#I don’t normally make posts like this but goddamn this one has me riled up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crimsonxe · 1 year ago

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Y’know if trying to not keep an argument going, prob best to not @ the person cause even with the slash it still popped a notif for me.

Now to start with while I do take any pronouns, I do take issue with your assuming a gender in order to bolster yourself. So for the sake of anything to do with you, go ahead and restrict your usage to they/them only.

“Try killing, maiming, a calling TERRORISTS/EXTREMISTS isn’t bad.” Which I fucking stand by. The moment ANY damn cause crosses into taking aim at INNOCENT civilians they aren’t part of a cause anymore, they’re just damn terrorists that deserve a jail cell with the key thrown away. Faunus overall are shown in a sympathetic light, even fucking Sienna is given a neutral-positive light being the “controlled violence” comparison to Adam’s psychopathic relishing in killing others TERRORIST vein. Ilia is redeemed after fully being given a sympathetic light, because she came close to crossing the line, but didn’t. Sienna’s entire thing is going after specific targets that are part of the oppression and not innocent civilians, which she directly rails on Adam about in v5 to really try to ram into your dumbass type’s heads that refuse to see the point being made about EXTREMISM with a lesser one about CO-OPTION of a cause. Cause that’s what fucking Adam did, CO-OPTED a cause to boost himself higher; he either never gave a shit about the faunus or once getting the first bits of praise for it then stopped giving a shit about them depending on if one wants to give him any shred of decency or not. This is a GOOD idea, because once again someone crosses into going after INNOCENT damn people and they aren’t for a damn cause anymore; just a damn terrorist. You think otherwise, get some goddamn mental health services help to get your damn mind straight; rather than condoning fucking terrorism.

The Tifa section:

Um no at best one could make the argument they’re on the same damn level. There’s no “short skirts” just skirts, unless you’re trying to say that all skirts are inherently sexualizing; which just goes towards you being an utter moron. Like that is a seriously fucked way of thinking.

Also “no pants under”, either this is about athletic shorts or panties; regardless what they have in actuality is a void space. There is no panty shots or detail there purposefully, because they made the choice to not do fanservice.

“Frozen tundra”, funny how if your braindead ass bothered to pay attention to or watch the show you’d know this exact thing is covered via their aura giving them a layer of protection against the cold.

Your dumbass putting up the v4-6 outfits as “provocative”, like did you grow up in some damn nunnery or something? Blake’s at most has midriff; Weiss’s is a damn dress; Yang’s has a coat, scarf of sorts, and pants covering anything of service territory; and Ruby’s is just her usual. There’s no camera down shots on Yang’s tits or upskirt shots (which would be pointless anyway cause of the voidspace put there). Also have you ever thought about I don’t know the ironic humor of having the ICE QUEEN complaining about being COLD? You’re truly just as bad as the dumbasses that yell about how they’re covering them up and shrinking Yang’s tits, just from the other side. Did Miles say something dumb? Sure. Is it deserving of some dumbass getting riled the fuck up like its some massive issue? Absolutely not. Especially when there’s ones out there basically framing Tifa as only about her tits, while ignoring her entire character.

Actually Twitter is built on the exact opposite idea, pushing people to post about whatever floats in their head at the time it does. From the start its always nudged users towards doing that exact thing, the main thing that’s changed is a nutjob shitbag being at the helm of it allowing the racists, sexists, homophobes, transphobes, and right-wingers run wild cause he’s secretly one of them.

Oh yes, a normal body pillow that doesn’t show anything but a normal character art.

Also you’re absolutely full of shit on this “Yang always has her tits out” bullshit. No, she isn’t wearing some goddamn nun garb hiding away her chest; but she’s definitely not having them fucking out either. She wears what amounts to a tank top, y’know like an athletic/sporty type would; which doesn’t show a damn thing. And in v7+ its even furthered cause she wears close to a damn jumpsuit like a fighter pilot would wear.

“Losing more and more clothing” WHERE? This is complete bullshit and shows that your ass doesn’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about. Blake has a full-body catsuit w/ jacket; Yang has a pilot jumpsuit; Weiss has an Artoria Pendragon-esque female knight getup going; and Ruby has her standard top and skirt in the same style as her others. They’ve ADDED more to the outfits as time went on.

More like sensible person looking at designs that aren’t at all sexualizing in a series that does everything it can to avoid sexualizing its characters; instead showing them fucking respect. Also a person that has seen actual sexualizing via anime/manga and being one of many reasons for abandoning that medium.

Oh Carmine the character from a side-game and novel that is not only over age, but supposed to be eye catching to pull Coco’s attention? A character that also wears a jacket with said chainmail shirt to cover anything. Once again your ass is showing as puritanical.

Once again not a damn tit or ass cheek is out, so you’re literally talking out of your ass with 100% grade bullshit.

There’s 3 factions shown in the show in regards to the faunus struggle and 1 outside those.

1. Ghira that believes in DIPLOMACY and TALKING to achieve equality and respect. Which regardless of your moronic ass’s idiocy is a VALID way of approaching the situation. Its shown to NOT have worked in the past, leading to

2. Sienna that believed in CONTROLLED VIOLENCE. Self-defense and going after targets that were tied to oppressing the faunus, but staying away from INNOCENT people. I don’t particularly agree with this aside from the self-defense, but its still within the realm of activism. Its also given respect by Ghira by his stating how he and Sienna may not have agreed in approach to things, but he still respects her and their people’s decision to turn to her instead of him.

3. Adam that doesn’t believe in the cause either after a point or ever and just sees it as a means to gain power, control, and ego boosting for himself. One that relishes in TERRORISTIC VIOLENCE that involves going after INNOCENT damn people; because he’s a psychopath shitbag. One that is shown crying not over comrades dying but instead them not being able to kill more. This is NOT a valid form of activism and is just TERRORISM. If your dumbass thinks otherwise you need to be on a damn watchlist. He and his sect are specifically the ones treated as villains.

Both Ghira and Sienna are shown with flaws in their running things (Ghira was too slow and Sienna led to Adam); which is where Ilia, Blake, and the new generation is going to have to figure something out with Ghira’s input as he’s been through shit. The only one that’s put as bad/wrong/evil is Adam and that’s exactly how it fucking should be.

Blake asks people of Menagerie to go to Haven WITH weapons to try to stop the TERRORIST SECT to avoid having them become the symbol of faunus rights struggle for equality. Cause they don’t want to be seen as TERRORISTS for good damn reason. Blake repeatedly mentions how she doesn’t have the answers overall, which is damn fitting given how complicated of a thing it fucking is.

Hbomb is a bad-faith know-nothing lucky he didn’t get sued for slander (in essentially calling M&K pedos) two-faced (Monty was horrible and his writing was shit; until Monty passed then all of sudden he’s a god and the only one that can do the story remotely good) shitbag that gets little to nothing right and even the little particles that were anything, are things the FNDM had already brought up as FLAWS. Few think that the WF storyline is the greatest thing ever, but its far from what your type try to paint it as. Its a commentary on EXTREMISM and CO-OPTION of causes leading to it.

Here’s a newsflash dumbass: Those types were already in that mindset, they just saw something to try to run with. And your type didn’t help a damn thing, cause you bought into it and now fucking ALIGN WITH THEM. Cause they’re the ones bitching about RWBY not boot-licking a fascist genocidal general and the LGBT+ rep they dared do. Alongside that they get to take the WF bullshit you people spew about and add it to their own shit-spewing, cause they don’t care as long as its an attack on RT & RWBY. You’re just their mirror and you don’t even realize it, which is truly sad af; and applies to far-leftists in general.

More like:

Ilia a confirmed lesbian

Coco a confirmed lesbian

Scarlet confirmed mlm

Nolan confirmed mlm

May confirmed trans

Terra confirmed wlw married w/ kid

Saphron confirmed wlw married w/ kid

Blake confirmed bi MAIN

Yang confirmed wlw MAIN

As an Ilia fan, go fuck your damn self. Yes, she was going with the cause because as she says “she didn’t know what else to do” but turn to Adam’s sect as the solution. The only thing she knew about Adam and Blake was him being her ex and her being branded a traitor by him. She also repeatedly went for dissuading tactics when being chased by Blake, instead of ever directly attacking her; and practically begged her to leave to not get dragged into the mess of things going on in the WF. Because she was actively trying to not have to fight Blake. Her mentioning her feelings for Blake was a direct fire-back at Blake’s thinking that she knew her, when clearly she didn’t catch on to that detail. She’s a girl torn because the path she doesn’t like being on is the one seemingly getting results, but she knows its wrong. But your dipshit ass didn’t bother taking all that in, likely cause you don’t give a shit about LGBT+ or her as a character.

The fuck are you even on about with this bullshit about Yang. At no damn point does Yang a damn bit of any of this shit. Yang is one of the people that sees and respects Blake as a person with an opinion; repeatedly shown listening and compromising with her any time they aren’t fully on the same page. Yes, she was hurt with Blake running; which she’s fucking allowed to be as her feelings are just as damn valid as Blake’s. Once she gets perspective thanks to Weiss, she welcomes/accepts Blake back into the group. Also since you clearly failed to grasp what was going on: Blake didn’t go to Menagerie because her parents might be in danger; she ran to protect Yang and the others from being near her as she sees herself as a poison & as a walking danger zone. She went to Menagerie to try to find her own mental footing again after the major trauma that was The Fall and to recuperate. God forbid Yang be a hurt teen girl that has a storm of emotions going on inside the girl she has feelings for that even she doesn’t quite know how to define who in her eyes disappeared with little chance of seeing her again. Yang wanted her there with her both because she was suffering through a major shift in her life and also wanted to be there for Blake; which is undoubtedly a part your moron ass either forgot about or ignored. With all the storm of emotions going on and beneath Yang’s front of not caring about Blake, was a girl that was head-over heels and wanting to have her around for both of them to lean on each other in support.

Oh do go absolutely fuck your damn self. Yang is one of the best goddamn character in the show and is the exact damn opposite of “shitty”. She’s someone that will literally sacrifice anything of her damn self in order to protect others, who buries her own issues and vulnerabilities to not burden others, and who even with a storm of emotions STILL fucking cared about Blake. She’s also a fucking teenage girl that had just gone through a major fucking trauma and woke to the girl she’d do anything for (as per Armed and Ready’s lyrics) had disappeared.

Um if anything Adam’s death is one of many reasons they didn’t immediately get together in v6 or even 7. And y’know fuck that bastard, if I thought the two were ready for that relationship upgrade I would’ve rooted for them to dance of his watery grave as they confessed and got together.

Yang didn’t do a single shred of abuse towards Blake ever and your ass suggesting otherwise really fucking shows you don’t have a single fucking clue what you’re talking about. In the barn Yang’s mind is clearly in a bad space, not helped by the Apathy’s influence; and she’s struggling with how much to let Blake in again. Cause All That Matters more than presents how hurt she was and how big of a thing it is to let Blake in and risk being demolished all over again.

Also yeah, it happened this year cause they were doing what Monty stated should be done with all romances including LGBT+ in EARNING it and putting the time into it. Have a strangers to friends to close friends to close friends (?) to separated yet pining to reunited to repairing their bond to awkwardly not knowing whether to risk going near the “friend/romance line” that any LGBT+ person would know especially well to finally entering into an official relationship in the most gorgeous scene in the show w/ a wlw song written specifically for it and them. Also it fully lines up with Renora’s relationship build where they didn’t kiss till v7 and now are in the phase where Nora has to figure out herself as an individual, before going into anything with Ren; and BB got their kiss in v9 with no need of said arc as they already did that in 4-5 with their separate arcs.

Um how about fuck no and your ass needs to grow up to know what actual romance is built on. The Sun wink + blush scene was 1 scene and in front of a stadium of people with nothing of substance between the two otherwise; just a shallow teen fleeting thing that goes out the window when the shit hits the fan showing it as shallow thing it was. Meanwhile you have Blake and Yang forming an emotional bond; Blake being comfortable with Yang; Blake noticing Yang in a room; Yang showing off to Blake (especially in a “too far” scene of Yang tying a cherry stem to show Blake); Yang & her offer of her first dance being the whole ass reason of Blake coming to the dance at all with the wink; Yang being directly contrasted against Adam by Blake which goes to the two being in the same vein of romantic interest in Blake’s mind; Yang hearing Blake is in danger and being the sole one to show up against Adam the romantic ex forever tying the two together; the two thinking of each other even while separated; time for them slowing and the rest of the world fading away as the two came face to face again in v5; a gesture by Blake to Yang that is motion for motion matching to one shown by Barb and Arryn their VA’s as showing interest; the two easily flowing back into sync with each other; the adorable af interaction before Blake runs off to the Comm Tower in v6 w/ Yang’s soft “Go” and Blake’s hands as paws as she runs off; Yang pushing back against Adam’s verbally abusing Blake during the fight with him; Adam’s jealous “what does she even see in you?!” aimed at Yang; after the fight Yang rushing to hold Blake who says she’ll keep her promise to not up and leave again; Yang literally having gay panic at Blake’s new hair cut and Blake blushing as a result; the two being awkward cause they don’t know how the other feels are both traumatized girls w/ baggage aplenty thus not wanting to go near the “friend/romance line”; Yang worrying about Blake seeing her as lesser in v8 for going with ORJ; their reunion that screams intimate; Blake going absolutely feral at Yang falling into the voidspace; Blake tackling Yang when they run across her in the Ever After; Blake making pun jokes with a very clear into Yang tone to her voice as the two’s hands start to reach for the other; Blake blushing at Yang’s cheerleading for her; and finally the two’s confession scene that is again the most gorgeous scene in the entire damn show w/ a song specifically for them as a wlw song by wlw artists. So no BB was given the meat of a mature relationship that is shared in Renora and in the limited time that Arkos had, instead of shallow immature aspects. They did have similar vein things but completely different manner of how they were done and being AFTER the substantive part was put in place; rather than the other way around. Yang is also the ONLY ONE that brings out Blake's original pre-Adam self, the cheery flirty girl. Also I’m not going to hide away or shy away from spoilers cause I really don’t give a shit when it comes to your bitch ass. The cherry on top is that both VA's for them are on the LGBT+ spectrum, Arryn being bi and Barb being "not straight".

Funny, cause every single person I’ve seen within LGBT+ spaces that sees that scene says the exact opposite and its actually even pulled people into checking the show out and loving BB as a result. Hell even HTDM had to give a shred of credit to the scene along with their usual bullshit. So yeah, I’m going to wager that you have few to no actual LGBT+ friends or if you actually do they likely wanted something else thus shitting on BB as a result. While everyone else LOVES both them and their confession scene. The ones I’ve actually seen shitting on it are the homophobes, sexists, and incel shitbags; so congrats on once again aligning your ass with them.

Except that the LGBT+ characters aren’t trash, but congrats on being a homophobic shitbag without a clue on LGBT+ and likely has no damn right to speak towards it at all.

Again its called actually giving a shit about your LGBT+ romance and EARNING it not trying to rush to have it. Also about substance which Sun has none of, but clearly your ignorant ass has no clue what goes into mature romance and is stuck in the immature zone. Even though BB has its own moments of flirting, winks, chemistry that completely overshadows Sun, and has actual substance to it.

Its almost like and hear me out, Blake being there means more to Yang than the others. Like y’know as if Yang has romantic feelings for Blake and thus is hurt that she isn’t there. Because Yang is a TEENAGE TRAUMATIZED GIRL WITH ABANDONMENT ISSUES. Its also very telling that you don’t include the bit where Yang also mentions wanting to be there for Blake, probably cause it does that pesky thing of shattering your bullshit.

The laser pointer was early volume meta, but not at all shocking you’d try to spin it up as different. Even though Yang has at numerous points both shown sympathy for the faunus, but also has directly called out racism towards them.

She also doesn’t “trauma dump”, she talks about her past as a link to Blake’s current and her understanding where’s she’s at mentally. Its also not at all about racism (look at that once again your ass showing how little you know or pay attention), that entire thing is about Blake driving herself into the ground over finding Torchwick and the WF to stop them from launching an attack/scheme; while Yang is getting her to not stop but slow down to take care of herself. Instead of her killing herself from lack of sleep or stressing out. Actually Yang does solve the problem cause Blake does slow down, does relax, and is noticeably healthier for it later. But again you’d actually have to watch the show to know that.

Oh look another case of you not knowing shit: Terra and Saphron are WIVES not girlfriends.They’re also there for a few episodes as supporting characters, so your moronic ass trying to suggest them as anything more is just telling of how little your ass has any ground to speak about LGBT+.

Dumbass the South Park reference is the thing that Mica fucking spun, the whiteboard incident that she talked about once upon a time ago; is that. But again that’d require you to have what you’re very clearly lacking: a brain.

More like breaking the idea that its you vs. a white dude; Miles is half-white and half-Latino. You ignoring that actually could be seen as your ass being racist towards him in your efforts to go after him.

Nah, more like the source was a twitch stream that has since gone away in part by one of the idiots involved who btw is a friend of Mica’s no less. They weren’t trying to go after her or anything just mentioning the full context of the whiteboard incident. I’m also not going to mention a name, because I’m not going to give your bitch ass or anyone that pays attention to you a target to go after.

The only time that I’ve seen them cry on stream was when a particular monstrous bastard got found out and rightfully thrown the fuck out the door with them having disgust towards him. Also while I respect people for doing apology type tweets, I also am well aware that if they didn’t do something they’d get an avalanche of harassment. I also don’t particularly care if Mica forgives or doesn’t, cause I’ve stopped paying attention to her in that regard. Cause there’s only so many times one can try to ring that bell before it breaks and becomes annoying. I was on her side for so long and kept asking her for to be in content again; then after like the 2nd-3rd jumping on the drama train she did I chose to just not look that way cause I’d rather not shift further towards the negative in regards to her. Its really a simple concept of how to handle that type of thing: say your peace and move the fuck on; not repeatedly bring up at every drama uproar that regardless of if one is doing it or not reads as chasing a crowd.

You know damn well what is meant by “he’s not white” and are intentionally being a dumbass. Let me adjust it then cause of your braindead dumbass: “he’s not only white”; nvm me saying in other posts “he’s half-white, half-Latino”. Really showing your defunct brain’s lacking anything outside of basic functions capability. Dumbass once again it doesn’t matter what he refers to himself as, biologically so long as he has a non-white parent HE IS NOT JUST WHITE AND IS MIXED. This isn’t your bitch ass vs. the stereotyped white guy; its your bitch ass vs. a half-white, half-Latino man whom your disgusting ass has over-fucking stepped in saying is an insult to both. Like you have ANY fucking ground AT ALL to speak on that shit. I really don’t give a shit wtf your ass is, I won’t paint you as one stereotypical thing at the expense of one half of your genealogy to try to play against the white side. And don’t even fucking try to say that isn’t the EXACT damn card you’re trying for either; hence why you’re so against someone mentioning that Miles is HALF-white and HALF-Latino. Cause that takes away from some of the white card having him be mixed.

OMFG ITS MICA M.I.C.A. MICA NOT FUCKING MIKA.

I’m not defending Miles, cause I don’t know Miles. But I will push against bullshit, especially the braindead bullshit your bitch ass has spewed. a) there’s social clout to be gained from jumping into outrage drama which has been every time Mica has come out with some new thing; b) why the fuck is it on employees to do a damn thing?; and c) this would’ve been YEARS ago now. I’m actually aware of Torian mostly because of RvB Zero, so I don’t need the explainer. I have no clue who Castle Super Beast is or their connection to RT, though I would say when was this joke made; cause Miles is a contracted writer now not someone within the company. Also the current people in the staff as far as I’ve seen are far more mixed than before, but then again you love dragging up past as present so I doubt that part matters. Someone dropping a candy bar is “worrying” according to your bitch ass.

Go fuck yourself, no one is obligated to be an activist. He was mostly there as a writer, which is what he does. That isn’t being racist, its not wanting to stir up drama or wanting to have confrontations with people. And if your ass thinks different, then feel free to take that metaphorical idea and shove it right up your ass. I don’t expect a damn soul to risk getting their ass beat down or harassed for that shit ever, if someone does do it great for them. Its a plus; but I’m not going to shit on someone for not being that type. Its real easy for someone like your ass to tell others to do that and not facing the risk of said beating.

Your ass isn’t holding ANY DAMN BODY “ACCOUNTABLE”. Pull your obnoxious piece of shit braindead head out of your damn ass. Accountable is checking to see if they’re sticking to changing; Accountable is shutting the fuck up to see if they do what they say they will; Accountable is acknowledging that changes HAVE BEEN MADE already; Accountable is looking at the PRESENT not dragging up the damn past. You aren’t holding them accountable; your bitch ass is using an issue as a bludgeon against them cause they didn’t do what your bitch ass wanted in x,y, or z regard. Even using a person who’s name your ass can’t even fucking spell right as a bludgeon in the same regard. Get off your damn high horse and realize your ass is wearing cardboard as armor on a patchy ass donkey.

Nah, dumbass everything you’ve said here and in the other thread have made it clear that your ass has been wanting RT to burn out of some bullshit idea that its the righteous and only acceptable route; and fuck everyone that still works there. Cause you have your head firmly shoved up your ass.

I’m not going to sit here and spending ours coming up with a damn source list for some braindead jackass online; especially since I already know that at least one has long since gone away. Both cause of how Twitch works and because of the person that did the vid saying they’d likely delete it once they calmed down. They only thing your bitch ass has presented is a bunch of shit from whenever; gotten details of RWBY flat-out wrong; ignored Miles being mixed to try to make it you vs. the white guy; whine about the WF while within the getting details wrong; speak about LGBT+ rep that your bitch ass has no ground to speak on and even then still getting shit wrong; got fucking Mica’s name wrong multiple fucking times (yet I’m supposed to think your bitch ass cares); took issue with Miles’s commentary about a damn video game character; lied about RWBY’s character designs; and just shat out your mouth.

That Yang example truly is pathetic, like that’s a big grievance for you. Grow the fuck up dipshit. Oh those critic vids exist so that the piece of shit sexist, homophobic, right-wing, incel, braindead chuds that rail against “woke” can get clicks. Every single one being able to be countered by anyone that has actually watched the show without filters (or phobics) or agendas in place.

Bitch, your ass is delusional if you think any of this amounts to a metaphorical “cold clock” or that I got my ass handed to me. Once again you got numerous things wrong; flat-out lied in certain things; failed to grasp the whiteboard incident; tried and failed at doing a you vs. whitey scenario cause “whitey” is mixed; wrongfully spewed your bullshit about the LGBT+ rep which congrats on being a homophobe for that; and your bitch ass repeatedly spelled Mica wrong. Like I have never in my time of knowing of Mica misspelled her damn name, even up to now when I stay away from her shit still knowing how to spell it. Not to mention the slash between the @ and my name suggests your pathetic little bitch ass was trying to puff out YOUR chest and act big to a strawman; but ya fucked up in how Tumblr does those; hence here I am. Pushing back on every single bit of your bullshit. Do us both a favor and shut your bitch ass the fuck up, before you embarrass your damn self more.

The reality is that the issues at RT are ACROSS THE ENTIRE DAMN INDUSTRY. The Spider-verse, Riot, and Wonderstorm controversies show as much. But that'd mean your ass actually caring about whatever cause you supposedly are advocating for enough to go after them too. But nah, you're going after RT and even throwing in Blizzard which just so happen to be right in the vein of where chuds take aim too; also both having gone through rough territories in recent times making them easier to go after. Once again a tactic used by the right-wing neckbeards and chuds just from the flipside of the coin.

So I didn't hyjack this poor person's post over [here.]

I thought making my own post would be the most logical conclusion. So it takes alot in my opinion to bury your head in the ground and pretend like you smart when you're so overly stupid.

Here's a discussion I had with a person where alot of alarming and stupid things were said on his part. @/crimsonxe

Well go through small sections, that's a lie, you know I'm long winded.

Here's a section where he states that writing about killing, maiming, and calling minorities bad isn't nearly as bad. I mentioned Miles calling Tifa a prostitute as well and I don't think he's getting it.

Manner of dress:

The problem isn't getting over it or not, the issue with calling remake Tifa a prosisitue is that she dresses more modest than the rwby cast, he has children with short skirts, no pants under and boob windows in frozen tundra. If he thinks THIS is provocative,

then him okaying THESE

designs on children is something he's mentally aware of! also weiss spends most of her time in that outfit in a frozen wasteland and then COMPLAINS about being cold!

Get over it? More like Have enough common sense not to post stuff like that. A wise man once said "just because you think of a tweet doesn't mean you have to hit send." (Also he says it's not fanservicey, need I remind everyone they sell a ruby body pillow, Yang always had her tits out and then as time goes on they start losing more and more clothing. Not fanservice my ass!)

Grown man argument for sexualizing teen girls.

"They don't go overboard." Here's a picture of a woman wearing chainmail on her bare skin in the desert, there's a difference between puritanical and horny silly designs after them saying shit like "we won't do the stupid stuff anime does" and then having the whole cast of female characters with their tits and ass out.

Also not to stun your pee brain, but writing racism as "If we want respect and equality then we have to forgive our bigot overlords and defend them with not even a thank you." Is stupid, that be like me telling you that if you want minorities forgiveness, go fight cops, or me going to england and saying that. Blake tells unrelated faunus to fight armed dudes and the writers are stupid. And the overall issue is HBomberguy was right! In his review he stated that he was afraid that a certain group of people would look at how the faunus act and go "yeah that's how They are" uncharitable takes exist.

And he was right a bunch of RWBY stans who were racist before vanishing literally came around going "boy did miles and kerry get you guys pegged, you're all exactly like this!" During the 98% most peaceful protesting age, well unless your a cop who wants to shoot out someone's eyes.

The LGBT pair (s)?

Yeah like the cardboard cutout guys miles pouted about when he didn't get credit for putting out there after people in the LGBT community asked when were the LGBT characters gonna appear.

The first Gay rep in the show was two unrelated characters we'd never see again after saying "characters" just don't promise things then lie forehead!

Or the second Rep LGBT character Illia! A woman who took her crush and was gonna- *Looks at paper* Send her to her abuser while also blaming her for dating someone and not knowing her romantic feelings.

"I guess you were too busy looking at Adam to notice me."

Yeah great first cardboard then a woman willing to kill off her her crushes family and blames her crush for not knowing she had a crush on her!

Oh how about bumblbee? With Yang literally saying she viewed Blake as an object and wanted her around for her solely? You know fuck what Blake wants! Blaming Blake for running in fear when WF ruin a nation and Adam states he'll kill everyone she loves and he knows exactly where her parents are? Perish the thought, that sounds like something a scared child would exactly do! But Yang goes "No despite us not officially dating yet I'm owed her time and presence.

Yang's shitty, and it takes how long for them to get together? They don't even wait until adam cold before Yang claims her, after abusing her mentally when Blake tells her Adam likes to make you feel small and she brushes her off and is like "stop talking to me." Then they kiss what? THIS year? 2023? In volume 3 sun's winking at her and she's blushing and smiling and calling him a dork and they're hanging out, and I'm sitting here going "Do some of that for yang? All they did was share a dance, have her flirt with her or wink, something." And what she compliments her hair once? Granted I stopped after 7/8 so I bet the best LGBT rep happ- This just in, I'm getting word from my friends in the LGBT community who watched rwby saying that it's dogshit.

Having tons of LBGT characters doesn't matter if you write them like trash I guess, btw the first kiss happened in volume 9 in 2023 and rwby started in 015 and again sun flirts, winks etc and they show alot of chemistry with each other.

Yang gets mad, demands blake be there when EVERYONE else is going back home too! Trauma dumps on her after using a laser pointer on her when Blake admits that she's tired of dealing with racism.

Like instead of talking to her, Yang treats her like an animal an laughs it off then trauma dumps about her mom on her while blake is already highly stressed. Doesn't even solve the problem btw. All the LGBT characters thus far (besides Jaune's sister and her girlfriend, they can stay, sadly they're trapped in a shitty show) are horribly written for no reason.

A second writer should look at these before they hit the screen.

Racism

He talks about a south park reference which I ignored cause it's so random?

racist dog whistling.

"Mika burton spun things a certain way." Nah there's tweets w of people admitting they fucked up and the achievement hunters go online , they bring her on a podcast and pretend to cry so people can feel bad for them. And good for her she doesn't forgive them. So spinning around? How about a source? Source can't be that you made it the fuck up cause that's not a source it's a sentence wasting everyone's time.

Also "Mile's isn't white." Aw man what am I gonna tell mile's white parent? Sorry some dude on the internet said your son can't be half white, sorry me I can't be half black, or Hawaiian, Sorry Miles because you look more black your Hispanic traits don't matter for the sake of the argument. What kinda of Juvenile , stupid statement IS this? He can't be white because you say so? But he calls himself white in many tweets and literally in the statement of writing racism in RWBY.

Also nice try, moving the goalpost means you can't lose. "I'm not defending him, now watch as I waste time defending him instead of finding a source against Mika's claims cause I'm bullshitting." I mean Mika doesn't even have a reason to lie, RT employees all admitted they heard and did nothing, Torian a black animator and editor also stated he had race issues with RT and Pat boivan from Castle super beast and pat stares at made a black joke that Miles and select few members laughed at in terms of them having no black or brown people working there. And they ignore woolie when it comes to sponsored stuff, he literally says this on multiple episodes of his show, and THAT's Worrying!

Point is if Miles himself is racist, weather he's white, Hispanic, black etc he still displayed racist behavior multiple times too many. He had a chance to say something to his employees, he didn't bother, he got nervous and waked off. He had the chance when he put BLM after the lashings he got and do something with that, change the company for the better etc, but he didn't he put it there as a band-aid and took it off when he thought people weren't looking.

I keep beating this dead horse because people like you don't seem to do research at all! Because in the face of it it's easier to lie, play dumb (pffft 'play') and make excuses for them instead of holding them accountable.

I didn't want to see RT burn down for a while, but they keep pulling a blizzard, and all these, tweets, articles, statements that miles or the others say or do that's stupid, harmful, racist, shitty keep popping up! At this point it be better as a lesson not to be shitty humans for RT to quietly burn, no special treatment, I'm holding them to the same standard I do for David cage, for activation Blizzard and many other triple A companies. If you don't wanna go down in flames, maybe don't do reprehensible things that keep burning bridges for you. Simple, don't be stupid forhead!

The real mornic stuff was listening to you try and fail at mental gymnastics and not provide a single source for anything you claimed I should "be in awe" of or switching the goal post. RT.s failing and they stacked the deck against themselves, THAT's why people hate them, statements like they saying that when yang drives down the crossroads to Mistral and people guessing she's going to Ruby only for them to like and say "if you heard the bike go one way." These critics, video's, and articles don't exist for no reason.

youtube

Pathetic, utterly pathetic, you boasted a big game , puffed out your chest and then walked straight into a cold clock and got your ass handed to you for several rounds. For someone who boasted about "getting in the ring" No flatter yourself, you weren't even competiton.

79 notes · View notes

tsukikento · 5 years ago

Text

Too Fast For Your Own Good Part 2

(part 1) (part 3)

Pairing: Takami Keigo (Hawks x Reader)

Words: 5115

Summary: Soulmate!AU - the first words your soulmate says to you is written on your body in ink.

Genre/Warnings: Some slight swear word usage. Fluff, angst if you squint.

A/N: I ended up writing too much again and decided to write a part 3, because I have a really good ending planned. Please let me know if you liked this! Also posted on my ao3 @ allie_win.

Time stopped.

Beautifully red wings were now still and gray. The delicate feathers that had fallen and were fluttering to the ground stopped and floated around Keigo as if encasing him, his own personal portrait border.

To you, it didn’t really matter that you stopped time, it’s not like you could breath after what he said.

Was this it? Was it really it? Or did you mishear him? Maybe you wouldn’t respond correctly and it would just be another false connection slipping through your fingertips.

“So apparently you’re faster than me?”

Anxiety flooded your skin and you pulled at your costume just enough to see the words printed in black lettering. You used a mirror to check, making sure they were the exact right words.

And they were.

You looked at Hawks, noting just how oblivious he was to what was about to happen. A small smile found their way onto your lips as you admired his sharp eyes, the eyeliner he used only adding to the intrigue his eyes carried with them.

You bit your lip and sat down on the recliner next to the couch. You observed him for as long as you could, taking in every possible detail. The way his neck curved softly and connected to his muscular back. The curves stop suddenly at the protrusion of his wings.

You wondered if his tattoo was in the same place. Between his wings.

How ironic.

A burning sensation filled your lungs and you attempted to hold back as long as you could, trying to figure out just the right words to say. You stood up and paced around the room, debating what was the perfect thing to say.

The first thing you thought of was “What?”

But it didn’t feel right. This was your possible soulmate. You wanted to come across as confident. You bit your lip and sat back in the recliner, not bothering to try and stand back in the same place as you were when you stopped time.

Remember, confidence. Don’t hesitate.

The world suddenly floods again with colors, something that did not faze you at this point, and you watch as Hawks processed you moving from one place to the next. He smiled at you and opened his mouth as if to speak.

You didn’t notice and breathed in before saying, “I know I am.”

“That’s a cool quirk.” Keigo smiled cheerily, speaking over you. “Oh shit, sorry for interrupting. What did you say?”

Holy shit.

You held the bridge of your nose between your thumb and pointer finger, processing what just happened. He didn’t hear your first words.

You breathed in once more and looked at Keigo straight in the eyes. “I said ‘I know I am.’”

You painfully watched Hawks slowly realize what had just happened. His relaxed face formed a shocked appearance. His mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape and his eyes widened in shock.

“You know you are,” He mumbled as he subconsciously flapped his wings and looked into the coffee table. His eyes were glazed over as if too much was going through his mind right now.

“Yeah,” You replied, eyes focus on the coffee table as well.

“Wow.”

Silence filled the room as you both tried to separately process what to do next. No one talks about how utterly awkward it is after you find your soulmate. You two barely even knew each other.

“So,” Hawks finally spoke up. He had a small smile on his face, still blown away that you, his goddamn soulmate, was sitting right in front of him. “Soulmates.”

“Soulmates,” You grinned back, noting how hard Keigo was trying to lighten the mood.

“Ca-”

The door clicked and a rather average looking man came in. He has a business suit on and a balding head of hair. He looked between the both of you and then mumbled in a voice that seemed almost disappointed. “Hawks, we need you for another interview.”

The number two hero looked at who you assumed to be his manager. He then looked at you, licked and bit his lips. It was an action you would never forget.

“I’m so sorry,” He said, looking at you. “We will talk later, I promise.” He held your hands for a brief moment, his warmth flooding through your system, making you feel immediately better. Safer. “I’ll see you at the obstacle course,” He said once more as he followed the other man through the door and out of your life.

You leaned back in the chair and sighed. Your heart was fluttering at the memory of Keigo’s golden eyes piercing into your soul. For the next while, you were left with your own thoughts, which were simply reliving the least few minutes.

Maybe it was because of how caught up you were in the moment, but you felt crazy with how quickly you became infatuated with Hawks. You groaned and tried to focus more on the competition. Was Hawks even thinking about you the way you were thinking about him?

Eventually, your own manager entered the room and ushered you to get ready. You followed him through the stadium, weaving from side to side to avoid the mass amounts of people working.

Over the sound of hushed voices and rapid steps, a booming sound came over it all, “Hello! And welcome to the competition of the century!”

Ugh, hardly.

The voice was Amplifier, a hero you met in school. You knew she was trying to pump up the crowd, but it was just adding to the pressure. You didn’t even want to do this competition after finding out that your competitor was your soulmate.

Silently, you listened as your manager told you that you would be entering onto the stage by teleporting while Hawks would fly on.

“He’s gonna fly on, talk to the host and when the host says, ‘are you nervous for today?’ they want you to teleport to the stage and reply ‘not at all.’” Your manager explained.

You almost wanted to laugh, but stayed silent because Amplifier's voice was so loud that you knew it would fall of deaf ears.

You arrived behind the red curtain, just where you had been before when you first saw Hawks. Your manager stayed by your side as you waited and listened for your cue. It felt like time was going by slower than usual. You heard the crowd erupted in cheers and you knew Hawks must have flown onto stage.

You were so in your own head that you could barely process the words being said, only listening to the silky sounds of Hawks’ voice as he spoke.

“I’m incredibly excited for today, Telethon is a great person and I’m thrilled to compete against them,” Hawks spoke.

You felt your heartbeat quicken just a bit faster, knowing that your soulmate was speaking well of you before even knowing you well. It made you anticipate learning more about the number 2 hero.

“But are you nervous for today?” Amplifier asked, giving you your cue.

Although you craved hearing Hawks talk just a bit more, you still stopped time once she was done speaking and began making your way to the stage. You stopped right next to Hawks, where your manager told you to stop. You had your own mic and would be able to talk easily.

Time began, color filled your world, and you looked at the camera designated for you, “Not at all.”

The crowd erupted again, almost as loud as they had for Hawks. You cheekily smiled at the crowd and waved. Although you wanted to pay attention to your fans, you couldn’t help but be a little too aware of the body heat coming off of Hawks.

His wings spread out, the left one practically encasing you in warm, soft feathers. No one seemed to notice except for you. It made your brain swirl with nervousness. He was teasing you and you knew it, especially because when you finally gathered the courage to look up at him, he was smirking.

You looked back down, feeling your face heat up once again. You had no clue how he was making you so anxious and shy, normally you were more confident in yourself.

You tried your best to focus on the interview, answering all the questions as best you could. Eventually, Amplifier told everyone to tune in in just half an hour to see the competition.

“Goodbye, Hawks and Telethon! We will see you soon!” Amplifier said, cueing you both to exit the stage once more using your quirks.

As Hawks waved goodbye and pushed himself into the air, you paused time and practically ran off stage. According to the schedule you were emailed, you had 10 minutes before you needed to make your way to the obstacle course. You rushed away, determined to grab some water and help yourself calm down beforehand.

You arrived at the green room and grabbed a cup of water before starting time again. You took in a deep breath, filling your empty lungs with fresh air once more, before gulping down your glass of water. You sat on the comfy chair and focused on your breathing.

Eventually, the door clicked and Hawks walked in. When he saw you, his eyes widened slightly before he smiled. If you were paying much attention, you might have even thought the look he gave you was one of pure admiration and love.

“Dang, you sure are fast,” Hawks said as he too grabbed himself a glass of water. “I’ll have to amp up my game for the obstacle course.”

You chuckled. A kind of chuckle that sent shivers down someone’s spine, and made the air bright, clear and filled with an almost floral smell. No matter how nervous you were that your soulmate was right in front of you, you could enjoy a good joke.

It was obvious that neither of you cared too much about the competition. Or at least you hoped.

Hawks then sat down on the couch next to you, leaning back, breathing in, and then taking a sip of the shockingly ice cold water. “Listen,” He spoke, breaking the silence that had formed around you both. “I’m sorry about being such an ass.”

You looked at him quizzically, silently asking for him to further elaborate.

“The comment I made to the paparazzi. I was so riled up,” Takami swept one of his gloved hands through his golden hair before taking off his yellow-tinted glasses and looking at you. A cold shiver ran up your spine. “I just hate paparazzi,” He sighed, “and people doubting me. I know it must have been scary to see such a popular hero bashing on you, and I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It felt nice. It felt so nice having him acknowledge you like that.

It made your shoulders less tense and you really started to think about how grateful you were to be bonded together with a man so confident that he could also take a step back and think about how his actions impact those around him.

You looked into the clear water on your glass, admiring the smooth ice cubes, before looking back up at Hawks with a smile. “Thank you,” You spoke, your voice sounding like pure honey to his ears. He could have melted right then and there. “It’s very nice of you to say that and I hope the competition today isn’t too stressful.”

Hawks smiled back, his own bright teeth shining like the sun. “We will just have to do our best,” He paused for a moment, “But I’m sure I’ll win,” He joked.

Your laughter filled the room, warming Hawks’ body once more. You were tempted to tell him the truth about your quirk, but decided to wait until the right moment.

Soulmates.

It felt all so right now.

Your conversation continued and you both eventually made your way together towards the course. When you arrived, you each separated to go talk to your respective manager.

Amplifier was once again pumping up the crowd, introducing each of you as you walked onto the stage.

The obstacle course was then explained as being a total of 3 miles long, each mile providing a ew surprise. There were a total of 6 checkpoints where we had to grab our respective flags, Hawks’ being yellow and your being green. You and Hawks walked toward the start, noticing the plethora of positioned cameras to catch every second.

Not like that even matters with your quirk.

You wondered why they decided to do an obstacle course instead of simulating a crisis where you and Hawks could show off your rescue skills. It would make sense considering you were both primarily concerned with using your quirks for rescue missions. As you looked at all the cameras once more, you realized it probably wouldn’t be fun to simulate a crisis, especially after the earthquake villain incident.

You shook your head and focused back in on the course.

An air horn sounded and Hawks was off. You paused time and admired your now still soulmate, he had a confident smirk on his face.

You didn’t waste much time and rushed forward to the first obstacle, multiple walls, each different sizes, each with different negatives.

You rolled your eyes, already noticing how this course was much better for Hawks. It was a shame you couldn’t teleport around all these walls like the world thought you could.

Slowly, you made your way over and around the walls, watching out for spikes and slippery spots. It was a shame everyone would think you simply teleported through these obstacles when you actually had to do much more work to get by.

Once again, you felt a pang in your heart because of how misunderstood your quirk was. Sure, you could explain it, but would people listen? They never did in the past.

Eventually, you grabbed your first green flag, it was placed on top of the tallest wall. You started time again for only a second to take a breath before stopping it again and continuing on.

For just a mere millisecond, the crowd saw you on the cameras, only a moment after the competition began. In that time, Hawks had only arrived at the first wall, and saw you much farther ahead of him already grabbing the first flag.

You kept on running through your own personal gray world. Just because time was stopped didn’t mean you couldn’t still experience pain, and so you made sure to be extra careful while passing over each wall.

At the end of the mile was the second checkpoint. You grabbed it and continued to run, taking this time to take in a few breaths. In that time, Hawks was able to arrive at the first checkpoint.

The path suddenly turned to dirt and you saw multiple sensors along the walls as well as the cameras. They were placed high and low so that even Hawks would set them off. Tentatively, you began crossing.

Each sensor connected to another, creating strings of red lights. You avoided them as you crossed, curious as to what would happen when you set them off. On the ground was a rock, which you picked up and tossed.

Nothing happened.

You furrowed your eyebrows in curiosity.

You started time, planning to grab another rock and throw it.

Before you had a chance, the multiple multiple sensors the previous rock hit went off. As a result, a total of four mechanical arms reached out of nowhere. They grasped at the air and began shaking violently before letting go of their grip and retracting.

You stopped time.

A watch was built into your hero costume to help you keep track of how long time was stopped for. With that watch you noted that the process took a total of 5 seconds. You knew doing that gave Hawks more time to catch up, but it also showed you that these censors could not affect you when time was stopped like fire or spikes could. This meant that you could just run right through.

On top of that, the censor would end up going off once you turned time back on, which could be a horrible surprise for Hawks.

You sprinted through this mile, stopping only to grab the two checkpoint flags and starting time to take a few breaths. At the fourth checkpoint, you took a moment to look back and noticed Hawks was just now entering the second mile.

His gray, unmoving face was quizzical. He had noticed the censors and seen a few in action as a result of your movement. You hoped that maybe he was going too fast to process the mechanical arms and would get caught in one.

You looked ahead of you once more and entered into the final mile.

You stopped as you came to a cliff, you practically slid off because you were too busy looking at Hawks. The impulse to catch your breath was high, but you refused. You did not have the advantage here.

You looked over the vast, empty terrain. There were a few spots throughout the drop where people could stand, one of them holding the fifth flag. You would have to be incredibly careful with crossing.

You were sure that when this course was made, the creators thought you would easily be able to teleport through these rocks, making their purpose obsolete. It wouldn’t make for a fun show, but you figured the creators were probably tired.

Suddenly, you really regretted not working on increasing your jump distance over the past couple days.

You looked back at Hawks again and then back at the cliff. You gulped down the lump forming in your throat and took a few steps back to get a running start.

Although fearful, you still made it. And so, the processes of carefully jumping from perch to perch began. Unfortunately, the stress and a physical draining this activity caused made you need to start time more frequently.

You jumped up from a rock, started time, took a breath, stopped time, and landed safely. The fifth green flag was now in your grasp, All that was left was to make it the rest of the way and grab your final flag, signaling the end of the competition.

You took another jump, once again using your air time as a chance to take in a breath. Although you knew you must have looked ridiculous to the people watching you, your hot lungs were craving cool air and you were not going to deny them when you could easily fall more than fifty feet.

As you landed, just before you stopped time, you felt a large gust of wind. It took you a moment to register, but once you did, you immediately got to the ground, afraid the wind would blow you off. You looked up, wondering if you tripped a censor that you hadn’t seen. However, when you looked ahead of you, you saw Hawks' still body.

He had just flown past you and grabbed the fifth flag. You scolded yourself for not paying enough attention to the blond. Without wasting much time, you began jumping from perch to perch, no longer starting time.

If you were correct, Hawks was only 10 feet away from swooping in and grabbing the last flag. You could not risk starting time anymore to take a breath.

As you reached the last perch, it hit you.

Even if you could win, even if it would help your career, was it worth it?

Hawks was obviously proud of his speed.

You bit your lip and looked back at the hero.

His head was stopped, but you could see he was turning away from looking at where you were before, a wide grin plastered on his face. You were sure it was because he was finally ahead of you, satisfied that he surpassed you. His gray wings were contracting, as if about to give him another push for speed.

This gorgeous man was your soulmate. Even in the gray world you currently lived in, Hawks was immaculate in your eyes. His flowing hair seemed as if it was almost still moving and the bright shine in his mischievous eyes were prevalent.

You did not need to win to feel happy, you were happy knowing that Hawks’ was happy. He obviously wanted this win more than you, no matter how much he brushed it off.

You jumped to land onto the solid ground, you were only a few feet away from the flags. You moved to try and get the best view of him winning.

You started time, his wings were once again vermilion and a blur of yellow and red flew passed you to grab the final flag.

The crowd erupted, Hawks grinned at you, and Amplifier immediately came over to get his winning statement,

You and Hawks both gave great answers to Amplifier’s questions before you were ushered off to get changed.

“Meet me before you go,” Hawks whispered before he forked off to go meet his manager.

You nodded and went off to meet your own manager, who whisked you away into the changing room. Luckily, a couple people were there to help you get out of your sticky-with-sweat costume and get you showered.

You still had one last camera appearance, so the team worked to style your hair and do your makeup for the cameras. You were now dressed in a flowing dress shirt and pants that matched well with the cool summer night. You noted how much the weather had lightened up from the rain in the morning.

Once pampered and dressed, you thanked the team for all their great work, and made your way out onto the stage. You, the loser, were going to give your speech before Takami. No one else was going to be on stage, just you and a microphone.

Your speech was short and sweet.

You thanked everyone for their support and told your fans that you would continue to try your best before congratulating Hawks.

“Now, I hear we have a few contestant winners who get to ask a question,” You began, looking around the massive crowd, “So, please, go ahead.” You ushered to a young boy in the audience who was given a microphone.

“Um, yeah,” He began, “So you kept popping back into view so often during the last mile and I was wondering why you didn’t just teleport across? Were you too tired to travel long distances?”

You looked at the boy, then the whole crowd as they awaited your answer.

He gave you an out. You could easily just say that you were tired, brushing off his question. Something in you pulled at your gut, a nervous feeling spreading from its pit to affect your whole body. You suddenly wanted to vomit.

It was as if your own gut was telling you not to lie.

A rather sheepish chuckle came out of your mouth and you sat down on the stool they provided you. “Well,” You started, “About that.”

Everyone looked at you with such tentative eyes. They were hanging on your every word, wondering what you were about to reveal.

“My quirk isn’t exactly teleporting,” You used your free hand to scratch the back of your head, careful not to mess up the hairstyle you were given for this appearance. You suddenly felt happy knowing that the shirt you were wearing was dark enough to hide your sweat. “It’s more like stopping time.”

You heard the crowd begin to mumble, not completely able to pick up on any specific words. Everyone turned their heads to each other to debate what you had just said.

“Please,” You asked,” Allow me to explain more.” You stood up from the stool and walked closer to the people around you, a kindred smile finding its way onto your lips.

This was a rather delicate situation, and you needed to choose your words carefully. There was no way you could get out of this awkward time without any new haters, but you could try your best to keep your greatest fans by your side.

You looked at the people around you before speaking once more, “I can stop time, but to you it looks like teleporting. If I can speak honestly with you all, throughout my training at U.A., the school misunderstood my quirk and I was too nervous to correct them.”

You laughed at yourself and you heard a few people in the crowd join in. It made your twisting insides calm down just a little. Slowly, the hole you dug yourself was being filled, you on the outside of it.

“I used it as an opportunity to surprise people during battles, but seeing as I am a rescue hero,” You looked at the little boy who was staring at you, “I don’t need to surprise people. I need to calm them down. I need to let you all know that I will save you, stop time for however long necessary to save you from whatever is hurting you.”

You nervously stood center stage, waiting for their response. Slowly, a few people clapped, and some more die hard fans outwardly cheered for you. You graciously accepted the kindness with a smile and a quiet “Thank you.” Once it died down, you answered a few more questions until you were signalled that time was up.

“Well,” You started, “I would love to talk to you all forever, but time is up for me.” You smiled and shrugged your shoulders. “However, please welcome the winner of today, although I don’t think anyone was surprised such a strong hero would win, Hawks!”

You drowned out the sound of the cheering crowd and instead watched as Hawks walked in from off stage. He was still wearing his hero costume, which didn’t surprise you. The number 2 hero was almost always wearing the warm outfit, making sure he was always able to fly safely.

You smiled brightly at the handsome man in front of you and watched nervously as he looked your outfit up and down. He went to grab the mic and pulled you into a hug, placing his lips by your ear so the audience couldn’t see.

“You look nice, meet me in the green room,” He mumbled, his whispers sending shivers down your spine, before gingerly taking the mic from you.

The hand he had placed on the small of your back massaged at your sore muscles, a silent way of attempting to calm you down. Being a hero could be nerve-wracking, but you did not expect the number 2 hero, Mr. Popular, to be so kind. He made sure to brush his warm fingers against yours, winking at you as his warmth spread throughout your body.

You rushed off the stage before anyone would notice the redness spreading from your neck to your cheeks. You met up with your manager as you walked to your changing room to grab your bag.

Your manager, who also didn’t know about your secret, was livid.

“How could you not tell me?” They questioned as you reached for the large bag holding your personal belongings. Your hero costume was hanging up on the coat rack.

“I know,” You whined and pouted, “I’m sorry.” You felt the weight on your shoulder lighten a little from confessing your lie and apologizing.

Your manager groaned and held the bridge of his nose before speaking, “I’m here for you, ya know? You could have told me.”

“I know,” You repeat yourself, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” They replied. “There’s just going to be a lot of P.R. work. Might have to officially bring in a representative from the agency.”

You smiled at your manager’s quick recovery. “Thank you,” You said. “I promise I will do anything necessary. I trust you”

“You better,” They jokingly replied. “Anyways,” Your manager pulled out his phone and began looking through notifications as he spoke, “I have to go home, make sure my kids are in bed.” He looked back up at you. “I will see you at the agency tomorrow, 3 pm. We must talk about all of this.”

You nodded and saluted your manager who proceeded to jokingly push you. You easily maintained your balance, even with your hands full, and laughed. Your manager said his goodbyes and you slowly made your way to the green room, your mind now able to wander to what Hawks would want.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you sat down on the chair and scrolled through your phone at all the new notifications you were getting.

Eventually, the door swung open and you looked up to see Hawks’ smiling face. Although filled with nerves, you couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through you at seeing his shining face. No one ever described their experience like this, and you were sure yours would be a fun one to tell.

It felt weird trying to let yourself rest into and be comforted by a stranger, even though the universe was telling you that you were forever destined. Regardless, you still allowed Hawks to gingerly sit next to you and take your hand in his.

“Crazy day,” He breathlessly spoke, as if he had run from off the stage directly to you.

You nodded, not feeling the need to verbally respond.

“How are you?” He asked before raising your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles one by one.

You thought over your response and focused on the tingling sensation his soft lips left upon your skin. “I’m good,” You paused, “Better than.”

“Me too,” He replied immediately, not needing you to even ask.

As silence filled the room, you allowed your brain to wander.

What next?

Would you go home, his number now in your phone?

Would you text him all night? Maybe even facetime?

Or would both of you be too nervous to initiate anything?

Your attention was brought back to the present by the sound of Hawks sighing, letting go of your hand, and leaning back to rest his head against the couch.

You looked at the gorgeous man with a quizzical face. Before you could ask, his head popped up straight and he looked at you.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, “I’m starving.” Keigo suddenly stood up and looked over at the food left. “Ugh,” He groaned, “This shit looks nasty.”

You watched as Hawks wandered around the room, contemplating what to say next.

He grinned at you, “Do you want to get some food? I’m craving Korean food.”

#hawks #hawks x reader #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo fanfiction #mha keigo takami #hawks x you #hawks fanfiction #boku no hero academia #boku no hero headcanons #my hero academia #my hero academy #bnha #mha #bnha hawks #bnha takami keigo

216 notes · View notes

monoxidecahedron · 4 years ago

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Heyyyyyy I saw ur post about the explain ur latest writing peice badly and now I want to know moreeee!!!tell meee!!!!! Want read good writ ggg

okay first of all I mean this very lovingly but are you quite alright

also

the jamilton angels & demons, right? okay so I haven’t quite plotted it out in my head yet but the premise is that Thomas is assigned to turn Alex so that when Armageddon comes he’ll fight on the demons’ side (good omens called they wanted their premise back but i hung up on them) and that’s basically all demons do because Armageddon won’t come for centuries but anyways John is assigned to turn him to the angels’ side, and they’re rivals because Thomas encouraged his brother Lafayette to turn his father Henry Laurens, making him a fallen angel, and Laurens turned Lafayette, making him a risen demon but he doesn’t like to think about that- anyways so he works with Alex at the law firm and they end up fucking somehow and then Thomas is in love with him and he’s like oh shit we’re in a relationship??? but i’m supposed to make him hate me?? because that’s the quickest way to turn him?? and i don’t actually want him to hate me?? and so then he has to break Alex’s heart and tell him he never really loved him and I don’t know what happens next, I just wanted to write some soul-crushing angst anyways here’s what I have so far (under the cut):

Being a demon was… interesting. It had its perks. He could do anything he pleased, basically. The main job of the demon was to try to turn humans to their side for Armageddon. You might have thought that’d be easy, given the state of humanity in general. But no- it wasn’t that easy. To turn a human you’d have to get them to reach a certain point where they become, in a sense, evil. There’s a certain turning point, something inside them that snaps. And that’s when they become loyal to Devil. Not the devil, although Devil certainly wouldn’t mind getting called that. No, Devil was their name. The ultimate demon. All demons answered to him, and he was the one who would lead them in Armageddon, when the time came to fight the angels.

There’s no accurate gauge for the turning point in humans, especially because they vary so much, but most associate it with murder. When they’re willing to murder, in cold blood or not, that’s when they’ll turn. So they goad them, haunt them, do whatever it takes to get them angry. Every demon starts with anger.

Which is why, when Thomas Jefferson, the demon, first laid eyes on his newest assignment Alexander Hamilton, he was sure it would be an easy one. The man was a hurricane, and he was constantly furious. At the government for “not doing their goddamn jobs” (that may have been Thomas’s fault for turning the vice president and half the senate; it hadn’t been very hard), at John Adams for being a “stupid motherfucker”, at the printer for not working.

Thomas didn’t normally do turning jobs; he didn’t exactly see a reason to. He was perfectly fine living a human life, where you could be as bitchy a person as you liked and no one batted an eye like they would in Heaven or were bitches back like they would be in Hell. But there were two selling points for this job: one, Alexander intrigued him, and he was curious about him. Two, John Laurens, the pretentious angel son of Henry Laurens, the fallen angel, was also trying to turn him to the angels’ side. He hated Laurens, and the feeling was mutual. Probably because Thomas had encouraged his brother, who lived in Heaven and tried to get angels to fall, to target Henry Laurens specifically. Oops. (Laurens had turned his brother, Lafayette, making him a risen demon, but he didn’t like to think about that.)

So when he strode in to his first meeting at Washington & Co., the first thing he did, naturally, was to pick a fight with Alexander. John Laurens, who’d been working there for about a week and had already gained Alexander’s trust, tried to calm him down, but Alex rose to the bait like a dog offered a particularly tempting treat.

“Are you stupid? This plan will save the company! We’re already tanking because of the charity cases we’re taking on, we need this to-” “You’re not even in the financial department. This isn’t even your job, Hamilton. Maybe you should focus on your own cases. That might help the company, although with the intelligence you’ve shown so far, I highly doubt it.” Hamilton growled at him. Thomas smirked. This would be so easy. And so much fun, too. There was something about the way he got all riled up that amused him to no end.

And so they fought. Fought and fought and fought. Argued for hours over the smallest details, got into screaming matches in the hallway, probably gave Washington headaches with the way they lit into each other like they were doused with gasoline. Still, he didn’t get fired, because his work was exceptional and he may have been using a little bit of demon power.

John Laurens was using his own powers, too. By the end of the week he saw them walking back to John’s car together, giggling about something. Thomas noted something odd in John’s expression, something he hadn’t seen in a while. It ticked him off, and he couldn’t quite figure out why.

He was still thinking about it as he entered his house, dropping his briefcase at the front and shedding his jacket. As he made his macaroni, he decided it wasn’t worth thinking about, shoving it to the back of his mind and forgetting about it. He plopped down onto his velvet couch, propping his feet up on the headrest, and ate his mac and cheese, watching some TV show that he barely registered. He was still thinking about how to irritate Hamilton, ruin his life and drive him to murder as he went to bed, but such is the way of a demon.

In the morning, he arrived at the firm, making his way to his office and nodding at coworkers as he passed. Spotting an intern carrying a drink for Hamilton, he offered to carry it (“I’m heading his way anyways, it’s no problem”) and dumped it in a trash can as he rounded the corner. He caught a glimpse of the label, which indicated that the contents were an all-black coffee with extra caffeine, if that was even possible. Apparently it was.

I also have this alternate storyline where John’s in love with him and Thomas wants to make him jealous and now I’m thinking I should have gone with that-

but yeah! thanks for asking, it’s really appreciated!

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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So I’ve been going through all my old Scrivener files and rounding up all the various fics and updates I’m planning on queuing up to post during the month/however-the-fuck-long I’m bedridden after surgery in a couple weeks. Which includes Teen Wolf as well as Batfics, FYI.

Anyway, came across this old WIP that I never ended up posting because I ultimately thought it felt too similar to both Where Wild Things Are and Lightning Crashes, just in different ways....not enough that any of them were derivative of each other, but enough that I wasn’t super inspired to continue writing it because the vibe I was going for with it, I was already getting from writing those other two fics.

But I still liked it and think there was some good stuff there, so what the hell. Here’s an opening from a never-planning-on-finishing-it Scallison AU, where things diverged from canon right after the Hale fire six years pre-pilot, and there was a different-from-canon McCall pack at war/trying to survive Peter’s pack in its attempts to stamp theirs out.

The Scallison part starts out in the vein of the ABC show Revenge, where Scott’s initially just trying to keep an eye on the hunters in town/figure out where the Argents land in all of this, but then, y’know. The feelings happen.

Anyway, it was chock full of my favorite TW writing tropes - runaway/long lost Scott, pack politics, side characters turned main characters, scheming, double-dealing, Scott Is A Goddamn Genius and No I Do Not Accept Constructive Criticism On This Matter For It Is Wrong....you know, my usuals.

I did have a pretty extensive outline/summary for the rest of the fic and my plans for it, that I can post if there’s any interest in reading that and seeing where this was going. *Shrugs* Just let me know.

WHAT THE FIRES LEFT BEHIND

Scott McCall came home on a Tuesday.

For Allison, that didn’t mean much at first. Her only context for the mass text was the bemused quirking of Lydia’s lips and a rather underwhelming ‘Huh.’ Then a shrug and a flick of her hair, and her best friend by default returned to ruffling through the Macy’s clearance rack with a vengeance.

“Awful. Grotesque. Needs to be set ablaze, immediately - ”

Allison nodded to herself and bore continued witness to Lydia’s evisceration of every hack designer of every fashion atrocity present, though sadly, the novelty of that had long since worn off. It was 7 pm on a school night. They’d been scouring the mall for something to meet Lydia’s approval for three hours already, and Allison did have trigonometry homework she could be torturing herself with instead, so….

Tough call. Hard choices had to be made. Allison steeled herself for battle and called Lydia Martin on her bullshit.

“Why are we here again? You hate Macy’s, and you absolutely despise clearance items.”

“I know that, and you know that.” Lydia emerged from a forest of polyester blouses wearing a look of disdain that had a ph level that would put any acid in the school’s chem lab to shame. “But I’m trying to see if I can find something here to start a trend with anyway. Call it…a social experiment.”

“Hmm.” Allison nodded again thoughtfully. Briefly, she considered mercy. But she had just wasted three hours of her life. And mercy wasn’t really the Argent family way.

She pulled the trigger. “You sure its not called Daddy cut your spending limit?”

Her melodrama-prone friend threw her hands up as if to express the whole world had gone mad and nothing made any sense. “It’s like he’s not even trying to buy my affection anymore!”

Allison coughed into her hand to smother a giggle. Being able to so easily rile up her friend when all others’ attempts dashed themselves harmlessly upon Her Majesty’s porcelain mask of perfection? Still her favorite sport next to archery. But certain social norms must be respected. One didn’t openly mock a friend in such obvious distress. She quickly changed the subject. For Lydia’s sake, really.

“So who’s Scott McCall?”

Lydia paused midway through working herself up to a truly tickets and popcorn-worthy rant, thrown by the sudden segue. “What?”

Allison waved her phone, flashing the mass text Danny had sent out to pretty much everyone in the Beacon County zip code.

“Scott McCall’s back. He just walked into the Sheriff’s Station. Stiles saw him himself,” she read out loud. “Who’s Scott McCall?”

“Oh. That.” Lydia tore her horrified gaze away from a leopard print mini-skirt and shrugged. “He’s this guy from our class who disappeared seven years ago. You know that Dunbar kid’s stepmom, Melissa? It’s her son.”

“Wait, seriously? And he’s our age? How have I never heard about this before?”

“I don’t know, Allison,” Lydia rolled her eyes. “Maybe because normal people don’t talk about things that depress them? It was a long time ago anyway.”

“I can tell it had a real effect on you,” Allison said, with just a touch of acid herself.

“I’m in the midst of a personal financial crisis currently. I’ll care when its over. Besides, its not like anyone has any details yet. Pointless gossip is for the peasants.”

“So what happened anyway?” Allison asked. Lydia shot her a look and she smiled innocently. “What? I’m comfortable with my peasant status. And I’ve lived here almost two years now and never heard a word about this. How can I not be curious?”

“Well this was an utter waste of time,” Lydia said under her breath as she gingerly replaced a sequin-studded monstrosity back on the rack, seemingly preoccupied once more. Or possibly just flat-out ignoring her.

The menace of the malls then raised her eyes to the ceiling as if despairing at the world at large, heaved a sigh that was practically a soliloquy unto itself, and ran her fingers through her hair in some kind of ritual of self-composure.

Once she’d observed the proper formalities for conceding her quest was officially a failure - at least, Allison was pretty sure that’s what she was doing, though she’d rather not commit to that, given that some of the intricacies of her friend’s habits still eluded her grasp - Lydia finally slung her purse over her shoulder and set off towards the exit with an imperious wave of her head.

It was only when her brisk walk stalled out while waiting for the garage elevator that Her Highness deigned to address the lowly commoner’s curiosity.

Allison just sighed internally. She’d long since made her peace with her friend’s little power games. They were entertaining as often as they were exasperating, so it was sort of a pick your battles type situation, and Allison preferred to err on the side of not waking the beast beneath Lydia’s deceptively dainty exterior.

“You know about the Hale fire, right?” Lydia asked.

Allison nodded. It wasn’t an everyday topic of conversation by any means, but it had come up at least once or twice since her family moved to Beacon Hills two years prior. Talk of the tragedy had even made an appearance in her own home, in a couple of muffled shouting matches between her parents that she’d only caught bits and pieces of.

“Yeah, my Aunt Kate actually lived around here back then. That was the fire that killed that whole family, right?”

“Right. So it was pretty much right around that same time. Scott went missing just a few days after. A lot of people even wondered if there might have been a connection, there were rumors the fire was arson, I don’t know. It was a whole thing, and we were only ten at the time, you know? Anyway, Scott’s dad was this hotshot FBI agent. There were search parties for like two months, but they never found a body or anything. Most people eventually figured it probably had something to do with one of his dad’s cases.”

“And now he’s back,” Allison prodded when Lydia lapsed into silence. The smaller girl just chewed on her lower lip, staring at the wall of the garage almost pensively.

“And now he’s back,” she echoed with a distracted nod of her head.

“That’s....interesting,” Allison offered tentatively. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the mood that had fallen over her friend, like a spell had settled upon her the moment she’d actually stopped and reflected on her memories of the events in question.

It seemed somewhat conspicuous to her that Lydia made no mention of who Scott was beyond just the victim of some strange small-town mystery, and so she was uncertain just how cautiously she needed to tread here. Had they been childhood friends? Mere acquaintances? Something else, likely as baffling and unexpected as most things about Lydia Martin tended to be?

But the born and raised Beacon Hills native just shrugged one shoulder listlessly and twirled a strand of strawberry-blond hair around a finger.

“It’s something,” she said at last. The elevator arrived at their level with an almost cheerful-sounding ding that was at odds with the somber mood they stood draped in. Lydia shook herself, a full body kind of motion not unlike a dog drying itself off.

“Are you coming?” She tossed over her shoulder at Allison, sounding almost exasperated, as though she hadn’t been the one just standing there staring at the wall for a good ten seconds after the elevator doors had slid open.

Allison sighed and shook her head, but she held back any retort and instead simply followed her friend down into the lower levels of the garage. Now was not the time to pursue...whatever that whole thing had been, just now.

Lydia Martin had just unwillingly displayed an emotional reaction in front of another person. It was too dangerous to prod for further weak spots in her armor without letting at least a day or two pass first.

The self-styled Queen of Beacon Hills had relieved commoners of their heads for lesser offenses than that.

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years ago

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Strange Luck (1/1)

Summary: The problem with living in the city is that sometimes it makes getting your hands on rare ingredients for spells a goddamned ordeal.

Notes: This wasn't supposed to be a Thing, but I kept thinking about this post and it happened anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Read on AO3)

The problem with living in the city is that sometimes it makes getting your hands on rare ingredients for spells a goddamned ordeal.

Always some vital component to it that no one’s seen or even heard of for at least a generation or two, or it’s so rare it’s only known to grown in a certain climate in certain conditions.

Half the time there’s a complicated riddle or bit of prose Michael has to untangle to even figure out what those conditions are.

Pretentious as fuck about it too like, “blooming under the light of the second full moon of the month as it fights against its celestial confines in a bid to join with the Earth, shining red as blood” or some bullshit like that he has to explain to someone to see if they have it in stock.

If he’s lucky one of his contacts for that kind of thing will know a place that might carry said ingredient or know how to get it for him.

Take this little shop hidden away between a used bookstore and a trendy hipster coffee shop in what used to be a bustling strip mall. Renovated after who knows many years and shuttered businesses thanks to a changing city and economic ups and downs. The whole thing’s been turned into one of those outside malls and that’s bouncing back.

Michael goes past it almost every on his way for one job or another. He’s sure it wasn’t here a yesterday afternoon taking up space in what used to be an ice cream place, but shops like this tend to have what he needs.

There’s a bell over the door that rings when he walks in, something off about them that has him glancing upwards -

“Oh, a customer, how lovely!” someone says, pulling Michael’s attention from the bell towards the guy behind the counter.

Tall, broad-shouldered and against what Michael's used to seeing in shops like these he’s wearing a graphic print t-shirt and a hoodie. What looks like a pair of jeans and while Michael can’t see his shoes from here, he’s betting on sneakers or something similar. (Maybe.)

The counter he’s standing behind is the same one Michael remembers when he used to stop by when it was still an ice cream shop. Refrigerated glass cases and everything else, which.

It gives him pause for a moment, wondering if he stepped into the coffee shop instead, but there’s no smell of coffee or a single hipster to be found. No poor beleaguered college student bemoaning their life choices in the middle of exams or soccer mom on her phone chattering to her friend about the latest neighborhood scandal.

There is, however, a cat.

An orange tabby curled up in a cat bed at the end of the counter watching Michael curiously, little purple collar with a bell around its neck.

Something just slightly off about it in the same way the bells over the door that tells Michael he is in the right place after all.

The shelves along the walls where the booths and tables used to be are full of little glass bottles and vials filled with dried plants and flowers and things Michael tries not to think to hard about sometimes.

A skull or two that seem to be decoration and not for sale. An actual skeleton in a corner that is for sale, and the shop itself smells like Geoff’s workshop.

Candle wax and incense. The lingering scent of the potions he and Jack brew to sell. Flowers and herbs and other things hanging up to dry.

When Michael looks back at the guy behind the counter he’s smiling at Michael in this deeply unsettling manner, which is another sign he’s in the right place.

All I’ve seen things your puny mortal mind cannot hope to comprehend and foolish mortal, dealing in things you don’t yet understand, with a side of step into my parlor which is on the rarer end of the spectrum and something he only sees in the creepier shopkeepers.

So.

It’s going to be one of those days.

“Hey, uh,” Michael says, fumbling for the piece of paper with the list of ingredients and other things he needs as he walks over to the counter.

Some of them are for Gavin, the lazy bastard, and Geoff asked him to pick up some stuff to restock his stores if he got the chance. He promised to pick up a new mortar and pestle for Jack to replace the one Gavin broke last week too.

It might be smarter to go to one of his regular shops for the rest of the things he needs, but he has a busy schedule filled with clients and other errands as it is. Doesn’t feel like driving to the other end of the city on top of everything else.

“I have a few things to get, and one of them is hard to find. I saw your shop and thought maybe you could help?”

He hands the guy the paper, watches him read it and sees the slight frown as he hits the part where Michael had to stop and do some research to figure out what the hell the spell was asking him to get.

In hindsight, he should have written his shopping list on a seperate piece of paper, but he was too fucking irritated at the time to bother. (Took him a goddamned week buried in Geoff and Jack’s extensive library of spellbooks and other bullshit before he found his answer.

“Oh, wow,” the guy says, looking up at him. “That’s an incredibly rare ingredient.”

Yeah, Michael kind of figured, what with the very specific circumstances it needs to grow.

“It’s for a spell,” Michael says, decides it’s really none of the guy’s business what the spell is for, because hey.

Not to be rude?

But yeah, none of his business.

The guy hums, giving Michael this look Michael's also familiar with in places like this.

The last time situations were right for that ingredient to grow was about a year ago, and the time before that was over a hundred and fifty years. The chances of finding someone who has it or knows where Michael could find someone who does are – no pun intended – astronomical.

If this guy doesn’t have it and Michael can’t find it anywhere else, he’d have to wait at least that long before it grows again, maybe longer. (At which point Michael will be super dead and it won’t matter, so there’s that.)

“Yes, I will warn you...every item comes with a price,” he says, like all the other assholes before him Michael’s run into in shops like this.

Michael stares at him.

“...Yes,” he mimics, because he’s not in the mood for this bullshit. “I know how shops work.”

He’s not in the mood for this bullshit, but he’s also not an idiot. Knows better than to piss someone like him off, make an enemy of him or whatever. (Well, for the most part.)

The guy blinks at him like he’s not sure what’s going on, or just thinks Michael's an idiot.

He rallies quickly though, clearing his throat and looking around like there’s anyone else in the shop watching them. (Besides the cat, that is.)

“No,” he says, putting more emphasis into his words. “The price may be more than you expect to pay.”

He gives Michael this look, raised eyebrows and please tell me you’re not that dense and dear God, please don’t be that dense and a little why are you doing this to me?

Michael doesn’t know why he does it, he really doesn’t.

Maybe it’s the fact the guy seems relatively normal for someone running a shop like this. Maybe it’s the fact he’s already getting riled up and Michael hasn’t done anything yet. Maybe it’s the fact that Michael’s that much of an asshole, who can say.

“Yes,” he says. “I know how US taxes work too.”

There’s a tiny sneeze, this little jingling chime that has Michael looking over at the tabby just in time to see it hide a smirk as it gives itself a little shake.

From the corner of his eye Michael catches the shopkeeper shooting it a scowl, but when he turns back to him the guy has a polite smile on his face.

Too polite, like he’s not thinking up curses and hexes to place on Michael and everyone he holds dear or whatever else creepy bastards like him do for fun.

Michael should be worried. Shouldn’t be fucking with him at all, but he just. Can’t not, for whatever reason. Is, in fact, enjoying himself watching the poor guy try to keep his cool while his stupid cat laughs at him.

The guy laughs, and it’s. It’s a nice sound. Weird, too, kind of croaky in a way?

But just.

Nice?

Like his voice, and those eyes of his, and okay, look.

Michael’s getting sidetracked, but it’s been a long week and bound to be a long day and he’s just.

Yeah.

The guy makes this noise in the back of his throat, and plants his hands on the counter in front of him, strained smile on his face.

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m evil and offering these wares with no regard for the harm they will do!” he says, voice cracking on the end because apparently he’s never had to deal with something as exasperating as Michael's proving to be.

Probably used to people showing him the proper reverence and whatever the hell after his first warning. Rethinking their decision to set foot in a magically (literally) appearing shop with a creepy shopkeeper and a cat that is definitely not a normal cat and all that. Making the right choice (or not) when it came to their reason for walking in when they should have known better and just. All that.

Instead, he got Michael and his low tolerance for bullshit of any kind, but especially the shopkeeper’s after the week he’s had.

Michael crosses his arms and scowls at the shopkeeper.

Normally at this point he’d be sharing the guy’s exasperation, but he’s having too much fun fucking with him.

“I know what capitalism is too, goddammit,” he says. “Now do you have the stuff I need or not?”

The guy stares at him, quietly seething and for a moment Michael sees something moving around in the back of his eyes – dark, sinister – before it gives the fuck up and rolls over. Shoulders slumping as he lowers his head to stare at the faux granite counter with its scuffs and scratches, little nicks.

Mutters something that sounds less like a dread curse or something along those lines and more like for fuck’s sake.

Michael glances over at a light chiming noise to see the tabby walking over to the shopkeeper, trilling softly as it bumps its head against his face, makes these little noises that definitely isn’t laughter.

Really.

The shopkeeper leans into it at first, and then sputters as the tabby continues walking arching its back to shove its fur into his face before hopping down and wandering off.

“Thank you,” the guy says, wiping fur out of his mouth as he scowls at the cat. “Really, no. Thank you ever so much for that.”

The cat shakes itself again, and meows in smug satisfaction.

The guys sighs, and looks up at Michael.

Seems wary, almost.

“As a matter of fact, I do happen to have the things on your list. If you don’t mind waiting, I can get them out of the back.”

He looks like he’s expecting Michael to give him more grief about things, which is both hilarious and kind of sad.

“Sounds great!” Michael says with a smile, all nice and friendly and perfect customer who would never dream of being difficult.

The guy eyes him, like he thinks it’s a trap of some kind. But when Michael just stands there smiling at him and waiting patiently, he shakes his head and heads off to the back storeroom muttering to himself.

Michael waits until he’s out of sight before he laughs, tries to hide it because the tabby’s watching him, but come the fuck on.

He doesn’t know how long it will take the guy to gather all the supplies on Michael's list, so he explores the shop. Looks into the glass cases around the counter to see they’ve been altered. No tubs of ice cream now, just neatly labeled bin full of spell and potion ingredients.

One of the cases is humming quietly, stocked with ingredients that require refrigeration to keep them fresh, which goes a long way to explain why the guy decided to put his shop here instead of the other empty stores around it.

Michael goes over to the bookshelves, and almost trips over the cat who lets out a sad little noise that has Michael staring down at it.

Looks like a normal cat in all the right ways, but the way its been acting is a dead giveaway it’s most likely the shopkeeper’s familiar or assistant. Too much of an asshole to be anything else, given it’s allowed to roam the shop freely.

Another sad cry and Michael rolls his eyes as he crouches to give it pets and scritches. God knows Gavin and Lindsay would find out somehow if he didn’t, give him shit about a cruel and heartless monster.

There’s a little pet tag on its collar, and curious, Michael catches it in his fingers to see what it says. The tabby flicks its ears but allows it, and Michael frowns at the name engraved on the pet tag.

“The fuck kind of name is ‘Rimmy Tim’?” he asks, because fucking really.

The cat gives him this look, ears swiveling back as it steps out of his reach with this little sniff, tag slipping through Michael's fingers.

Walks away in clear dismissal and jumps back up on the counter to curl up in its bed and turning its back to Michael as it does.

Michael sighs, because the cat has to be the shopkeepers familiar with that kind of attitude.

He goes back to exploring the store, making a mental note to ask the others if they need some of the things he sees being sold here when he gets home. (Assuming he can find the shop again after this, that is.)

There’s a wide array of rare and hard to find ingredients and other components here. A shelf of books he knows for sure Geoff and Jack would give a lot to add to their own collection. Other bits and bobs, as Gavin would put it, any of them would give a lot to have.

It’s that thought that finally has the reality of the situation sink in for Michael, odd shopkeeper out of the picture where the atmosphere of the shop sets in.

Little tug at the core him drawing him towards a small table in a corner, gem stones and crystals and other things laid out.

A cool whisper in the back of his mind pulling his attention towards one of the skulls on the shelves by the windows.

A raven from the look of it.

Creeping unease from the corner where the skeleton stands on display, runes carved into its bones and a wreath of dried flowers resting on top of its skull.

A dozen other little things calling for his attention, quiet whispers and murmuring that builds, and builds, and builds -

“I think I have everything here,” the guy says, voice startlingly loud in the cloying silence of the shop. “Do you - “

Michael looks over at him, heart beating double-time in his chest. Feels a little wild-eyed and expects to see a smug look on the guy’s face, or cool satisfaction at the way his shop and its wares have affected Michael, but.

He seems...confused at first, and then concerned.

Sweeps a look around the shop and the chaos in Michael's mind quiets, retreats like morning fog when the sun appears to chase it away.

Michael sways towards him without conscious thought, crosses the few feet to stand across from him to escape the faint chill that set in without his realization.

“You know better,” the guy says, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s scolding him, but then he realizes the shopkeeper’s frowning at the tabby.

In response the tabby curls up tighter in its bed, ears flat against its skull and lets out a pathetic mew in apology or explanation, Michael can’t understand it. Just knows whatever it is has the guy letting out a heavy sigh.

“Yes, well,” he says, setting a box down on the counter. “What do you expect when you insist on using that ridiculous name?”

The tabby makes an annoyed noise, but it gets out of its bed and comes to the edge of the counter where Michael’s standing and looks up at him.

Guilty, remorseful, tail flicking as it meows at him in apology.

Michael stares down at it.

He could, maybe should, be annoyed at it for that slip.

There’s an understanding, when customers enter a shop like this things like that aren’t allowed to happen.

A gesture of trust, or something close enough to it for certain transactions to take place. For those who are inexperienced enough, unwary, to enter and leave without trouble. (In good faith.)

But.

Michael insulted it, and things like that allows things like it an amount of leeway. (Loopholes.)

And to be fair, nothing permanent, damaging, took place while the guy was out of the room.

Just...a reminder.

One that Michael clearly needed because he let his guard down in here. Got so caught up in things that he forgot the danger to places like this, or made the mistake of underestimating it because the guy seemed so normal.

Human.

Dramatic, maybe, but not like the usual sort Michael’s met in shops like this.

Michael looks at the guy, surprised that he seems to be on Michael’s side in this after all the shit he gave him earlier. The guy tips his head to the side, eyebrow raised and leaving things in Michael’s hands.

Which.

“It’s fine,” Michael says, because things could have gone worse.

He’s seen it before, less scrupulous shopkeepers than this one and his familiar and their deals with the unwise. Has had to clean up the mess afterward and inform the unfortunate victim’s family and friends who hired him to find out what happened to their loved one.

Michael should be the one who knew better in this case.

“Just a miscommunication.”

The guy hums, something thoughtful to it as he reaches out to the tabby and gives it a scritch under its chin. It leans in to his touch in relief, eyes closing briefly before it decides its had enough and hops off the counter to disappear into the storeroom.

Michael snorts, eyeing the box the guy brought out with him.

“Oh,” the guy says, almost sounding sheepish, “sorry about that.”

He holds Michael's list in one hand as he goes over the contents of the box.

Glass bottles with the ingredients Gavin and Geoff wanted and little paper parcels for the rest. The replacement mortar and pestle Jack wanted, and most importantly the stupidly rare ingredient he needs for his spell.

When he’s done he hands Michael his list and smiles at him.

A normal smile.

No creepy shopkeeper with his mysterious shop and even more mysterious wares. Cat familiar and all kinds of secrets waiting to be discovered, for a price.

“Were you looking for anything else today?”

He’s still smiling.

None of his dramatics or theatrics, just a guy in a t-shirt with the NASA logo behind the counter of his little shop and it’s.

It’s certainly something.

“Uh,” Michael says, clearing his throat and giving himself a mental shake to let everything settle back into place. “No. No, that should do it.”

The guy shrugs and starts ringing him up using the cash register, pauses before he hits the total and smiles again, this crooked little thing.

“We don’t take checks,” he says.

There’s.

He’s the one laughing at Michael now, gleam in his eye and very, very much an asshole.

Michael snorts as he pulls his wallet out.

“Credit card alright?” he asks.

The shops he regularly go to have started to accept them, though most still prefer cash Older ones will trade in favors, little ones that don’t cost much.

Places like this, though?

Hit or miss.

The guy laughs, and points at a sticker on the side the register with logos for the major credit card companies, so that’s one question answered.

Michael hands over his card and the guy finishes ringing him up, wishes him a nice day as he hands him back his card and a receipt and Michael picks up the box, ant turns to leave.

Gets a few feet away before he stops. Thinks about things in the kind of way where he really, really doesn't, and turns back to see the guy watching him with that crooked little smile on his face.

“Are,” Michael starts, not sure how to do this because wow, no. “Uh. Are you going to be here later?”

He glances around the shop and back to the guy, because it’s a valid question with places like this.

People like him.

They come and go and most times you never see them again. For the best, considering what they are, but sometimes...

The guy gives him an odd look, which is fair.

He probably doesn’t get questions like that all that often, and Michael doesn’t even know his name.

Has been referring to him as the guy and the shopkeeper in his head this whole time. (Maybe that asshole a time or two, he wouldn’t put it past himself.)

Michael watches as the guy – Jesus, there he goes again – takes in his shop before looking back at Michael.

“It’s possible,” he says slowly. “The location seems pleasant enough.”

Not a no, or even some frustratingly vague and cryptic answer about fleeting permanence or what the fuck ever Michael was expecting.

“Okay,” Michael says. “Great. Thank you.”

Jesus, he’s an idiot.

The guy must think so too, with the smile on his face, but thankfully he says nothing as Michael gets the hell out of there before he says or does anything else stupid.

Doesn’t risk glancing back to make sure the shop is still there once he’s outside, but he catches sight of the coffee shop sign next door to as he heads to his car.

Michael’s never been to it before, no time or reason to in between everything else going on in his life.

But…there’s this half-formed thought in the back of his mind maybe the guy wouldn’t be horrifically opposed to checking it out with him sometime if he and his shop do stick around a little longer.

...Or something, fuck if Michael knows.

Michael slams the trunk of his car harder than he means to, and stares at it for a long moment trying to untangle his thoughts.

Ridiculous, is what they are.

Stupid as hell.

Dangerous, too, considering what the guy is. (Might be? Michael doesn’t have a goddamned clue other than the usual.)

But.

He hadn’t reacted badly when Michael gave him shit, and.

He’s unfairly attractive. Has a nice smile, and an amazing voice and why not, really?

Can’t hurt to ask, right?

Later.

Michael sighs, laughing at himself as he goes around to the driver side of the car.

No need to get ahead himself right now anyway.

If the shop’s still here after he’s done with work, he can figure things out then.

Start by getting the guy’s name so he can stop calling him that in his head, and see where things go from there.

#myan #ragehappy #urban fantasy au #vagrant fic #i guess this is a little late for halloween huh #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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stevenuniversetanzanite · 4 years ago

Text

I made a prompt list out of three other people prompts so I can practice stories.

Links to originals

https://wayfaring----stranger.tumblr.com/post/186040990132/fluff-prompt-list

https://sparklyhyunjinnie.tumblr.com/post/622355495153451008/my-prompt-list-give-me-the-numbers-and-the-idol

https://imnotcreativeenoughtomakegoodurl.tumblr.com/post/186758228060/mmm-love-me-some-casually-aggressive-fluff

Feel free to suggest or use for your own purpose.

I’m only posting in case people wanted to suggest some otherwise I’ll let google random number generator decide.

Out of: 1-132

1. �� “I really want to kiss you right now”

2. “Stay with me.. please?”

3. “I am so madly in love with you”

4. “As long as I’m alive, I will do everything I can to protect you”

5. “I’ve never felt so strongly about someone before. I’m terrified”

6. “I can’t stop thinking about you. No matter how hard I try, you’re always on my mind”

7. “Don’t go on that date” “Why?” “Because it will kill me if you do”

8. “Just say the words, and I’m yours” “I love you”

9. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me”

10. “Please tell me you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you”

11. “Is this okay?” “It’s perfect”

12. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you now”

13. “Seeing you this riled up really makes me want to kiss you”

14. “Shut up” “Make me”

15. “You’re the most beautiful person in the room”

16. “I’ve waited too long to do this”

17. “Part of me wants to keep the promise I made to myself.. the other half wants to say ‘screw it’” “Which half is winning?” “The latter”

18. “Why don’t we just stay here a bit longer? In our little cocoon”

19. “Were you jealous?” “No… maybe…”

20. “As if I’m going to let go of you that easily”

21. “okay, but first kiss me.”

22. “i don’t like the dark”

23. “can i hold your hand”

24. “i cant sleep when you’re not beside me

25. “i’m sorry i cant help but stare”

26. “will you stay?”

27. “i promise i won’t let anything bad happen”

28. “i’m so goddamn in love with you”

29. “thats my ex, make out with me and make him jealous

30. “spin the bottle is chiché, i’m in”

31. “i don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before”

32. “i know it’s 2am but can we meet up”

33. “your lips are getting really close to mine”

34. “shit, how’d you make me blush like this?”

35. “why do you always call me when i’m on a date?”

36. “don’t be silly i want to stay up with you”

37. “Have you ever kissed anyone?’

38. “I really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? You’re so pretty when you smile.”

39. “How do you want to die?”

40. “I’ll feel much better if you let me walk you home.”

41. “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

42. “Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought I should move it so I could see you better.”

43. “Just trust me”

44. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

45. “ive missed this”

46. “Did you just slap my ass?”

47. “Sharing is caring, now give me the hoodie!”

48. “Can you please…? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe put a shirt on?!”

49. “Give me attention.”

50. “Do we like…hold hands now?”

51. “I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.”

52. “Don’t be nervous, you can come closer”

53. “I-I miss your arms around me as I slept, I know it’s embarrassing but you made me feel safe.”

54. “I have a feeling we should kiss.”“Is that a good feeling or a bad feeling?”

55. “You’re so soft, if I could ever touch the clouds, this is what they’d feel like.”

56. “we’re in public, you know”

57. “either take it off, or I will happily do it for you.”

58. “This is embarrassing but I had a bad dream and back home when this happens I normally just crawl into bed with my mom or sister but since they’re not here anymore can I sleep with you?”

59. “are those my hair clips”

60. “we need to talk about what happened last night”

61. "You're hiding under that blanket because you're blushing?"

62. “I’ll fix it.”

63. “Why are you unbuttoning your pants?”

64. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”

65. “You’ve been so bad, haven’t you, baby?”

66. "The sunset isn't as beautiful as you, my love."

67. “Quit it or I’ll bite you.”

68. “I told you to bring a jacket”

69. “dont cry”

70. “if I was there, you’d be getting all the cuddles you deserve”

71. “Did someone say shower time?”

72. “I had a sex dream about you and honestly I don’t know how to feel about it

73. “We always share blankets on the couch, im sure sharing a bed isn’t much different.

74. “How much did you hear?”

75. “why are you so jealous?”

76. “you keep a photo of us in your wallet?”

77. “Bite me” “where”

78. “and just WHERE do you think you’re putting your hands?”

79. “I'm not going anywhere”

80. “are you sure, once we start I might not be able to stop”

81. “behave”

82. “Tell me what you want”

83. “I cant keep kissing strangers and pretending they're you” 64 - “why don’t you come over here and make me,”

84. “tell me again”

85. “Don’t ruin the sofa”

86. “Prove it”

87. “If you keep dancing like that I’m going to cum in my pants”

88. “Stop distracting me”

89. “Did you just look me up and down and bite your lip?”

90. “Are you sure that’s what you want, I could hurt you”

91. “What happens if I do this”

92. “Why don’t you put something pretty on for me”

93. “It was you this whole time”

94. “Is that a tattoo”

95. “I wonder what your boyfriend/girlfriend would do if they knew what you were doing right now

96. “No im not letting you go, its too early to get out of bed”

97. “Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?”

98. “poor baby, do you want me to take care of it for you?”

99. “You can pull my hair all you want”

100. “that tickles,”

101. “your duality scares me,”

102. “What do you have behind your back?”

103. “You snuck into my room to cuddle?”

104. “Hold my hand please”

105. “Wait we were supposed to bring presents?”

106. “I know all of your weaknesses, but this ones new”

107. “We could go together if you wanted”

108. “oh my god do that again”

109. “Do you even know how to load a dishwasher?”

110. “I have a surprise for you”

111. “you're so cute when you pout like that”

112. “we should get a puppy!”

113. “I never cried over a gift before, but there’s a first for everything”

114. “was I too rough”

115. “You’re the one I want, is that so hard to believe?”

116. “I like the way your hand fits in mine”

117. “Wait don’t pull away… not yet”

118. “I love you”

119. “You cant leave without letting me hug you”

120. "I probably wouldn't care if you died because then I would just summon Satan to bring you back to life; It's no biggie at all."

121. "Say you're not worth it one more time, I dare you. I will throw hands with you, I swear to Go-"

122. "You make me want to punch the sun just by looking at you-But like, in a sorta declaration-of-my-undying-love kinda way."

123. "Jesus christ, I- It's nothing, I just realized that I would legit eat my kidneys for you. I just love you so much."

124. "Oh god, if you only knew the things I'd do for you."

125. "Sometimes I feel like all the love you give is going to make me implode one day."

126. "You call the shots; I would walk into a volcano with you if you felt like it."

127. "Here's the thing; there's no way you're stronger than me. I guess you're just gonna hafta miss a couple hours of work and cuddle with me then."

128. "I will boop your nose as many times as I like, thank you very much!"

129. "'Aight wanna bet? I will phisically fight you for little spoon rights!"

130. "You're so cute! I just wanna hug you, and squeeze you, and love you and hold you until the end of time an- Oh sorry, it wasn't supposed to sound that creepy, I swear!"

131. "You know I would die for you, but for the love of all that is good in this godforesaken world; when I say 'bite me' during an argument it isn't and invitation to get horny."

132. "Don't be so gentle. You can hug me tighter y'know- I'm not going to pop or anything."

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cherry3point14 · 6 years ago

Text

Hey Jealousy

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: I mean idk. Jealousy. Kissing. Bets. Crushing pretty hard. Word Count:4,792 Summary: You’ve had a major crush on dean forever, and for the last couple of months, you’ve been dropping serious hints. Only Dean isn’t picking anything up. When Ketch shows up and shows interest, Dean’s jealousy makes an appearance. A/N: Another prompt by my girl @divadinag. I enjoyed writing Ketch more than I thought I would if I’m honest. He’s a fun asshat. This is kinda trash and I won’t apologize for it because it was fun to write. Although I have to be honest, I need to stop writing these things on the train.

Ao3 if you prefer.

You’re not blind. You’d noticed how goddamn attractive he was the moment you met him. You’d seen how well he filled out, well everything, his t-shirts must’ve been a size too small right? It’s the only explanation for the way his muscles stretch the fabric just so over his thick arms and the planes of his back. It’s probably why he wears those thick flannels over the top, he needs the extra layer. And god those legs. Strong bow legs outlined in denim. His whole body is just, ugh, a tree you wanted to climb. That’s without even beginning to describe his face; perfectly chiseled and home to the most interesting eyes and full lips you’ve ever seen.

He’s fucking handsome. We get it. He doesn’t need to be that head to toe beautiful. It’s borderline obnoxious.

But, sometimes you can’t always act on these things when you want to. You’re in the middle of a hunt when you first see him. A vampire nest outside of Aurora. It’s all pretty textbook. The idiot bloodsucker you’ve been tracking leads you from this dive bar to a closed down warehouse and it being the middle of the night the nearby businesses are empty. You scope the place out, sneak in, and you’ve taken out three of them, still holding a now decapitated head in your hand, when Sam and Dean Winchester bust in like they’re the heroes of this story. Normally you’d be annoyed by another hunter, or two, interrupting you while you’re in the middle of something but there’s still three vampires left so maybe there’s a small flutter of relief at their arrival. Then they’re all dead and the first time you meet Dean, really look at that perfect fucking face of his, is over a pile of dead vampires as you’re burning the evidence together. He’s not any less handsome but you’re not exactly feeling your most alluring. Not covered in blood stains and bumpy skin that’ll be bruised in the morning.

Not making a move that first night had been self-preservation. You'd been trying to save yourself the embarrassment of him turning your messy ass down. Although you convince yourself it’s good manners. You convince yourself it’d be rude to hit on him mid-hunt. It’d be a different story in a bar but you’re on the job, it’s no time to stare at him like a piece of meat.

Anyway, you’d been bleeding. You’d killed four vamps by the end, but one got a taste. The bite mark on your shoulder was deep and bleeding pretty substantially even with the rag you were holding on it. Honestly, you’re lucky the idiot couldn’t get a good shot at your neck or you wouldn’t be standing.

Sam had insisted on patching you up with promises that he stitched like a pro. Dean had promised you breakfast with a wink that made your stomach tighten. That’s all it had been. Medical attention and a suggestive promise of food. That’s how you ended up staying at the bunker for that first night.

Well, really, that’s how you moved in. And moving in is how you became friends with them.

Now you’ve been there a few years. You’ve met their mother, a woman who was famously dead for decades. You’ve seen other realities and archangels and met God. It’s too much to list everything. Their lives are not that of normal hunters and by association, your grip on reality has loosened a bit as well. Even considering that your reality had already included monsters and demons.

It’s just that recently, maybe the last six months or so, there’s something that’s really been grinding your gears. Or should you say, nothing is grinding your gears and therein lies the problem. You haven’t got laid in a while and all because of Dean-freaking-Winchester.

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even on the hunts where you do go off on your own, because sometimes you need a few days, you can’t just pick up some townie at a bar like you used to. They never come close to Dean and invariably seem like a waste of your time. Or like you’re cheating on your crush. There’s your hard place.

The rock is Dean himself. Because only an actual rock could be as obtuse as he is to the signals you are putting out there.

There are all these random moments. The hours, sometimes days, between the hunting crap where you live normal lives. Movie nights where you swan off to your room to slip into something more comfortable first. Something that showed off a little too much leg or was a little too tight around the chest and was, generally speaking, not always that comfortable. Or there were the touches you’d started laying on him. A hand that lingers too long on his arm or fingers that ghost over his when he hands you a coffee.

Between all the physical touches and the stares, the flirting, you’d been about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. The number of times you’d laughed at his lame jokes should have been enough, right? It was finally starting to dawn on you that maybe Dean Winchester did not, like he suggested the first night he met you, want to share post sex breakfast with you. It was very possible he didn’t even want the sex part of that equation.

And then Ketch came to call.

The knock at the bunker door was out of the ordinary sure but nothing you didn’t think one of the boys could handle. You weren’t rushing to answer it yourself anyhow, not when you’ve read the same page of the book in your hands over and over again. Once again caught in your own heard thinking about him rather than whatever you were trying to read about. Maybe one more attempt and you’ll actually absorb the words this time.

When you still have no idea what you're reading after two more tries you finally give up, dog-ear the page and haul your ass off the bed to investigate.

“You think you can show up and we’re just going to let you stay? I don’t want you here while I sleep.” Dean’s voice is loud enough to hear before you step foot into the war room. You can tell he’s not really angry though, there’s a hint of amusement behind the gruffness, the kind of tone he reserves for people he doesn’t completely hate.

“What exactly are you worried about me doing?” The response is smooth, polished and decidedly British.

They both stop bickering when you enter. You should have known that it was Ketch but having only met him on a handful of occasions you hadn’t recognized his particular lilt without seeing his face. Before you get a chance to even say hello he smiles at you, “why Dean thinks anyone would be interested in bothering him when you’re in the room is beyond me. Y/N, always a pleasure.”

It’s not like you’re an Anglophile but yeah, sure, his accent is easy on ear. And when he’s complimenting you it’s all the better. Especially with how bruised your ego is from constantly being shut down by a certain Winchester for months on end. The heat rising up your neck as you step closer to them both, it’s just biological.

“Well, I’m not going to complain if you want to stay a few days.” You casually add to a conversation you weren’t a part of as you take a seat in the middle of the map table. Unconsciously an equal distance from them both.

“‘Course not when he’s nice to you!” There’s no hidden amusement behind his words this time. Dean is suddenly genuinely agitated and you have no idea why.

“Oh, because being nice to me is a crime now?” You shoot a glare at Dean, more annoyed than you should be. He doesn’t know the torture he’s been putting you through, it’s not really his fault that you’re so eager for a compliment.

Ketch watches you both with interest but is not swayed or distracted, “Y/N, as I was telling this ape-”

“See!”

“-before you got here. I’m working on a commission in the area and use of the library would be incredibly helpful. It would only be a few days and since I have previously helped him out of some particularly sticky situations, perhaps he would be so inclined to return the favor.”

You feel yourself involuntarily nodding along with him as he speaks. His lips aren’t as full as Dean’s but it’s still nice to watch his words fall from them. “It’s not like we don’t have the room,” you add helpfully.

Dean, from somewhere behind you and your now focus on Ketch, protests again, “he’s literally a goon for hire, for all we know he’s here to kill us.”

Ketch let's out this condescending chuckle that you can tell riles Dean up without even glancing in his direction, “Dean, if I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. In any situation Y/N has nothing to worry about, I could never rid the world of something so lovely.”

You hadn’t liked the casual mention of killing Dean. Even as a joke the idea made a dull weight form in your stomach. It’s just, Ketch so easily switches back to complimenting you on the same breath. You don’t mean to smile like a sap at him, it just kind of happens.

“Fine, he wants to stay, he can stay. But when we all wake up dead...” Ketch opens his mouth but Dean doesn’t let him have the pleasure, “shut up.”

Then there’s the stomping of boots in the distance and you and Ketch are alone for the first time in all of your meetings.

“He’s always the charmer, isn’t he?”

“Are you really going to pretend that you didn’t do that on purpose?”

Ketch’s eyes twinkle mischievously which is so unlike any other time you’ve met him that it strikes you as odd how un-Ketch like it seems. He glides into the seat next to you with an unnatural agility and half cocks his head in your direction, “I am absolutely sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, even if I did what harm is there in ruffling his feathers?”

“He did just let agree to let you stay.”

Maybe it’s his stiff upper lip but Ketch delivers everything he says like his life is already scripted so it’s no surprise when he leans in an inch or two and whispers as smooth as silk, “well aren’t I the lucky one?”

You offer to help Ketch with some of his research because you’re a good host. It’s definitely not because he steals the occasional glance. And you’re definitely not intoxicated by the attention like a sixteen-year-old sneaking a wine cooler at prom.

Nothing would ever happen with Ketch. You’ve heard stories about him and bluntly put, he’s simply not the man Dean is. It’s just comforting to feel wanted again. It’s a confidence boost you didn’t know you needed and he’ll be gone in a few days anyway. Why can’t you enjoy being wanted for once?

“Y/N?” Dean clears his throat and you hide the widening of your eyes by staring intently at the page because honestly? You have no idea how long he’s been there watching you with Ketch.

“Yeah, Dean?” You try to stay nonchalant but with him standing there you’ve started doing that can’t read thing again.

“Thinking about going out for burgers, wanna come with?”

That catches your attention enough for you to look up. At first glance, he looks the same as ever and yet he’s different somehow. A suggestion of nerves in his voice and something else you can’t get a read on. That’s not to mention how out of character the question is in the first place. If he’s going out for food he hollers from wherever he is, saves him asking you and Sam separately. And he rarely asks for company, you always figured he liked some time to himself when he went out.

Just as you open your mouth to ask him if he’s ok Ketch speaks up, “hard luck, Y/N already agreed to accompany me to dinner.”

“I did?” you blurt out and catch Ketch wink fast enough that only you see. “Right, right. I did.”

Your compliance with Ketch sets Dean’s jaw for all of a second before he shakes it off and manages a cocky smile, “we’re all going out huh? I had no idea, I’ll go get Sammy. I don’t know about you but I am hungry.”

“At least wear something other than flannel!” Ketch calls out after Dean’s disappearing form.

You wait about a nanosecond before you turn to him, “I said yes to dinner when?”

He sits back in the high leather chair like he’s a Bond villain, the accent doesn’t help the image, “don’t get me wrong while I would have thoroughly enjoyed our tryst, I am strongly inclined to believe that I may not be welcomed back if I dally with something that does not belong to me.”

“You call this welcome?” You motion with a hand in the direction Dean disappeared to.

Why can’t he just spell out what he means without the intrigue? If he had you might have understood what he was trying to imply before Sam appeared, lurching forward as if he had been shoved into the room followed by Dean sporting a too wide smile.

“Where we eating then?”

Dinner is weird. The whole situation reeks of weird. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it was a hunt by the knot in your gut, the one that normally forms when something is about to go wrong.

It’s a goddamn Olive Garden for crying out loud but Ketch holds your chair out like it’s five-star fine dining. He’s British so you just write it off but then Dean watches you sit down like he might murder Ketch, or you, or both of you. Ketch orders the most expensive bottle of wine they have and it’s only like a hundred bucks, but still, it’s a sizeable amount more than the beer Dean is sucking down. Normally you’d be nursing a brown bottle too but Ketch insists on wine for the lady. You normally wouldn't give in but he hands you a glass with this reserved elegance and damn if it doesn't make you feel like a lady. Dean orders the same food as you because he says that you always order the best thing on the menu and then Ketch swoops to agree that you have excellent taste.

As the evening wears on you feel more and more like a toy that they both want to play with. Except Dean doesn’t want to play with you right? He’s your friend. He’s made that perfectly clear by the way he’s been ignoring your advances for months. He’s just being protective.

At some point, you look hopefully at Sam who shrugs as if it answers your question. You’re not even sure you know what the question was but you know Sam’s apathy wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

Then, once you’ve finished the pie that Dean ordered for your dessert, the check comes. Somewhere in your imagination, there’s the sound of a rattlesnake to signify the coming showdown. They both square their shoulders and for the first time that night they seem to have forgotten that you, or anyone else, exists. It’s just them and their dumb argument about who’s picking up the tab.

You’ve drunk too much wine by this point to care or be impressed by their pissing match.

“Eugh, can we just go home please?” You’re up out of your chair, frustrated and swaying your way to the door with Sam in your wake.

If you had stayed in your seat for even 30 seconds longer you might have seen the way Dean looks at you, or if you’d have turned your head back once you’d have noticed how distracted he is watching you walk away. Ketch has more than enough time to pay and get up out of his seat while he waits for Dean to come back to reality.

“She is something isn’t she?” Ketch is smug and proud even when complimenting someone else.

Dean stands up with the scrape of his chair on the floor, bringing himself to full height against his suited adversary. “When are you leaving again?”

"Oh, not for a few days. Plenty of time to get to know her.”

“Well, well, well boys. Looks like this is my round.”

“I think it’s positively adorable that you don’t feel the need to have anything close to resembling a poker face.” Ketch catches your eye making you pout exaggeratedly from behind your cards.

Sam had been tired, or so he’d said, and he’d gone to bed but you were caught in that sweet spot after drinking where sleep was the last thing on your mind. And since Ketch had been so eager to stay up with you Dean had suggested poker with a fervent shout, like the idea was escaping his body without permission. Which is how you got here. Sitting around a table with both of them opposite you, Dean slightly to your left and Ketch slightly to your right. You’re losing miserably at this point and normally you’d be horrified about that except you're buzzed and don't really care.

At least you’re having a good time. Dean, on the other hand, is not. Every time Ketch opens his mouth you'd swear you can hear him grind his teeth. It gets louder if Ketch is talking to you directly.

“Come on then Rainman, you gonna call?” Dean grumbles.

“Call?” you quip, pressing your cards to your chest to protect your secret. “Are you kidding me? I raise!”

Dean had got his chips out, the nice set you bought him the Christmas before last, and even though your pile is the smallest you wiggle in your chair in excitement with your decision. There’s a big song and dance, waggling eyebrows and a little chuckle as you push the pile to the center, “that’s right, I’m all in!”

“You sure, sweetheart?”

Being on the way to fully drunk it’s even harder to fight the blush when he calls you that. So, you don’t fight. You smile down at your cards and let the pink flush your cheeks. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

You can feel Dean’s eyes on you. There’s no way to explain how you know he’s looking at you other than a tingling under your skin, but you just know. And you’re terrified to bring your gaze up to his because you have no idea what you might find there. It could be the final nail in the coffin, it could be an expression so far removed from lust that it finally ends your crush. God, he could be staring at you like you’re the little sister he never had, who shouldn’t be gambling so frivolously.

Your feelings for Dean are not always easy to deal with but they’re yours and you’re not ready to let them wither and die. You’re not ready to have your heart broken over a drunken game of poker, in front of Ketch of all people. So, you don’t look at him. You chicken out and take this deep, shuddering breath while you continue to study your cards, even though you know them by now.

“Ketch, your turn?”

“So it would seem.” He answers smoothly. Either unphased or unaware of what just happened. He calls, which isn’t all of his chips since you'd been losing. As he pushes his bet into the center of the table he adds an afterthought, “I like a woman who lives dangerously.”

Something snaps in Dean that you’d swear makes an actual sound in the relative quiet of the room. Like the crack of a twig underfoot. Without a beat or taking another look at his cards he growls, “I’m in.”

Ketch seems less and less oblivious to Dean’s anger and more like he’s actively ignoring it. Or he's simply much better at whatever game they’re playing. It’s certainly not about poker. “Care to reveal yourself Y/N?”

You lay down your cards with a sloppy smirk on your face, “four of a kind.” You’re pretty pleased with yourself and turn to Dean playfully, “you’re up cowboy.”

“I can’t beat that,” he drawls, putting his cards on the table face down. There's a grin all for you at beating him but before you can get lost in a wordless moment with him Ketch steals your attention again.

“Looks like I win.” He turns over a goddamn royal flush and you resist making some lame joke about his monarchy. Instead, you crease your forehead at him and throw your hands up in the air.

“Really? This was supposed to be my round.”

“Would you have wanted me to let you win?”

Normally your answer is no but normally you don’t have the better half of two bottles of wine swirling around your stomach, “yes. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

Dean snorts and you throw a glare in his direction, “what are you laughing at? You’ve still gotta beat him, you know, for America!”

Ketch sees his opportunity and pounces, “what about for you?”

Even though everything, since he’s got here, has pointed to you being what they’re fighting over it’s still momentarily jarring to hear it out loud. You scoff, “I don’t know what you do in England but here…”

“I’m not suggesting anything more nefarious than a kiss.”

“A kiss?” You parrot back to him and he nods. You can’t look at Dean but suddenly he’s all you can think about. KIssing Dean would either put your crush to bed or push you to obsession. Either way, it’d be something real and tangible. Something yours, if only once.

Dean is noticeably silent as you sit back in your chair and Ketch, thankfully, doesn’t break eye contact with you. He’s daring you. Even sober you’re too competitive to walk away from his challenge.

“Done. Winner gets a kiss.”

Ketch smirks, “we have an accord then.”

Dean wins the next round but Ketch had a substantial haul from your ‘all in’ idiocy so it doesn’t wipe the Englishman out completely. The corner of his mouth does twitch ever so slightly as Ketch’s shoulder slump in defeat though.

You’re sitting opposite them both silent. Refusing to show anything more than a passing interest in the game. The ice that you’re swirling in your drink is far more interesting. At least, that’s what you try to convince yourself.

Ketch wins the next round but the ante hadn’t been as reckless. His victory probably puts them on more or less even footing now, both of them hoarding a fairly equal pile of chips.

That’s when you realize how equally matched they both seem to be. Offering a kiss to the winner hadn’t seemed weird until the third game starts. Fairly instantly this feels like the deciding game and now you’re sitting there as less of an observer and more of a prize. There’s not a crack in their poker faces and though neither of them looks at you it still feels like you're under the spotlight.

Dean downs his glass when he looks at his cards which you initially think is bad but then he bets big so was it a bluff? Ketch leans back confidently but then seems more reluctant to call, that is until the last round when predictably both of their pots, every last chip, ends up in the middle of the table.

“Y/N what’s that phrase I’m looking for?” Dean asks you without actually looking at you, he’s in a battle of eye contact with Ketch.

You’re startled out of your silence, “what?”

“Oh yeah, read ‘em and weep.” He turns to you now, “or in your case pucker up.”

There’s that heat creeping up the back of your neck again and you face is forcefully trying to stop a grin spreading out over it. If you didn't know any better your heart just pumped out of your chest like a cartoon.

“While I appreciate your confidence it would appear that for the second time today it’s your hard luck.” Ketch elegantly spreads his cards over the top of Deans as if he needed an extra illustration that his hand beats Dean’s.

You tear your eyes away from the cards to look at Dean who is mostly frozen in place. Ketch wastes not a second before he’s out of his chair and walking around the table, holding out a hand to you. “If you’d be so inclined I’ll take my winnings and get off to bed.”

A hand slams on the table behind you but Dean holds whatever he might have said inside as you slide your hand in Ketch’s and stand up. It’s just a kiss you think. You’re the one who should feel the most awkward considering your crush. Even so, it’s just a kiss.

Ketch is a man of style so a kiss is not just a kiss.

He pulls you to him with your hand and slides his other to the back of your neck. His hand at your neck, in your hair, is a means to support you while he dips you in his arm and presses his lips to yours. For all the showmanship and flourish he puts into it the kiss is relatively tame. It’s a chaste press of his lips on yours, he doesn’t try for anything more. But it’s a long moment in time and between that and the slight headrush as he pulls you upright again there’s still the ghost of a breathless giggle on your lips when he lets go of you.

“Goodnight Y/N, you’re welcome.” He whispers as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Good game Dean,” he adds in a bright, chipper voice as he leaves for his room.

You had no mind to follow him and ask for an explanation. At that point, you’re still under the impression that he means you’re welcome for the kiss because you still don’t understand what Ketch had meant all those hours ago in the library. You still don't understand what Ketch has been doing all day since he first saw you and Dean together.

“Erm, I’m going to- I think I should get to bed too.” You say looking everywhere but at Dean because if he saw the way you’re biting your lip to hide a smile he might get the wrong idea. You don’t want to sleep with Ketch, it’s just been a while since you were kissed is all.

The problem with your escape plan is Dean himself. You make it all of two steps down the corridor when calloused fingers wrap around your upper arm.

“Dean, what the…?” the surprise in your voice is knocked out of you by a few things happening at once. He boxes you in with your back pressed against the hard wall behind you. One of his hands is pressed against the wall beside your head and the other still on your arm, his thumb rubbing small circles into your skin. His head is slightly dipped in your direction and it might be the closest you've ever been to him while his focus is all on you. He’s making the absolute choice to invade your personal space.

“You’re not following him are you?”

For the first time, you notice there’s a hint of worry in his face and a knot in his brow. Though you don’t understand it you are quick to expel his fears.

“No! I told you I was going to bed.”

The switch is instant, worry turns into something deeper. His eyes darken in a stark contrast to the usual rich green and his tongue darts out over those fucking full lips. Which makes you stare at his mouth obviously, catching every syllable as he forms it.

“Good, good.”

“Why? You’re not jealous are you?”

“I don’t get jealous sweetheart.” His hand creeps up your body, his fingers nimble and soft over your shoulder and neck before his fingers settle over your cheek. You want to call him out on his complete and utter bullshit but it’s hard when just a simple touch leaves you struggling to breathe.

“So, you’re not about to tell me I’m yours or some macho jealous crap?”

He ducks a little lower, his lips barely brushing your as he answers, “Nah, I’ll show you instead.”

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278

#spn x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural reader insert #supernatural #supernatrual #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #reader insert #i'm sorry this is dumb #this fell out of my butt and I'm sorry

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t3hwh1t3p4nth3r · 7 years ago

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BakuDeku Week Day 2: Romantic nights / Dancing / Your eyes

Kacchan shook his head, grumbling lightly.

“I can’t believe you fucking let her talk us into this.”

“I don’t recall you putting up much of a fight.”

“I was sleeping, shitnerd! How could I have argued?!?!?”

Deku gives a shrug.

“That’s beside the point. Uraraka and Iida come to the Romantic Nights events all the time. They say that it’s a blast. It sounds like fun.”

“I don’t see what’s so romantic about going and spending your evening with a bunch of other couples. It feels like a goddamn school dance or some bullshit...”

“Kacchan...” Deku’s tone has shifted. It draws Kacchan’s attention to Deku’s face. His eyes look almost pleading. “Please at least try to have an open mind about this... Please at least try to enjoy yourself.”

Kacchan wanted to snap a bit, but that soft look in Deku’s eyes reduced his roar to a sigh.

“Fine... I’ll try to have to fun.”

Deku’s smile returned at this and they continued on their way to the event.

After what Kacchan had said, he had to admit... It DID kind of look and feel like a school dance situation. There were tables set up around the edges of the room with a large area left empty in the middle for the dance floor. There as a DJ at a little booth that had various little lights coming from it and across from him against the other wall there was a table with snacks and drinks.

He caught the small scoff from Kacchan. The blonde caught the unconscious response too and tried to pass it off as him just clearing his throat.

It didn’t take long for Uraraka and Iida to notice Deku and Kacchan and wave them over to their table. The conversation helped to distract from the atmosphere.

Kacchan started fiddling with the deck of cards on the table. When he looked around, he saw that there were different games on each table. Iida was happy to ex[lain that the point of these nights was to come and have fun with the person you loved as well as other couples. All the games are partner based. they all help to strengthen a relationship in some way, either by simply encouraging teamwork and compromise, or by directly pulling truths from each other.

They all played a few rounds of a card game before Deku insisted on dancing. Kacchan would normally have made a big show of complaining about it, but Deku’s eyes were sparkling so brightly when he stood up and extended his hand to the blonde. The part of his brain responsible for complaints had shut down.

Though Kacchan usually complained about dancing, he was actually pretty decent at it. It was a slow song, so there wasn’t really much to be done. All you’re really doing is swaying back and forth. His dancing skills shine through more with energetic music. Still, Deku has always loved slow dancing with Kacchan. It never fails to bring out a slightly softer side to him.

They dance for a few songs before rejoining their friends for another game.

“Back to the school dance bullshit...” Kacchan thinks. The game they’re playing now basically sounds like a modified version of Truth or Dare. Except the only option is Truth. You pull out random, mushy cards that ask things like “What’s you and your sweethearts favorite drink to share?” and “What would be your ideal destination getaway?” Honestly, Kacchan finds most of them a bit nauseating. He does like the ones that focus specifically on Deku though. “What’s your lover’s cutest habit?”, “Where can you usually find your lover?”

“What’s your favorite feature on your lover?” Kacchan doesn’t seem to hear the question, glancing at Deku as he munches on the cookie he grabbed.

Deku glances over to him too, when he realizes he’s not answering the question.

“Kacchan?”

He seems to snap out of it a bit.

“Hah?”

“Whats the feature on me that you like the most?”

“Your eyes. Why?”

Deku’s face turns incredibly red but he’s grinning like an idiot.

“That was the question. For the game?”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.”

In all honestly, he had kind of forgotten that they were playing a game. Iida had taken way too long answering his last question and Kacchan had started to tune it all out.

They stay for a while longer before deciding that it’s time to head home. Both are tired, a bit bored and hungry for real food. They were told that there wold be food there, but they had anticipated a meal, not just snacks.

They stop and get their favorite takeout on the way home. Once there, they both are pretty eager to change into their pajamas. They make their way into their living room, settling their food on the coffee table and themselves on the sofa.

“What are we thinking tonight? Comedy or action?”

“What about romance?”

“You serious? No. Not after all the sappy bullshit we just left.”

Deku smiles and gives a small laugh. He knew that would rile Kacchan up.

“Let’s do a comedy.”

Kacchan flips through the movie genre before that settle on one and press pay.

Deku is quick to curl up on Kacchan’s lap once they’re done eating.

Kacchan runs his fingers through Deku’s hair almost instinctively. Deku lets out a small, contented sigh.

“I think this is a better “Romantic Night” event, honestly...”

“No shit! That sucked! Best part was the dance, but that music was garbage!”

Deku simply smiles as he nuzzles in closer to Kacchan.

(Sorry for the slightly late post)

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armoured-iron-geek · 7 years ago

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I Adore Tony Stark Because...

- He fucks up...a lot....Just as any normal human does, but when Tony fucks up, there’s no such thing as a small mistake.

-But you can bet your ass that Tony will be the first in line to clean it up once he’s realised the consequences of said mistake. Homecoming revealed that Tony was footing a large portion of the bills associated when cleaning up after Iron Man/Avenger related damages. I wouldn’t be surprised if he extended that courtesy to covering medical bills, temporary housing, groceries, etc...

- And on the subject of money, once he came back from Afghanistan, he started using his wealth for the right reasons. Aside from the armour, he was investing in medical research, green energy, technology that the everyday person could afford, providing scholarships and grants to people who needed a financial leg up. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if the leg braces he made for Rhodey after the Movie That Shall Not Be Named was turned into an entire venture and released to the public.

- Tony’s had to learn not to forget about people, Killian being the prime example and Yinsen being the sad one.

- Tony’s trust in Peter Parker is encouraged by Peters youth (I swear RDJ literally said this in an article once), which says a lot about Tony post-Civil Clusterfuck. It’s no wonder that the best relationships Tony’s established in the MCU was either when he was young (Rhodey/Pepper), or when he interacts with youth (Harley/Peter). Tony can trust that Peter’s being genuine cause despite losing his parents and Uncle Ben, Peter’s innocence remains intact and there’s a good chance Tony can help him preserve that. I don’t think Tony is in Peter’s life just as a mentor/benefactor, I think he’s there as a walking tale of caution of what not to do.

-Tony’s bullshit detector is finely honed, but not perfect. He never saw past Obadiah’s fake paternal influence, but completely dismissed what he had heard about Bruce Banner and greeted him as a fellow scientist instead of as an experiment gone wrong. His kind words and understanding landed him with a surprised, yet comforted new friend and the gratitude of a highly underestimated being.

- When Tony feels something, he feels it with his entire being. Obadiah’s betrayal gives him the strength to drag his way through the Malibu mansion to the original Arc Reactor. His acceptance of death drives him to push away those he loves. Cap’s jeering claims of selfishness stirs Tony’s need to prove him wrong by playing the sacrifice card. Seeing Happy injured forces enough anger to rile in his body that Tony challenges an international terrorist on live TV.

-And don’t even get me started on how much Tony loves life, even if he doesn’t include himself in the line-up. His worst fear is losing, not only his loved ones, but the world because he didn’t do enough. Tony’s got it stuck in his head that because he is the one with the resources and genius to do so, it’s up to him to come up with the solution for saving the world. Tony agrees with the Accords because for the first time,he sees the opportunity for world-wide solidarity. Let’s keep the Avengers in line and interconnect the world’s resources and people of use at the same time.

- I know what it’s like to try to interweave myself with a group of individuals by big gestures and being helpful as I possibly can, only to be reminded time and time again that I don’t actually belong. Not fully. Iron Man-Yes. Tony Stark- Not Recommended. Did the Avengers actually appreciate him beyond his resources? When Thor, a fucking Norse God, grabbed Tony by the throat and hoisted him in the air, not a single goddamn one of them reacted in anger which still pisses me off. Not even Rhodey. Thor could have snapped Tony’s neck in his anger.

-If one more person calls post-Afghanistan Tony Stark “a villain”, I’m gonna scream. Don’t tell me Ivan was justified in bringing Tony to justice because he was butthurt that his father made the wrong decisions. Don’t tell me that Killian can justify blaming Tony for leaving him on that rooftop when Killian made the dipshit decision to believe somebody who was clearly drunk off his ass.Don’t tell me Ultron was entirely Tony’s fault when Wanda tapped into his mental illness and triggered that awful vision. And don’t you dare fucking tell me that Tony is responsible for tearing the Avengers apart when he was open to negotiation and making amendments from the word ‘go’. Steve was the one who shut down any hope of open communication.

THIS IS WHY I’M TERRIFIED OF TONY DYING IN INFINITY WAR.

I’ve heard so many people say that Tony sacrificing himself is the perfect way for his character arc to close. This way he finally make amends for his mistakes...UM WHAT??

With that logic, Steve, Natasha and just about every other Avenger could become a martyr for that exact same reason. But no, let’s kill Tony off because he’s always been one of Marvel’s punching bags. I respect that Robert Downey Jr wants to step back from the role sooner rather than later and when he does so, I’ll miss Tony with all my heart, so lets not end Tony’s journey in tears, shall we?

Let’s see Tony leave for a reason that makes him smile that sweet grin of his. Maybe, he hands over the Iron Man mantle to Harley and mentor’s Peter until he has Parker Industries up and running. Maybe he finally gets that happy ending with Pepper and does nothing but share wonderful nights with her at home and gets lost in the brilliance of his mind until he comes back out of it with a new idea to benefit mankind. Maybe the Tony Stark stans can rest easy knowing that their Mechanic is off-camera, but finally happy as he could be after every thing he’s had to endure.

Because if Tony Stark is going to find happiness, it should never be in death. He loves life too much for that.

#tony stark #The Avengers #Iron Man #team iron man #team tony #tony stark defense squad #captain america #marvel

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onebatch2batch · 7 years ago

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Three Steps Ahead

Seriously guys, thank you so much to everyone who has liked, reblogged, and commented on my fics. You really serious make my day.

I tried to write from Frank’s perspective this time around. Hope you enjoy it!

Kastle, post-The Punisher, 1725 words

AO3

When Frank was in the Marines, he was always thinking three steps ahead. He had to, to survive. The instinct to think ahead was instrumental to his survival, and that instinct followed him back to the states. It was especially useful as the Punisher; evading the police, escaping Red’s lectures, and taking out those responsible for the death of his family, he was always three steps ahead. It came naturally to him, now. He even utilized the skill when doing the mundane; grocery shopping, getting coffee, taking a cab. He never put himself in a situation he couldn’t get out of.

Except when it came to Karen Page.

Sometimes it made him wonder, the way she could break down his walls and bring out the man in him, rather than the monster. He never had to be three steps ahead of her, couldn’t if he wanted to. She was too fuckin’ smart for that. It was one of the reasons he admired her, among many.

That’s why when he came through her door on a cold Friday night, he wasn’t expecting what he found. Usually when he arrived for their biweekly takeout dinner, she’s already got her flannel pajamas on, two glasses of wine deep. Frank pocketed the key she had made him (“I’m tired of you climbing through the window, Frank. Integrating back into society means we use doors.”) and looked around, bewildered. It wasn’t like her to miss something like this, and he almost panicked until he realized there was a soft light coming from the bathroom. The door was propped open just enough that he could hear her humming from where he stood. Frank hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

She was just changing into pajamas, he decided. Sometimes he arrived just moments after her, so she must have disappeared immediately into the bathroom to change after coming home from work. Frank set the bag on the counter and walked over to the cabinet to retrieve some plates and utensils. He set them down and began to scoop out the food when he heard it. Accompanying her soft humming was the gentle lapping of water against the tub.

The sound stopped him in his tracks, and the plate nearly slipped from his hands.

She was taking a bath. Karen Page was naked in the next room, completely unaware of Frank standing in the darkened kitchen not 50 feet away. His mouth dried and his heart dropped into his stomach—and he wasn’t entirely convinced it was due to the fear of her suddenly realizing someone was in the apartment with her. Frank shut his eyes and considered his options. Three steps ahead.

His first thought was simply to leave. Put the food in the fridge and come back in an hour. Let her relax, and chase away the thoughts in his head. Take a walk and get some much-needed fresh air.

He tried hard to force himself to put this plan into action, but he felt as if the floor had grown vines, rooting him to the spot. All he could think of was Karen, soaked to the bone and blissfully happy in the next room.

Frank never, ever imagined he would feel for a woman what he felt for her. Not after Maria. It scared him how much he caught himself thinking of Karen from day to day, and how much he missed her after being away for an extended period. From that first moment in his hospital room, Karen Page had been his lifeline. She had centered him, woken him up from the stupor he’d put himself in. And since then they had only grown ever closer, culminating in that fateful day in the hotel almost six months before.

He thought about the elevator constantly, despite wishing he wouldn’t. Karen was the one good, bright thing in his life he hadn’t managed to fuck up. The degree to which he wanted her, wished to keep her close, terrified him. He did everything to pretend like his feeling weren’t real, like they would go away if he ignored them hard enough.

Now, listening to her oblivious humming, it was getting harder and harder to pretend like his feelings weren’t genuine.

Frank swallowed hard, forcing down every thought that entered his brain. Start over, he told himself. Start the conversation over. Three steps ahead. What is step one?

Step one was to leave. Frank took a deep breath and began to put the food away, slowly. He tried to ignore the voice in his head.

Wasn’t this what he wanted, though? Wasn’t there a second option? He’d be trying to live a normal life, a healthy life, for almost half a year. He’d been going to group, he had his friends, and he’d gotten a job. Wasn’t this the next step…to be happy? Shouldn’t he lay it all out for her, offer her everything he had, and let her decide? Tell her that sitting around every other week, catching up and eating shitty takeout, acting like she wasn’t the best thing in his life was slowly driving him mad?

Frank knew he had to decide. He hesitated, then stepped forward and flipped on the light, casting the living room into light.

“Karen?” he called, forcing himself to be casual. There was a pregnant pause.

“Y-yeah! Give me a—shit—...” The sound of water sloshing met his ears, “...fuck, hang on! Stay in there!”

Despite himself, despite the anxiousness twisting in his gut, Frank felt himself smile, resuming his job of scooping food as he waited.

Karen walked out of the bathroom wearing her traditional flannel pajamas. She had her headphones in her hand, and her hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head. She smiles at Frank apologetically.

“I’m so sorry, Frank. I totally forgot what today was, and just needed to relax.” Her cheeks were still flushed from the bathwater, and he forced himself to smile back evenly. “Bad day at work, you know.”

“Want me to go? Reschedule?”

“Don’t be silly. What’s that, Thai? Great, I’m starving.” Karen grabbed the plate he offered and a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Grab some glasses?”

When they had settled into a mildly comfortable silence, Frank felt her eyes on him. For a while he could ignore it, but when he finished his first glass of wine, she spoke up. “And I thought I had a rough day.”

Frank shot her a puzzled look, then chuckled awkwardly and set the glass down on the coffee table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve barely said anything since you got here. You mad I forgot about our date?” He knows she calls their dinners a date. He knows she does it to rile him up, and she’s done it numerous times. Usually she laughs at his expression afterwards. This time she wasn’t joking, and she was watching him carefully. Those blue eyes stared right through him, challenging. Waiting.

Frank set his plate down carefully. He knew this was uncharted territory with them, and he wanted to do it right.

“I’m not going to be enough for you.” It was a warning, a pre-emptive strike. He was trying to be three steps ahead of her, but she only stared at him incredulously.

“…what?”

Frank rubbed his neck, and then turned to look at her. He was a goddamn soldier, and he was taught better than to not keep eye contact with a woman when talking to her. But God, she looked fucking radiant; it was hard to keep his thoughts straight. Her mouth had fallen open in surprise, and her cheeks were flushed with color. Her eyebrows were drawn into a small v that he wanted to smooth out with his thumb. He stared into her eyes, the color of the ocean, and felt like he was drowning in her.

“I’m not going to be good enough for you. Karen,” he repeated. “I just—I just never thought I would feel…anything. Again. Not after Maria. Not after the kids, and Billy, and this fucking shit storm that’s been my life. And then there’s you, yeah?” Frank balled his hands on his thighs to keep from touching her. This was her choice. He would lay everything out for her, and then she got to choose. “And you came in and you, you turned my world upside. Made me look like a fucking idiot. Made me remember. And I can’t ever--…” Frank cleared his throat, voice growing rough with emotion. “I can’t ever thank you enough for that. And I’m not telling you this because I expect anything from you, you hear me? You kick me right out on my ass if you wanna. And--…”

Karen’s hands found one of his fists and she pried open his fingers slowly, carefully. She watched him, waited for him to take a breath.

“Tell me what you’re telling me, Frank. No bullshitting. Just tell me.” Softly. Gently.

Frank met her eyes, and was reminded again that he could never be three steps ahead of this wonderful, intelligent, considerate woman. She was too smart for him, and he was some fucking idiot that was head over heels for her. He swallowed thickly and placed his hand on top of hers, bracing himself.

“I’m never going to be good enough for you…but I’m going to try.”

“Are you sure?” Frank licked his lips, feeling her stare etching itself into his soul, dissecting him, mulling through his words and reading the meaning underneath. He tilted his head in quiet acquiescence, and she leaned forward to meet him halfway. “Tell me you’re sure, Frank,” she whispered, and he felt her breath ghost across his lips.

“Never been more sure of anything,” he told her softly, and like a bolt of lightning he knew it to be true. He knew, as she finally pressed her lips to his, that she was the most solid thing in his life. He knew, as she fisted her hands in his shirt, that he would do anything to keep that promise to her. He knew, as he slipped his arms around her waist, and she murmured his name into his mouth, that no matter what came next he would be by her side.

She’d stayed by his, after all.

#kastle #kastle fanfic #kastle ff #mine #feedback and reblogs fuel my life!!!#my writing

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zevakritpel · 8 years ago

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✺◟( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)◞✺ at long last....kihaikise.... not even close to finished, but if anyone is interested in reading the start of my (somewhat violent, definitely swear-y) mafia/loan shark au haiki/kihai (subtle hints of nijihimu???!?!) .....here is what i imagine to be part 1/3 of .....chapter 1. orz. i have the rest mostly written out but. i thought i might as well post this and see if anyone actually wants to read more (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `)

Haizaki Shougo prefers to adopt an "I do whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want" sort of attitude to life. Whether it's money, women, bloodshed, booze... anything Haizaki desires, he simply takes. Like this, the notoriously ill-mannered--albeit troubled-- young debt collector runs the high of fucking, drinking, gambling, senseless destruction, bullying debt-wrought businessmen out of their money...and all without consequence. And it's fucking great.

Or at least it should be. But lately...

Nothing is satisfying anymore.

Haizaki clicks his tongue impatiently--this is stupid. He's not seriously about to dwell on this pointless shit, alright?

He tilts his chair back so that it balances precariously on only two legs, then props his feet up on Nijimura's office desk. He kicks same papers off the desk top in the process; (obviously), it does not even occur to him to pick them up.

Bored, Haizaki lolls his head back and glances over at his "coworker", Himuro Tatsuya, who's been sitting in the corner for the past half hour: the hood of his black sweater over his bowed head, wordlessly staring at his phone. ...oh shit, he actually might be be asleep; it's hard to tell, since the guy barely ever moves his facial muscles.

Tch. What a dull plaything.

Haizaki rocks back even farther in his unstable chair, absently fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

He considers riling up Tatsuya, but that seems like it would take too much effort: despite his short fuse and violent streak, it's pretty difficult to get him to break his expressionless doll-face. No, these days Nijimura would need to get involved. And he's not even here--

BAM.

Nevermind. Speak of the devil...the actual devil...

"WHERE!!!"

Nijimura snaps, making a characteristically violent entrance as he kicks open his poor, poor office door, slamming it hard enough into the wall to rattle the office desk from force of impact. The remaining papers flutter off the top, onto the floor.

"WHERE THE FUCK is that bastard Hara?! He's a week overdue with his payments, at this rate I'll be pulling the interest out of his goddamn asshole."

The formidable loan shark Nijimura "bossman" Shuzo appears to be a touch more...stressed than usual. His thin shades have slipped down the bridge of his nose, revealing a pair of underslept, bloodshot eyes; his normally slicked-back black hair hangs limply over his forehead. All-nighter?

Unfazed by his boss's rage, Haizaki raises a hand up lazily in greeting, grinning slightly as he brings his other hand up to his mouth. He flicks his tongue just above the silver band around his thumb.

"What, ya didn't hear? That Hara fuck killed himself just last night." Not entirely true, but he's been dying to push someone's buttons. Even at the cost of his own well-being.

"He what."

Before Haizaki can milk this reaction, Tatsuya (so he was awake, the trick bitch!), cuts in with a cool monotone (ever the killjoy):

"Police report says a body matching Hara's description was found in Tokyo Bay early this morning. Riddled with bullets... And his hands cut off."

Nijimura removes his sunglasses and slides his steel grey eyes back to Haizaki, staring at his subordinate with a look completely void of patience.

"Accomplished all that by himself, did he?"

Haizaki shrugs.

"What? You already knew that fucking idiot was tryin' to fuck over Akashi, of all people. Pretty much suicide, right."

"Not how that works" Nijimura hisses, pressing his fingers against his temples. He steps over the mess of papers scattered on the floor as he walks closer to Haizaki's chair.

"Uhhh, I think you'll find that's exactly how it work-AH FUCK."

Haizaki finds himself very painfully reminded of why he shouldn't bother pissing Nijimura off too much, especially not when bossman is within kicking distance of his chair. He lies there, on the floor, for a few seconds, seriously reflecting for once.

"Whatever," Nijimura exhales, looking much calmer than before; keeping Haizaki's uncouth ass in line is cathartic, it would seem. The loan shark adjusts the cuffs of his mauve button down shirt and puts his sunglasses back over his face.

"Since that shithead actually had the audacity to get killed off by those yakuza pricks before paying his dues, so help me God I will reach into the pits of hell and get back every single yen owed me." Nijimura reaches down and grabs Haizaki by the cuff of his bomber jacket, forcefully pulling him back up to his feet.

"But first, you and I are going to his apartment before it's crawling with pigs...Tatsuya,"

Nijimura's manner of speaking abruptly becomes much gentler.

"You're okay here on your own? All the other guys are out, so you're the only one I can ask."

Himuro smiles demurely and nods yes in response. Oh for the love of-

"What the fuck, why does the wife get to stay behind? Typical." Haizaki complains, earning himself a smack in the back of the already-possibly-concussed head.

"Owww, fine, fine okay fuck I get it. Let's go see if Hara has a secret lovechild we can extort or whatever."

As he follows Nijimura out the door, Haizaki feels the need to disturb a juuuust one more shit, you know, for the road:

He makes a detour to the "doll"'s side of the room and throws an arm around Himuro's shoulders. As expected, Tatsuya reacts violently, but before he can get a punch in, Haizaki swiftly slides a hand down and pulls out a cigarette from the pack tucked in Tatsuya's pants' pocket, then steps back to safety.

Himuro turns his head and glares at Haizaki with his unobscured right eye. Haizaki winks as he skips back, towards the exit, slipping the stolen smoke between his lips.

"See ya later, ane-san" he salutes with two fingers.

Himuro sees him off with a stoically raised middle finger.

Outside, the sky is grey. A gentle breeze blows the taste of pollution through the air. Haizaki throws his arms up to stretch them, somewhat rejuvenated by Tatsuya's vehemence. Still, he can't seem to shake this deep restlessness curdling under his skin....

"Oi, Haizaki," Nijimura calls out, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and rummaging for his car keys.

"Don't antagonize him so much."

"....haha do you really need to be so overprotective? Gross."

Nijimura purses his lips, unlocking the door to his large silver sedan. Time to get going.

***

"Oi, oi, oi, what the fuck is this?!"

Nijimura slams his foot on the breaks of his car, and the subsequent inertia from this sudden move results in Haizaki's entire body jerking towards the windshield. Before Haizaki can open his mouth to complain, he finds his boss has already flown out of the vehicle, bee-lining towards whatever he meant by 'this'.

Disgruntled, Haizaki rubs the back of his neck, craning his head to the side to test for any damage. Today's injuries are really piling up, and it's not even noon yet. He squints out the car window to see for himself what 'this' is:

There, standing by the entrance to Hara's sketchy-ass apartment complex, are two sharply-dressed individuals. To the left, turning to greet the fast-approaching Nijimura, is that... pink Momoi Satsuki woman, the one with the huge tits and dirt on pretty much everyone in the damn city. She's wearing a white blouse today, and her rosy hair is pulled up in a sleek bun today, revealing a sliver of tattoo that reaches all the way up to her nape. And off to Satsuki's right, is an even more familiar face.

Haizaki sits up straight, instantly forgetting his pain. The corner of his mouth twitches: so he's here too, huh. Well, well.

The debt collector takes a moment to loosen his shirt collar, then pulls a gun from inside the car's glove compartment and tucks into his waistband before exiting the car and following the path of his superior, to the front of Hara's building.

A conversation has already started:

"Now, Nijimura-san, we're here on behalf of Kuro-"

"Yeah, yeah, I already know what Akashi's wakagashira is up to here. So if you two could kindly turn back and tell your fucking boss to resurrect that useless Hara bastard so I can get my money back, I'd greatly appreciate it."

Satsuki giggles and takes a drag of the menthol between her delicate fingers, her peachy-pink eyes sparkling knowingly at Nijimura. She proceeds to say something sinister in honeyed tones, but the nature of the rest of the exchange is lost to Haizaki.

After all, he only has eyes for is distracted by..

"Ryouta~," he hisses, pushing towards the man standing off to the side.

"So you're here, too. I thought I smelled a bitch."

Kise Ryouta flinches, his golden eyes narrowing with unmasked disgust as they follow Haizaki's approach.

"Very good, Shougo-kun!" the yakuza chirps sweetly, clasping his black-gloved hands together in mock-praise. The temperature behind his false smile is around -40 degrees of freezing spite.

"As expected of Nijimura-san's stray dog. Such a keen nose you have, it's no wonder your master keeps you on such a short leash."

The corners of Haizaki's mouth twitch up. He grabs Kise forcefully by the collar, pulling him in close.

Fake ass pretty boy piece of shit yakuza.....nothing would please Haizaki more than tearing this bitch down from his high fucking horse and distorting that pretentious, mocking face....

Due to the nature of their respective jobs, Haizaki and Kise run into each other a little too much for comfort. An occupational hazard of working in underground business. And this Ryouta's a real piece of work, everyone seems to think he's an angel.

So damn annoying.

"Taking a break from blowing half the group, are ya?" Haizaki grins, licking his lips, but still carefully gauges Kise's reaction.

....Which is to curl his pale fingers around Haizaki's wrist and squeeze. Hard.

Owww...

"Try not to get too close, Shougo-kun," Ryouta murmurs in a low, sugary voice, but actually leans in closer, so that their faces are only a few inches apart.

"Son of a ...bitch."Haizaki almost recoils in pain as Kise slowly digs his nails deeper into his skin. This little bitch....

"You're still so untrained. I don't want to have to go in for a rabies shot; Midorimacchi has enough on his plate."

For some reason, Haizaki finds himself unable to respond immediately, as he usually would. The reason is decidedly not the fact that, from this proximity, Haizaki can feel the heat of Ryouta's slightly smaller body next to his, nor is it the faint scene of cologne from Ryouta's neck, or....

Wait.

"Ahahahaha, you really wanna die, huh?" Haizaki regains his senses, shoving Kise into the wall of the apartment complex. Whatever the fuck is happening is very clearly a sign that Haizaki should start a fight, right now, immediately.

The expression on Ryouta's face suggests that he's on the same page. Good. Prepare to get fucked up, pretty boy.

However...

"Haizaki" Nijimura calls out in a warning tone, while at the exact same time, Momoi chimes in with a:

"Ki-chan, play nice!"

Both Haizaki and Kise freeze, obviously both having forgotten their respective superiors have been standing, right there, the entire time.

The bitch and the stray exchange a brief glance, then push away from each other.

Tch. This isn't over.

****************************** to be ..continued.....soonly......i hope there was something u could enjoy here. .when i finish the rest of “ch 1″ i’ll probs put it on ao3 BUT I’M SHY （╯ ͡° ل͜ ͡°）╯︵ ( ͜。 ͡ʖ ͜。)

#haikise #SCREAMS INTO MY PILLOW #i just #feel like i should apologize somehow #ahhhhhhhhhhhh #kizaki

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