#trashing Star Wars (which I could go off about I don’t even like it that much but it is ABSOLUTELY valuable)

[giggles-and-freckles]

hi abi!! partners in crime au with swcw characters of your choice please <3

from this prompt list

“I can’t believe you used to live here.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “That was a long time ago.”

“Still,” Padmé says. She looks up at the towering ceilings in wonder. “The Jedi Temple. It’s gotta —”

“Did you miss the part where we are breaking-and-entering?” Obi-Wan whispers. “A situation like that generally calls for some level of silence.”

“No one in this wing of the building is even awake.”

“There are many nocturnal Jedi, Padmé.”

They continue quietly down the long corridor. It appears Padmé is right. They don’t pass a single sentient being — which makes Obi-Wan have a bad feeling. It shouldn’t be this easy.

“Do you remember the combination?” Padmé asks, once they've stopped in front of the door.

“I don’t need the combination.”

“Oh, right.” She grins. “The Force.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, but lifts his hand nonetheless. It’s more difficult to do these menial sorts of tasks than it used to be, but he’s more than capable of picking a combination lock. He watches in satisfaction as the dials turn and click into place.

“Show-off,” Padmé laughs, bumping Obi-Wan’s shoulder as she hurries into the room.

The furniture is in the same place it always was. A couch against the window, a chair in the corner. The small dining table nestled between the countertops. 

But it looks as if a gundark has moved into the place.

“Stars,” he whispers in horror, looking around the disaster zone. There are grease spills across the floor, droid parts littering the furniture, and —

“No way.” Padmé squints her eyes to better see in the dark room. “Obi-Wan. Is that…”

“That’s a piece of pizza stuck to the wall.”

She begins to cackle in delight and turns toward Obi-Wan. “How’s your blood pressure? Are you alright? Do you need to lie down? It must be difficult to see your old home absolutely trashed.”

“Stay quiet,” he says with a scowl. “Let’s find it and get out of here. Before we develop a respiratory infection.”

He hasn’t been completely honest with Padmé. For the past several weeks, he’s warred with himself on whether or not to tell her the truth about this trip to the Jedi Temple. To fetch his old lightsaber, he told her. Realistically, he knows it’s not here. They’d taken it from him long ago and there was no chance of them stashing it in his old quarters. He isn’t sure what the Council does do with the lightsabers of Jedi who walk away from the Order, but it isn’t this.

At the same time, Padmé’s too smart to have believed him in the first place, so she must have an idea of what’s really going on here.

“Check the bedroom,” Obi-Wan says. Then, as an afterthought, “Stun only.”

Padmé snorts. “Yeah, yeah.” She disappears into the bedroom. 

It’s been more than ten years since he’s been in this room. Everything was different then. He was so young, naive…Qui-Gon was alive.

He doesn’t have time for sentimentality. Not right now. He moves to the cabinet under the sink and slides his hand along the inside wall, looking for the latch. When he and Qui-Gon lived here, there were cleaning supplies kept in this cabinet. Now, it’s empty.

Which shouldn’t come as a surprise, given the state of the rest of the quarters.

He finds the latch and lifts it, pulling the inside wall out to reveal the compartment Obi-Wan was looking for.

The door beeps twice.

Obi-Wan jumps up from the floor.

“Padmé!” he hisses. But it’s no use. The door to the bedroom is too thick, and if he yells louder, he’ll be heard.

There’s one more beep and then —

“Uh…” The man frowns in confusion. He’s holding a plate of — stars — pizza. “Did I go to the wrong room? Because —”

The bedroom door opens and Padmé emerges. “Obi-Wan?” The click of a blaster.

“No!” he shouts.

The man’s plate falls to the floor as a blue lightsaber quickly takes its place in his hands.

“No, stop!” Obi-Wan yells, throwing his hands up. “Put the weapons away! Both of you!”

“This is my room. You’re —”

“Obi-Wan, look at him, we could take this guy.”

Of all things, this draws a scoff from the tall man. “You could not —”

“We absolutely could! You —”

“Hey!” Obi-Wan cries, then looks toward Padmé. “Set down the blaster.”

“No way. He’ll kill us!”

“He’s a keeper of the peace,” Obi-Wan says, fixing the Jedi with a look that serves as both an olive branch and a reminder. “We’re in his home. If you put down the blaster…”

“Fine,” Padmé grumbles, lowering her weapon.

“Can we be rational?” Obi-Wan asks, emphatically. At this point, he’s willing to accept a response from either of the other individuals in question. He should have better prepared Padmé on how to interact with those who wield lightsabers. They don’t often come in contact with Jedi when running jobs. Because their business is unrelated, and because Obi-Wan does his research.

He has no desire to interact with another Jedi in his life.

“How did you get in here?” the Jedi demands, his lightsaber still beaming. It illuminates the room.

“Complicated question,” Obi-Wan counters.

“He picked the lock, dumbass,” Padmé contributes from behind him. “I thought Jedi were supposed to be smart.”

The lightsaber hums in intensity as the Jedi grips harder at its hilt.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, wondering what he did to deserve this.

“We mean you no harm,” Obi-Wan assures him.

“Speak for yourself. I haven’t made up my mind one way or another.”

“Please, Pad—”

The Jedi steps forward. “If I don’t start getting some answers, I’m gonna stop being so agreeable.”

“This is you being agreeable?” Padmé questions. “No wonder you bailed on them, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan shuts his eyes, hoping if he can’t see the conversation taking place, maybe it will disappear.

“Bailed on…” the Jedi pauses. “No way.”

Obi-Wan takes a breath. “Just —”

“Obi-Wan. She keeps calling you Obi-Wan. You’re…no way.” The room is cast back into darkness as he extinguishes the lightsaber. “You don’t remember me.”

“What?” 

He moves across the room and flips on a light. It stings, to be so abruptly greeted with the insulting fluorescents he’d forgotten about. Qui-Gon had always kept lamps in here to avoid ever using the main light.

Obi-Wan isn’t sure he’s ever seen this room so bright.

The Jedi stands before him, boldly, and Obi-Wan realises this is no man at all. It’s a boy. He’s tall, to be certain, but still possesses all the gangliness of youth. His eyes, bright blue, are beyond familiar, but Obi-Wan can’t place them. 

“I’m Anakin Skywalker.”

Padmé’s blaster clatters to the floor.

“You’re…” Obi-Wan stammers.

Padmé regains her bearings before Obi-Wan. She moves out from behind Obi-Wan and stops with her boots practically touching Anakin’s. She pulls back the hood of her cloak and looks up at him. “Ani? My goodness, you’ve grown.”

Anakin doesn’t seem to know what to do with this, but Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the way his cheeks pinken at her words. 

“Padmé,” Anakin says in awe, his eyes moving over her. “I can’t believe it’s you. You…” He frowns. “You were a queen. How did you —”

“Not anymore,” she says quickly and steps back.

“But you were so good at it! I —”

“People change. So do galaxies.”

Anakin turns toward Obi-Wan. “And you. You left the Order. As soon as we got back from Naboo. I —”

“Yes.” It’s not a memory he cares to relive.

“Why?”

“It’s not important anymore.”

“Not important,” Anakin echoes cooly. Something shifts and Obi-Wan can tell the intrigue of this reunion has worn off for Anakin. “Huh. Thanks for giving me a heads up on that, by the way.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “It wasn’t —”

“No, no,” Anakin says, shrugging his shoulders in false nonchalance. “It was great fun, really. You know. Leaving behind everything I’ve ever known only for my first master to be murdered and my second one to completely abandon me.”

“I’m sorry. Truly. I didn’t mean for you to be hurt in the process.”

“Hurt?” Anakin questions. “I didn’t have a chance to know you enough to be hurt by you. Just betrayed. But I got over it.”

“Clearly,” Padmé mutters.

He rounds on her. “I don’t know how you fell from grace, but it must have been a pretty steep tumble if this is what your life has turned into. Breaking into the Jedi Temple? What are you even trying to do? Kill me?”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan says quickly.

“Rob me?” Anakin asks in surprise. “You must have forgotten how being a Jedi works, old man. There’s nothing here worth having.”

“Who trained you?” Obi-Wan finds himself asking. He can’t get away from the what-ifs.

“Why do you care?”

“I’m only curious. After all —”

“After all, it could have been you, if you weren’t too much of a coward to try.”

“My leaving had nothing to do with you, Anakin.”

“Master Skywalker,” he corrects. There’s vitriol in his words, but there’s also pride. “Because I did it. Without you.”

“Congratulations,” Obi-Wan says, and he finds that he means it.

Anakin scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. “You didn’t answer me. Why are you here?”

Obi-Wan shifts his glance toward Padmé and begins to speak carefully. “I was coming to retrieve something.”

#it's SPACE pizza okay??? #and i have about 2000 more words for this but im keeping them to myself for now #had to end this somewhere #so enjoy the abrupt finale #oops #obi wan kenobi #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #writing prompts

[biglisbonnews]

What You Missed at New York Fashion Week (According to Linux) This is What You Missed Last Month (According To Linux), in which nightlife it-girl Linux takes us behind the velvet rope and into the VIP section of Scene-City. Through her extreme (sometimes exaggerated) lens, Linux gives us the tea on what really happened at every party-of-the-century that floods our Instagram feeds. (A note from the author: don’t take what she says too seriously — she’s just a club kid after all).They say, “all’s fair in love and war,” which must be why each February all New Yorkers’ rules of candor are tossed into the trash. What are the odds that the two most brutal yearly happenings, Fashion Week and Valentine’s Day, happen in the same month? How on Earth does one balance the two? Not so fast investing all your energy into securing a mans for that candle-lit dinner at The Nines — you’ve got a Vogue party to go to! Good luck dedicating your paycheck to buying your new lover some diamonds — you’ve also got to go to Loewe and buy your own look for their party you’re crashing. (We all know the PR girl who sent you the flyer at the afters last week is never texting you back, in fact she’s probably fired by now!) The only foolproof way for an it-kid to garner triumph in February’s affairs of love and war is simple: Throw those morals right out the window! Have to text your besties nemesis who handles reservations at Indochine? She won’t forgive you, but at least you’ll have an entree to IG-Story on the 14th! Do you so badly want to go to the [Redacted Cancelled Fashion Designer] show but you’re worried about your reputation? Diet Prada posts ten times a day, this too shall pass!And don’t worry, my curious readers. While the despicable Socialites and Fashionistas of 10001 spent 28 days backstabbing and trampling over one another towards victory in love & war... your favorite journalist (me!) tagged along. All month I lurked in the shadows, disguised as the scenesters we love to hate, and quietly attended each and every New York happening. As a servant of truth, I’ve brewed all the tea that went down at these scandalous hotspots... and honey: it’s scalding! Rest assured that I, Linux, the New York Downtown It-Girl, am nothing like them… I’m one of you! I didn’t even want to be at these mega-fabulous celebrity-filled parties. This was all for… uh… research purposes! February 9: Christian Siriano See on Instagram Every New York Fashion Month starts with a visit from Christian Siriano. We know it, we expect it, we love it. Project Runway star Christian Siriano invited the who’s who of who’s left to Gotham Hall to show off his Fall 2023 collection. I could tell you all about the floral fashions that stomped down his runway but I know you’re really here for the front row! I was plopped next to the usual Nightlife/Fashion Crew, seated next to queens like Gottmik and CT and nightlife cool kids Leigh Lezark, Austin Smith and Ty Sunderland. After the NY-C-List got settled in, a swam of flashing photographers around a redhead at the entrance alerted all of us that the real stars had arrived. Taking a closer look, we realized it was none other than Lindsay Lohan. Yes... Lindsay Lohan! What a gag. After millions of photographs, Lindsay was quickly escorted to her seat next to us where we all one by one whispered to one another “omg…I can’t believe... Lindsay Lohan!” After the Hollywood legend sat down and her show ended, the fashion show began. New York legend Dianne Brill, however, did not make it to her seat in time, but all of Gotham Hall got to admire her head-to-toe ensemble and self-emblazoned “BRILL” clutch from our seats.After the final look came down the runway and the crowd applauded for Christian, we piled into a Siriano Sprinter van and headed to the afterparty at the Edition Times Square. There, Gottmik performed something Y2K (this was a month ago, how should I remember?) and Ty Sunderland DJ’d something even more Y2K. Somehow hours went by and by 8 PM I was on the Edition terrace in Times Square drunk out of my mind chain-smoking with Lindsay Lohan and a bunch of talent managers. No matter how many jokes I told... I did not get a gig! (But Lindsay did laugh.)February 10: Dion Lee AfterpartyIf anyone in the scene is an enigma wrapped in a riddle and cash, it’s Dion Lee. The Australian designer was first introduced to me in my Bushwick home at one of my many COVID-era raves. Since meeting, I’ve seemed to run into him anywhere the BPM passes 140; at too-cool hotspots such as Unter, the green rooms at Basement or the 10 AM yurt afters at Nowadays. It’s easy to find him around — that is, besides during Fashion Week. I reached out, as I do every season, to attend his show and afterparty to no avail. After weeks of radio silence, I finally took the hint that it was a big N-O. Most with a speck of pride would give up... but honey, I am more than a chimp with a typewriter. I am Linux and this is The Nightlife Bible. The only thing that will without fail get my party-crashing ass to attend an event is telling me I can’t go! I’m sure my invite just got lost in the mail. On Fashion Week Friday, Dion Lee invited everyone (besides me!) to Boom Boom Room to celebrate his Fall 2023 show. Everyone in NYC with a functioning ketamine habit pooled into the Standard Hotel elevators and up to the top floor to party with the designer. If you’re a routine reader of mine (as I’m sure you are) then you’ve come along with me to countless events at this venue. If you’re new here: it’s where Solange and Jay-Z got in that fight! But what made this night different from most at Boom Boom Room was that, instead of being filled with LA celebrities or the entire Vogue office, the congregation mainly consisted of Bushwick ravers and transgender Parisian supermodels. Simply put: the crowd was cunt. The room was packed, but thankfully there was no wait at the open bar, as most attendees were likely dosing GHB. Around midnight, the bartenders began clearing the unused bar, which hinted that whoever was about to perform would be converting it to something with more value: a stage. Finally, as the music cut off and we heard her iconic voice, the secret show was revealed to be Azealia Banks. In seconds, the most talented person to come out of New York City hopped onto the bar in a two-piece army green number and began performing for us. One thing about Dion Lee is he will always align himself with talent, and Banks rapping at his afterparty was no exception. By the end of “New Bottega,” the tranquilizer crowd did their best to applaud, and the K-gods spoke to me in my thoughts, letting me know it was time to go. In fact, by 2 AM I don’t know if anyone there even knew where they were! Kudos to Dion for throwing a fashion week party that only I will probably remember. All I could keep thinking to myself that night was, All these people got invited and not me? But as I write this now, I am immediately reminded that it’s because I write party reviews like this!February 11: Honey Dijon Teksupport See on Instagram There’s nothing I love more than going to a non-Fashion Week party smack-dab in the middle of Fashion Week. Long-running production team Teksupport is no stranger to throwing killer parties. For as long as I can remember, Teksupport has been one of the few bumpin’ bashes for breeders this city has to offer. For a full week in February, Teksupport put together a lineup of iconic DJ’s including Diplo, Bedouin and Honey Dijon. Out of those three, the standout evening was easily that which belonged to Honey Dijon. The event took place at The Glasshouse, an innovative venue boasting floor-to-ceiling windows and unobstructed 360-degree views of the Manhattan skyline. The city was especially excited to see Dijon as this was the fashion-icon and DJ’s first New York appearance since being awarded a Grammy for her part in Beyoncé’s Renaissance. I had hundreds of Fashion Week things going on that day, but that didn’t stop me from arriving promptly at 11 PM. I was quickly reminded just how straight Teksupport parties are. Thankfully, however, Honey Dijon was in the building to save us all. For two hours, Mother played her best heavy-hitting house for the thousands of attendees on the top floor of The Glasshouse. Dijon’s talent combined with Teksupport’s otherworldly skill in lighting and sound made for the ultimate New York night to remember. Needless to say, it was the best homecoming a girl could ask for... Honey Dijon said so herself!February 15: Paul's Dolls' One-Year See on Instagram After 52 weeks straight of throwing a party meant for the girls, gays and theys, the night had finally come to celebrate a whole goddamn year of my weekly party: Paul’s Dolls. I remember when I first spoke to you, my fabulous readers, about Paul’s Dolls last spring. At that point, I had only the slightest idea of what this party could become. Wednesday after Wednesday I joined forces with the most notable New York kids to help bring this night to life... and girl did it work! At Paul Sevigny’s nightclub Paul’s Casablanca in the heart of Hudson Square, everyone who’s anyone got together to celebrate my baby turning one. I think what this city loves so much about Dolls is it isn’t too stuffy or uptight. To so many, this night could only be described as a Weekly Downtown House Party. When a Drag Race girl is in town? They go to Paul’s Dolls. When Fashion House is in town? (Mugler, I’m looking at you!) They go to Paul’s Dolls. Bitch, even fucking Snooki goes to Paul’s Dolls! Somehow the vibe is so correct that you totally forget you’re at a bitchy nightlife menace’s ego-stroke! So with that, I’d like to end this month with something different: a thank-you. Every week you’ve managed to show up and show out at my very first solo weekly, and I’ve been moved. Seeing your glittering faces each week at Paul’s Dolls and experiencing such a magical night with you all so often is a total honor. When it comes to Paul’s Dolls I know one thing’s for certain... you definitely didn’t miss it! Photography and styling: Airik Prince Art direction: Chris Correa Dress and gloves: Christian CowanShoes: Pissy PussyScarf: Adrienne LanduaGlasses: Smiley GoodsJewelry: Heart of Bone https://www.papermag.com/linux-what-you-missed-nyfw-2659607821.html

#What you missed last month #Fashion week #Nyfw #Linux #Nightlife #Christian siriano #Dion lee #Honey dijon #PAPER

[the-cat-chat]

July 9, 2022

Treasure Planet (2002)

A secret map inspires a thrilling treasure hunt across the universe as young Jim Hawkins and John Silver, the ship’s cyborg cook, set off in search of their destiny.

JayBell: Treasure Planet is a Disney movie I missed out on as a kid, so I thought it was past time to check it out.

Watching without any prior knowledge of plot or character, I was surprised by how unique and different it was to any other Disney movie that I remember from the time. It’s very steampunky Pirates of the Caribbean meets Star Wars. Without any doubt, the highlight of the movie is it’s visuals, both with the environment and the alien creatures.

With that said, I can’t help but be disappointed with some of the characterization of this film. The main character, Jim, reminded me of the coolness of Aladdin (my favorite Disney prince as a kid), yet somehow managed to be even more angsty. Look, I get that Jim had severe daddy issues, which I’m sympathetic of, but my god did I just want to slap the angst out of him sometimes. His emotional, bad boy attitude did not endear him to me. But I do admire his cool earring and edgy hairstyle.

John Silver, the cyborg that Jim projects his daddy issues onto, was the villain of the story? Or the big hero? It’s hard to know. I’m all for a complicated, morally gray character, but it felt more like John Silver’s flip-flopping allegiances and behavior towards Jim was more about inconsistent characterization. Were we supposed to like John Silver in the conclusion of the movie? I don’t care what John Silver did to “redeem” himself of his past criminal actions, I wanted him to go to jail with the rest of the crew instead of getting away scot-free.

Also the little robot guy played by Martin Short did not add anything of value to the movie, even as comedic relief. Thankfully, I love a strong, female captain and cute aliens like Morph.

Rating: 5.5/10 cats 🐈

Anzie: This was another movie I could never catch on Tv when I was younger- which I now realize I think was really only to hear John Rzeznik of Goo Goo Dolls sing “I’m Still Here.” Not that it’s baaad but it’s just kinda meh. Totally not the best Disney movie out there, but it’s song is amazing if you wanna feel the feels.

The switch up on the original Treasure Island to instead be space pirates and odd slug like aliens is a cool concept for kids, but I literally felt like I couldn’t understand half of the dialogue from the Cyborg Long John Silvers. But maybe that’s my own issue.

My rant, however, is with the consistent ABANDONMENT of poor Jim Hawkins- and the point made that HE’S the problem. Well excuse anyone whose been an ignored and ABANDONED child to act out as a teenager. And his mom’s all like I don’t know what to do with you??? So he’s like oh if I find the greatest treasure ever- and then my mom and I can be happy??? And theeeen this cyborg pirate whose a scammer tries to play father figure- but is a user. And then when it’s ohh you treated me like trash but please let’s have a heartfelt conversation while you abandon him again because your fleeing imprisonment?? And we’re supposed to be distracted because they tried making Jim Hawkins cute bad boy with an earring, undercut/rat tail combo, and dark circles??? Like in retrospect that isn’t weird for a cartoon??

Anyway Morph’s pretty cute. And Ben is too relatable. And at least Jim gets to go to some Captain Academy.

Rating: 5/10 cats 🐈

#movie #movie review #Disney #disney movie

[teamghosts]

Simulator: Choose Wisely 🖥️

 Markus could only stare. The Mafia? How would it work? What happens in the game happens in real life, so what if he accepted. Would some godfather going to knock on his door and invite him to the family? I don’t think so. He wasn’t a criminal.He logged on to the simulator and rejected the invite. The pop-up went away, and nothing happened . It was easier than he thought.He went back to counting his donations and was shocked to find out he had collected almost £2,000. If this continued, he wouldn’t need the simulator to earn money. With a smile on his face, Markus went to bed that night looking up property to rent that didn’t resemble the trash compactor from Star Wars.

 The next afternoon, the TV and PC he had ordered arrived. He signed for them and dragged them into his apartment. He noticed a man standing at the end of the corridor but brushed it off as jealousy. He was too excited to set everything up.By 1pm, his new wide-screen smart TV was mounted on the wall and his PC was connected next to his Xbox. His two monitors glowed, which made Markus’ smile even brighter.He set the PC up and had to install everything from his previous computer. When he re-downloaded the simulator, he didn’t have to start again; everything was just like he had left it.

He was watching Netflix, drinking a whiskey that somehow cost him £100. When someone knocked on his front door, He put down his glass and paused the show to answer it. There was no one there. Weird?

He looked around and saw no-one. He was heading in when something caught his eye. On the floor was a joker card. He picked it up and turned it over.

‘CHOOSE WISELY’

What the hell did that mean?

He went back inside and thought nothing of it.

Later that night, when Markus was streaming to a nice eighty people, He got a donation from an anonymous person and it came with a message.

"Play your part."

He got a DM on Twitter and looked at the preview of the message on his phone.

‘DO NOT IGNORE ME’

Confused, he opened it and replied, "Who are you?"

"Stop the stream now and talk, or else" 

Markus thought about the man he had seen and the creepy message on the card, and decided he couldn’t risk it. He ended the stream, and as soon as he picked his phone back up, the mystery person messaged him.

"Good." Now listen, there are no second chances. We want you to do some jobs for us. You have a following online and we want to give you an opportunity to use it."

Markus took a few seconds before replying.

"What sort of jobs?"

"Nothing you need to worry about now, are you in?"

The notification from the simulator game popped back up. The mafia invites you to join.

"I’m not sure"

"I’m not asking. Do this or we will make your life miserable."

Markus didn’t want to do this, but if these were real gangsters he was messing with, who knew where he lived? He accepted the invite on the game and messaged the mystery person. "I'm in"

 

The rest of the night went by in a blur. He spent hours messaging this person, who later revealed his name was Skull, a nickname. Every one in the gang had one, and in time, so would Markus. What they wanted from him was simple.

He would use his following to get people to go to the club this gang owned and used as a money laundering site. They weren’t getting enough customers to pass off how much money was being laundered, so they needed to pack the club. Skull came across his live stream when looking up influencers and that’s why they contacted him.

They had given him clear instructions for the next day. Markus would arrive and post that he was having a great time in the club and attract customers so they didn’t get caught by the tax man.

 

The next day, Markus was woken up by a phone call. "Hello?"

"You better be ready for tonight," a rough voice was on the phone.

"Is this skull?" Markus said

"Who do you think would be calling about tonight?" Your fucking sister? "

He sounded like he was a two-pack-a-day smoker.

"Now do you know what you are doing tonight?" Skull asked

"I’m arriving at the club at 6pm and tweeting out and putting on Instagram that I’m at the club and telling my followers to come to the club," Markus said.

"Good lad. If tonight is successful, you’ll earn some pocket money and we might just have some more work for you. "

Skull ended the call. Markus sat down on the sofa with his head in his hands. What had he gotten himself into? He was in a mess that would cost him his life to get out of. More work? He didn’t like the sound of that. He stood up and tried to get on with his day with the thought of being a gangster puppet looming over him.

 

That night, Markus got himself dressed in decent clothes. He was always forgetting to go clothes shopping; now he could afford a new wardrobe. He checked out his reflection in the mirror one last time before getting a taxi to the club.

The ride was nerve-wracking. The butterflies in his stomach grew launder as the taxi stopped outside the club. Its massive neon lights illuminated the street while a light bass thumping emanated from the inside.

Markus paid the driver and got out and stood staring at the club doors. A man in his 40s who had a friendly smile approached him. "Markus, nice of you to be early."

That voice. This was skull. Markus was confused as he had pictured a hardened gangster with tattoos, but this man looked like he belonged in a gated community with a wife and kids.

"Skull?" Markus said

"Better in person?" Skull said as he put his arm around Markus’s shoulders and led him into the club.

It was practically empty, apart from a few girls on the dance floor. Skull led him into a room in the back labelled "OFFICE."

The room was spacious with a large mahogany desk, a mini bar in the corner, and the cosiest seats he had seen. "Drink?" Skull asked

"Erm, Whiskey please"

Skull poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to Markus. "Please sit down," Skull said.

Markus did, and he was right about the seats. He felt as if he was on a cloud. Skull sat opposite him.

"How are you?" Skull said

"Good..." Markus said.

"You don’t sound so confident."

"It’s just... you are not what I expected."

Skull started laughing. "My voice does sound intimidating when over the phone. I have to thank twelve-year old me for staring smaoking no-filter cigarettes back then. I hope you understand the threats were just business. I had to get you on board."

"What is it you want me to do?"

"Like I said, I want you to advertise this place and, in return, I will pay you nicely. "

"How much is nice?"

"A business man. I like it. How about a thousand pounds every time you come here, and let's say you do this every weekend, including Fridays. Does that sound good to you? "

"That would be fantastic but..."

"But?"

"This isn’t legal, is it?"

"What gave it away? Was it the money laundering? Yes. This isn’t above board, but you don’t have to worry. Just fill the club up so we don’t look suspicious."

Markus relaxed a bit now that he had been talked through it face to-face. He finished his drink and placed it on the desk. "In that case, I should probably start posting to get people here. Do you mind if I do a livestream? "

"Do whatever it takes to get this place filled."

Markus got up and left the office, already typing away on his phone, getting a post ready. He snapped a few photos of himself and posted them on Twitter and Instagram. His following on both accounts had been boosted massively by his twitch popularity. Or Markus boosting it on the simulator, which as he sat in a booth looking at the door, he started to wish he had never played. How did a simple game turn him like this? working on a money laundering scam. But £3000 a week was a pretty sweet deal. He wished he had the game on his phone so he could guarantee people would come. If he was caught, would he be charged? No. He is just doing advertising.

At that moment, the doors burst open and roughly a hundred people rushed onto the dance-floor.

Half of them recognised him and surrounded him, begging for selfies.

After an hour of smiling for photos, the club was packed. Markus ordered a drink and prepared to set up a live stream on his phone.

"Hey everyone. I’m here at Club Nitro having a blast. If you want a great time, then make sure to head down here right now. "

He live-streamed the rest of the night. Dancing and drinking. He completely forgot why he was there.

 

The end of the night came just after midnight when the music shut off and the crowd slowly left. Markus wiped sweat off his head, slightly drunk but happy. But for how long?

A man in a suit who Markus recognised as a bouncer found him. "Boss man wants to see you," he said, pointing towards the office.

He walked over to Skulls' office and knocked on the door. "Come in," he shouted.

Markus walked into the office. "You wanted to see me?" Markus said

"Markus! You have done a fantastic job. This is the biggest night since we opened. He opened a desk and grabbed a wad of notes tied with a red band and put it on the table. "There’s your pay."

"Thanks, I’ve had a great night actually," Markus said, and went to grab the money, but as his hand grabbed the money, and Skull grabbed his arm.

"That’s a great payday. But maybe you could earn more. " Skull said. All emotion is now missing from his voice.

"I’m happy with this," Markus said.

"A mere grand Come  on now, I thought you were smart. A right business man "

"What do you have in mind?"

"A trip. That’s all. You will take this briefcase for me," he lifted a briefcase from under the desk and placed it on top. "Across town and deliver it to a friend of mine. He’ll pay, you bring the money back, and I’ll pay you £5000. A fantastic promotion and raise for you.

"What am I delivering?" Markus asked.

"You sure are an inquisitive man, aren’t you?" Skull opened the briefcase and inside were white packages that Markus had only seen in films before; bricks of cocaine. "Columbias finest. Is this worthy of your time? "

"I’m sorry, but I can’t get mixed up with drugs."

Markus tried to pull away, but Skull squeezed harder and his eyes seemed to dig into Markus’s soul.

"I don’t think you understand. I’m not someone that you turn down. Are you going to follow orders or do I need to give you a lesson on who’s in charge? "

 

To Be Continued...

#simulation #gaming #paranormal #short story #stories #Simulator

[fweet-prince]

I’m still frustrated with my professor for suggesting that pop fiction is Less Than and if we wanted to be good writers we should be reading the Great Classics partly just because ugh but also she approved of me reading Lord of the Rings which is Literally About The Value Of Stories That Aren’t Literature™️, where the Fellowship cope by singing deeply important, culturally-ingrained songs alongside Bilbo’s silly little poems, where the first Great person the hobbits meet (aside from Gandalf) is a guy whose whole deal is singing songs that hardly mean anything and he saves their lives twice with it (I understand why Tom Bombadill was cut from the movie but he is Thematically Relevant), where the world is literally saved by an undereducated gardener who hasn’t read the classics reminding Frodo of the stories they’ve shared because ultimately stories are a way we connect with the world around us and a way we find ourselves and keep ourselves and if you’re gonna smugly use me as an example of what my classmates “should” be reading it’s a hell of a thing to directly contradict a major theme of said thing, huh!! I am Literally majoring in storytelling and LotR was a big part of launching me on that path and a major major part of that emphasis is about stories that aren’t Literature ma’am did you know you have pushed perhaps my single biggest button

#bloop #I spoke up in class of course I wasn’t about to let my classmates think I was that kind of pretentious #but I was much more polite about it lmao #and now I’m writing half-trashy fantasy for that class out of spite <3 #Lord of the Rings is a book about how Sam hearing Legolas’s song and saying oh that’s nice I’d like to learn it :) #Is a significant response to a work of art and Is something that makes art important #because if a story reaches someone at all it’s doing it’s fucking job! #even if the way it reaches someone is ‘oh pretty’ or even just entertaining them for a couple hours! #other specifics she brought up include! #trashing Star Wars (which I could go off about I don’t even like it that much but it is ABSOLUTELY valuable) #(also trashing Star Trek implicitly since she got them mixed up and said it made no difference #and I could go off just as much about why Star Trek is Also valuable) #lauding Shakespeare and Dickens (who both wrote primarily for people to say ‘oh fun story!’ and not do Literature to) #and *bizarrely* lauding Anne Rice for having drawn inspiration from The Classics™️ when vampire chronicles is *absolutely* trash fiction! #(which! if it wasn’t clear! is not an insult! because trash fiction is great!) #I just want to fucking. sit her down with a copy of Station Eleven and not leave until she’s read it #(which also incidentally would be great counterpoint to her implication that genre fic is inherently inferior somehow) #how about you read this book where Shakespeare and Star Trek keep people alive in the apocalypse and then maybe you’ll calm down

[rainydayathogwarts]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 >> 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

Second person p.o.v Warnings: well the title says some stuff Characters: Tony, Steve, Bucky, Thor, Clint, Peter(s), Pietro, Stephen, Sam A/N: This had to go under some editing before I have the courage to post it on here because honestly, it's either that I've read my works so much and feel nothing anymore or that it's genuinely trash. Also can someone please explain why people don't like peter quill/chris pratt please

-Tony Stark: "341... 342... 343..." You counted your pushups under your breath. You and Tony had made a bet: he thought Steve could do more pushups than you could, but in the heat of the moment, you bet otherwise. Now, you were obviously regretting your choice.

There you were with Steve in the living room, the rest of the Avengers watching you guys in amazement. The only thing that stopped you from winning against the super soldier was that you didn't have superhuman strength. At least you trained with one everyday. Right?

You felt your body stiffening and tiring as you continued with your pushups. You lowered your body one last time, chest hovering above the ground, but you couldn't find the energy to lift yourself up again. Steve glanced at you with a small smile on his face, watching as you struggled.

You groaned, falling to the cold floor, listening to Tony cheer, helping Steve up in joy. "You good there (Y/N)?" Asked Steve, walking over to you, giving you a hand. You glared at him, getting up on your own, making him laugh.

"You know you did better than any of us could have. That's 352 pushups in a row." Natasha praised, making you roll your eyes. "Yes, but it doesn't mean I couldn't have done better. Anyway, let's be real. Bucky is also a supersoldier, so me beating me is out of the question. He's just as strong as Steve-if not stronger."

You sauntered over to you and Tony's shared room with him right on your tail. You didn't bother closing the door behind you before taking off your shirt.

You gasped when you were pushed against the wall roughly, your sweaty body making contact with another one. " Good gods, what could you possibly want Tony?" You questioned, looking up. "You." He breathed out, leaning down to kiss your neck, sucking softly on the skin. Shivers ran down your spine at the sultry tone, and just as you were about to speak up again, he kissed your lips with hunger and need.

As if on instinct, your hands travelled to the nape of his neck, playing with the short hairs. He deepened the kiss, but it was abruptly cut short when the door burst open. "I-uh, sorry-I-um, water?" "You can put that right over there. Yeah, thanks Steve."

-Steve Rogers: You and Steve were huddled up on a couch in his apartment, watching Jurassic Park. He took a quick look at you, so focused on the movie, your lip tightly tucked between your teeth. You cuddled closer to your loving boyfriend who held you tighter, the cold getting to your bones.

"Honey, do you want me to close the window?" He asked you, already getting up. You got hold of his hand, tugging him down, your eyes never leaving the bright screen. "No, stay." He smiled and kissed your soft lips, getting your shiny lip gloss on himself.

"Um, you got something right there. Let me get it for you." You muttered, getting on your knees to kiss him once more. He chuckled against your lips, flipping you over so you were laying down on the couch. You threw your shirt off, Steve doing the same.

Just as Steve reached down to slide his shorts off, yours already long gone, the door burst open, two loud voices interrupting your moment. Two wolf-whistles caught your attention, your heads snapping in their direction. At the sight of Sam and Bucky, you pushed Steve off of you with such force he fell to the ground.

You rushed to put your shorts and shirt back on but they were at Sam's feet, so you stayed hidden behind the couch. "Nice gloss Steve. Where'd you get it from?" Started Bucky. "Oh right, never mind, where'd you get it from (Y/N)?" Sam slammed his hand on Bucky's back as they both broke down laughing. "Remind me why we gave them a key?"

-Bucky Barnes: Bucky wasn't exactly having the best day. The both of you had gone to one of your favourite coffee shops when your ex just happened to bump into you. "(Y/N)? Oh wow." And with that he started rambling off about his life, flirting with you, even with Bucky standing beside you.

You politely told him you had to go, feeling awfully sorry that Bucky had to deal with that. When you got back to the Avengers Compound, Natasha had immediately called you in for some work, leaving your boyfriend to sit in your shared bedroom all alone on his day off.

He wanted to kill your ex. Quite literally. So much that he even found his address. So when you entered your room, you didn't have the time to kick your shoes off before you were pressed up against the wall, with Bucky's lips hungrily attacking yours. You obviously kissed him back, hands pulling him closer to you by the shoulders.

When the door opened, Natasha dropped the file she was holding and her jaw slacked. Bucky closed the door shut with a growl, holding it there with his metal arm, his lips never leaving yours.

-Thor Odinson: It was a nice, calm morning for you and Thor. You were laying in bed, sunlight coming from the windows giving a nice gold tint to the room. Thor looked down, playing with your silky hair, and you smiled when your eyes connected.

He leaned down to give your lips a short peck, but you pulled him back in, finding his arms suddenly wrapped around your torso tightly. Your hands cupped his jaw and you felt Thor smile as he slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring it like it was the first time.

"Hey-oh!" Thor grunted and pulled away, looking at Tony who had barged into your room "Didn't know the Odinsons had it in them to go for a round so early." Thor held his hand out for Mjölnir which flew from the other side of the room right into his hand, making Tony run out of the room faster than thunder.

-Clint Barton: It was one of those days in the facility where no one had anything to do. No paperwork to fill out, no missions to go on and nothing fun to do. So logically, you and Clint decided it'd be a great idea to go training.

As you were sparring, he swung his leg under yours and in the blink of an eye, you had him straddling your hips on the ground.

He smirked and leaned down, his face close enough to yours for you to be kissing. He pinned your arms above your head and you whispered "Not here Clint." However you didn't protest when he started kissing your neck.

He only stopped when you both heard a loud voice booming. "Brother Clint and Lady (Y/N) seem to be busy, turn around." Clint rolled off you, the only thing heard in the room was your now heavy breathing. You saw Thor pushing Steve out of the training room making you chuckle slightly before getting up.

-Pietro Maximoff: It was a lazy day for you and Pietro. You both had some fun last night, though you were quiet and slow, not wanting to wake the others up from their light slumber.

You walked into the kitchen in one of Pietro's oversized training shirts to make yourself a coffee and a peanut butter and jam sandwich. You shut your eyes for a moment, opening them to take your first bite.

You felt arms wrap around your waist and you leaned into the familiarity of Pietro's chest. You both sighed in content; everything was perfect. Nothing could possibly ruin the weekend you were having. Pietro went ahead to place a kiss on your cheek and you turned around to get a proper one on the lips. He chuckled, his laugh throaty and raspy.

He reconnected your lips only to hear a yell "Oh get a room you two!" You bit the inside of your cheek, grabbing your sandwich in one hand and Pietro's shirt in the other, dodging a disgusted Clint as you escaped to your bedroom, coffee mug forgotten on the counter.

-Peter Parker: You and Peter went over to his house immediately after class, eager to cool off with your weekly movie night. It was easy to say that the both of you had a fairly tough week. You changed into some comfortable clothes, settling down on Peter's bed with a bunch of snacks.

"You know," you started, taking a sip of your soda. "More people should watch Star Wars. Like they immediately judge, but they haven't even watched it. At least know what you're talking about if you're going to say it's bad." Peter smiled, pulling your body closer to his and kissing your forehead. You hummed in delight, snuggling into his chest. "If this is what I get for being smart, I should really start studying more."

You trailed butterfly kisses on his soft skin, from his jaw down to his collar bone until his sweater was restricting any further access. You tugged at it and Peter untangled himself from you to take it off.

Just as you straddled him, connecting your lips to his skin once more, the door squeaked, signaling it had been open. "Hey Peter-oh! Use protection!" Aunt May stepped out of the doorway, shutting the door behind her, leaving you and Peter mouth agape as you stared at the same spot she stood at mere seconds ago.

-Peter Quill: It was a crucially boring day for the lot of you. You all just sat in the Milano trying to find something to do. "Babe. Baby." Peter poked you in the shoulder repetitively, head leaning on your arm, puppy eyes ready. "What is it Peter, Baby?" "I miss you." He whined.

You looked down at his pouty face, leaning down to give his soft plump lips a nice short kiss. "I want you," he whispered in such a low voice, you almost didn't hear him. You looked around the room.

Gamora was reading a magazine, Rocket was fixing some sort of machine, probably another bomb, Drax was sitting on a one seater couch eating from a bag of chips and Mantis was doing whatever Mantis does, looking outside the ship from the big glass window.

"Come on." You told him quietly. As soon as you entered your room, Peter was planting kisses all over your jaw and down your neck. He picked you up, walking you over to your bed. He immediately crawled above you and you moaned, throwing your head on your pillows and arching your back when he found your sweet spot.

"What a show, you're disgusting." Peter didn't stop, and neither did you, only encouraging his actions when you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You only pulled away when Gamora took her shoe off, throwing it at the both of you and hitting Peter, making him jump and yelp.

-Stephen Strange: "Hello Love." You jumped slightly at your boyfriend's sudden presence behind you and heard him chuckle deeply. He had just returned from the hospital after a long day of work, leaving to your bedroom for some rest.

You sat in the living room, eyes on your book but your mind kept on drifting off to Stephen. He was a great man. He always greeted you with small kisses after long days of work, cooked dinner when he could, and went out of his way to buy you flowers and small gifts.

You don't know how long you sat there but you eventually got up to strut over to you and Stephen's bedroom. "Hey Ste-oh." There he stood, towel wrapped around his waist, hand running through his wet, greying hair.

His smirk grew wide as he approached you, hands gripping your hips. He leaned down and your arms went to his chest as your lips connected. His tongue easily slipped past your lips and into your mouth. Your fingers played with the loose towel hanging around Stephen's torso and soon enough, it hit the ground, exposing your fiancé's body to you.

Stephen groaned and your arms wrapped themselves around his neck. He lifted you up and your legs found their spot around his waist, hooking your ankles together, never breaking the kiss. "Oh my god!" Stephen suddenly dropped you on the floor only to pull you back into him to cover himself. "Oh my god! Why you guys!? At least shut the fucking door!" "Get out Christine!" Yelled Stephen, his face flushed, embarrassment written all over his features.

-Loki Laufeyson: You sat in the library, nose in a book. That's how it was, and that's how you planned it would be for the rest of the day. That was, until someone snatched your precious book from your hands and started running into the depths of the library, the only sign of who it is being the jet black hair disappearing behind a bookshelf.

"Loki! Come back!" You yelled, already on the chase. "Loki!" You dragged out the last syllable you looked through the aisles. All of a sudden, you were pulled into someone's arms and then pushed back into a bookcase, a pair of lips smashing onto yours.

You couldn't help but moan out Loki's name as he pressed himself closer to you, starting to grind his crotch into yours. He smiled softly, murmuring an "I've missed you incredibly, my love." You moaned again, managing to utter "I've missed you too."

"Would you look at that! What have you done to (Y/N)'s innocence, my dear brother?" Loki pulled away with a sigh, giving Thor an 'Are you serious?" look.

-Sam Wilson: "Never again." You groaned, slumping down onto the couch, clutching your now broken wrist. "You okay baby?" Asked Sam, pulling you into a hug. You dug your head into his chest, shaking it slightly. "I think Steve likes seeing me suffer. He always sends me after the tougher guys." You whined.

He chuckled as you spoke up again, muttering about the pain. "At least you got your cast to be your favourite colour, no?" You laughed at his poor attempt to cheer you up but nodded nonetheless.

He got up, leaving the room before joining you again, a sweatshirt in hand. Your eyes lit up as he handed it to you and you pulled it on, nearly ripping it with your speed. "Careful there." He muttered as you launched yourself on him to hug him.

"Mhmm." "Don't fall asleep on me again, please." He told you, kissing your soft, pink lips. You hummed, your uninjured arm fisting his shirt to pull him on top of you. He chuckled at your eagerness before pulling you in again.

You both had been so busy these past few weeks that you barely got a morning kiss, but now that you were alone, you intended to make the most of it, showing your boyfriend of two years how much you really loved him.

Your unharmed hand held him closer to you by the neck, your broken one on the couch beside your head. You moaned when Sam bit your lip but immediately stopped, eyes widening when Natasha walked in with Tony, her eyes on her phone, muttering "Somewhere else please."

#the avengers #marvel #marvel studios #marvel smut #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes #sam wilson #stephen strange #tony stank #tony stark #thor odinson #loki friggason #loki odinson #loki of asgard #clint barton #pietro x reader #x reader #bucky barnes x reader #peter parker #peter quill #rainydayathogwarts

[turtle-go-brrrr]

The gang during movie nights

Leonardo

Easily impressed

Like, there is an arrow shooting off toward the camera and he's ducking

It's hilarious

He gets so invested, especially in shows, like I can't stress enough how attached to the characters he can be

Won't cry, but will be deeply hurt if anything bad happens

Doesn't handle r*pe scenes well at all (none of them really do, but he'sthe worst)

Doesn't understand why they need to be shown on screen when the implication of that act can be just as disturbing and powerful

Likes to know how good the actors were treated on set too

If he learns that they weren't treated well he's gonna shit on the director for a really long time

When no one can decide on a movie he's the one choosing

Will sometimes let you choose, but dont count on it very often

He loves thrillers and mysteries, trying to guess what will happen along the characters

Not as good at it as he thought he would be though

Donatello

Unless he's captivated by the movie, he's the worst person you could watch anything with

Talks constantly

Critiques any illogical thing he can see

Don't tell me about plot holes

Goes on and on about character development

Discussing a movie with him is fantastic, but watching it? No sir

Unless you're like that too

He has the best taste in movies tho

He loves indie movies the best

His favorite movies (as of late) is The Shape Of Water

(He just loves the fact that the two characters fell in love because of what they are instead of despite it)

(Also it's a monster lover movie and he secretly hopes he can find someone at some point)

Will put his legs on your lap but won't share the blanket

Will give you unlimited access to his stack of snacks tho

Raphael

Pretends to love horror movies because he's the Tough Guy but actually hates them

Either because they're not scary (and therefore cringy) or because they're too scary

And he doesn't like being vulnerable

Will watch any and all movies starring Vin Diesel

His favorite is Baby Sittor

Doesnt like the Fast and Furious movies as much as he makes it out, he just has a big crush on Diesel

Really likes animated movies

If they want to explore dark themes, they have to do so subtly instead of throwing blood and sex scenes in your face all the time

They have to be creative about everything and he likes that aspect

If you guys are watching an horror movie, he'll cling to you at every jumpscare and act as if he was just shifty

Will silently claim unbreake loyalty to you if you hold his hand during the scary parts

Will put you on a pedestal forever if you don't tell anyone about any of this

Michelangelo

Always in his phone

It's not because he's not paying attention, he just needs to do something at the same time to be able to pay attention better

ADHD amaright

Cries easily too

Not just from sadness, but from laughter too

Really likes comedies, but loves thrillers and drama even more

The shittier, the better

He just loves being fake interested in the characters life and criticizing every bad choice they make

"Don't go back with him Linda, he cheated on you!"

Ends up being real invested and cant take his eyes off of the screen (he gotta knows what happens next)

This is especially true with Christmas Hallmark movies

He knows exactly what will happen, the acting is bad and it's all too cliche

But he has to see it anyway

The ultimate snack maker, but won't share his

Will give you as many blankets and pillows as you need

Will also most likely fall asleep on you

Which is a huge problem when you need a bathroom break, because no one will help you move him without waking him up

April

She doesn't really have a favorite genre

But if there's murder in it, she's gonna live it

"I'm just saying, it would have been a lot better if he died after falling down the pit." "What did you expect from Dora the explorer?!"

Unironically loves really bad movies

Velocipastor, Vikingdom, Sharknado and the likes

They have this weird, we-got-drunk-and-made-a-whole-movie-before-the-hangover kind of energy that she loves

Don't let her choose the movie because she will choose this kind of trash film

If she manages to pull it off, you two will have the time of your life in from of this trash

Like constant laughter, trying to guess how far they'll take the absurdity etc

Just an honest good laugh

Casey

Adventure kinda guy

Like Indiana Jones, Jumanji, The Mummy, etc

He just loves the adventure and action ok

Especially if Dwayne "the Rock" Johnson is in it

He has a secret crush on him

(As secret as Raph's crush on Vin Diesel, so not so secret)

Also has a thing for romances

Really really likes them if they're somehow tragic

Like "two lovers getting separated during the war and finding each other again in the battlefield" kind of tragic

Doesn't like it if it ends on a bad and depressing note

Like it has to at least have a message of hope at the end

He's the one shushing everyone when it becomes too much

Also the one to refill snacks, and give you "secret" snacks if you help him

(It's your favorite candy)

Likes to act as if he was giving you drugs or soemthing when in reality it's like. Caramel

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt headcanons #bayverse tmnt #tmnt 2k16 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt april #tmnt casey

[nevertheless-moving]

Star Wars Aus

I have so many star wars time travel aus in my head. writing fanfiction is really, really hard (mad props, no idea how you do it). it is 1:26am. and i have come here to shout into the void.

crack/rock star fluff fix it: obi wan several years post ROTS travels back to the very beginning of TPM. Had enough time to mostly process/repress Order 66 and imagine 10000 if-i-had only-done-things-differently, so after a fairly brief freak out he can pass off as an intense force vision, he’s a pretty effective time traveler. Frees Anikan AND Shmi, keeps qui-gon from dying, properly kills maul on Naboo. Anikan is brought to the creche so he has time to befriend other initiates and learn Jedi culture before becoming a padawan. Obi wan is a young knight, he privately tutors Anikan and works with him on his issues and also his issues. The very first second Palpatine starts sniffing around he point blank tells Anikan do not let yourself be alone with him, I can’t explain completely but trust me and Anikan does. 

Obi wan also has the independence to go off on missions and start covertly undoing only-visible-in-hindsight complicated sith conspiracies that have been eroding the republic and trying to gather actual evidence to take Chancellor Palpatine down cleanly without people turning on the Jedi. Doesn’t confide in anyone because a) he’s still a crazy hermit man and b)his biggest advantage is that Sideous has no idea he’s on to him. He has to disable all the back up destroy-the-Jedi plots before he plays his hand.

But this is all just background plot for the real meat of this au! Which is Obi Wan Kenobi is secretly a famous mystery pop star! Bear with me!

Obi Wan needs covert money to work against sideous.

 He has knowledge of the future! Easy money. 

He could invest in stocks or gamble on famous races, but... 

 Just in case his covert ploting and secret money ever gets uncovered (yeah, he’s Xanatos gambiting) he needs his source of space cash to be clean, and not seem like everyone’s worst fears about Jedi seers.

What was that ridiculously viral pop song towards the end of the clone wars that got stuck in every human and near-humans head? That never stopped playing on space radio? That obi wan of course knows all the words to because its the most viral, slightly irritating but so catchy song ever made?

And wasn’t the guy who wrote it just, the worst? Like, Obi Wan wasn’t exactly following celebrity gossip, but towards the end of the songs replays someone would feel the need to ‘you know what that guy does to’- ‘yes. its a pirated version’. R Kelly problematic. Absolutely fine stealing his art before he makes it, noble even.

And hey, Obi Wan’s got a decent singing voice. 

So! Obi Wan goes down a few levels. He finds a sketchy recording studio, picks up some backup musicians from dive bars, and records a demo.

The song goes out from a big recording studio who got it from a small recording studio who got it from an agent who got it from a lawyer who got it from a mysterious B.K who never reveals his face, who was absolutely convinced it would go viral, just protect the copyright, don’t ask or answer any questions, and channel the money into these discrete untraceable accounts and you can be ridiculously wealthy. 

It takes a year or two, Obi Wan is a little concerned that the cultural influences just didn’t come together. or he didn’t replicate the recording perfectly enough. oh well.

And then it becomes an even bigger hit then the original timeline

He has enough money to fund his one man campaign against the trade federation. Success.

B.K’s mystery identity fuels a ravening, obsessive fanbase. The random band he picked up become overnight stars, and they literally have never seen B.K’s face, he appeared out of the ether, paid them in beer for a couple days while they jammed together and arranged with the lawyer for them to get a cut of the proceeds ‘once the song took off’

A few people who know obi wan do make jokes that the singer kind-of sounds like him. Bant and Garen tease him a little and try to get him to come to space karaoke to sing it but they never actually think its him. 

Qui-Gon, who listened to him sing in the shower for a decade asks him about it the first time he hears the song and Obi-Wan just acts offended that he things he would write trash like that. He’s still a little suspicious but he know Ob-Wan doesn’t even like pop music so he just chalks it up to the force working in mysterious ways. 

Quinlan is convinced its him. Obi-Wan won’t flat out deny anything, just scoffs and responds sarcastically. It drives him absolutely insane. Because it is just such a stupid song and Obi-Wan writes sad poetry how did this happen. WHO even are you. Makes conspiracy boards with yarn. Obsesses over it. Tracks him and finds him doing convert anti-trade federation/banking clans stuff. HOW DO YOU HAVE TIME TO DO THIS AND BE A SECRET POP STAR.

#star wars #star wars au #my au #crack #secret pop star wars au #sw #sw au no 3 #star wars au no 3 #pop star wars au

[coalitiongirl]

Fic Recs (under 300 edition)

So I wanted to get back to reading Swan Queen fic regularly, and I asked people to rec longfic that they'd read (not written) and loved that had fewer than 300 kudos! I haven’t read most of these, but I’ve collected them here so y’all can go through the list and discover some new fics with me! Please try to kudos and review every fic that you read! It means the world to the writers and will keep em writing, and then we all win. 😁

Atonement by SgtMac (M): With Regina's magical heart failing thanks to years of previous evil, Emma and Regina and Henry (and Granny!) set out to save her life by traveling to the Enchanted Forest and requesting help from ancient magical beings known as the Guardians. Given a mission as simple as it is impossible - to achieve atonement by creating peace - the ladies find themselves joining a rebellion and fighting for the very soul of the Enchanted Forest all while trying to help Regina to understand that the self-loathing and guilt which have driven most of her actions don't have to doom her chance for a new beginning or even, a chance to live and love again. A S4(ish) SQ love story set against the turmoil of war and the chaotic savagery of the old world.

Blood and Sand by cheshire6845 (E): A/U The Savior is a slave forced into the role of fighting as a gladiator for the House of Hearts. The odds are against her survival as she will have to win in the arena, navigate Cora's schemes, outlast a general's vengeance, and not be killed out of spite by the current House of Hearts Champion - Regina the Undefeated. This story follows the major plot points of Starz Spartacus with some twists along the way.

But what if there was no time by KizuRai (M): When she wakes up, it's dark. She can't move, she can't see, she can't feel and she can't hear. Where am I? She feels a forceful oppression, pressing her down, draining her of her energy and she's powerless to stop it. How did I get here? The question of here is relative, she's not even sure where here is. What happened? There must be some reason for being stuck here but her memory is fuzzy, like all her thoughts are being sifted through a filter. Who am I? She's not sure if she actually exists or she suddenly became sentient in the darkness.She hears a voice reverberating in the distance, it's distorted and quiet but she hears it all the same. It breaks the monotony of the silence. Someone's coming for her, they will get her out. She's just not sure she wants them to as the price might be too great.

Finding Home by evl_rgl (T): “I wanted to remember you so badly that I pulled back your cursed town just so that the memories would make sense. I needed you so badly that even when I had no memory of you, I still tried to find you.” Regina gave Emma and Henry memories of a happy life together before they fled Pan’s curse, leaving them with no memories of their lives in Storybrooke. However, when the memory spell shows signs of failing, threatening to rip apart the minds of both Emma and Henry, Regina makes a drastic choice to go back and fix it, understanding that it will mean living alone in a world where her son doesn’t know her. Was the spell really faulty, though? (swanqueen)

Five Flames by MariaComet (U): In the past, Emma Nolan disconnected from her peers in high school, preferring to keep to herself. In her sophomore year of high school, she decided to try and join the boy’s wrestling team because she was bored. She didn’t expect herself to become the champion of the most bullied kid in school or the secret best friend of the school queen. She also didn’t expect to join a club that would change her life. In the present, Emma is trying to cope with a humiliating loss in her martial arts career. She claims to be “training” but is stuck in limbo between wanting to retire and try again. She is isolated from her former best friend, Regina Mills, a local celebrity chef and the rest of her old friends. When one of them calls her with an idea to honor their deceased teacher, she is confronted with unresolved feelings and questions about how powerful love truly is.

A Glamour of Truth by PrincessCharming (T): After 2x10, Regina uses magic to show Emma the obvious truth. A tentative trust forms between them amid hilarious bickering. With Emma's help, Regina struggles to regain a place in her son's life... until Cora arrives, wanting her daughter back. Pieces of Regina's past emerge showing that the board was set long before the game started. The final battle begins soon.

His Dark Materials 'verse by MoonlitMidnight (M): A modern Alternate Universe in which Dæmons (the external physical manifestation of a person's 'inner self' that takes the form of an animal) are present. In which Emma and Regina have led slightly different lives and they make slightly different choices.

How Many Miles to Avalon? (WIP) by RavenOutlander (E): Regina would do anything to save Emma from the darkness and bring her back home safe and sound. Even put up with the two idiots, Captain Guyliner and a bunch of dwarves she decidedly wanted to drop off at the nearest exit. But in their search for Emma, they find that she might not need that much saving after all. Caught up in a search for the infamous Philosopher Stone, an all out war between DunBroch and Camelot, and ghosts from the past to haunt her every waking moment, Regina finds herself scrambling to keep her and her family's happy endings from falling apart.

The Hyperion by FrankenSpine (M): After wishing upon what she believes is a shooting star, Emma Swan finds herself aboard the Hyperion, the royal starship of an alien Queen from a faraway galaxy. She quickly learns of the tensions between the Queen's people and her own, but the Queen takes an interest in her and agrees to take her away from Earth forever. Adventure awaits. *(Loosely based on Guardians of the Galaxy with just a hint of Farscape)*

If Wishes Came True (It Would've Been You) by Angeii_K (M): After Regina films a guest appearance on her friend Neal’s popular show, he invites her to spend the weekend with him and his girlfriend. What she never expected was to actually like the woman. Sparks fly between the two, which results in them questioning everything and making choices they will later regret. 4 years later, they meet again in the most unexpected of ways. Now co-stars on the same show, they are forced to work through the emotions from their last encounter. What will happen next? Only time will tell.

The King Doesn’t Have To Know (WIP) by highheelsandchocolate (M): The White Knight had never seen anyone like her before: the Queen was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her possessive yet neglectful husband, however, was another thing entirely.

The Lich by Dangereaux (M): Gay disaster Emma, exasperated Regina, and a monster. A Halloween special.

Maybe if We Close Our Eyes we Can Reach the Stars by wellthizizdeprezzing (T): Emma is a lonely astronaut. Regina is an adventuring alien. Their paths cross leading them onto a journey of new discovery. Between galaxies and many miles of cold black space, despite not speaking the same language, they manage to fall for each other. An out of this world love story.

A prisoner long forgotten by sugarsweet_19 (M): ‘I wish I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood and as black as the wood of the window-frame. Soon after she had a little girl, who was as white as snow, with lips as red as blood and with her hair as black as the ebony of the window-frame. She was therefore called Snow-white.” This is how our story starts but how will it end?The evil queen as been locked up in a tower and forgotten that is until princess Emma looks for a place to hid from her parents after they tell her she has to marry Neal the son of the dark one.

Revenge of the Three Little Pigs by mskyo (M): Regina and Emma find themselves alone and looking for the rest of their party. The Evil Queen must face the consequences of her past actions. Will Emma come to her aid, or understand that justice must be served... *Some chapters have fairly graphic sex, and violence*

Things I Almost Remember by cheshire6845 (T): A/U Despite an oncoming war between the Dark and the Light, Emma and Regina are best friends growing up in the Enchanted Forest. When war does come, they find themselves on opposite sides. Regina will have to defy her mother to save Emma. Will Emma be able to save Regina when Cora curses her daughter to live in the Land without Magic?

What We Make (WIP) by DiazTuna (M): “My mother.” He says calmly. He’d known all along, she’s aware. But he’d known that today would be the day that would get this going. She wants to ask what it was like, to have woken up this morning, laced up his boots and walked into hell just knowing. “It’s programmed the cyborg to kill her. Before I have a chance to be born.” -In which the leader of the future sends his best soldier back to the past to save his mother from a killer cyborg. Terminator AU.

The Wrong Way by pcworth (M): Takes place right after Zelena steals Regina's heart. Zelena offers Regina a chance to go back in time with her and change both of their lives for the better. But what will be the price of that decision. Slow-burn to SwanQueen

zombie trash by 13pens (T): Zelena could have her brain and eat it, too. Fic operates on three premises 1. this takes place in any universe where zelena is a reformed asshole 2. zombies are a thing and exist iZombie style 3. i have NO chill

#swan queen #fic rec #ouat

[priortoallthoughts]

Don’t Mess With the Commander’s Caf

(or do, because it’s gotten you this far)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Commander Fox x afab!reader

Warnings: Mild swearing; gets a bit spicy at the end but nothing explicit.

Summary: What is supposed to be a night out at 79s turns into a night in the drunk tank, and the morning starts a startling new relationship with a certain Coruscant Guard Commander. All over a cup of caf.

// [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Masterlist

A night out in Coruscant is never complete for you without going to the clone bar, 79s. You may pre-game somewhere else, but you always end up there, recognizable as one of their regulars. You love the atmosphere, honestly. It’s so jovial, just vode – and weren’t you surprised when you found out that clones spoke a different language with each other – coming to forget the war for a night. Living life as much as they could. You’ve picked up a few words of theirs purely because you hear them so often. Many a curse word too, which are your favorites.

And they were about to be put to good use.

You’re already buzzed and walking with a group of grey-clad troopers that had pulled you into their group when they saw you walking alone. You chat easily with them even though you never met them before. That’s the funny thing about being sociable when you’re sober – you’re even more chatty when you drink. And giggly apparently, considering you couldn’t stop laughing at the mission gone wonky they were telling you about.

When 79s came into view your smile widens. There really is nothing like the neon lights and bass you can already hear resonating from inside. Were there probably millions of places just like in on Coruscant already? Sure. But there isn’t anywhere aside from 79s you could find this kind of ambiance.

There is one downside that pisses you off like no other though.

There’s yelling coming from over by the speeder-way and when you look over, another civilian is getting in the face of a Coruscant guard member. The frown the graces your face feels wrong after laughing so much, but you can’t help it. You pause in your tracks. Usually when you see this kinda shit it deescalates fairly quickly, but this civilian is getting louder and more violent the more the (admittedly nervous acting) guard tried to calm him down.

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder and you look up to see one of your group. “We can’t do anything. The punishment would be too harsh and that civvie chakaar won’t even get a slap on the wrist.”

Your frown turns into a snarl. “You can’t do anything.”

Fishing your flask out of your jacket pocket you take a swig before shoving it into the chest of the closest trooper. The steady click of your heels is the only thing you can hear over the growing volume of yelling.

“Hey! Shabuir in the stupid shirt!” Your own yell interrupts.

You have exactly one second to reconsider things before you think about all the vitriol this jackass is spewing at the guard for nothing. The sound of your fist hitting his face is the most satisfying thing you’ve heard tonight, along with the yelp he lets out when he hits the ground.

“What the kriff is your problem, bitch?!”

“You talking shit about this trooper is my problem!”

He turns towards the guard again and the trooper flinches. “I want her arrested for battery!”

You lean down to grab his collar and shake him out. “Oh, so now you want him to do his job? The one you were just belittling him for? Can’t have it both ways, chakaar!”

“Let go of me!”

You drop him so suddenly that his head cracks against the ground. He scrambles to his feet and points a finger at you. “You’ll regret this! They’re nothing but meat-droids!”

“Say that again, you little pissant. I dare you.” You go to take a step forward but he’s already running away. A hand on your shoulder again makes you look over to the one you defended.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” And he does sound sorry. “I will have to take you in tonight. I… can’t ignore you attacking someone right in front of me.”

You smile at him. “No problem, trooper. Do your job; I don’t want you getting in trouble.” You offer your wrists to him and next thing you know they’re in a pair of binders behind your back and you’re being placed in the back of a speeder.

“A night in the drunk tank should sort you out.”

The smile you give him is blinding, because not only do you know that’s not the proper booking for what you just did, at least you look cute while you’re being taken away.

---

When you wake up in your cell (lucky you’re the only one there) you’re beyond tired and in desperate need of some caf. You can’t function without it in the morning.

There’s a guard member who lets you out not long after you get up. You follow him like a zombie. Presumably he’s leading you out of all the twisting hallways, but you stop short when your nose picks up the distinct smell of caf.

But not just any caf. You know the smell of Death Wish anywhere.

Your favorite.

You follow your nose to a mess hall – sparsely populated but still enough that everyone stops what they’re doing to look at you as you make your way to the caf machines in the back. You’re basically falling asleep as you walk so you don’t notice. Maybe you should care, considering you’re still wearing your clubbing outfit from last night, but no, you don’t actually care.

When you get there you see two different machines. One is labeled with some cheap, generic caf name and the other is simply “Fox’s Starfighter Fuel.”

You grab a flimsi cup and fill it with the second one. No cream. No sugar.

No life, only caf.

You finally notice how deathly quite it is as you take your first sip and turn around. There’s one trooper standing in front of you, helmet tucked under his arm, and the most severe look you’ve ever seen before gracing his features. You look him over with half-lidded eyes, noticing he’s dressed differently than the others, and casually take another sip of caf.

“You must be Fox.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed in this part of the building, who let you in here?”

Still waiting for the caf to kick in, you shrug. “Spent the night in the tank. No one stopped me when I walked in.”

Fox turns to glare at everyone sitting at the tables. They all look down at their food like they weren’t obviously watching and someone starts whistling.

“You need to leave,” he says when he turns back around.

“Can I finish my caf first?” You ask, taking more sips hoping to stall.

He glowers even more. “That’s not even your caf!”

“Shame.” You chug the rest of the still mostly full cup and coughs wrack your chest when you finish. “I think I just burned my esophagus,” you rasp.

“Get out.”

“That’s completely fair.”

You toss your cup in the trash on the way out. Turning the way you were going before you got distracted, you make your way to the exit; no need to bring the wrath of Fox down on you for sticking around. You feel like, once again, you get off light and dont’t want to press your luck. The smile that graces your face as you step outside is probably a strange thing for anyone else to see considering you’re walking out of jail, but you had a good night, and the morning is shaping up to follow suit.

---

The next day you walk into the caf shop you normally stop at on the way to work. The barista behind the counter waves as you walk up. “Your usual, hun?”

“You know me,” you smile brightly, “but, uh, can you make it two?”

Her eyes widen. “I can’t imagine the morning you’re expecting to have!”

You laugh and wave her off. “Nothing bad. I owe someone a cup.”

“You mean someone else drinks this sludge?”

“Imagine my surprise. And it’s not that bad!”

She places two large flimsi cups in front of you. Your hands rub together nervously before you get your thoughts together. “Can I borrow your marker?”

She hands it to you with a raised eyebrow and you quickly scribble a few words on one of the cups. It isn’t a lot, and it completely gives away who you are without having to sign your name, so you hope it’s okay.

“Thanks, gotta run!” You scurry out of the door before the barista can ask anything about what you’re doing.

You aren’t even sure yourself if you were being completely honest. The Coruscant Guard building is a little out of your way from your route to work, but you leave early in the mornings anyway, so you can still make it in time even with the detour. You feel a bit nervous walking in this time. Where did all your confidence from yesterday go?

You flag down the first trooper you see that doesn’t look busy.

“Can you give this to Fox, please?” You hold out the cup for him to take.

He doesn’t.

He only stands there, and you imagine he’s making a face behind his helmet because he doesn’t say anything either.

After a few seconds of silence you lower the cup awkwardly. “Uhh, oh, sorry, am I allowed to bring caf?”

“Why are you bringing the Commander caf?” He finally asks.

You squeeze the cups so much the tops almost pops off. “Fox is a commander?”

“Commander Fox is head of the Coruscant Guard, ma’am.”

The top of your own cup does pop off this time, but nothing spills.

“The entire guard?” You squeak.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Heat is quick to crawl up your face. “Oh stars, I can’t believe I took his caf.” Your internal panic is quickly becoming external as you try not to drop either cup. You hid your face behind one in embarrassment.

“Wait.” The guard member tilts his head. “You’re the one they were talking about yesterday? The girl from the mess hall?”

There’s a few second where nothing but incomprehensible noises come out of your mouth, but you finally get out, “how many people know about that?!”

“It’s made its way around.”

“I’m gonna - kriff - go throw myself off the senate building I swear-“

You’re cut off by the sound of a chuckle and you snap your head up to see the guard member’s shoulders shaking. “So you’re not trying to poison the Commander, huh?”

“No!” You yelp, but quiet down after you see others turn to look at you. “I was just trying to repay the caf I drank! We like the same kind!”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Can you please just give this to him before I die of embarrassment? You’re killing me here!”

He laughs again and finally takes the cup from your shaking hands. “Who should I say it’s from?”

You slap a hand over your face to hide your grimace. “At this point I’d rather not tell you. I want to keep some of my dignity intact,” you mutter.

“Nobody’s dignity is intact here, ma’am.”

“Oh… joy.”

“You best be on your way then.”

He is giving you an out and you’re taking it in full.

“Have a good day,” you say as you turn, the only proof you’ve been there being one guard member and a note on a flimsi cup.

“Sorry for taking your caf yesterday.”

---

One week later you find yourself standing outside of the caf shop, once again with two cups in hand through no fault of your own. It makes you think that maybe another trip to the Coruscant Guard building wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Why waste a perfectly good drink after all?

You pause immediately when you step through the door, because the man you’re looking for is standing across the room talking to someone with a datapad in hand. The decision on whether to interrupt is made for you when the person he’s talking to looks over and spots you.

He waves and Fox finally looks over as well, tilting his head as he does so. You take a deep breath before walking over to them.

“Caf girl!”

You raised your eyebrow at the other trooper. “I really am known around here for that, aren’t I?” You say as you stop in front of them. You have a sneaking suspicion that he is the same one you talked to last week.

“Well you never gave me your name,” he shrugs.

Yeah, it’s him.

Your head snaps to Fox, however, when he addresses you.

“You know my name?”

“Your information was processed and put into the system when you spent the night in the tank.”

“Osik,” you mutter.

“Did you need something?” He asks.

You perk up some, and hold out the second drink in your hand. “Right, there was a mixup at the caf shop, and I got an extra drink. I thought you might like it.”

He takes it carefully, but your bare fingers still brush against his gloved ones. They tingle when you pull away, and while the heat on your palm from holding the hot cup fades, the heat in your fingertips does not. You have the sudden urge to find out what holding his hand feels like, but you push that thought down along with the blush you can feel rising. Now isn’t the time. You have to get to work. Maybe if you come by earlier next time….. would there be a next time?

“Thank you. I… appreciate the thought.” You think you hear him trip over his words, but there’s no way.

You smile brightly at him. “You’re welcome!” You check the time on your chrono. “Looks like I gotta bounce. Enjoy your caf, Commander!”

Your retreat is quick, but hells if you don’t add a little extra sway to your hips as you walk out the doors.

And scribbled on the cup now in Fox’s hand is:

“I know day old caf when I taste it. Fresh is better.”

---

You start to bring Fox caf every week.

“This has become part of my routine, so I hope you don’t mind.”

Every week turns into every few days.

“Your filing system is horrifying but at least your chair is comfy.”

Every few days turns into every day.

“Tell Thorn that if he sees me at 79s tonight, he can’t arrest me just so I’ll hang out with him.”

And leaving early just to see Fox is the best part of your day no matter what. You hope you’re not the only one who feels like this. That maybe as you walk to the Guard building in the morning, you’re not the only one smiling and counting down the minutes until you get to Fox’s office. He never turns you away, and he’s always there to take the extra caf from your hands if he can be. Sometimes you have to leave it on his desk if he’s not in, but you understand that his job isn’t easy by any stretch of the word.

He is in this morning, however, seeing as the door opens promptly at your knock. He sits behind his desk, a few data pads already stacked next to him and a frown marring his face. That won’t do.

“Credit for your thoughts?” You say as you set his caf down next to his helmet and lean against his desk.

Fox looks up and gives you a tired smile, unaware of how it makes your stomach flutter. “Shaping up to be a long day.”

“Giving yourself more grey hairs already?” You say, giving a pointed look to his already greying sides.

“Like I need any more,” he huffs.

“I dunno,” you reach up and run your fingers lightly through his short curls, “I think they make you look distinguished.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding. “At least one of us thinks so.”

“It’s okay, I can like it enough for the both of us.”

“Should I count myself lucky then?” He smirks, finally taking a sip of his caf and sighing contently into the cup.

You give him a cheeky grin. “You should.”

He looks at you then, not saying anything, and you can’t help the flush you feel crawling up your face. You swear, you had never blushed so much around anyone before you met him. You distract yourself by drinking your own caf, the liquid welcome to your suddenly dry mouth.

“I do.”

“What?” Your head snaps back up to him and he’s still looking at you, but not in a way you’ve seen before.

“I do count myself lucky.”

You look away shyly, a small smile forming at the corners of your mouth. Sure, you two have been lightly flirting with each other, or at at least you’re definitely flirting with him, but this is the most straight-forward thing he’s ever said to you.

“It’s a good thing I got myself arrested that night then, isn’t it?”

It’s uncharted territory, where this conversation is heading. The thought of what it could be sits low in your belly and causes you to let out a shakey breath.

“It’s quite the holovid to watch,” he says offhandedly.

You’re lucky you aren’t drinking your caf, otherwise you would have spit it everywhere. You turn your head so hard you think you give yourself whiplash, mouth agape, looking at him in wide-eyed mortification.

“There’s a holo of that?!” The pitch of your voice would be embarrassing if you weren’t in the middle of spontaneously combusting on the inside.

He nods empathetically, which is shit because you know for damn sure he’s not empathetic about it; he’s having too much fun with this. You know he is, with that stupid, heart-stopping smirk playing on his face.

“Our HUDs record each incident for our files to make sure everything matches up with the reports.”

“Nooooooooooooo,” you whine quietly into your hands that now cover your face. You hear him get up and move to stand in front of you, but you don’t react. Mainly because you have no idea what he’s doing, but also he’s so kriffing close you can barely handle it.

His pries your hands from your face and presses them to his desk, effectively caging you in. He’s even closer now, and you’re hyper aware of how hard your heart is pounding even though you stop breathing. It’s the last thing from threatening, but you’re still frozen.

He leans in so his mouth is right next to your ear. “You look good in that little red dress of yours,” he whispers, his voice octaves lower than before. “Especially when you’re beating the kark out of a civvie – standing up for my vod.” It sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine and straight to your ovaries.

You suck in a breath when he pulls away. This is much more than you could have expected. “You’re not giving me much incentive to not be arrested again,” you tilt your head, “now that I know you’d be watching.”

“Always watching you, cyare.”

You hum, pulling one hand away from his to run up his armor and trace lightly over his jaw. “Gonna have to try harder to get a pair of binders on me next time, then.”

“Would you run?”

“Only if you’re the one chasing me.”

You move your hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and scratch lightly, feeling more than seeing him shiver under your fingertips.

“I’d find you.”

“Oh, I’d be counting on it, Commander.”

It’s a mutual surge that leads you two to lean in, culminating in the most charged kiss you’ve ever received. You throw your other hand around his neck, holding him as close as you can, while his hands latch onto your hips, pulling you up and into his embrace. He leads you back until he’s sitting in his chair and the next thing you know you’re falling into his lap to straddle him. You break for air, and to process that yes, this is happening, before you’re kissing again. A little slower; a little deeper.

You moan quietly into his mouth, and his hands move to your ass so he can pull you even closer.

There’s a chime from your chrono and you pull away, panting.

Fox’s eyes are dark and hungry when he looks at you. “You have to go soon.”

You nod, not breaking eye contact, and not moving either.

He grins, and it looks absolutely predatory. He slides the top of your blouse down slowly, just enough for his mouth to latch on to you right above your collarbone. You let out another breathy moan, and his teeth graze your skin in response as he sucks harder. His tongue soothes the area over when he lets go, and he looks at the quickly darkening spot with what you can only assume is possessive pride.

“For you to remember,” he says huskily.

Knowing he’s just staked his claim on you stokes the fire inside you even more. You give him your own feral grin, and pull down the collar of his blacks as he stiffens. “Who am I to allow you to forget, then?”

You suck hard at the column of his throat, higher than he did on you, knowing it would still be covered. You taste the sweat that had been building up, and his skin which you can’t even describe except that it tastes like him.

He groans lowly into your ear and you shiver when you pull away. You drag your nail lightly over the dark bruise in satisfaction before pulling his collar back up.

You slide off his armored thighs slowly. He follows you to stand, and gives you one last, long, kiss.

“Until next time, cyare.”

When you leave his office, you wish you had written something more on his cup than a crudely drawn fox with a smiley face next to it. Tomorrow though, you wonder what you can get away with saying.

“Next time I’m wearing that little red dress, feel free to search me. Who knows what I could be hiding.”

#prior writes #star wars #swtcw #clone wars #the clone wars #commander fox #cc 1010 #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #afab!reader #coruscant guard #writing #fanfic

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

I'm so excited to read everything for Summer of Love ✨ could i request prompt 37 + 53 with Tom? Maybe friends to lovers 👀

YES I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THE VEGAS REQUEST I AM SO EXCITED

Okay no more screaming but I seriously hope you like it! This is one of my favorite prompts so I was super excited to get to do it 🥰🥰 Anyways, thanks for sending it in, feedback, as always, is appreciated and encouraged. Love you so so much xx

Drive Thru Wedding

37 - Getting drunk and getting married in Vegas

53 - "We are not platonic, and my feelings are never going to be platonic."

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (friends to lovers)

Warnings: light angst

Summary: You had a drive thru wedding with your best friend

Masterlist

Taglist

Summer of Love

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Tom sat up, groaning and rubbing his eyes as light streamed into the hotel room. The room slowly came into focus and he spotted (y/n) passed out on his bed. He knit his brow and padded towards the window, pulling the blinds closed to try and dull his throbbing head. He made his way to the bathroom, wincing as he turned on the light. He splashed water on his face before realizing he was still in the same clothes he’d put on the night before. With a heavy sigh he returned to the bedroom and peaked at his phone. Calls and texts from his family and Harrison, nothing unusual outside of the fact that it was nearly noon.

“Shit,” he swore, glancing back over at (y/n), “Darling wake up,” he set a hand on her back, shaking her lightly.

She groaned, “Go away.”

“It’s nearly noon, come on, time to get up,” he chuckled.

“Fuck you,” she swore back at him before rolling onto her back, “I feel awful.”

“Yeah, me too,” he sighed, “I barely remember last night.”

“Me either. I hope I didn’t do anything embarrassing…”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he assured, “We should go get some water, and eat.”

“Good call, but I need to shower first,” she yawned as she finally sat up, “Mind if I use your shower?”

“No, no of course not, I’m just gonna call Haz.”

“Cool, I’ll be quick,” she promised.

“Take your time,” he waved her off as he punched in his friend's number.

“Ah, he lives,” Harrison teased as he picked up the phone, “How’s (y/n)?”

“Showering, we’re both a bit fucked,” he frowned, “You aren’t in the suite are you?”

“No, we got breakfast and now we’re heading for the mob museum. We were going to wake you guys up but it seemed like you needed the sleep. You want to come meet us here?”

“Maybe, we’ve got to go eat first though,” he sighed, “Dude, what happened last night?”

“We all got really trashed, you and (y/n) were taking shots and you two took the driver and disappeared. We were all too trashed to even notice you were missing until we left though, but you guys were passed out when we got back to the hotel, so we figured you must have just headed back,” he chuckled, “Don’t remember a thing huh?’

“Hardly, I mean I remember being at the club for a while, but I don’t remember leaving…”

“Does she remember anything?”

“No, I don’t think she remembers anymore than I do.”

“That’s good, at least if you, you know, confessed something, she doesn’t remember.”

Tom blushed, “Yeah, that’s a plus…”

It was obvious to Harrison that something was wrong, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Tom sighed, “I’ve just got this feeling something happened, I just can’t remember what.”

“Hey, I’m sure if you did anything too bad it’d be in the news by now. You probably just threw up or fell or something.”

“Probably, I just hope no one got it on video.”

“I’m sure they didn’t, look I gotta go, our Uber’s here, but let me know if you end up heading our way.”

“Yeah, no problem, I’ll get back to you in a bit.”

Tom rubbed his eyes and dug around his suitcase for some fresh clothes, after finding them he headed across the suite to use a different bathroom. He desperately wanted to clean up and figure out exactly what had occurred the night before. She still looked exhausted when they reunited outside of his room, he was sure he didn’t look any better.

“Everyone went out already huh?”

Tom nodded, “Yeah, they’re at the mob museum right now. They said we can meet up with them if we want, I figure we can see how we feel after we eat.”

“Good idea,” she rubbed her stomach with a sigh, “Do you think a mimose would help or hinder me right now.”

He smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, “Definitely hinder. I think both of us should be on an alcohol detox today.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she sighed, “Alright, a boring, virgin breakfast it is.”

“Oh you poor thing,” he laughed as they stepped onto the elevator, “It’s just tragic.”

They both opted for something easy on the stomach, simple eggs and fruits, regretting that they didn’t bring sunglasses down from the hotel room. They were both certain they couldn’t make it through a day on the strip, the lights and noise were bound to be too much, which ruled out the possibility of going to meet their friends. Tom still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, it was an unreachable itch in the back of his mind.

“What do you remember from last night?”

“Uh, being at the club, doing some shots,” she tapped her chin, “I don’t know Tom, not much, it’s all kind of blurry really.”

“Same here. I just wonder where we were…”

“I’m sure we just came back here,” she yawned, “I mean you’re pretty high profile, if we were out doing anything crazy I’m sure we would have heard about it by now.”

“Yeah, probably…”

“Mr. Holland?” the waiter approached their table with a smile, “I have something for you from the front desk.”

“Oh, thanks,” he frowned at the manilla envelope placed in front of him, “Uh, who’s this from?”

“Your diver returned it this morning.”

“Thanks,” he repeated as he tore into the envelope, suddenly going wide eyed at its contents, “What the…”

(y/n) frowned and scooted towards him, “I wanna see.”

Before them laid a series of photos of them, clearly taken the night before at the Little White Chapel. (y/n) held a bouquet and Tom held her, his lips pressed to her cheek in one photo and her lips in the next.

“Holy shit,” (y/n)’s jaw nearly hit the floor, “No fucking way…”

“We must have been there for someone else,” Tom tried to explain.

“With a bouquet? Kissing?” (y/n) frowned at him, “Oh my god we eloped in Vegas!”

“Guess you can mark that one off your bucket list,” Tom tried to joke.

“Tom!” she flushed, “This is serious! We need to go somewhere right away and get this annulled!”

“Look even if we did do it, it doesn’t mean it was legally binding, I mean we were drunk, they probably just let us take some pictures to entertain us.”

“God I hope so,” she groaned, “We need to go down there now, get this sorted out right away.”

“I’ll call a driver,” Tom assured, “We’ll sort this out.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(y/n) drummed her finger along her arm nervously while the elder lady at the chapel typed away at her computer, checking if anything had been registered under either of their names.

“Oh, yep, here it is,” she smiled to them, “Looks like we did hold a wedding for you two last night.”

“Like a real, legal one?” (y/n) pressed.

She nodded, “Yep, you two are married.”

“W-Well you have to delete it,” she demanded.

“Oh hunny, I can’t do that,” she apologized, “You’ll have to go to the county court to apply for an annulment.”

She groaned and Tom smiled at the lady as he ushered her towards the door, “Thanks for all your help, have a nice day.”

“You’re welcome!” she called after them cheerfully.

“This sucks,” (y/n) pinched her brow as they returned to the car, “I guess we’re going to the county court then.”

“We’ll get this sorted out,” Tom blushed, “I just hope we can stay friends after the divorce.”

She laughed while he gave instructions to the driver, “Depends how big my alimony checks are.”

“Why are you the one that gets alimony checks? What about me huh?”

“Because there’s no way I make more money than you movie star,” she poked his chest, “I’m taking Tessa too.”

“Oh now you’re taking it way too far,” he shook his head, “You can take the kids, and the houses, and the money, but no way you’re taking Tessa.”

“Dick,” she shook her head, “After everything we’ve been through, I can’t even keep the dog?”

“Absolutely not,” he laughed, “That’s my baby, I’ll go to war over her.”

“You used to talk that way about me,” (y/n) rolled her eyes, “See this is exactly why we’re getting this divorce.”

“Maybe we should have tried counseling,” he hummed, “You know I don’t think it would be so bad.”

“A divorce?”

“No, if we were married,” he flushed, “I mean just cause we’re like best friends and everything…”

“Yeah but you don’t marry your best friend,” she laughed, “You marry the love of your life.”

“I know, I know, I’m just saying, you know,” he wrung his hands nervously, embarrassed he’d said anything at all.

“What? That’d we’d be a super hot celebrity power couple? Because that’s totally true,” she smiled, “We’d be the best dressed at every premier.”

“Yeah, we’d be a good power couple…”

“I’m sure you and your eventual wife will also be a power couple,” she squeezed his arm with a big smile, “Well, second wife.”

He nodded and pursed his lips, “Can you believe we kissed?”

She laughed, “Oh yeah, lucky you.”

He was upset he couldn’t remember their first, and possibly only kiss, he always imagined it would be more special. “It’s just weird not remembering any of it.”

“I just don’t even know where we got the idea,” she sighed, “I wonder if we drove by it or something…”

“I don’t know, maybe we just talked about it.”

“Maybe, like we got all drunk and got up in our feels.”

“Probably.”

“Tom, what's wrong?” she frowned at him.

“Nothing, I’m just hungover,” he insisted.

“Alright, well we can go lay down again after we sort this out.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

They were quiet the rest of the drive, with Tom growing more and more anxious as they approached the courthouse. It wasn’t that he wanted to be married, but he wanted some kind of relationship. He wanted to confess that he liked the idea of kissing her and being married to her and all of that, he just couldn’t seem to spit it out.

“Hi,” (y/n) smiled at the woman at the front desk, “This is kind of embarrassing but we got really drunk last night and ended up getting married, we just needed to file for an annulment.”

“Happens all the time,” she nodded, “Just fill this out and we’ll call you back to get this sorted out.”

“Thanks,” she took a clipboard and sat down beside Tom, “Time to start dividing assets.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Tom took the board from her and began scribbling information down.

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad of a wife.”

“Ah, what’s got you in a sour mood Tommy?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, “I’m just trying to get this over with.”

“(y/n).”

“Fine, fine, I’ll just sit here,” she sighed, “Guess we aren’t getting divorce ice cream after this huh?”

Tom said nothing.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Tom continued to be quiet as they signed papers and drove back to the hotel, all (y/n) could get with her were one word responses. She wasn’t sure what had changed and made him so upset. She was worried he’d gotten a message from his managers or something.

“Tom come on, you can tell me what’s going on,” she begged, “I know you're upset.”

“It’s nothing okay? I keep telling you I’m fine.”

“But you aren’t, I know you aren’t, and I’m just trying to help, you know you can tell me anything.”

He pinched his nose, “I can’t tell you about this.”

“Of course you can,” she set her hand on his back with a frown, “You can tell me anything.”

“I don’t know, today was just stressful.”

“I’m sure no one saw anything, somebody would have contacted you already.”

“Not about that,” he sighed.

“Okay, what about then?”

“What if I didn’t want to get the annulment?”

She wrinkled her brow in confusion, “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because it’s you,” he blushed.

“You want us to have some kind of platonic marriage?” she laughed.

Without a word he cupped her face, pressing his lips to hers for a bruising kiss, “We are not platonic, and my feelings are never going to be platonic.”

Her whole face flushed and her jaw hung open in shock, “You’re into me?”

“I’m completely crazy about you,” he nodded.

“S-So you want to marry me?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “Not right now at least. But I don’t want to throw away any chance of us being together.”

“Tom annulling our drunk Vegas wedding isn’t the same as throwing away any chance of us being together,” she bit her cheek, “I mean I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m into you.”

His cheeks flushed bright red, “Really?”

She nodded, “Obviously dummy, I don’t think I would have married you if I didn’t.”

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “So it would be cool if I wanted to take you on a date?”

“Very cool,” she nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, “But maybe this time we can wait a little longer for the proposal.”

“Yeah well a Vegas drive thru was never exactly my dream wedding anyway,” he squeezed her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Maybe we should go somewhere without alcohol though, just to be safe.”

“Considering my head’s still throbbing, I actually think I’m good on drinking for the rest of the year,” she got on her tiptoes, giving Tom another quick kiss.

“Speaking of which, how would you like to come take a hangover nap with me, girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a lovely use of our time, boyfriend.”

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Taglist:

@niallberry @spideyssunshine @namoreno @thevery-firstpage @outshineallthestars @roseke @zspideyy @emistrash @andreagf956 @tomsirishgirlx @peachyafshawn @agbspidey

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader angst #tom #tom and harrison #tom and haz #harrison osterfield #harrison #summer of love #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction

[echos-newlegs]

Hi love! Can we get 28 with Hunter? ❤️

Dancing Around

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

Hunter x Reader: “Kriff you’re hot..”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 7

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Peter is determined to chip your shell away, but unfortunately, his attempts only seem to annoy you. He might need to step up his game, and by that he means recruiting Mantis, which backfires on him. This could be the start of a war, if Yondu knows what he's talking about.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: I got a suggestion from @maribatshipper to add a scene where some actual raccoons get in the trash and Rocket finally sees a raccoon. I love the idea but I unfortunately didn't get a chance to add it to this chapter as it was finished before I saw the suggestion (I'll probably add it later, don't worry! lol) Anyways, it gave me an idea. What's some stuff you guys would like to see happen in this story? I do already know the direction of the story, but this could also be fun!

Word Count: 3,729

You were going to kill Peter. Probably Kraglin too.

It started maybe a couple hours after "the smelly incident," as you had mentally dubbed it, had resolved.

Peter got bored, found some old DVDs in the cabinet below the TV, and when he recognized a movie from when he was a kid, SpaceBalls, he managed to convince you to watch it with them.

He might have also quietly pulled the "unless you're too shy..." card for the thousandth time, and you might have told him it was getting old and he was working his way towards a black eye, but you did agree to watch the film with them. Peter had somehow convinced everyone else to watch the movie, too. Might have had something to do with the fact that no one exactly had anything better to do.

Kraglin sat at on one end of the sofa, Gamora on the other, and Peter & you were sandwiched in the middle, him next to Gamora and you next to Kraglin. Mantis, Rocket and Groot sat on the floor, while Drax and Yondu took the armchairs at either side of the sofa.

Only you and Peter got the Star Wars references, of course, but there were plenty of parts the others found funny even without it. Rocket mostly laughed about how Terrans didn't understand space at all if you thought that's how things worked, and compared Peter to the main character, Lone Star. He meant it in a derogatory way, of course.

At about the scene where Dark Helmet breaks the 4th wall with the line, "What the hell am I looking at? When does this happen in the movie?" Peter had started to notice that you didn't laugh openly like everyone else. You always covered your mouth like you were trying to stifle it, despite no one else bothering to be quiet, least of all Drax, who laughed loudly at parts that weren't even that funny.

That simply wouldn't do. You should be laughing freely with the others, like you did when Kraglin and Rocket got tangled up in the hose, which was probably the only time he had seen a genuine full laugh from you, now that he thought of it. To him, this was evidence that he was right, you needed to break that shell of yours and learn how to loosen up.

Annnd... if that required a little mischief on his part... well then so be it.

He waited a bit, just to see if you'd eventually let yourself relax, but when you just kept biting your lip not to laugh and covering your mouth when you started to, he decided he'd 'help' you along.

The scene came on where Dark Helmet's men were combing the dessert with a literal giant comb, and seeing you trying to stifle another laugh, Peter decided to poke you in the side.

You tried to stifle your squeak and you glared at him, but he just shrugged innocently. Poke you? Never... Doesn't sound like him...

He spaced a couple more pokes within the next few minutes of the film, making you jump and hiss at him to stop. He grinned at you and whispered he thought you could use some help laughing, since it seemed you had forgotten how. The little shit.

You irritably whisper back, "That's not gonna work, I'm not-"

Peter rolled his eyes playfully and replied, "Yeah. Sure. Not ticklish. You've said. Too bad I don't believe you." He made to poke you again and you pinched him hard on the arm, which you admit was childish, but he deserved it for annoying you. He gave you a pouty look in response and then frowned when Gamora scolded him and told him to quit behaving like a child.

You sat back and thought he'd finally quit.

And he might have, seeing that it wasn't quite working as he hoped, but Kraglin, who of course noticed your flinching and the childish bickering between you and Peter, caught Peter's eye and they shared a look. He wanted in on the fun. Movie wasn't all that interesting to him anyways.

Five minutes later you received a poke from each of them simultaneously, making your arms clamp to your sides. You turn your head from side to side to glare at both of them. Quietly threatening to break their fingers if they didn't straighten up and just watch the movie.

Based on their expressions it was clear they didn't take you seriously, but they seemed to back off... for about another ten minutes. That's when they decided to poke you again and you jerked up off the sofa with a "That's it." and moved to sit down on the floor next to Mantis where you knew you were out of their reach.

Gamora smacked Peter in the arm for annoying you off the sofa, but no one paid much mind or reacted with more than a glance as they were paying attention to the movie. Well, except for Yondu, who had fallen asleep and was now snoring softly in his chair.

Peter was slightly disappointed that you hadn't been able to let your guard down, but he wasn't deterred. In fact, he was more determined to not just chip at your shell, but shatter it. There was someone who liked to have fun in there, and he was determined to find them and pull them out.

Thankfully, you were able to finish the rest of the movie unbothered. Rocket complained about the sappy ending where Lone Star and the Princess marry, but then Mantis said she thought it was sweet and he waved her off, grumbling about how she thought everything was sweet, or cute, or whatever...

After the movie you decided to go out to the shed and apply the varnish to the bed frame, and when you came back inside to wash some of the varnish off your hands you were startled when Kraglin snuck up behind you to poke you in the ribs. He dodged just in time to avoid being smacked and ran out of the kitchen, his giggles joined by Peter's in the hall.

You sighed, now thinking you should have taken more time in the shed with the varnish. Maybe cooking something would keep you busy enough, but what would you cook? Your first thought was that lasagna would likely feed everyone, but then you remembered the cheese and you were not about to have a repeat of that morning. You were sure the hairs inside your nose were singed-off forever.

You walk out the kitchen door to catch the men still giggling in the hall and they jump from the unexpected sight of you, probably thinking you had come out to properly smack them for deliberately annoying you. You look at them, unamused, and say, "Supper will be in about an hour if you want it. If there's anything else any of you can't eat you should probably tell me now."

Peter and Kraglin exchanged looks before Peter turned back to you and said, "If there is, we don't know it yet."

Kraglin nodded and added, "Not a lot of experience with Terran food, ma'am."

You cringe slightly at being called ma'am, but give a short nod. "Well, here's hoping I don't poison anyone again," you say, turning to head back to the kitchen. You are stopped when another poke to your waist makes you jump and you turn back with a hand raised to smack him.

Peter recoils with a laugh and says, "Just wondering if you'd like any help in the kitchen?"

You narrow your eyes. "Nope. Think you two better stay out here. Clearly can't trust you not to annoy me." You can hear their chuckles as you walk back into the kitchen.

Mercifully, they left you alone all through the cooking and eating of dinner, (you had decided to make a stew). Well, they left you alone physically, that is. Throughout dinner they kept attempting jokes, and it was obvious they were aiming them at you in an attempt to get you to laugh. Most of them fell flat, however, because most of the jokes Kragin told hinged on you knowing about creatures or other stuff not from Earth that you'd have not any way of knowing the context for to make the joke make sense. The others seemed to get the jokes and find them funny though, so at least they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Better than awkward silence any day.

Peter was able to tell a few jokes with Earth references that you could understand, but they were such old jokes that anyone who didn't live in a cave would have already heard them before they finished primary school, so you didn't really laugh at his either. You did, however, smile politely, assuming that they were only trying to be friendly.

After dinner you started to get ready to wash the dishes, and Gamora offered to help.

"No thank you, I've got them tonight." you say, taking the couple of bowls she had gathered and put them in the sink.

"You sure? You cooked for us, it doesn't seem right to let you clean up by yourself too."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to make a habit of it, just... some nights I like to have something to keep me busy, ya know?" You turn on the tap and start washing the dishes. You hated to admit it, but that boiler Fury replaced your immersion with had proven to be very helpful with eight extra people in the house. If you didn't know better you'd say it was magic. Somehow there was just always hot water. You willed yourself not to get too used to it, however. No one had said, but surely SHIELD was just temporarily loaning it until the Guardians finally were able to go back home. You couldn't imagine them just giving you an upgrade like that to keep forever.

"Ok," Gamora relented, not wanting to push it. She could tell you probably still needed a bit more time before you could fully relax. "Thanks for supper."

"Don't mention it," you say, not looking up as you sudsed a bowl.

Gamora nodded and walked out of the kitchen, passing Peter, Kraglin and Mantis on her way into the sitting room. They looked like they were conspiring something, but as a general rule, she didn't get involved in Peter's shenanigans. That meant that unless it was going to directly annoy her, or possibly injure someone else, she pretended not to notice.

She had been right, they were conspiring. Well, Peter and Kraglin had been, Mantis was just along for the ride. With nothing better to do, the two men decided they'd put their energy towards continuing to mess with you, however, it was clear that they needed to get smarter about their approach if they didn't want to risk a black eye.

So they deployed Mantis.

It didn't take much to convince Mantis to do it either. It literally just took Peter asking Mantis if she wanted to play a game and she agreed.

In truth Peter was testing a theory. He watched from the kitchen door with Kraglin as they sent Mantis in to do the poking while you washed the dishes.

She poked, you jumped and spun to face her, clearly thinking it was one of the guys, and then the irritation softened from your face as you realized it was her and all she got was a mild scolding. Mantis looked back and Kraglin encouraged her to do it again with an enthusiastic nod.

This time she fluttered her fingers at your waist from both sides like she had the other day, making you jump again, and, with what sounded suspiciously to the guys to be a poorly suppressed giggle in your voice, you scolded her again and shooed her away.

Theory confirmed. You couldn't bring yourself to try and smack her away like you had with them. Good. He could work with that. Use your soft spot for her against you.

This time they motioned Mantis to come back.

She meets them at the doorway and on her way out whispers, "Did I do a good job?"

Peter smiles, "Yes. You did great. Hey, I want to show you a trick..."

***

A bit later you walked into the sitting room and Mantis calls you over to the table, saying she wants to show you a trick.

She's sitting with Peter, Kraglin, and Gamora, and you walk over hesitantly, wondering if Gamora's presence meant you could assume you'd be safe from mischief or not, seeing as she normally swatted at or scolded Peter for being annoying.

Once you reached the table Mantis stood and encouraged you to take a seat. You pull out a chair at the end of the table and sit, only to be instructed by Mantis to turn and face her.

You eye her suspiciously and then turn to Gamora. "Am I going to regret this?" you ask, your eyes moving to Peter and Kraglin who sat across from her, shrugging and shaking their heads. You were sure you could only trust them about as far as you could throw them, but Gamora appeared to genuinely have no idea what Mantis wanted to show you, so you decided to just play along. How bad could it be?

Mantis instructed you to hold out your hand for her, and you did as asked. She then held your hand palm up and placed her thumb at the tip of your middle finger, and rested the tip of her own middle finger where the palm of your hand met your wrist, as if she were measuring the distance with her own hand.

She then released your hand and moved the hand she used to measure the length of your hand with to your knee, placing her thumb on your kneecap and lowering the tip of her middle finger to rest on your thigh above the knee.

"What are you doing?" you ask, suspicion and confusion in your voice.

Mantis looked up to meet your gaze. She smiled happily and said, "I'm distracting you for this!"

You raise an eyebrow but before you could wonder much about it she squeezed your leg where her middle finger had been resting, sending a tickly jolt through your body and making you jerk in your seat and your breath catch in your throat.

You grasp for her wrist to push her away, but then she just attacked your other leg with her other hand. "Mantis! No!" you squeak, squirming in your seat and flailing for her hands. Every time you'd grab for one hand, she'd free her other hand and send ticklish pokes and squeezes wherever she could reach.

She was was a little stronger and quicker than she looked, so it made the task of restraining her hands difficult for you. You did your best to hold back any laughter as you flinched and jerked from your torment. You could hear Peter laughing and telling her 'good job,' and Kraglin encouraging her to continue, which she did, happily giggling the whole time.

"Peter!" you half scold/half beckon.

"Yes?" he asked teasingly, folding his hands under his chin with a cheeky grin. Gamora rolled her eyes and tried to shake her head disapprovingly at him, but she couldn't help grinning. Mantis just looked so playful and it was honestly adorable.

"Will you-AEK" you squeak as she darted a hand and squeezed at your waist before you could stop her, "Will you make her stop!"

"Thought you weren't ticklish?" Kraglin said with a teasingly smug grin. "That shouldn't bother you at all then. I don't see a problem."

Gamora sighed with a smile at the two men. So that's what this was about. They must have put Mantis up to this.

"Dammit!" you jerk again as Mantis landed another squeeze above your knee. "I'm- I'm not- I'm-" you were having managing words, because each time you attempted, you were cut off by another poke or squeeze from Mantis, and you were afraid you would start laughing if you allowed yourself to talk through it. You were already having a hell of a time trying not to smile, and failing.

"I swear, if you actually say you're not ticklish right now, Pete and I will pin you down and prove that you are." Kraglin threatened with an evil grin.

"Kraglin!" Gamora scolded with furrowed brow, but her warning wasn't taken too seriously on account of the humor laced in her voice.

"What? She's the one being so stubborn she can't admit it!" Kraglin laughed. As far as he was concerned, you deserved it for fibbing. Plus, wouldn't kill you to loosen up a bit- you could be... well, scary... sometimes. Although it was kinda hard to think of you as scary at the moment while you were spasming in a chair as you kept trying to get a hold on Mantis's quick hands and a grin more than threatened to crack your face.

You could feel your cheeks getting warm, hating showing signs of weakness, but knowing you didn't have much choice at the moment. "Ok! Fine!" you cry out, still grappling at Mantis's hands and biting back any giggles that threatened to spill out. You knew when you were beat. It was pretty damn obvious that you couldn't deny being ticklish anymore, and you sure as hell weren't about to give them a reason to actually properly tickle the snot out of you. You wouldn't stand a chance.

"Fine... what?" Peter chuckled in a sing-song voice and leaned on the table.

You could kill him. "Fine! I'm ticklish, okay!? I admit it! Are you happy now!?" Just then Mantis managed to free both hands and briefly tweak your ribs before you got a grip on her wrists again, finally getting a short laugh to escape your throat as you spasmed in your chair. "Will you call her off now, please!?" Gods, this was embarrassing. You didn't know how, but they were so going to pay for this.

Peter and Kraglin high-five and Peter says, "Alright, Mantis, good job."

Mantis stood and clasped her hands, giggling and saying how that was so much fun, and you half-heartedly glare up at her before standing so you could get out of there, but not before turning to aim a glare at Peter and Kraglin. The jackasses.

When you turn back you notice Yondu leaning on the back of the sofa looking amused and you cringe, asking, "How long have you been standing there?"

Yondu folded his arms and pretended to think. "Hmm... Long enough to hear the boys threaten to tickle ya silly and then see ya fold like a cheap tent." Humor twinkled in his eyes and you wanted to melt into the floor.

You inhale and look to the ceiling, your cheeks burning. Your expression then turned mischievous. Vengeance. Now.

"Mantis?" you say, turning back to face her.

"Yes?" she answers, smiling wide and sweetly.

You put on your best, most innocent face. "Ya know, maybe you should do that to Peter. Or Kraglin. Why should they miss out on the fun?" Your eyes flick to the pair menacingly to see Peter looking at you like you just shot him.

Mantis giggles and goes to take your suggestion, bouncing to their side of the table. Peter bolted from his chair, saying, "Mantis- wait a minute!" and tried to run around the table, getting slowed down when Kraglin tripped him, mostly likely to save himself as he also stood to get out of Mantis's way, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her in Peter's direction when it looked like she was going after him. Unfortunately for Peter, he didn't get much further after Kraglin tripped him as Gamora effortlessly caught him by the arm and then laughed as she held him in place and he complained.

You turned back to Yondu with a satisfied smile and started to walk past him to leave when he leaned over to speak in a low tone as you got near. "Hope ya know that was a mistake, girl," he chuckled.

"What?" you say, surprised. Peter could be heard laughing and pleading with Mantis and Gamora behind you.

He grinned wider. "If there's anythin' I know about that boy, ya just declared war. An' if that ain't bad enough, now yer stuck in a house with him, and my first mate who ain't got nothin better to do."

"Ah." Your voice cracks, your eyes widening, nervousness creeping into your belly. "Well surely they wouldn't hold a grudge- I mean, they started it-"

He straightened back up and chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. "Jus' figured I should give ya a heads up. Do with it what ya will. Boy's partial to pranks when it comes to revenge. Might wanna be on the lookout for buckets of water above your doorways tomorrow. Or grease in your boots. That used to be Quill's go-to." Mirth glistened in his eyes and made you unsure if this warning was out of the goodness of his heart or if he enjoyed seeing the 'oh shit' look on your face.

You swallowed. Fuck. Just what you needed. A war. You decided it might be a good idea to get out before Peter could escape, or before Kraglin could decide to avenge his friend. "Well I'm going to go to bed now." Your voice was a little higher than you'd like and you could hear Yondu chuckling as you scarpered.

He knew it was more likely you were going to hide than going to sleep. It was barely dark out.

Yondu shook his head and walked to take a seat on the couch, still chuckling at the flicker of fear in your eyes when he told you that you had started a war. He switched on the TV and idly wondered who'd give up first. He'd gotten the impression that you wouldn't be one to back down, despite the nervousness present on your face.

You may have the advantage of being on home turf, but Quill could be relentless. More than likely you were fucked, but it'd be interesting to see how it all played out.

You might surprise him.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #peter quill #kraglin obfonteri #starlord #mantis #gamora #yondu #rocket raccoon #pranks #hijinks

[bluegarners]

hiya @viceturtle! I finally got it done! Here is your Bad Things Happen Bingo request with Dick and Jason; you can also read it on ao3

What Have I Done?

It’s a lot. He’s not going to lie.

Dick was dead for eight months. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. It was a fact that they were all forced to deal with, all forced to live with. Dick was dead and there was nothing any of them could do about it. And for a time, Jason had held onto the small belief, he’s not going to call it hope, that Dick had somehow managed to pull through. That even despite the beatings, the torture, everything before and after it, Dick had managed to pull through and come out of it all alive.

But he hadn’t. That was the thing, at its core. Dick died. 

Jason knows what it is to be dead. To be beaten and left to die. To struggle and still search for a way out of the shit hole you’re suddenly in and cling to that light, that stupid, stupid promise in the back of your head that screams, Help is coming, just hold on a little longer, that forces you to keep struggling, keep surviving, keep hoping for a way out despite the circumstances. Jason knows and it absolutely sucked. 

He died and then clawed his way out of his own coffin. One of his fingers is permanently misshapen, wood chips and metal piercing through his stiff and cold skin. He’s got scars all over his body to prove that he died, to prove that he was beaten with a crowbar, messed around with like he was just some dummy, some thing that could take a beating and then some. Up and down and across and lined; the scars are all over him and he died.

And Dick died too. 

In those eight months, Jason felt more connected to his deceased older brother than he ever had before. A deep and twisted connection over a shared death, a similar fate so convoluted it makes Jason sick to think about sometimes. His murderer is still out there. Jason has to live with that fact and even though it’s not fine and things would be so much easier without that psychopath, Jason gets it. Sometimes. Gets the moral code, the compass, that shrouds Batman and his little followers.

And he’s trying. He is. He made an effort to try and do the right thing when Dick died because suddenly, the role of older brother had fallen onto him and even though he doesn’t have a good relationship with Tim or the recently resurrected Damian, or anyone for that matter, there was still that recognition that it was all on him now. He was the eldest. He was the one to look towards. Not look up to, no, he will never claim the title of a role model, but now he’s the oldest, the most experienced, the next in line when one just can’t go to Bruce about shit going on.

The point being is that he did try, put in more effort than he probably should have, to stepping up to the plate and taking a swing at being better. At being the eldest of the entire brood and not fucking it up horribly. He switches to rubber bullets and smoke pellets. He keeps his excessive violence reserved for only the worst scum and even then still attempts to steer clear from Batman’s territories. He takes care of the Narrows, rekindles a sort of friendship with Tim, doesn’t fight the literal child that lurks in the Cave, and avoids confrontations with Bruce altogether.

It works and it’s good. He steps up, frankly owns being the eldest, and he’s fine. He’s fine with it. He’s still got his reputation intact, Red Robin isn’t terrified of his presence any longer, and Robin doesn’t pull a sword every time they spot one another. So what if he slips up occasionally and gets carried away? They’re just rubber bullets, weapons all the same, and they’re no different from getting hit with Batman’s fist (which Jason knows, from experience, hurts like hell) or getting swung at with a large knife. 

He had a thing going on, is what Jason’s trying to get at, and then Dick showed up.

Dick. Richard Grayson. Who died eight months ago after he was tortured by the Syndicate and had his heart stopped by Lex Luthor. Who they had a funeral for. Who they mourned for. Who Jason had attempted to fill the gaping hole he had left behind.

Who Jason thought had died.

Betrayal is a word Jason feels like he could apply to a majority of his life. Betrayal from his parents, his poor, poor mother who just couldn’t muster up enough fucks. Bruce, Batman, for getting him into the vigilante life, for letting him wear that damn costume and get himself blown up for all his efforts. Talia, for restoring his mind after he was supposed to be dead. Bruce, Batman, again, for letting his murderer walk around like it was another Sunday, any other day, just a nice, normal day for a stroll like he didn’t just kill Bruce’s own son-

Yeah, Jason feels like he has liberal use of betrayal. It’s just an old song he hums sometimes and lets others join in occasionally.

But there was an unspoken code, a silent right-of-passage, when it came to being Robin. A mutual understanding of sorts. You don’t back-stab another Robin. Ever. You don’t lie, cheat out, betray a fellow Robin. There were too many shared experiences when it came to being Batman’s, Bruce’s, Robin and that ultimately revolved all back to trust and knowing that things were still the same despite all these years. Being Robin was both the best thing to ever happen to someone and also the ultimate death sentence. You don’t just get to be Robin either. You’ve got to earn it, to prove yourself, to show that you can take it all on, to keep up with Batman and the ever changing and violent Gotham.

So, when Dick shows up with an apology on his lips and the expectation of being welcomed home after all this time, Jason punches him square in the jaw. It’s surreal, a part of him thinking his fist will just phase right through the man’s face, but his knuckles connect and if the sound of his fist against Dick’s jaw isn’t the most satisfying and cruel thing he’s ever heard, Jason doesn’t know what is. 

It’s agony, nearly, to see the red blossom on his older brother’s cheek because, holy hell, that means it’s all real. That Dick is really alive and not still buried in that weed covered yard with decaying roses scattered on top of it. Dick is alive and Jason is furious because he’s supposed to be dead and Jason already tried so hard to fill the other man’s impossibly huge shoes and he was doing a damn good job at it. He likes to think so, at least.

But who cares, right? Who gives a shit when Dick is back now and it was all for nothing? Everyone can just go back to their normal routines now that the star player is back and they don’t need a fill-in like Jason to stick around. All that effort, all that time, all that trying all summing up into one big, Surprise, I’m not dead, from the man of the hour himself.

Jason avoids Dick after that. The man said he wasn’t staying long, just “checking in” with everyone like he was just on some business call for a few months and not dead. 

And that’s the root of it, Jason thinks. That’s what really gnaws at him because Dick is treating the whole situation exactly like he was on some extended vacation and just forgot to tell anyone where he was going. Not like his absence literally turned their entire world upside down. Not like the loss, the emptiness, that literally echoed everywhere Jason went was consuming and terrifying. In those eight months, Jason had to toe the line between being the eldest and maintaining his identity as Red Hood, and that’s where Jason truly felt close to Dick. Felt like he finally got what Dick and Bruce’s arguments were about so many years ago, this constant war of wanting to be better, wanting to have freedom, wanting to stay yourself when there was a constant war of others trying to get you to fill a role that you don’t want. 

Finally, Jason felt like he had some other important connection to his elusive older brother that had nothing to do with the man that housed them, only for it all to be thrown across the room and into the trash. 

To keep it simple, bare-bones, really dumbed down, Dick lied. About being dead, of all things. Jason can get behind needing to lay low after all that, being stripped of your identity on live television wasn’t exactly great for their kind of lifestyle, but to just leave? To go out on some mission and leave the rest of them out to dry like that? No warning, no hints, no notes, nothing? God, at least Jason made an appearance. Granted, not the best sort of re-introduction, but at least he wasn’t trying to hide.

To say the least, Jason is hurting. The anger faded along with any sort of need to prove to Dick that he had stepped up when he left. Now, he just feels… shitty. In a way, this is what he had been half-way expecting. No one stays dead in this business. There is always someone with a back-up or ex-machina to save the day and bring back a fallen hero, villain, whatever. But there had just been something so final, so human in Dick’s death. In that moment, seeing the mask ripped off, seeing his brother’s face on T.V out of context, away from the normal flashiness that was being related to a billionaire, it had scared Jason because that was his brother, Dick Grayson, world’s most annoying man in the universe, on T.V; beaten, bloodied, bruised, and humiliated for everyone to see.

He’s always been jealous of how clean and clear Dick’s eyes looked. Just a simple and rare shade of blue, obnoxiously bright and searching. Jason’s mother used to say he had his father’s eyes, a muddy mix of blue and green. He’s never liked his eyes, but there was always something so attention grabbing with Dick’s. Seeing them on T.V, wide and blood-shot and bruised to hell; the blue was out of place and humanizing in a way that Jason just couldn't describe because it was simply Dick Grayson there. Not Nightwing. Not a hero. It was just Dick Grayson, world’s worst older brother ever, looking lost, defiant, and defeated all at once.

And that hurt.

The man is like some nasty disease that won’t leave him alone though. Their first meeting was two days ago and Jason is trying his best to ignore the knife in his chest, not literally, when Dick shows up. Just outside the Narrows on the roof of a bodega, Dick appears from where ever the fuck he’s been and walks over to Jason. It’s a cue, Jason knows, when thunder rumbles in the distance and if he were a bit more into literature, feeling a bit more melancholy for his freshman year of high school, Jason would say that a storm is coming for the both of them, not just Gotham.

Dick walks with his hands in his pockets, stuffed inside an old brown jacket that looks well-used and well-loved. Jason’s never seen the jacket before. Must’ve gotten it on his extended vacation. A part of Jason knows that Bruce was in on it too, that Bruce probably deserves just as much anger he’s dishing out towards Dick, maybe even more, but Jason’s tired of trying to play nice and get along. Dick is the one in front of him now, right here on a Wednesday night with the glowing, neon advertisement for Coke singing behind their heads and a run down, twenty year old convenience shop beneath their feet. 

Dick is here and now when he should be dead.

Just like Jason should be.

“What do you want?” he asks, the metallic tin of his voice modulator diminishing some of the threat. It’s a known fact that Red Hood guards his territory with a viciousness rivaling a rabid dog. Outsiders aren’t welcome. Never welcome.

In contrast, Dick is mask-less. Civilian. Same clear blue eyes from eight months ago that were sealed shut the last time Jason saw them. A dark bruise stains Dick’s right cheekbone, the shape of knuckles and betrayal. It’s a good contrast.

“I came to say goodbye,” the other man answers, stopping just short of six feet in front of Jason, “and that I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. I really am,” he insists when Jason remains silent. “Things just… happened too fast. It killed me to be away from you all for so long. I wanted to tell you, I did-”

“Really?” Jason interrupts lowly. “It killed you, huh?”

Dick sighs, a hand coming up to brush through his hair. “That’s not what I meant. You know it’s not.”

“I don’t know, Dicky. Times are changing, you know. One minute, you’re the star pupil, and the next I’m your backup. And now,” Jason shrugs, letting his hand come up to rest on the holster he keeps on his hip, “I’m not so sure about that.”

Dick is eyeing Jason like he’s looking at something he doesn’t like. Something that’s leaving a bad taste in his mouth. But that’s just something he’s going to have to deal with, isn’t it? Suck it up buttercup, and all that.

A laugh erupts from Jason as he truly takes it all in. “You know,” he chuckles, nothing humorous causing his mirth, “you really had me there for awhile. I bought you flowers, went to your funeral, dealt with all that shit, and yet here you are. In the flesh.” He laughs again, fingers curving steadily around the grip of his gun. “I think I liked you better dead, Dick.”

The older man frowns, brow dipping into a neat crease. Not a single wrinkle on his perfect, tan, not dead face. “The situation was unavoidable,” he says, like he actually believes a word he utters. “Batman needed a guy on the inside. The, hm, circumstances leading up to that set it up so that I could be that guy. It wasn’t exactly my choice to stay dead, Jay.”

“Names,” Jason snarks, that same anger he felt two days ago rearing its ugly head again. “You know, you say you didn’t have a choice, but I think there’s a clear distinction between dead and alive, don’t you? It might just be me, who knows because fuck if I do, but I think a warning woud’ve sufficed. A fucking warning. ”

Something must click in Dick’s head as his frown deepens. His hands are out of his jacket pockets now. They’re both tense.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says. “Maybe another month. Two at most. When I get back, I’ll try and…” Dick trails off there, as if searching for the right words, but Jason doesn’t have the patience for him to find the right way to say the same bullshit he’s already heard before. 

He’s so tired. So, so tired.

“We were fine without you,” he snarls, relishing in the way Dick’s eyes widen at the claim. “The world doesn’t stop turning just because you decide to go off on a little adventure. Newsflash, asshole: None of us need you. You can’t come back here and expect everything to fall back to the way things were just because you decide it’s time to show your face again.”

“I was doing what I thought was right,” Dick snaps back. “Look, I’m sorry you had to step up and be a decent person for once-”

“And there it is,” Jason growls, unholstering his gun. “You think you’re so much better than me. You’re just so goddamn smug you can’t even see your own mistakes. What, is my being here just too inconvenient for you? Can’t make all the little hero-worshipers fall back into line like they used to?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. I did what I thought was best for everyone and I paid the price for it.”

Jason lunges, cutting the feet between them into inches. “What was best?” he yells, swinging with one fist and aiming with the other. “Who the hell are you to decide that?”

Dick retaliates, pushing away Jason with a kick that connects to his armored chest. It’s barely a glancing blow though and he’s charging forwards again, squeezing the trigger as a shot rings off into the air, missing Dick’s foot by a few centimetres. Another crack of thunder resounds in the distance and a bolt of lightning cracks open the dark sky. Dick rolls away from Jason’s tackle, on the balls of his feet and ready to jump away again.

“I didn’t come here to fight you,” Dick tries, widening his stance. “I just came to, god, I don’t know, Jay. I didn’t ask for this!”

“Cut the bull,” Jason says, raising his gun again. He’s got it trained on Dick’s mid-section and even though a part of him knows he’s not going to take the shot, another part of him has his finger itching towards the trigger. “None of us asked for any of the fuckery that comes our way, but we deal with it, right? I’m dead, you’re dead, the brat’s dead, we’re all dead!”

There’s another crack of thunder, one that brings the rain with it. It pours, instantly drenching the pair, and a sheet of gray divides them. There’s surely something poetic about it, the divide that surrounds them both, but Jason’s not one to dwell long.

“Well, I’m not dead anymore!” Dick screams through the rain. “I am alive! I’ve been dead for eight months and I don’t want to fucking be anymore! I want to come home, Jay. I am alive. Goddamnit, I am alive!”

“So why didn’t you tell us that? Tell any of us that? All of this, that’s on you , Dick. You want to know why there wasn’t a big fucking parade for you? Why no one was fighting over the chance to be the first one to get to shake your hand? It’s because we don’t trust you anymore. No one fucking wants you near them because that’s how badly you fucked up.”

He must strike a nerve because Jason sees something crumple on Dick’s face. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t want to leave you guys, Jay. God, you’ve got to believe me on that. I had no choice. It was either I leave and do this for Batman or-”

That same anger rises up again. Anger from different directions, different thoughts, but ultimately because it’s about Batman. Always, always about Batman. What he wants. What he needs you to do. Because if you don’t do it, and someone dies, it’s your fault. And Dick has always been the suck-up, the one to come when called, because even after all their spats and all these years of silence between them, Dick was still a Robin first and goddamnit if Jason doesn’t understand that. He hates that he understands that need to please Batman, to do what he asks in the hope of just some tiny ounce of praise or acknowledgment, but Dick is a grown adult. He’s not Robin anymore.

None of them are.

Dick takes a step forward and Jason squeezes the trigger, feeling the recoil in his wrist as Dick freezes, the bullet breezing right past his armpit. His eyes are wide, finally taking the weapon in as it is, and there must be some realization going off inside Dick’s head because now he’s the one charging in, stance low and shifty, and Jason’s on the defense now. His finger is still on the trigger, just barely, and he’s raising it to aim again when a flying round-house knocks the gun from his hand and fist drives under his chin. It disorients him a bit because, damn, he didn’t actually expect Dick to fight back, Jason was trying to get him to go away, but now they’re both serious. They’re both dangerous.

It’s a no-weapons brawl, just fists and dirty kicks and the rain is still pounding away against the bodega. The rain has plastered Dick’s hair to his skull and Jason is grateful for his helmet because it’s clear the water is making it difficult for the older man to see. He takes advantage of this, striking down with his elbow on Dick’s trapezius and quickly hooking his left foot around his ankle. It works for a split second, Dick thrown off and unbalanced, before Dick is tumbling down and using his own momentum to pull Jason down with him. 

They’re on their backs now, rough and cold cement bleeding through their jackets, and the neon Coke sign flickers in and out as thunder continues to roll and shake the world.

“You should’ve stayed dead,” Jason snarls, taking a jab at his older brother’s face. “You should’ve never come back.”

Dick frees one of his hands from underneath the massive bulk of Jason’s suit, palm striking the sides of his helmet. “Take off the godamn hood and say that to my face,” Dick pants, shoving one of his knees into Jason’s side. “Look me in the eye and tell me you want me dead, Jay. Tell me you want me dead. ”

Another bolt of lightning splits the dark and its image refracts against the many puddles, and for a moment, the light sears into Jason’s eyes. He flinches against the burn and it’s enough hesitation for Dick to take the unguarded moment and flip Jason, crouching with one knee on his chest and the other digging into Jason’s forearm. They’re both breathing heavily, exhausted both physically and mentally, and he doesn’t bother to stop his brother as Dick reaches down and shoves the helmet off of his face.

Their eyes meet and Jason squints up at clear blue. Yeah, he hates that color. Hates it so much it feels like something ugly in his stomach, coiling and clenching. They’re both frowning but Dick just looks resigned. Jason hates that too. Now that he has the chance, he can see new scars on his brother’s face. New, finer lines and white and pink discoloration. 

Funny how eight months can make someone look so much older.

“I wish you had stayed dead,” Jason finally says, hating himself all the more for it. “I wish you had never come back.”

Dick stumbles off of him and there’s a thin trail of red leaking from one of his eyebrows that keeps getting washed away. Jason doesn’t even remember hitting him there, but he must’ve been excessive. Must’ve over-done it. Just another thing he’s managed to fuck up. Check it off the list. 

He sits up, feeling the ache of a sore back and numerous bruises, and watches as his brother leans heavily against the poles of the advertisement. The rain only seems to come down harder, bouncing off the yellow stained bodega roof. He gets to his feet slowly, careful to keep an eye on the slouching man, and treads over to pick up his helmet. His gun is closer to the bright neon sign and when he gets near enough, Dick looks up, something horribly heavy and sad, settling into his face.

“Okay,” is all he says, nodding once. “Okay, Jay.”

Dick reaches into his jacket pocket once more, fiddling with something, but Jason’s too preoccupied putting his helmet back on to really pay attention to it. They’re done fighting. Done with whatever all of that was. His hair is soaked, his jacket is going to have a layer of mildew on it in the morning, and Jason is tired. Beat. He can’t find the will-power to truly be bothered with anything else. 

This is his territory so he’s not technically fleeing, but that’s what it looks like. Tail between his legs, off to lick his wounds, Jason’s sure that’s what Dick is thinking (he knows that’s not true, he knows this, and he’s got a little secret screaming, pounding away in the back of his skull, but Jason’s too burned out to deal with it, to address it). He walks to the edge of the roof with his back turned on his older brother, his alive and breathing, long lost brother, and jumps off, sliding down the fire escape and landing on the grimy streets below. His boots squelch in the rain, and there’s water logged into his socks, but Jason ignores it in favor of staring ahead. Refusing to look back.

Here’s the thing about being a Robin that everyone who’s been one before knows. 

You rely on each other. There’s no codependency, not really, but there is a certain degree of reliance on past and current Robins. Robin is the inspiration. Not Batman. Batman doesn’t inspire little kids to go out in the night and get punched in the face and witness cruelty so awful you have nightmares for years after. Batman doesn’t inspire light and forgiveness and mercy; that’s all Robin’s doing. The bright colors, the chatter, the youth. That’s all on Robin, the little child weapons they are, and the shared experience of being that for Batman is a bond that runs so much deeper than blood. Thick and interwoven and relied upon so much more heavily than a simple crest or uniform.

And here’s that screaming secret that vibrates inside Jason’s skull: he’s happy Dick’s back. That Dick’s alive. At the end of the day, Dick was the first Robin, the first light, and having him snuffed out was a world that got three shades darker, bleaker. It was Dick’s Robin that truly gave it the twinge of hope all the Robins after carry with them; he was the model, the mold, they shaped themselves after. Him being dead changed that perspective for the worse because the first Robin made it. That’s what was so important, what tips the scales for the confidence of all Robins after. Dick made it. Survived being Robin, survived past Robin, and became his own hero. 

Dick outlived being Robin and that was the ultimate goal. To survive. 

So him dying was the last straw but now that he’s back, alive, everything was going to be okay again. Yeah, they’re all still messed up from it, there’s going to be a lot of trust built back up again, but they’re Robins for Christ's sake. Thicker than blood, stronger than a crest, relied on more than Batman. And maybe Jason’s being sentimental, still trying to be more eloquent than his sophomore English education allowed him to be, but God, he’s trying. He’s trying so hard despite the ache that wears down his bones and the fire that consumes his brain.

That’s why he gives in. Turns around. Looks back. Does what he thought he was too stubborn to do, but things change and-

The neon sign is brighter. No, that’s not right. There’s another source of that eerie, glowing light and Jason’s eyes widen as he sees a person step through it. Another figure, broad, muscular, unfamiliar, and they’re heading straight for Dick. His brother. Who is still leaning against the advertisement poles. Who’s not doing a damn thing to avoid the stranger that’s fast approaching. 

Soreness and fatigue forgotten, Jason starts sprinting, boots pounding against the pavement as he cranes his neck upwards to watch the stranger continue to advance.

“Dick!” he yells in warning, drowned out with the rain. “Dick, move!”

He slams into the fire escape, hands scraping up the ladder as he hauls himself three steps at a time, chest heaving and heart beating wildly. He slips, losing his footing, and Jason grunts as he feels the pull on his shoulder and his knees bang into the sides of the bodega. He pushes on though, gripping the metal tightly and finally reaching the top.

He’s pulling himself over, gasping and searching, and he sees the man tugging Dick closer to the strange light, what Jason thinks must be some sort of portal, and before he’s even gotten a leg over the edge, his right hand is scrambling for purchase on his gun. He takes aim and fires without a second thought and curses aloud when it jams.

“Dick!” he yells again, throwing the useless weapon away and falling over onto the roof. “Stop! Stop! What’re you doing?”

His brother just trudges on though, bicep gripped by the stranger that continues to drag him closer and closer to the pulsating light, ghoulishly pink and saturating the air with an ominous buzz. Another flash of lightning illuminates the sky and Jason trips over himself in his haste, crashing into the slick cement. He whips his head up, too far away, too late, as the stranger disappears fully into the portal, Dick just a few inches away.

“Wait!” Jason cries, still attempting to rise off of his knees. Damn the rain. Damn the weight of his grief. Damn it all, get up. Get up. “Dick, stop! Stop!”

The rain is loud though and there’s a divide between the two of them, mixes of gray, pink, and red light. His brother half turns, watching as the younger stumbles towards him, and Jason can’t hear anything, can hardly process what’s even happening now, but Dick’s lips move in what Jason thinks is, Goodbye, and Jason screams, lunging as his brother fades into the light.

He falls, smashing into the cement once again as he fails to reach for his brother’s hand, and lands where the portal had just been. He lays there on his chest, heaving and attempting to breathe through his helmet, but it’s too hard, too suffocating, and Jason rips it off and flings it as far away from him as he can. His hands clench into fists and he fights back the urge to cry as he slams his fists into the roof. Bam-Bam-Bam.

Something cracks in his knuckles and Jason stops at the pain, shifting back and hanging his head between his knees. There’s a vicious burn in his eyes, his ugly, muddy green eyes, and Jason swipes at them furiously.

“We just got you back,” he whispers through gritted teeth. “We just got you back, Dick, and you, you just-”

A clap of thunder rattles the thin poles of the Coke advertisement as its lights finally flicker out. The night is dark without its glow and Jason is left in obscurity. 

“What have I done?"

#bad things happen bingo #what have i done? #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Spyral #Agent 37 #Red Hood #viceturtle #fanfic #my fic

[thejudgingtrash]

Annabeth is a good person,but not a nice or pleasant one,IMO.

YES.

That’s it. That’s the post. Pack it up everybody, we just cracked the case and cleared up one of the most compelling fights in the PJO fandom since forever. Good job everybody, clap it out and there’s the door! Don’t forget ordering the drinks at Starbucks, Mitch! They’re on me!

Okay, but on a more serious note: YES. YES EXACTLY.

And before some of you roll your eyes or grab your pitchforks – put your biases aside and hear me out for once. I like Annabeth. She’s my in my top three characters only second to Percy himself. I love Percabeth. It’s my favorite ship in the entire series and to be frank, the only ship that I care about PJO wise. Hell, I spend my time creating my own headcanons or writing my own fanfics with Percabeth being the star in them.

But that is not to say that I’m unable to see how certain things have developed over the years or where they stand now in regard to Annabeth. I’m not here to ignore things that have been said and/or done due to or in the name of Annabeth and I’m not here to vilify anyone that doesn’t like her. And I’m here to admit that I’m guilty of some of the things that may be addressed in this meta essay that you will read in just a second. However, I try my best to assure you, that I’m for once able to recognize my own bias.

Warning: a monster essay lies right upon you.

This should count as a paper of its own.

Back to the statement on top: I would go out even further to reframe your claim, anon:

Annabeth Chase is a good character but not a nice or pleasant person.

Annabeth is a wonderful character but she isn’t a nice one. Or at least not nice to everyone. She is (construction wise if I dare say) the best character out of the series. She has her positive traits (she’s caring, she’s emotional, she’s encouraged and volunteers, she fights for what she believes in, she forgives (even if doing so begrudgingly)) but she also has her negative traits (she’s stubborn, she’s brash, changing her mind takes forever, she is prejudiced, she baits others). That balances things out. She is branded as the intelligent kid but does irrational things (like I’ve just said a) she’s a kid and b) she’s not a robot). She should probably know better, but we all make mistakes and hopefully grow and learn from them. The clouds in the sky do blur and cover our visions sometimes.

Annabeth had clashes with other characters or was about to have fights due to her stubbornness or jealousy (Rachel, Reyna, etc.) and has of course her problems with the mortal world and her family but she also found new friends, some things cleared up throughout the narration and she was/is quite popular in Camp Half-Blood.

The thing is: she doesn’t have to be nice or pleasant (as a character). Or at least not all the time. Her character is humanized. That is what or who she is. Human. She does stand out as a character, not just because she’s the (future) love interest. She feels like someone you could meet in real life and either adore from the top to the bottom or declare as your biggest enemy. And that’s totally okay if you lean either way – liking or disliking her. Or even feeling indifferent about her. Also great!

To say that she has been the best character that Riordan has crafted is easy to say, because she has been sculpted after Riordan’s wife. He had a model he could rub some of real-life events or traits on. That’s not the problem. The problem truly doesn’t lie on Riordan’s side for the most part for once.

The problem is inherently on the fandom’s side. What the fandom does, how it acts and how it treats Annabeth as a character is the problem. The problems vary but it’s mostly the mischaracterization of Annabeth, starting fights and fan/ship wars, internalized misogyny (in some cases) and how some of the Annabeth stans lash out (ha, got firsthand experience in that field among many of my friends and mutuals!). There is a reason why many people are wary of people that have Annabeth or Percabeth related URLs.

The fact that we see Annabeth mostly through Percy’s lens and (until the Heroes of Olympus saga hits) we never really see her in chill everyday situations is essentially Riordan leaving the back door of the house open, ready for all of you asshats to rob his mansion in Boston. Because a frame on a character means that we don’t get to see the character in its entirety (unlike we do with Percy in PJO for the most part). That means a bunch of stuff is left open for interpretation which is the reason why Annabeth gets so many polarized headcanon and opinions tossed around. I think that is one of the true appeals of Annabeth. You can add on stuff and it necessarily doesn’t have to contradict itself.

We have people calling her abusive due to a (n admittedly stupid and unnecessary) judo flip and we have people that act like she’s never done anything wrong. People sorta use this excuse to form and shape Annabeth however they want and distort her characterization.

People in the fandom act like Annabeth is some weird prized possession. We perceive Annabeth mostly through the eyes of others (Percy, Apollo, etc.) and when we had some sort of insight in her ways (MOA, HOH) it felt… weird? Somewhat? Like Riordan left two bullet points of her characterization and told the ghostwriter: aight, fuck it up, gringo, see you on Tuesday and greet Fred the next time you see him for me. 

There have been many posts lately (by Tharini, Simi, Sawasawako, Jewishpercy and Annie I believe?) that HOO Percabeth felt weird. That they felt weirdly constructed, that there was no conflict, no growth. It felt stagnating, like we’re turning back. We had five books prior where we had Annabeth and Percy slowly shifting from disliking to liking and crushing each other. True development. And when we finally got the cake it felt… dissatisfying. Like the cheap box stuff and not the delicious exquisite taste that we were promised.

I said it previously in my Percabeth ship roast, but let me repeat myself: many Percabeth related things are straight up fanon. Some of it is very old fanon so that’s been unable to distinguish unless you’ve read the books recently and subtract nearly 99,9% of things you see on Tumblr (and occasionally the other shitty parts of the fandom like Reddit, IG, Twitter. Although they mostly steal and recycle tumblr stuff oh well. But back to the topic).

The way people treat Annabeth is so strange. She’s either an innocent fluffy smush baby that’s never harmed a fly and all that she wants for Christmas is being Percy’s lapdog or she’s the devil incarnate, broke into your house, killed your parents Batman style, kicked your puppy and didn’t flush the toilet on the way out. I think this is what mostly makes people hate her or the ship Percabeth. And both extremes are wrong and right at the same time? She is multifaceted so both stereotypes are true and untrue and sorta cancel each other out in the same way.

The true reason why people dislike Annabeth is because the stans are doing the most. (The haters as well, don’t get me wrong, but oh boy. Piss of a stan and you’ll know what I mean). That isn’t inherently new. Are you guys old enough to remember the ship wars that have happened cross platform? Perachel vs. Percabeth? Oh boy, oh boy. I saw some kids on tumblr a few months ago trying to infiltrate both tags and start shit (and also fail). The fact that Rachel still gets used as the bitchy (ex) girlfriend in fanfics? It’s 2020 guys. I know this apocalyptic year is far from perfect and over but I think we can let this trope die, right? Right? I thought we’ve established that Rachel is a pretty chill charcter by now… right?

If you posted your stuff on FFN back in 2010-2013 and it wasn’t the typical cutesy Percabeth story (Goode High, the gods read TLT, punk/prep Percabeth, college AU, etc.) people would’ve come for your fucking throat. Not because the story or the narration was shit. But because the pairing wasn’t Annabeth and Percy (in the sense that Annabeth had to be paired with Percy. I mean Percy gets shipped with everyone and their mother but for Annabeth it was strictly Percy. As annoying as this whole Connabeth thing is – the people behind it actually had a point. She never had a different love interest unless it’s a Percy centered story and he goes off dating Athena, Artemis and Zoe at the same time for some odd reason. Yeah, FFN Percy ships are something). Or it wasn’t the action filled canon compliant story or it wasn’t an AU that was popular.

People were really stubborn, snobbish and wanted their stuff in the four five boxes that were the most popular ones and that’s it. People have been bullied off the site in many fandoms, so it’s not a PJO-only thing but it’s still sad that it happened. (Off-note: most of these FFN tropes are still alive and well and thriving on AO3. Don’t be so snobbish and pretend that every piece you’d find there is a holy grail. There’s a lot of trash you have to waddle through. Same with Wattpad, Tumblr or anywhere else where fanfics get posted. Also had this discussion with Annabeth stans. Sigh).

And Tumblr back then? Forget it, wasn’t much better.

That view has sorta changed (at least for people that have been in the fandom for several years or have managed to find a way to navigate through it) but some of the negative sentiment from back in the day has survived. Be it by new fans coming in or from old fans that never let their stance die. The aggression feels differently and somewhat not. (I don’t know if the anon function had been abused that much back in the day. I was an observer not a participant in the fandom).

Crack a joke at Annabeth’s expense (Kal’s famous “Annabeth is a Republican” post or Dee Dee’s and many others “Annabeth has the education of a second grader, chill with the college plans, girlie” stance) and you have people insulting you, making callout posts, unfollowing and blocking you (based on only that? Okay, honey), making aggressive counter-posts, etc. in a minute. If you respond with “It’s a joke, it’s not real” you have a 50/50 chance of either getting blown off or embarrassing them so that they apologize for once.

This isn’t just about jokes. You can make a headcanon that’s not the cozy cute convenient mainstream saga and people would react the same way. Or art piece (no, not including the whole Tannabeth Blackchase shtick done by Viria and others) or fanfics.

People project so much onto the unfinished canvas that is Annabeth Chase that any form of negative sentiment as little as someone not liking her to straight up criticism, regardless of how tiny it may be, seems like an affront. Like an invitation to a fight. Like an insult to them, their character, everything they believe in. Let me state something:

You are NOT Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase IS NOT you. Annabeth Chase is NOT real. Her feeling cannot be hurt. Someone criticizing, disliking, joking about her or even insulting her will not bother her. Someone making a statement about her is not an insult to YOU.

Let me repeat that:

Annabeth Chase isn’t real. Annabeth Chase isn’t you.

So think a little before you act? I get it when you’re a kid and new to fandoms or haven’t been up with fan cultures in the past and are back in the scene. But if you’re in your late teens or even older as an adult and you’re unable to understand that you aren’t what you like – you aren’t the extension of a fictional character – I feel incredibly sorry for you. Because that’s just incredibly sad. Someone disliking something you like isn’t an attack of your character. It shows you that you are you and the other person is a human just like you. That they just have different taste. Disliking something you like isn’t a crime, you know? But me feeling sorry for the way some of y’all act won’t mean that that’s even remotely okay. Especially if you’re no longer in the intended audience for PJO age wise and should know better.

This isn’t a “white stans” only thing. I’ve seen and witnessed firsthand how people of color, mainly women of color, act the same or not even worse when it comes to her character. People have projected their problems and real-life occurring events into her character (I’m sure that she isn’t the only character nor that this is the only fandom where this is happening) and in some cases like I’ve said cannot separate their own personality from the fictional world. Fights with woc happened because of Annabeth fucking Chase. So many things have happened in the fandom the past few months, mostly due to people being forced staying at home because of the quarantine but I’d say it’s 10% on quarantine and 90% on people for acting up like this.

So here’s a little story: There was the act of Riordan blowing the fandom up because of his own stupidity and being unable to apologize for his mischaracterization and lack of research (the whole Piper fiasco) back in June (?) and admits the upset fandom, people on Twitter, Tumblr and Discord legit thought that none of that mattered and that the outcry was destroying Annabeth Chase’s birthday. That’s right. People thought that Annabeth Chase’s non-existing birthday because she’s a fictional character had a higher priority than the rupture and prevalent racism in the fandom. Okay. This isn’t a great look, Annabeth stans. And this of course pissed a lot of people off. I made a post about it and someone not only berated three other people on said post but no, we had a mighty argument which had disrupted many friendships in our circle which haven’t recovered until this very day. We both had our parts in it and no one is innocent. But the cause of this still remains Annabeth Chase or how people prioritize her non-existing well-being. Anyway. I’m getting agitated just thinking about it.

Let’s go back to the characterization thing with Annabeth. Let me remind you:

Annabeth Chase is an asshole. There I’ve said it in a post ages ago (too lazy to look it up, sorry) and I’ll say it again. And that’s not me insulting her. That’s me actually loving that about her. Annabeth is one of the very few unapologetic female characters that really showed all young readers across the world that you can be a girl, a badass, smart, strong, standing up for yourself and what you believe in. You don’t have to be nice. You don’t have to hide your feelings. You don’t need a man in all cases but it’s also okay to accept help and defeat.

A large reason why I think she’s an incredibly important character in children’s literature/YA because many other novels (mostly (sadly)) have the “Oh, I’m a white skinny dark-haired girl that likes unconventional things like READING. I’m not like the other girls, that take care of themselves and pamper themselves by enjoying shopping and wearing make-up. No, I’d rather be one of the boys but a sweet cute little boy and not the jock fuck that drank vodka shots out of a filthy shoe once. Despite me calling myself hideous every man in a 10-kilometer radius falls in love with me and tells me I’m oh so sexy and by the way I’m only 16 years old” shit going on for no goddamn reason.

Yes, I do blame Twilight for this mostly in recent years, but this trope isn’t by any means knew. Pretty sure that you could even use classics as Pride and Prejudice and dissect them in the same manner (Bold statement: Lizzy Bennet is the OG Bella Swan. There. Go fight somewhere in the corner, people). The new wave of YA focuses on girls belittling themselves and only starting to believe in themselves because someone else (mostly the male love interest) tells them they’re worth it. And these books hit the mainstream because they’re incredibly bland and picture perfect white.

With Annabeth it’s different. She shows up for the job and is done with it. (Brie Larson would probably be the perfect in real life version of her. You either like or dislike her. Or you really don’t care). That is what is so refreshing about her. Her unapologetic nature. Can it be off-putting? Yes. Is it annoying? Yes! Hell, every time I read The Lightning Thief, I want to rip her goddamn head off. And it’s just so well written. Her shift from mistrusting Percy but secretly still believing in him to her opening up. Wow, Riordan did something right there.

Annabeth Chase isn’t a young character. She has existed along with PJO for 15 years. She’s on her way to the second decade. I’m pretty sure that with the success of Percy Jackson (and Harry Potter) many lives have been warped and shaped.

But when I say the problem lies mostly in the fandom, it doesn’t mean that Riordan’s completely innocent. The only problem that I have with Annabeth lies not truly with her but the fact that Riordan is only able to produce three variations of female characters:

The sweetheart (Hazel, Silena, Calypso, Hestia)

The strong feminist (Annabeth, Piper, Thalia, Reyna, Artemis)

The bitch (Drew, nearly every female goddess in the goddamn Riordanverse next to every female monster)

And these female characters only know three endings:

End up married with a mortgage, three kids, two dogs and a cat somewhere in Connecticut by the age of twelve

Get dumped into the hunt

Chill on Mount Olympus and only come down to be a nuisance and/or give a cryptic message before going back and doing a godly rave party or something

We know Annabeth as the badass strong female first (or the bitchy character we’re supposed to actually like. Choose your approach), the blueprint so to speak, so some of the other characters feel almost pale in comparison and almost not needed? Doesn’t mean that other characters can’t behave similarly, but it feels kind of redundant especially if their character arcs end in a rather anticlimactic way (Thalia, Reyna). The new additions are the much needed woc as the main story with PJO was inherently white (anyway stan black!Percy and Grover, folks). So it’s not to bash on the new characters, it’s more Riordan’s fault more than anything.

Since Riordan only knows three female character arcs it feels like he tried to copy the formula several ways with different nuances. Some more or less successful. This is where fandom actually comes in handy and helps create more distinguished and fleshed out characters in form of headcanons or fanfiction.

But even in these cases people still make it about Annabeth when it’s time for characters of colors to shine. Remember that whole spiel and discussion that broke out when people (Kal, diver-up, Caitlyn, Bee, reynaisalesbian, etc.) joked about or criticized that Annabeth thinks that she’s having it harder because she’s a blonde? In front of Hazel and Piper? If she would’ve been a real person that’s an invitation for getting decked. And then all hell broke loose because Annabeth stans couldn’t accept the fact that in the real world and/or in fictional worlds the woc/coc have it harder? That the white woman wasn’t the victim that needed the coddling? Yeah, that was mad pathetic.

I hope you people get my point?

Well fuck. I wrote so many things and have the feeling I’ve said nothing. Anyway, I hope I made sense. This is way too long.

TLDR: Chill about Annabeth please. She’s an important character but that doesn’t mean that everyone has to like her, regardless of being a character in the books or a reader/fan of PJO in real life. She isn’t nice or a sweetheart all the time. She also isn’t the monstrous asshole that some try to make out of her.

Peace out.

#Mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #Annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #Percabeth #pjo Meta #Heroes of olympus #hoo #trials of apollo #toa #hazel levesque #piper mclean #reyna avila ramirez arellano #rachel elizabeth dare #pjo fandom #coc #rick riordan #riordanverse

[ginanosakka]

I Hate it Here

Masterlist

We Were Kids | Next

Moving you into Katsuki’s apartment across town took mere minutes, but everyday you spent there felt like years that you’d never get back. Everything felt too big and nostalgic, and the only thing grounding you to keep you from a panic attack, was Ryu being himself despite being pulled from school and transitioning to home school. He was just happy to be around his father all the time, immediately bombarding him with questions about his day the moment that he stepped through the door.

It wasn’t news that Katsuki wasn’t fond of comforting people, and the thought of him begging for forgiveness was laughable — but that brick wall you put up the moment you stepped through his threshold for the second time was driving him insane. When he was around, you were somewhere else in the house on the phone, or on the laptop you purchased and had shipped to his home as soon as possible. On the rare occasion he did see you for more than a few seconds, you looked drained of life. . and scared.

You were tough even when you two were young — the constant picking at you being quirkless might have made you think he thought otherwise, and he wondered if that contributed to your hardened shell now — but there was the rare occasion when something would break through your tough skin.

And it was always your father that did it.

Katsuki practiced his jabs that he tried out in training with Kirishima on the air, trying to make sure every moment was precise to recreate the amount of damage he dealt everytime. You had tagged along after phoning him and asking what he was doing, receiving the usual ‘I’m training and don’t give a shit if you come or not’ that you always took as a very hostile ‘yes’.

Usually, you’d make small noises of approval as he trained, and after yelling about you messing up his concentration but only getting a tongue stuck out at him in response, he had grown use to your annoying presence. Which is why he stole glances at you today when you were completely silent, and he found himself curious about why you didn’t even look at him as he trained. Bakugou was more aware of your every moment than you’d ever know, and he wanted it to stay that way, so he continued to only steal glances instead of confronting you.

“My dad didn’t tell me happy birthday.” There it was. The moment you’d break the silence and spill your guts to him with no coaxing needed from him.

That’s what drove him crazy about you; how you adapted to his pride and made being there for you so easy.

“He had Jun give me my necklace and money when I woke up, and I asked her if he made any plans to see me today. . She said he’s a busy man and I need to grow up. . Am I asking for too much?”

You looked up at him with every ounce of insecurity on full display, the kind of look he hated seeing on your face more than he hated seeing you in those stupid get-ups your mom bought you. Even he had said happy birthday to you, granted it was though text and there was no gift with it, but at least he had the decency to listen when you said that all you wanted was to hear two simple words from the people you cared about. It pissed Katsuki off even more that he knew you told your dad that’s all you wanted, and it didn’t take a genius to know that he didn’t do it on purpose. Now Katsuki had to be the one to pick up your broken pieces.

“Idiot, it’s not your fault that your old man is trash.” He grunted, turning away from you to stare at nothing so he didn’t have to see that stupid sparkle in your eyes when he said something nice.

That damn sparkle made his heart squeeze.

He was relieved to hear your soft laughter, “I guess you’re right. He’s better at bribing people than caring for them.”

If only he could tell you how true those words were.

“Shit.” Katsuki mumbled under his breathe, the realization of what was happening hitting him like a brick.

That day he went to your office, he hadn’t been there just to get a look at what you had accomplished, and the reason he got so riled up by your secretary was more than just being told he couldn’t see you. He had gotten a tip from Tokoyami that morning about a yakuza organization that was deeply involved in many missing people cases, and also suspects for the assasination of small business companies that were expected to outgrow large corporations.

That organization had your picture on the wall, along with pictures of those who were missing, and ones who had not gone missing but were on police watch due to the likelihood of them being taken next. Katsuki chalked it up to you being seen with him when he was a target for many villains due to his success in taking down and capturing villains with ease, and he let the most obvious point go over his head. He had just immediately wen to go see you to calm his nerves, not even second guessing his own answer that tied this back to the one man he had his own hit on.

The organization that had you targeted, acted under powerful businessmen in Japan. .

Your father was one of those powerful businessmen.

‘It all comes full fucking circle,’ Katsuki thought angrily as he picked up his office phone, knowing that he had to get his least favorite heroes on the case.

“I’m not asking you to take sides, I’m asking you to tell me the truth!” You hissed into the phone, and you could feel every ounce of your patience draining from your body and your tone.

It had been three days. Three days since you moved in with the father of your child, three days of feeling anxious and livid, and three days of trying to get in contact with your mother. For once, you could say that the least of your worries was Katsuki, and now it happened to be the life of your child again. You weren’t stupid — the moment Katsuki mentioned your safety specifically being threatened you knew who had put the hit out on you, and he wanted you to know.

It was your father’s way of warning you that if you even thought of exposing that you were his daughter that ‘went missing’,or tell them what he had done, you and Ryu will never know peace again. The knowledge that you were in his sights again and he still was just as ruthless as ever couldn’t even fully register in your brain, but you knew you had to do something. This was your baby’s life that was in danger again, and this time he isn’t living inside of you so you could have him with you at all times. You didn’t even know how to have this conversation with Katsuki when he didn’t even have the decency to tell you there was someone after your son while he sat in school. In fact, you were doing your best to avoid his presence so you didn’t cause a scene and scare Ryu half to death.

And your mother had the fucking ability to help you, and she decided this was the time to wave the white flag to involving herself in you and your father’s war.

“This isn’t something that I can tell you and your father not disown me too for, Y/N! Do you really expect me to risk my life too?” Your mother responded, and your grip on the phone tightened so much that you weren’t sure how much longer you’d have before it shattered.

“Yes! I expect you to risk your life for me, mom! I expect you to be a mother for just one damn moment in your life to save your grandson! If you can’t tell me what he knows and what you’ve told him, this will not only get ugly for him, but for you too!” You threatened with full intention of making it a reality.

“I can-“ as she spoke you heard a male voice in the background that made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach before the phone went dead.

You paced the floor with a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming with Ryu napping in the other room, but this situation could only be fully resolved with risks being taken. The company you put blood sweat and tears into — you had long since realized you never wanted to start an entire company, but it was the best thing you knew how to do to make money to give your son the life he deserved — was going to have to be put in jeopardy. Your life, and more importantly your son’s life, would be in immediate danger once you decide to wage this war.

It’s father against daughter, and loser loses everything.

“You were really going to go through this again alone? You really piss me off sometimes.”

You whirled around to the door of the guest bedroom you were in to see not only Katsuki, but Eiji also standing there. It didn’t shock you in the slightest how pissed Katsuki looked, but Kirishima’s deathly stare had you frozen in place. Even though you knew in the back of your mind that their anger was towards your father, you couldn’t help but feel weak when two very famous pro heroes had their murderous gazes on full display for you.

“You don’t have to worry,” Kirishima said and flashed you a hardened arm. “No one is going to touch you or Ryu on my watch.”

Katsuki grunted, “I’ll kill anyone that tries.”

(A\N: So who’s ready to see full on angst, romance, and a badass reader? Cause I am ^_^! Also the amount of love and insight you guys give me on this story is insane and I still can’t than you enough 🥺 I hope you enjoy! <3

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki i @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha angst #bnha x reader #anime x reader #bnha fanfiction #kirishima x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha kirishima #bnha kiribaku #kiri