do the small talk bullshit.

"That's fine. I'll get to the point—" Butch already knew he actually wouldn't, "—where are you coming from looking like that?" The cop flashed his flashlight up and down, emphasizing the tears and bloodstains on his clothes. "Are you aware of a robbery that took place on 5th tonight?"

Butch seized up, knowing exactly what the cop was implying. "That's like forty minutes from here on foot!" He protested.

"I wasn't asking for directions, son."

"I don't know anything about a robbery on 5th." Butch spat back, and the cop's mouth curled into a sneer.

"Then, care to explain what you were running from?"

Taking a deep breath, Butch glared at the officer, "I don't have to say anything."

The cop chuckled, "Well, maybe you'll change your mind at the station."

"What!" Butch yelled, "I—"

"—Calm down, kid, I'm not playing games!"

"Wait, officer, wait! He's with me." Buttercup ran forward, reappearing from the shadows and linking their arms together. Slightly, she pulled him away from the officer and his blinding lights, "I was showing him the loop I run, and he tripped. I—I was doubling back to bring him a—uh, a bandaid?" She (poorly) lied.

"Buttercup Utonium?" The cop blinked, and she offered a strained smile.

"Hey, Officer Smith."

The officer's face contorted, and he jabbed the end of his flashlight toward Butch's face, "He's with you?"

"Uh, yeah." Buttercup shrugged, stepping slightly in front of him like a barrier, "His brother is engaged to my sister."

The officer lowered the flashlight and blinked in surprise, "Blossom's engaged? I just saw her the other day."

"Not Blossom." Buttercup shook her head, "Bubbles."

"Bubbles! Engaged?" The officer exclaimed, blowing air from his lips, "Time flies! I remember you being this tall—" He indicated a little past his knee, "—when your sister starting working for the Prosecutor."

Buttercup nodded her head, curtly, "Yep."

The officer smiled at her and reholstered his flashlight, "Well, you tell Ms. Bubbles I said congrats, ya hear me?"

"Alright, no problem." Buttercup nodded again, nudging into him, so he'd start backing away. The officer shot him a quick look before turning back to Buttercup. "And you keep this one in line, ya hear me." He told her as he wagged a finger in his direction. "It's about time you found some decent friends to hang out with." Officer Smith lectured, staring him down, before he addressed both of them, "Now, it's past curfew, you two need to head home."

Butch kept his mouth screwed shut, but Buttercup seemed to read his body language loud and clear because she threw him a nasty look before turning back to the officer.

"Sure, sorry, Officer Smith, we lost track of time." She apologized to the officer as she elbowed him into walking away, "I'll tell my sisters you said hi."

"Goodbye, Buttercup." The officer waved as he made his way back to his patrol car. "Butch." The officer nodded at him, giving him the once over again.

He rolled his eyes, turning away. "Fucking cops." He grunted, but when he looked over to his right, Buttercup was gone. "Hey, where—" He spun around looking for her, only to find that she was practically halfway down the block, "—Hey!"

Ignoring how sore he was, he jogged after her. She didn't bother to look at him as he knocked into her.

"Okay, three things—" He started, as he kept in step with her, and Buttercup heaved a heavy sigh. "One, how do you three know everyone in this fucking city?"

She shrugged, "Just do."

"Two, why do you just have a taser and mace on hand?"

"Because I'm a teenage girl, and I run at night."

"Yeah, soooo…"

"Sooo," Buttercup emphasized slowly with a dry look, "sex trafficking, rape. Teenage girls always seem to be a pretty hot commodity. Recent events should have probably tipped you off to that."

Butch stopped dead in his tracks for a moment and blinked, dumbfounded, "Oh right. Cause you're a chick. I, like, forgot about that."

"Yep." She agreed over her shoulder since she hadn't stopped to wait for him to process the obvious.

He jogged to catch up with her with a nod, "Guess that's smart then."

"Guess so." She muttered back and took a sharp left down a pathway he hadn't even known existed.

"And three," He slowed them down, rubbing the back of his neck, "uh, thanks, I guess, for back there."

"Which part?"

"All of it."

Buttercup looked past him towards where the cop car had been and then back at him with a shrug, "Don't mention it. Like, seriously, don't."

He nodded, and she turned away, going back to fast walking speed. He stumbled after her.

"So, where we going?"

"I'm going home. I don't know where you're going."

"Going home?" He repeated.

"Yep."

"But why—how! You can't just go home! Not after all that shit back there!" He speculated out loud, "Aren't you, like, pumped up?"

She sighed, "Nope. Are you going to keep following me?"

"Buttercup." He huffed, running in front of her to block her way, "dude, that shit back there was fucking badass, and I don't say that kind of shit lightly. I don't know whatever fucking voodoo god you're praying to every night, but it's working. You gotta—" he scrambled for anything his mind could come up with, "—you gotta, like, at least get something to eat with me for like, like, closure."

Buttercup stared up at him, her eyebrows pulling together, "Did…did you just ask me to hang-out?" She paused before clarifying, "With you?"

"Uhhh…" He frowned, his own eyebrows pulling together as he mulled over his previous statement, "huh?" He shrugged, "I guess I did."

Her frown deepened, and she pushed past him, "You should probably go to the hospital. Thick head or not, it was obviously hit a lot harder than you've let on."

He snorted and turned around to catch up with her, "I think I'm serious, though."

She looked him over again, "Seriously, you're starting to freak me out. Should I call 911?"

They made it out of the alley and emerged near a little corner before Townsville blended into the surrounding Pokey Oak County. There, like a beacon in the night, was Pops, a burger joint that he liked.

"Ha!" He proclaimed, pointing towards the 24/7 diner, "Come on!" He grabbed her by the elbow and began to drag her with him.

"Hey!" She protested, digging her heels into the ground as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, "Cut it out!"

"Listen. We're getting a burger, whether you like it or not. Brick's treat."

She stopped her struggling and a raised eyebrow, "Your brother's paying?"

He rolled his eyes with a smirk before he pulled his older brother's debit card that he had stolen earlier that night from his back pocket and waved it in the air, "Duh."

She looked back over her shoulder towards the direction of her home, then over again towards him and the burger joint, "Welllll, if he's paying," She hummed, shrugging, "sure, why the hell not."

He laughed and dropped her elbow, "Good choice, Butterfingers, let's go."

---------------------

I’m sorry if you hate it—I know the pacing’s a bit off and my dialogue punctuation needs work, but it’s been a crazy few days lmao and I just wanted to get this out ☹ if it’s absolute shit let me know and I’ll try writing you something else! Also, the body slam BC used on Big Billy is a move Jammers use in roller derby to get past blockers because, hint, in this world BC is “secretly” in roller derby. ((“Secretly” because her fam and Elmer knows, but no one else.)) I just suck at action scenes so it doesn’t come across well

#ppg prompt requests #my writing

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writingawaymylife · 4 years

Text

Blue and Gold

Word Count: 1581

Category: Fluffy as a newborn bunny

Character(s): Thorin

Pairing(s): Thorin x reader

Warnings: Nothing.

Overall Summary: You and Thorin get some ‘us’ time.

A/N: So I’ve been reposting all of my old stories - going through and editing them to match my skill and style a little better. I’m honestly surprised I still had this one in my docs still! But I have to admit, I’m very happy I kept it. This is from 2017, so it definitely had some inadequacies that I needed to correct, but it was still pretty well written - which surprised me to be honest. I always looked back and thought my stuff was just horrible but it’s... well not great, but it’s definitely not terrible! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! I really did like rereading and writing this again!

“Please.”

“No.”

“What if I took it off before your meeting tomorrow?”

“I said, no.”

The huff you made was exaggerated and long as you sat down, rather unceremoniously, onto his desk. Your arms were crossed, there was a little glare in your eyes, and your foot was gently thumping against the wooden desk. He might have been doing a good job of focusing, but there was no way he was going to be able to ignore you for long. If there was one person that could get his attention, even when he absolutely did not want to give it, it was you. You knew this. Thorin knew this. It only took patience - which it was easy to say you had far more of.

Thorin continued his work as if you weren't there for longer than you would have expected him to. His light blue eyes pacing back and forth against the letters written onto the paper, his face staying completely stoic, except for the small furrow of his brow. A habit he had when he worked. But you could see through it, and the soft sigh that escaped his lips was more than enough to let you know his resolve was breaking.

“I solemnly swear that I won’t be as lazy with yours as I was with mine. It will not look like a five-year-old did it, promise.” You leaned towards him and lightly nudged his shoulder with yours, a small, teasing grin on your face.

You had gotten really excited when you realized that Erebor actually did have nail polish, and had basically raced to get some the moment you heard it existed. And along with the (F/C) nail polish you had gotten for yourself, you had also picked up some other colors that you thought Thorin might like. However, in your excitement and rusty abilities, you had gotten the nail polish on quite a bit of the skin around your nails as well. Even though you could get rid of the paint that was on your skin, you had gotten lazy with the realization that you didn’t have any outside responsibilities. To say it looked messy was… a bit of an understatement, but you didn’t really care. It would flake off in the next hour or so, or the bath tonight would get rid of it.

To be honest, it wasn’t that you just wanted to paint his nails. What you really wanted was to spend time with him. With how busy he had been, it was hard to get any time outside of the bed, where he was often too tired to do anything but cuddle and sleep. Not that you were complaining, you understood how hard everything must have been, but that didn’t stop you from missing your long talks and quiet moments of peace.

A few more seconds went before he let out another, more audible sigh that tapered into a light chuckle. His eyes side glanced to your fingers, which you quickly curled into fists in a futile attempt to hide the mess you had made of them.

Thorin set the quill down and sat up straighter as he looked up at you. He looked amused, an easy-going smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

“Why are you so adamant about painting my nails, Amrâlimê?” He had leaned into his seat now, getting comfortable as one of his hands rested on one of your thighs, thumb rubbing back and forth like he usually did.

“To spend some time together?” His smile seemed to drop just a little as he nodded. You knew pretty well that it wasn’t just you who missed the alone time. You could tell with that look he would sometimes give you in the evenings, or the way he would hold you as you fell to sleep. He missed you too. “I know you’ve been busy, and I would never get annoyed at you for focusing on stuff that really, really needs you. But I do miss you.” You were always awkward with your emotions, but you could see he understood when his hand gave you a soft squeeze. “Painting your nails gives us some ‘us’ time, but also keeps you away from these god-damned papers for at least another fifteen minutes afterward. So… please? I do have some colors you would love?”

He was silent for a minute longer, before he let out a mildly overexaggerated sigh. He liked playing the act, but you could see he was happy to have an excuse to get away from the letters, to get some time with you.

“Very well. Go get them.”

“So, how long will this take?” He asked, smiling down at you as you carefully painted one of his nails blue. You two were sitting amongst the hundreds of pillows on the bed, you hunched over in front of him, staring pointedly at his finger as you painted the color on as carefully and smoothly as possible. Your bottom lip was stuck between your teeth, gently chewing it as you finished and moved to the other nail.

“Well, we’ll let this coat dry, and then I have to put on another coat. After that, I’m gonna take out the gold nail polish and I’ll paint your ring fingers!” Huffing, Thorin shifted in his seat, stopping instantly when you looked up at him with stern, (E/C) eyes. “Don’t move, Dear.”

He gave a challenging glare, causing a light chuckle to bubble up from your lips as you glared back. Thorin knew that when you called anyone “dear,” it was usually a warning. And oftentimes in the past, when directed at him, it ended in a little “dominance” match between you two. You would never back down, and it often led to Balin and Dwalin having to intervene, usually rather quickly, to prevent you from saying something that would piss Thorin off even more. Especially after that time you had gotten annoyed with Thorin’s disrespect, and proceeded to “Okay, Boomer.” him the entire day, and then right in the middle of one of your matches. Thorin wasn’t one to hurt people who didn’t try to accost him first, but everyone could see he was nearly there that day. It had brought you great satisfaction. It still does.

“You wanna go, buddy boy?” You tilted your head, a grin growing on your face as you sat up straight. “Cause I’m totally up for a tumble, and I’m not talking about the fun kind that often happens on beds.”

He let out a huff and rolled his eyes. You were not a very confrontational person, often preferring to use of words and eloquence to get the result you wanted, but that didn’t stop you from “squaring up”, as you would say, with any of the Company when you got a bit fired up. You weren’t one for talking shit, but with any of the “fam”? You wouldn’t even blink an eye.

You were most definitely not the person who he imagined his One to be. But, as soon as he got to really know you, he realized he really wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I want you to focus on what you’re doing.” He countered, smirking at the indignant huff and grumble you gave before you continued to paint his nails.

You were so weird. Mildly over the top, and he knew for sure there might have been a few screws loose up there. You would say things that he absolutely didn’t understand (oftentimes on purpose), you would press his buttons just enough to get a rise - though you now did so with the intention to tease rather than push him to attempted murder. He couldn’t help but be drawn to you. Your laugh, your banter, how you wouldn’t even bat an eye as you looked someone dangerous in the eye and said something so stupid, though that did often stress him out. But you were also kind, courageous, passionate, loving. You were like a calm ocean and a wild hurricane, chaotic and uncontrollable, careful and generous in every way.

“I love you.” He hummed, watching as you paused mid-stroke and glanced up at him. A small, soft smile gracing your features and a small blush across your cheeks. “More than I’ve loved anything really.”

It took a few seconds for a response, but a looked of adoration covered your features and your smile grew. Turning your attention back to his nails, you fought the grin from getting any bigger. Didn't matter how often he told you that, it still brought pride and happiness to your heart.

Once you were done with that nail, you looked back up at him. “I love you,” You stated. “I love you more than anything and anyone I’ve ever loved. I love you to the moon and back.” Not once did you take your eyes away from his, and a few moments passed before the hand that was drying came up to cup your face, and he gave you the softest kiss he had given you in a long time.

Thorin’s arm suddenly wrapped around your waist snuggly and he tugged you onto his lap. Pressing you tightly against him as he rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. You were still slightly astonished. It wasn’t that he wasn’t affectionate, just that he did it in a way that always left you short-circuited. Though it didn’t take long for in indignant squawk to leave you once your brain caught up with you.

“Thorin!” You gasped, trying to pry his hands away from your body and scoot off of him. “You’re going to smudge your nails!”

His chest rumbled as he kept in a laugh and tightened his hold on you. He tucked his head into your neck, and a laugh spilled out as his beard brushed against you neck and caused you to let out a loud squeak.

“Your nails are totally gonna be smudged now!” You playfully slapped his arms, squirming to get off of him in a desperate attempt to save his nails. “Let. Go! You fowl beast!” He grinned as he lifted his head from your neck, and gave you a look of love and thinly veiled hunger before effectively shutting you up with a love-filled kiss.

“Never.”

#thorin oakenshield #thorin #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #the hobbit #the hobbit fic

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returnn-of-the-mac · 4 years

Note

Hello! Sorry to bother, but could you possibly do the companions +Maxson reacting to Sosu begin almost killed by a raider in power armor because the raider stepped on Sosu (Who had been previously knocked down) and the raider just slowly keeps adding pressure. I'd greatly prefer romance, if I may. Thank you for your time! I also apologize if this is too graphic, you don't have to do this if it's too gross.

I got really into this one. I’m a sucker for the romanced companions. Please enjoy!

FO4 (❤️) Companions (+Nick, Deacon, & Maxson) React: Sole Getting Slowly Crushed By a Raider in Power Armor

Sole and their companion had spent the greater half of the day attempting to take over Outpost Zimonja from a group of Raiders, and they appeared to have the upper hand.

Just when they thought they had taken out the final Raider, Sole was roughly picked up and slammed onto the ground facedown.

The Raider boss— a man in power armor who called himself Boomer— placed a foot on Sole’s back.

Sole yelped in pain, and the Raider boss let out a sinister laugh.

He stepped on Sole harder, this time resulting in a sickening crack.

Sole’s eyes began to water, and Boomer looked menacingly at [companion].

Preston:

“Is this really necessary?” Preston pled, “How you Raiders get satisfaction from torturing others is beyond me.”

Boomer laughed thunderously.

“Because,” he said, pressing down harder on Sole, “It’s fun to watch them suffer.”

Preston clenched his teeth. He didn’t have the manpower to take down the Raider.

Or did he?

“Now are ya gonna do anything? Or is your little friend gonna be squished like a Radroach?”

Preston set off a flare.

Boomer did not take kindly to this.

“Why I oughta—“

Crack!

Preston used the butt of his musket to crack the Raider’s helmet.

Before the Raider could fight back, he was brought down by the force of about ten bodies tackling him in unison.

The Minutemen had arrived.

Preston ran over to Sole, helped them up, checked to see if they were okay, and then got right back into the heat of the battle.

The surprise ambush had severely weakened Boomer’s armor. He eventually succumbed to the relentless attacks.

“Thank you, everyone. We couldn’t have defeated him without your help.”

When the Minutemen had dispersed, Preston approached Sole and pulled them into a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered, “I love you.”

Hancock:

“If you think I’m just gonna sit her and let ya step all over my friend here, then you’ve got another thing comin, punk,” Hancock threatened.

Boomer laughed.

“Yeah? And what’s a ghoul gonna do about it? I could probably snap ya in half between my pinky and my thumb.”

Hancock smirked before reaching into his coat and pulling out a syringe of psychobuff. He injected himself with it, and his mouth immediately contorted into a deranged grin.

“Shoulda quit while you were ahead, pal,” Hancock stated before charging at the enemy.

Boomer staggered a bit, buying Hancock enough time to whip out his knife and stab the Raider’s helmet.

His drug-induced jabs were strong enough to smash through the protective facepiece and right into the Raider’s eyeball.

“ARGH! My fuckin eye!”

Hancock didn’t stop.

He stabbed the raider in the face so frantically that his enemy had become almost unrecognizable.

Boomer fell to the ground just as the drugs began to wear off. Hancock then pulled out his shotgun and blew the man’s head off.

After he was sure Boomer was dead, he helped Sole to their feet, pulling them into a tight embrace.

“That’s what he gets for messin with us, doll,” the ghoul rasped, gently petting Sole’s hair, “I’m just glad you’re doin okay.”

Gage:

“Boomer! What the fuck,” Gage hollered, “Back off!”

“Aw, looks like Gagey’s getting soft, ey?” The raider taunted.

Gage growled.

“You n your little clique here has done nothin but cause problems. We sent ya out here to claim this turf. And ya have. But for yerselves. You lyin, greedy sacks of shit,” the raider continued, “And now yer gonna crush the fuckin overboss? The fuck’s the matter with ya? They already want you dead over in Nuka World. Why not give em another fuckin reason?”

“Do ya think I give a rat’s ass about the overboss, Gage?” he hissed, “The last one ya picked was a fuckin tool. Screwed us all over. How can we trust this one ain’t equally as shitty?”

Boomer chuckled and pressed down harder, causing Sole’s nose to spew blood.

Gage had had enough. He picked up a molotov and whipped it straight into the Raider’s head.

The force of the throw caused the fiery bottle to shatter across Boomer’s face, prompting him to roar in pain.

“Fuck you, Boomer,” Gage as he cradled a severly injured Sole in his arms. He looked at them softly, “Sorry ya had to suffer like that, babe. Ya gonna be alright?”

Sole nodded and Gage gave them a tight hug.

“Yer a real trooper, bo

Cait

Without hesitation, Cait whipped out her baseball bat.

“That’s it! I’m gonna bash yer skull in ye bastard!”

The redhead proceded to furiously whack Boomer on the arms, legs, chest, and head.

The Raider chuckled before lifting Cait off the ground and throwing her behind him like a ragdoll.

Cait hit the ground with a sickening thud before hearing Sole cry out again.

Boomer was crushing them.

Cait racked her brain for ideas when she spotted it: the fusion core.

She gripped her bat tight and bashed the core with all her might. It shattered into a million pieces.

The power armor went limp and she charged into it, effectively knocking Boomer to the ground.

She pulled out her shotgun, ripped off Boomer’s helmet, and stuffed the barrel into his mouth.

“You sure do know how to show a girl a good time,” she scoffed, pulling the trigger.

She scrambled over to her lover, sitting them upright.

“Yer safe now. Please, talk to me darlin,” she pled, slightly shaking Sole. Hert companion groaned and cracked an eye open.

“Yer alive! Oh, thank god!” She exclaimed, planting a rough kiss on their cheek, “I knew ye wouldn’t let yerself die to a spineless raider!”

Piper:

“Stop! You’re hurting [him/her]!”

“You got a good set of eyes there, doll.” Boomer hissed. He applied more pressure to Sole’s back and they let out a weak cry.

“Oh god…”

“Ya gonna try tah free em, or am I gonna haveta crush em?”

Piper racked her brain for ideas, but she was so flustered she couldn’t think of any. He was frozen.

The raider applied more pressure and Sole’s nose started to bleed.

“Blue! I—” before she could finish, something caught her eye. A note.

Boomer if we fucking find out where you’ve been hiding.

We’re coming after you. And we’re going to fucking murder you.

-Shank

Piper grabbed the note and held it up.

“Look bud. I know you’re in some hot water with the raiders, and I happen to be a reporter,” Piper announced, “Let my friend go, or I will make sure every raider across the Commonwealth knows where you’re hiding. Got it?”

Boomer growled.

“Why you little— I oughta— I— argh! Fine!” He said, stepping off Sole and kicking them to the side, “This weak fucker ain’t worth sparin with any of the raider gangs.”

He turned on his heels.

“Not a fuckin peep about my whereabouts. Got it, bitch?”

Piper nodded. “You got it.”

When Shank was out of sight, Piper lifted her injured companion into her arms.

“Oh, Blue. I’m so sorry I couldn't help you sooner than I did,” she cried, “But I’m so happy you’re alive!”

The reporter proceeded to shower her lover in kisses as they weakly clung to her.

MacCready:

“What’s your problem? Let [him/her] go!”

Boomer laughed, “Yeah. I don’t think that’s gonna happen, little man.”

MacCready grit his teeth.

“How much do you want?”

Boomer stopped laughing, his face suddenly serious.

“How much you’ve got to offer?”

MacCready laughed, “Look dude. I know how this goes. I’m not going to be the first to number drop. You want the caps, you name the price.”

Boomer rolled his eyes.

“Fine. 2500.”

“A little high, dontcha think?”

Sole glared at MacCready. If looks could kill, the merc would be six feet under. He caught their gaze and winked at them.

“2300.”

“Do I look like I’m made of caps, pal,” MacCready pressed, “2000 and you got yourself a deal.”

“Fine! Fine! Just give me my fucking money.” Boomer huffed.

MacCready fished through his duster and pulled out the caps.

The Raider greedily accepted the caps and turned around to walk away.

MacCready then helped Sole to their feet and briefly assessed them to see if they had any life-threatening injuries.

They didn’t.

Before Sole had the chance to rip MacCready a new one,however, he gave them a quick peck on the forehead, equipped his sniper, and climbed onto a bluff.

Boomer was still in plain sight. MacCready smirked as he aimed for the fusion core and shot.

He saw Boomer’s armor go limp, before watching him crawl out.

“Excellent.”

The merc aimed for the Raider’s head, held his breath, and pulled the trigger. He watched his enemies head explode, creating a shower of blood and skull fragments.

He then slid down from the bluff and ran up to Sole, pulling them into a hug.

“Before you kill me! I knew the only way to get him off you was to offer caps. I didn’t want to esculate the situation,” MacCready explained. He planted a gentle kiss on the top of Sole’s head, “I didn’t want to risk him hurting you. I didn’t...I couldn’t...I wouldn’t be able to watch you suffer like that. I love you too much.”

Nick:

Ting!

Something barely noticeable hit Boomer’s armor.

“The fuck was that?” He asked, looking around, “Was that you,tin can?”

“Says the guy in the power armor.”

“Yeah, whatever. It was probably a bug or some shit.

Nick smirked and put away the syringer rifle he was holding; the Raider was completely oblivious to the hack dart he had been struck with.

“You know Boomer, I think it would be more badass to crush [name] with your fists. I mean anybody can get crushed. It happens all the time.”

Sole looked horrified, but Nick continued.

“But to crush the life out of someone with your fists, Now that. That’s nothing to scoff at.”

The raider contemplated for a moment and agreed.

“You know what, grandpa? You’re right.”

Boomer picked Sole off the ground with the intent to squeeze the life out of them.

Sole closed their eyes and grit their teeth. They couldn’t believe Valentine, of all people, was a traitor.

“This is gonna be fun” Boomer growled, “Rest in pe—“

He suddenly dropped Sole.

“Hey what the hell?”

He then started to punch himself in the face.

“What...the fuck...is...argh! Goin on!?”

“Stop hitting yourself,” Nick teased, controlling the power armor’s actions, “Why are you hitting yourself?”

“Leave me—argh! Alone!”

“Fine, fine,” Nick agreed, putting down the controls, “Run along now, Boomer.”

“Yeah, I will! And Tenpines Bluff is gonna get the blunt of my anger!”

“He just had to push it, didn’t he?”

Boomer turned on his heels and fled.

Just before he was out of sight, Nick pressed a button and the power armor exploded, instantly killing the hostile Raider.

“Yeah, he isn’t going to be messing with any settlements on my watch,” Nick stated, while walking over to his lover. He held out a hand and Sole accepted it.

“Glad to see you’re alright, dear,” Nick said, pulling Sole into a hug and giving them a kiss on the cheek, “Now. Shall we get moving?”

Curie:

“[Name]!” Curie called, “I will get you vree!”

“Like hell you will.” Boomer called, swinging at Curie. She dodged, and then pulled out a knife.

“Zir! I eenzist you stop!”

Boomer grabbed at her and tried to fling her to the side, but Curie clamped onto his arm.

“H-Hey! Get off!”

He tried shaking her off, but she wouldn’t budge.

“Eef power armor ees anyzing like human anatomy, zen— ”

She swung her knife under the crack between the helmet and the chest piece and sparks went flying. She had severed one of the most important wires in the suit.

“Aha!”

“Argh! You bitch, what the hell did you do!? My power armor ain’t workin!”

Curie took a deep breath and calmed herself before mustering a powerful voice, “Leave or eet eez you’re neck...uh...zir!”

The raider grumbled.

“Fine, whatever. This dump ain’t worth all the trouble anyway.”

When the raider had stomped out of sight, Curie giggled.

“Did I zound zcary, [Madame/Monsieur]? I’ve been practicing my inteemidating voice!”

She helped Sole up and pulled them into an embrace.

“I’m zo glad you are zafe, my love,” Curie whispered, “I was truly worried.”

Danse:

Danse didn’t hesitate— he charged directly at Boomer in his own set of power armor.

The raider was taken aback by Danse’s swift response and staggered a bit.

Danse used this moment of hesitation to deliver a powerful blow to the enemy’s fusion core.

“Shit!”

Shards of glass flew in every direction, the dead suit slumping into a useless pile of metal.

Boomer was forced to crawl out of the suit and meet his opponent face-to-face.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Danse asked, towering over the Raider.

“Fuck you,” Boomer cursed, “Why don’t ya come outta your power armor and make it an even fight?”

“I’m not fighting for entertainment purposes,” Danse explained, trying his hardest to keep his cool, “You tried to kill my friend, and I’m not standing for it.”

“Yeah? And what’s stoppin me now, huh? Just cuz I don’t have fancy armor doesn’t mean I ain’t gonna kill [him/her]!”

“You lay one finger on [him/her], you’re dead,” Danse growled, “Leave. Now.”

“Urgh. Fine. None of ya’lls are worth my time anyway. I’ll just go slaughter some stupid settlers. They’re easy pickins anyway.”

Just as Boomer turned his back, Danse picked him up and piledrived him into the concrete ground. The force of the impact made the Raider’s head splatter.

Sole looked appalled and Danse furrowed his eyebrows.

“I...I didn’t mean for his demise to be quite so...barbaric. I just couldn't stand by and let him walk free knowing he was going to murder innocent civilians,” Danse shook his head, “But enough about that. Are you okay, [name]?”

Sole nodded and Danse smiled. He planted a gentle kiss on the top of their head and opened his arms as if to embrace them, but playfully ruffled their hair instead.

“I would have given you a hug, but I’m sure you’ve exceeded your crushed-by-power-armor quota for the day.”

Maxson

“As the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, I order you to let my partner free.”

“Big talk from a little man in a fluffy jacket.”

Maxson clenched his fist. “You’re digging your own grave, punk.”

Boomer smirked.

“Oh, really? Well, what are you going to do about it?” He hissed, pressing down on Sole’s back harder. Sole let out a yelp.

“This!” Maxson tossed a signal grenade and within seconds two Vertibirds appeared overhead.

“What is this shit?”

A storm of bullets rained down on the Raider.

“ARGH!!”

Sole got pelted by a few bullets, but the Raider absorbed most of them.

The next thing they knew, Sole was being lifted off the ground

“You’re safe now, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” Maxson reassured, carrying Sole to the nearest Vertibird, “I wasn’t going to let that scoundrel crush you.”

When Sole and Maxson made it into the aircraft, the Elder planted a kiss on their forehead.

“We’ll have Cade examine you for injuries, but you should be alright. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Deacon:

Deacon— who had managed to strip down to his underwear and throw on a brahmin skull— started clapping, prompting Boomer to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“Wha—?”

“Congrats! You’ve passed!” Deacon exclaimed.

“Passed? Passed what? Who the fuck are you?”

Deacon pretended to be surprised.

“Wha—you don’t know me? I’m Bones. From HQ? I was sent out to test the raider bosses. Yanno, see if they can hold their own against intruders.”

Boomer scoffed, “Well of course I fuckin passed then. I ain’t no pushover.”

“Right,” Deacon smirked, “Well, you’ve earned yourself a shipment of supplies. Just clean up the corpses and let my partner go.”

Boomer nodded and stepped off Sole. Sole took a few moments to recuperate before scrambling to their feet. Deacon winked at them,

“Thanks. We’ll be on our way now.”

When Sole and Deacon had gotten far enough away from the raider boss, the duo loaded up a Fat Man and sent a mini nuke his way.

“Enjoy the shipment, jackass!”

#fallout 4 #fallout #fo4 #danse #paladin danse #hancock #deacon #maccready #piper #curie #cait #gage #nick valentine #valentine #maxson #react

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soft-ris · 3 years

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HI FRIEND, FOR THE CP: (such a cute idea btw!!!) let me see if i get this right...i cut it short but i have curly hair, dark dark brown but with some really cool natural blonde highlights. i have bluish-silver eyes and i think nice lips, and am around 5'7" (174 cm i think?). i am a WRITER to the core, super creative, ideas hit me 24/7. i really love history and would love to visit ruins someday. movie junkie. i'm sarcastic but like to think to think i'm also funny! I'LL BE 🐄 I HAVE ONE MORE 😫

OKAY ITS 🐄 AGAIN. as i said i really love making people laugh and writing poetry for people. i'm very selfless but often to a major fault lol, not very good at taking care of myself a lot. self esteem? DON'T KNOW HER. but hey, i kinda enjoy cooking, and i really love reading!! (IS THIS OVERSHARING) since we only have jojo in common my top 3 are risotto🖤, DIO⚰ and Jonathan🗡 :^) thank you AGAIN an i hope you have an absolutely wonderful day my dood

———————————————————————

Cupid’s Pick for your match made in heaven is...

...Jonathan!

———————————————————————

I'm very selfless but often to a major fault lol. Not very good at taking care of myself a lot. Self-esteem? DON'T KNOW HER.

The MAIN reason I chose Jonathan was because of this. Jonathan’s a whole gentleman (I mean he basically strived to be one). Kind and sweet and positive and has a heart bigger than both his boobs and ass cheeks combined. He would be the best match up for you because his affirmations and positive attitude and sweetness would be like to honey to your tea, the sugar to your coffee, the whipped cream to your strawberry. He’s the best (out of the characters you’ve given me) in reassuring you. And because of his personality and disposition, you’d be well taken care of (physically especially). Your self-esteem would also flourish because there’s no doubt that he loves you and only you (romantically), and he’d remind and show you for as long as he’s with you. He’d also appreciate your selflessness the most because he’s always out there being selfless, so having it be done to him is just a big uwu for him. I feel like that’s how he shows his devotion and love, and so your selflessness is just top notch in catching his heart. But when you take it too far, he will reign you back in. He may scold you, but you’ll know it’s because he means well and he doesn’t want to see you hurt or exhausted. He’s sincere in that sense, and because of that, you know he means it when he tells you he loves you, when he calls you beautiful, when he says you own his heart and soul because you actually do. In the long-term, I see his personality just helping you improve your self-esteem and self-care and selflessness naturally.

While I was tempted to match you up with Risotto, Jonathan ultimately won out because I do not see him (Ris) doing as well with this aspect of yours (compared to big boy Jonathan). He can translate your selflessness to either being a pushover (when you bend yourself backwards for others, and he’s disapproving of that because he believes you should respect yourself more and may even take you under his wing instead of his bedsheets lol) OR he can interpret this as either your loyalty to him (when you bend yourself backwards for him). With the latter, he may end up taking advantage of it sometimes. This is because I believe he’s so used to having things taken away from him or not having enough of something, so he may subconsciously demand more of you in some manifestation of greed. So you’d end up giving more, he’d end up taking more, and it’s just not a good balance. ESPECIALLY if you say you’re not good at taking care of yourself. I’m not saying he won’t take care of you if you two are dating, but I also think he needs someone who can essentially function well without him (since he’s so busy and has a lot on his plate and can’t always be there for you; I’m not saying you’re a burden bc you’re not, I’m just saying Ris has a lot going on and he doesn’t want to be the reason for your decline in health and mental state if y’all were dating bc he wasn’t there and he will beat himself up over it).

The biggest reason I didn’t pair you up with DIO specifically is because I feel like he would 1000000000000000000000% take advantage of this. He’s not above that and he most likely will not feel remorse for that. Hell, he would 100% enjoy utilizing your disposition to his advantage, and in the long-term (hell, even in short-term), that’s not good for you and your health at all. As shown countless times before, he relishes in power and does not enjoy it when people are of equal or higher standing than him. And because of that, I feel like he would not hesitate to use your low self-esteem and selflessness to further his ego and complex. DIO’s also surrounded by gorgeous people every day, and he wouldn’t bat an eyelash if you were to voice your insecurities to him. Although, he may end up also using sweet reassuring words to you just so you fall under his spell harder (which means it would be easier to manipulate u and ur selflessness) OR he may exploit it and make you feel more insecure but also manipulate you to be more mindlessly devoted to him (it’s easier to use that forehead bug thing but that’s removable). All in all, it would just breed an extremely dependent and toxic relationship between the 2 of you because you would never be his equal, even in a relationship with him. He’s not the antagonist for nothing lol (I’m well aware of his past and the implications/effects it has, but we’ve all seen how he has acted throughout his life and his thought process). 0/10 recommend.

I am a WRITER to the core, super creative, ideas hit me 24/7.

Jonathan would be supportive all around and would love to help you in any way he could. He’d want to read everything you produce too! Overall, extremely proud of your creativity and if you publish a book, he will throw a party, make Speedwagon buy a copy too, and cherishes the first copy you give him.

Risotto would gift you things to help you with this, like books, stationaries, & etc. Would help you out with proofreading and editing too if he has the time. He’s supportive like that and he’s attracted to how you’re so creative and can draw inspiration at all times.

DIO thinks your creativity is admirable. He would also love to read what you write, but is very critical. He’s read so many books, and while preference is subjective, he knows what good writing is (based on genre, style, & etc.). So if it’s not good, you’ll know why from A to Z. And if you get disheartened by him, he will look down on you and call your passion weak.

I really love history and would love to visit ruins someday.

Jonathan seems like he likes travelling in general, so he would love to visit with you too! Might not be super into history, but well, anything will interest this big puppy if you tell him passionately enough.

Risotto looks like he doesn’t mind? Not super interested, not super disinterested either, but will travel with you if he’s able to free up his schedule.

DIO can only go at night, but he looks like he enjoys history and ruins.

Movie junkie.

Jonathan and you would set up a weekly movie night date thing, and he’ll let you pick whenever because he just loves to spend time with youwu. He has some favourites, but if the movie doesn’t interest him, he’ll still sit through it but his attention would be on cuddling you.

Risotto? Kinda depends on the genre? But he looks like the kind to not have enough time to be a movie lover or sit through one for you, so not the best match.

DIO prefers books so he won’t indulge in this love of yours, but if it’s an adaptation from a book he would watch it. But he’ll be a raging bitch if doesn’t match up to the books. Honestly, if he’s uninterested, he won’t be watching it.

I’m sarcastic but like to think to think I’m also funny!

I see Jonathan as someone who enjoys it when his partner can quip back, so while he may not find sarcasm funny most of the time (when aimed at him), he does find it attractive. If you’re sarcastic to the people who give him a hard time, he would kiss you passionately afterwards and who knows… you might even get dicked down after oho. If you’re sarcastic to the people he cares about, he won’t mind if no one’s feelings are hurt.

DIO won’t tolerate being disrespected in any form, even if it’s a joke. I just can’t see him allowing that with that God complex of his lol, but he does find it amusing when you’re sarcastic to other people.

Risotto loves sarcasm, but he has an image to keep. So as long as you don’t undermine or disrespect him (you have to have a 6th sense with the boundaries), he’s more than happy to sass you back or chuckle at it.

I really love making people laugh.

Jonathan and Risotto appreciates this the most. Finds it lovely. Jonathan especially because he finds it so sweet that you want to bring laughter to others. Risotto enjoys a partner who would love to bring more joy into his life. But I see the shit Risotto laughs at as dry or dark or when its real stupid or boomer/dad-like, anything else he’s a little like ‘ok’. Jonathan appreciates the effort alone and would tease you a little if it’s a really bad joke (all in good nature of course).

DIO…he laughs mostly at other people’s demise or stupidity or cluelessness. That’s all I’m gonna say.

I really love writing poetry for people.

Jonathan would SWOOOOOOOOOOOOOON SO hard. He would show it off to Speedwagon and then keep it tucked somewhere safe so he can read it whenever he wants to.

God he’s just so in love with you and he thinks it’s just so romantic of you. He absolutely loves it. Hell, even if it’s not for him, he’s so proud and awestruck because poetry is hard and he’s just so proud whenever he brags about this skill/hobby of yours. He also thinks it’s so sweet of you to write poetry for others and love doing it. Man just has heart eyes all around and I can’t blame him.

DIO would be smug about it for all the same reasons but in a more…condescending way? Like ‘HA. Do you peasants see that? Their talent? You could never lmao’. But would get pissy if you write for others more than you write for him because he should be your #1.

Risotto would say thank you and give you a kiss. Outwardly he won’t show as much (unless you look hard enough and notice the way his eyes soften more, like the way he would smile too, and his cheeks might even have a touch of pink), but he will forever treasure the poem. He also keeps his favorite on him all the time, like a little good luck charm. He doesn’t brag about your talent, but he’ll proudly agree if someone brings it up. Of course, you wouldn’t know all this though (unless you accidentally find out).

I kinda enjoy cooking.

Johnathan has a refined palate because of his upbringing, but he also looks like he’d eat whatever you cook solely because you made it just for him. He’s a gentleman and a sap with a big heart, if he doesn’t like it, he’ll eat it. He might tell you what can be tweaked, but never in a way that makes you feel bad or inadequate. He also looks like he can’t cook for shit lmao, so teach him!! He’s always down to do anything if it means spending time with the love of his life uwu

Risotto and DIO would tell you straight up if they don’t like what you’ve made. The difference is, DIO (if he ain’t a vampire yet) wouldn’t even touch it (anymore after the first bite) lmao, Risotto too but he’d end up cooking with you to teach you how to improve the dish. Of course, he doesn’t do it to shit on you. He appreciates the sentiment, but he’s not going to subject himself to something he doesn’t enjoy if he can help it. Also would turn it into a cooking date with you. DIO would just take over the kitchen and make you watch LOL

I really love reading!!

DIO too! I see Risotto enjoying it as well, but not as much and probably prefers music related hobbies. As for Jonathan, he doesn’t mind it? He’s not the biggest fan of it, but if you read it to him, he’d happily perch his head on your lap and listen to you like an audio book sent from the heavens (but somewhere along the way he will fall asleep KSKSKSK)

DIO would engage in conversations with you on the books (also thoroughly enjoys if you can keep it interesting), Risotto would if he knew the book (but would then just listen and ask questions if he didn’t), Jonathan is just happy to have your attention on him, but would read the book and talk about it with you if you want that.

Your physical appearance description.

Jonathan would just love to play with and admire your hair 24/7, and if his attention isn’t on your hair, then it’d be on your lips. Kissing, brushing his tongue or fingers or **** against your lips, just absolutely loving the shape and feel of it.

And because you’re also tall(-er than average?), kisses are SO much more easier to access and that’s such a plus uwu. I mean regardless of height, he can always just lift you, but he also doesn’t have to bend too far when plopping his head on the crown of ur head too. And if u wear heels or shoes that give u extra height? Power couple goals😩🤘🏼💫

#jonathan joestar #jjba #jojo #jojo’s bizarre adventure #cupids_pick

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