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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 2 years ago

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Helluva Boss Theory: Was It Barbie Wire That Broke Blitz and Fizzarolli’s Friendship...? Part 1

[Note: Do Not Reblog Without Permission. and while this talks a little about Barbie Wire, this will also talk about some other stuff as well that has nothing to do with the show...don’t need to read this post if you don’t want to, it is optional.]

this is just a theory, but I can’t help but wonder if Barbie might be just as bad as Stella, but in a different way...

but we wont know until the episode that has her appearing in shows what kind of person she is, and hopefully she isn’t fully like Stella.

but there is a reason why I think that Barbie could of had been the cause of Blitzo’s broken friendship, that she might of did something that might of put those two in danger, knowing full well that there was a dangerous situation happening on that day.

don’t know what could of happen to cause their friendship to break, but it might be linked to as to why Fizzy had to get cybernetic prosthetic limbs to replace his original arms and legs.

and fans have already been guessing that Fizzarolli was in a very bad accident.

so for all we know, maybe Mammon caused it.....and you know if that version of Mammon was real, I would probably want to groin punch him as well....

of course this isn’t a universe where live-action humans and cartoon characters co-live in, that is like two universes over in another dimension. XD

and because of certain reasons, I would still wish I could groin punch the real Mammon.............well, him and those three Angels because of what they did to Lilith, and even old Grandpa Adam, because he was very stupid and insensitive back in his younger days, so both he, those three angels and Mammon will get the groin punch punishment.

and yeah as weird as it is, I know I might never do that.....

and I only got the thought of wanting to groin punch someone for the first time, because of the whole price of Coca-Cola being raised before, and I guess it is back to normal now, I guess...

and the one who I had the first thought of wanting to groin punch, was of Mammon, the embodiment of greed himself....

yeah I’m weird, but if his stupid greed influence messes with anything I and others like, then well I guess that first time thinking about groin punching someone, was gonna happen at some point....and it so happen to be Mammon I have those thoughts of wanting to groin punch.

but anyway back to the whole Barbie Wire Theory, while we did see the precious small cinnamon roll versions of both Blitz and Fizzy....

and we even see Blitz’s Dad, but not his Mom or Sister.

plus if any sneak peaks have to go on, it is possible that the twins that is Blitz and Barbie don’t have a good relationship right now, even if it might seem that way.

we might find out more in the future, like more about Barbie’s personality and hopefully I am wrong about the theory that it was her that broke both Fizzy and Blitz’s friendship.

they looked so happy when they were little kids and even when they were teenagers, so something bad must of happen to cause them to no longer be close.

and for all we know, maybe in the episode that shows Blitz and Fizzy as Implings, when Blitz was trying to make a balloon animal, Barbie might of been using a straw to spit something so small it couldn’t be seen just to pop the balloon that Blitz was trying to make into a animal.....I need to re-watch that episode again, it did end up popping right...?

well I’m going to go watch some episodes of Helluva Boss after this....

in my next post, I can talk about some FNAF theory, and maybe after that I can talk about a Silent Hill Theory.

I’m still not happy about the bad weather a few days ago, that made me lose what I was writing on tumblr that had to do with a Undertale Theory.

I will wait maybe until tomorrow or the day after tomorrow to try to talk about the Undertale Theory I had wanted to post that day, but then the whole bad weather happen and lights went off and on, and I didn’t want to turn the computer back on because I was concerned that the lights and everything would happen again when I was in the middle of turning the computer back on.....which I’m glad that I decided not to turn it back on, because even when the lights came back on, it ended up turning back off a few moments or so later.....

hope everyone stays safe when that was going on.

and well it might be possible that Barbie could be two face, but hopefully that isn’t correct, and well besides the whole theory of her being the cause of Blitz’s falling out with Fizzarolli...

what if it turned out it is the same with Blitz’s relationship with Verosika Mayday.

how do we know that Barbie didn’t lie to Blitz to make him do insensitive stuff just to impress Verosika, and of course if he didn’t please her in bed, it might have to do with the freaking fact that Verosika had tired Blitz out...

I mean it’s in the name “Succubus” they could not just drain the energy of humans, which might have to be a lot of energy need to be taken, if the succubus don’t give a human a break to recharge some of that energy, they could in theory end up no longer alive.....

and we know how Moxxie was when he was harassed by Verosika and her gang, he was tired, and I think if I remember right, he said he had to go lie down.

and well it might be a odd thought, but if I do end up having my first time....

maybe I can have my romantic partner wear a gem bracelets to protect them...

you know, just in case....I mean if it is true that I am not just a Defective Earth Angel but possibly a Quarter Succubus, then maybe I should do something to protect the one I might end up being with in the future.....

then again that might not happen, I don’t really want to try to find anyone in that way right now, I had bad luck when it came to online boyfriends and I don’t feel like trying.....I rather just read about romance or play video games with it in it, or like watch shows that has it in it, as well as some movies with it in it.

plus if I did end up finally doing well, THAT.....I don’t want to be forced by being talked into it before I’m fully ready...

I mean I had that panic attack in the car a few years ago, when I was alone in the car when we were getting ready to move to the house we live at now.

[Note: Feel Free To Skip To Where It Talks About The Theories...]

and I know the reason why that happen, it was because I was scared of being r*ped, cause some assaults do happen in the car, and even when it’s during the day or like very close to being night, I don’t like being alone in the car without those I can trust with me.

plus I want to be with someone, not that I want to right now, but I’m talking about well when I do want to be with someone.....and well, I want the one I end up with to understand that at times I don’t like being touched, even if it might seem I might enjoy it and I give off a small laugh or smile, but it doesn’t mean I will really enjoy it....

or how they would need to understand that I need to be by myself at times, to just relax and listen to some music or play video games or watch a movie or show I like by myself.

I don’t mind if my pet cat is close by, and I’m talking about my second cat.

and I don’t think I want to be kissed on the lips or cheek without consent.

there was one time when a friend, this happen in real life....and I might of talked about this before....anyway, she kept kissing me on the cheek, and at first it seem like a friendship type kiss, but then it started to become really uncomfortable to the point I didn’t really like it, and I had to have them stop it, because it was becoming not good, it was becoming really uncomfortable.

I don’t remember much from our time together, but I know we use to hang out, and I guess maybe we were more of friendly acquaintances.

they just kept kissing my cheek over and over, and over....which I can’t remember if it was the right or left side of my face.

but I know I remember the way they did it, and did it more than once, like maybe that went past two or three times, it had made me feel uncomfortable.

so since they weren’t stopping on their own, I had to make them stop it, because it was getting to the point where it had made me uncomfortable.

and even if she was a guy, I would of still end up feeling uncomfortable.

and I think some stuff that happen in my early childhood when I was really little, might be the reason why I don’t like to be touched at times.

like at times I’m okay with it, but other times I’m not...

I did mention before that there was this boy, who when I was really little, and he was the same age as me, I can’t remember if he was a year older or year younger.....but he kept placing his hand on my leg, and I didn’t like it.

and yeah it did end up stopping, but it doesn’t change the fact that he did something that I wasn’t comfortable with...

and anyway back to the topic and theory about Barbie Wire...

while I hope this theory might not be true, but there could be chances it is.

but we will have to wait and see which will be correct.

Blitz had been hurt by those who he let get close to him, and the only differences is Stolas stayed, when those like Fizzarolli and Verosika had left his side after a bad relationship.

is it weird that I think the song that might match Blitz, is “Give Your Heart A Break” by Demi Lovato.

oh my gosh.....the Ozzie episode.....thinking about what happens at almost the end of the episode, the song really does fit that situation. O_O

it’s okay that it’s just me that thinks that, but if Blitz ever did fall in love with Stolas, that song would so fit them.

I’m weird and those are gonna be my fan enbirl thoughts that will get weird....

and anyway, it might be possible that Barbie could of broken only the friendship with Fizzarolli, but didn’t do anything with Blitz and Verosika’s relationship.

then again it might of been all on Verosika, because Blitz might of needed a break and even when he was tired, he might of had enough energy to get him to the wrath ring....wait, didn’t Blitz say he was never at wrath ring before...?

anyway even if Verosika might scapegoat and fully blame Blitz for the terrible relationship, but she should get a good look in the mirror, because it might be possible it isn’t fully his fault that the relationship broke.

and Moxxie is living proof on what a Full Succubus can do to a Imp.

so that is evidence number 1....

Verosika might want to place all the blame on Blitz for the reasons why their relationship fell and broke....but really, it might of been her fault.

and if that is true, that would mean that Verosika is so full of herself and thinking she is The Goddess Gift To All Those Who Find Her Hot, that she couldn’t see that she was harming the only guy who liked her for her, and not just for her body.....way to go Verosika. *slow sarcastic hand-clapping*

and in theory, if a love is true, and maybe strong enough, then a Succubus might not be able to cause well what we have seen on Moxxie....

I mean maybe, and for all we know maybe Wally could be the one to not end up in the same situation as Blitz and Moxxie.

we haven’t seen Blitz in the same drained energy state that Moxxie appeared as when he had those kisses on him.....so I’m guess it could be possible that Blitz might of went through the same thing as him, and one of the reasons he got mad, was because he knew how it felt even when you tell succubus like Verosika “No Means No” or “I’m tired”.......

Blitz might act like a insensitive jerk to Moxxie at times, but deep down he still cares about him and is protective of both him, Millie and Loona.

maybe we will find out more about Blitz and Verosika’s relationship in a future episode and how it was before it fell apart.

and if Blitz an his family were Arch-Imps, and in theory I think that his and Barbie’s Mom, might of been a hybrid, being a type of mix between being both a Imp and Succubus, this could mean that both Blitz and Barbie, could be I guess a quarter succubus from their mother’s side of the family.

but just because Blitz is part succubus, doesn’t mean he wont still end up feeling drained of his energy from a succubus like Verosika, it just wont dangerously effect him as much as it did Moxxie, this could be because his succubus half keeps him safe from the really dangerous side effects.

anyway because of certain reasons, I am gonna make this theory into two parts, and I will talk more about this theory about Barbie Wire and the other stuff that has to do with why Blitz’s romantic and platonic relationships become broken, like maybe either tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.

it’s okay that not everyone agrees with this theory, it is just a fan theory and I hope that I am wrong about the theory that has to do with Barbie Wire being the cause of Blitz losing his friendship with Fizzarolli.

#helluva boss theory #barbie wire helluva boss #fizzarolli helluva boss #blitzo helluva boss #groin punch #mammon helluva boss #friendship breakups #verosika mayday helluva boss #fear of rape #no means no #scapegoat #breakup #plot twist #mature audiences only #not for kids #do not reblog without permission #Part 1

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kalmeria · 3 years ago

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Bad Buddy text posts (and others) pt.8

#bad buddy #bad buddy crack #it's very important that the ''gay best friend'' one has pat in the image with ink and pa #bc it starts off and you think it's ink referring to pat. but turns out it's ink referring to pa #i spent so much time trying to find the right screenshot for that one and i made 2 versions in the end. still not sure which is better #but this is the one i'm going with i guess #and that pran one #the 4th one #i feel like it's such a good fit that i'm worried that it's been already done #oh another important thing is that the last screenshot is from just after wai punched pat. i spend a lot of time making sure details like #these are accurate and probably not many people notice so that's why i'm pointing it out haha #(honestly i spend too much time on these)#gonna post the rest tomorrow #as you might guess from the little sneak peak i posted earlier it's mainly episode 6 and 7 #not sure how i'll divide them up yet bc i think it's 5 and 6 images each and i like to put more in these...#if i get some inspiration i'll make more and post them alongside the one i have... but i should probably study instead..#bbtxt

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ilzieah · 4 years ago

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NO ONE TALK TO ME I JUST FINISHED NEW GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#new girl #im so sad #i want a million more seasons #they gave us that little sneak peak of the future at the end for what?? to hurt me?! to make me long?!#might start reading a fanfic on it idk #it’s the only way i can cope with finishing a show #I expected the last season to have at lease 15 episodes so like i thought i would finish it tomorrow #then i got to the wedding episode #and i knew #also why do all modern sitcom thingys end in a similar way?#like they either get canceled too early or put a flash forward in the first episode of the last season and have a sappy cheesy ending #parks and rec did it better by giving a long glance into the future #i did not need to read fanfics to cope with finishing that show #which is surprising

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its-an-obsession · 2 years ago

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A Trek Through The Woods

Teen Wolf Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Summary: You have known Stiles and Scott since you were in preschool. When on the night before sophomore year, the boys roll up to your house in order to find another half of a body. Like always, Stiles doesn't always think his plans through. Of course the three of you - well more like two - are caught by Stiles' father

A/N: Enjoy this sneak peak of my Teen Wolf Fanfic! I hope to finish this story soon, so you all can read it! I will be publishing it on Wattpad btw :)

Notes:

This takes place on the first episode of season one

(Your Outfit)

Warnings: none

Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall x-reader

(Your Outfit)

It was a cool Sunday night in contrast to today's weather being a bit warm. 11:30 am read the clock that sat beside my bed. I hummed to the music from my computer's speaker. Before heading to bed, I read the book that we needed to read for our English class.

Of course, the boys hadn't even started to read The Giver, blaming it on how distracted they were with preparing for Lacrosse tryouts. Earlier today I had been with Scott and Stiles to help them with said tryouts. My mom - a nurse at Beacon Hills Hospital - was fast asleep in her room across from mine.

She worked tirelessly at the hospital all day. She was lucky to have a night to herself, which wasn't something that she got often. Melissa McCall and my mother have known one other since they were in middle school, leading to me Scott becoming friends at the age of two.

My nightly reading and listening to music were cut short by the ringing from my phone. None other than Stiles Stilinski's cross-eyed expression appeared on my phone screen. I paused my music and closed the book. "What's up?" I answered. From the other side of the line, Scott could be heard muttering something in which Stiles told him to shut up. "What're you doing right now?" Stiles questioned. I set my laptop on the end of my bed.

"Just hanging out. Mind telling me why you're calling me at 11:30 on a Sunday night?" I replied, yawning. Stiles stated that the two of them were outside my house. Like he had spoken, they were leaning against Roscoe - Stiles' blue Jeep - with their eyes staring at my bedroom window.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I knelt in front of my window. "My dad left 20 minutes ago from a dispatch call. Two joggers found a dead body in the woods. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, even State Police," a small smirk appeared on Stiles' freckled face.

Scott reached over and snatched the phone from Stiles to say something. "Yeah, and he thought it would be a great idea if the three of us went to look for the body," he commented. I rolled my eyes with the phone still beside my face. With further convincing from the boys, I rubbed my cat's head before putting on my favorite green jacket and pair of boots (Outfit One).

I already knew that it was going to be chilly tonight. The door downstairs was loud as hell, so I resorted to the window. My cat watched me as I slipped through the opening. My feet landed softly on the grass, barely making a sound. Stiles pulled out of the driveway to head towards wherever the hell we were going.

"Just out of curiosity, you two do realize that it is the first day of school tomorrow, and both of you have lacrosse practice?" I poked my head between them. "First thing I told him," Scott pointed to Stiles. There were barely any streetlights, just one at the beginning of the road and one in front of a turn to a trailer park. "Wait, didn't coach say you could join the team?" Stiles asked. He stole a glance at me before looking at the road.

"Awe, yes, because being on a team with ten horny high school boys is something that I want to be a part of for the year," I remarked, leaning back in the seat. They decided to not respond to my retort, knowing I'd lead the conversation any further. "I'm going to need a little more information about what we're doing?" I buttoned my jacket as I spoke.

Stiles explained how the police weren't sure if the individual was murdered, but they did know that she was a female and in her mid- twenties. "Hold on, if they found the body, then what are we looking for?" I inquired. "That's the catch, they only found half," Scott turned to me. The mischievous smirk that sat on Stiles' face gave me an unwelcoming feeling.

"And we're going," he added.

________

(Later - Same Outfit)

Stiles parked the Jeep right in front of the gate. A wooden sign hung from the middle of a chain: Beacon Hills Preserve - No entry after dark. Scott and I exchanged a glance before looking at Stiles who stood in front of the silver chain. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jacket. "Are we really doing this?" Scott's voice remained low.

"C'mon, you're always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town," Stiles pat him on the shoulder. I brought a leg over and the two followed shortly after. Scott muttered how things happen in this town. "That doesn't count Ms. Prescott thinking someone was breaking into her house, but it was just some rogue racoon," I noted.

We set forth in search for the other half of the women's body. Personally, I had no interest in finding this body but somebody needed to supervise these two teenage toddlers. "I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow," Scott claimed.

I walked in the middle with my eyes keeping a look out for anything suspicious. "Right, cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort," Stiles remarked. Our friend grumbled and insisted that he would be making first line this year.

Their flashlights waved around the dark forest. The light illuminated certain features of the Beacon Hills preserve, introducing new pairs of glowing eyes from - what I hoped - a bunny or fox. "Hey, that's the spirit. Everyone should have a dream even if it's pathetically unrealistic," Stiles went on.

The night's cool breeze brushed against the back of my neck, goosebumps rose. Scott occasionally shined his flashlight onto the ground so I wouldn't trip and fall. "Which half of the body are we looking for exactly?" he questioned. "I didn't even think about that," Stiles replied.

"Okay, here's another zinger, what if whoever killed the body is still here?" I shared a look with Scott. Despite neither one of us being able to makeout the emotion we were displaying, I could tell he worried.

"Also something I didn't think about," Stiles responded.

We approached a hill that kept us from peering ahead. Both boys got up first. Scott brought an arm out to help me up, such a gentlemen. I set my hand into his so I could easily get up. "Stiles, it's super comforting that you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail," I wiped the dirt that landed on my palms. Scott took a much needed puff of his inhaler.

I directed him towards the tree beside us so he could rest. He pressed his back against the trunk, chest rising up and down; his hands shook as he zipped up his bright red jacket. I began to feel uneasy by his state.

"Stiles, I'm thinking this wasn't such a-" I cut myself short when 'the spas' began bolting down the other direction. He dropped behind a fallen tree. We landed on the other side of him (GIF Above). From the corner of my eye I could see a wide grin creep onto Stiles' face.

The three of us heard voices in the distance, but none of which that we were able to depict who they belonged to. Stiles leapt to follow the source of the sound. I called after him with Scott trailing behind. A bright line shined in Stiles' face which resulted in him falling on top of me.

Our asthmatic friend must've hid before we were caught. Deputies surrounded us with flashlights directly on us, the light reflecting off of their badges. "This little delinquent belongs to me," Sheriff Stilinski disclosed. He saw that I was stuck underneath his son. I shoved Stiles off of me so I could get up from the ground.

Stiles popped up, wiping the dirt off of himself. "Do you listen in on all of my phone calls?" Sheriff Stilinski questioned with brows raised. "No, not the boring ones," Stiles' chest rose up and down as he wittily responded to his father's question.

Stiles spotted a few leaves stuck in my messy hair. He went to reach over to pick them out, but I slapped his hand. He was persistent until his father grabbed him by the ear. Mr. Stilinski led us over to the lit up sheriff's car so he could drive me home. I just hoped my mom didn't wake up during my escape.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x-readers #dylan o'brien #tyler posey #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #stiles stilinski x-reader #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski fluff #scott mccall imagines #scott mccall x-reader #scott mccall fluff

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hollyhomburg · 3 years ago

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Before I Leave You (Pt. 13)

*(Sneak Peak)* (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Namjoon has royally fucked up but luckily the pack has a place to go.

Tags: non-verbal episodes/coming out of non-verbal episodes, insomnia, discussions of hate/self hate, verbal fights, References to PTSD, hurt/comfort, implied little space, discussion of sexual dynamics, BDSM, Sex toys, Crack, Fluff, references to trans characters, internalized misgendering,

W/c: 11.0k

A/n: ah here we go! sorry it took a little longer than i thought it would! there is a hurricane hitting where i live tomorrow, so i’m getting out a smaller chapter just in case i loose power for a few days!

Previous part — Masterlist

Part 13: Moving Day

Namjoon waits, Jin finishes the dishes. And only when he’s done and drying his hands meticulously on a cloth does he speak, slow and carefully, like he’s choosing his words the way a butcher would a knife.

“Jimin and Tae went to go rent a moving van, Jungkook is picking up some boxes and trash bags, and Hobi is making some space for our stuff at Yoongi’s house before Jungkook picks him up. I managed to talk down our Landlord; he’s agreed to set up our tenants in another unit temporarily. But we have until tomorrow morning to move out completely. And no- if you’re wondering- you asking Yoongi to let us move in does not qualify as fixing the absolute cluster fuck of a situation that you created.”

His voice gets acidic towards the end but Joon waits- Jin isn’t done speaking. his next words are calmer- softer when he eventually continues.

He swallows down his disappointment, and maybe that’s what hurts the most, at his core- Jin is more disappointed in him than anything else. Jin doesn’t need to break things when he can do it so unintentionally with words.

“I know it’s supposed to be us vs. The problem but this is one that you’ve created for us Joon, something completely avoidable. What the fuck where you thinking?” Namjoon opens his mouth but Jin holds up a hand, shaking his head swiftly. “never mind actually- I don’t think it matters.”

He sighs, the tenseness going out of his shoulders minutely, not enough for Joon to feel truly forgiven. He waits, at attention. Guilt raking through him leaving his chest feels raw, tearing up his roots. His breathes doing deep in the way that it does when the alpha is trying not to cry.

“I want you to know that I’m mad at you, I probably will be mad at you for a little while,” Jin sighs, jamming the heal of his hand into his eyes to stem the threat of tears. his next breath is shakier than namjoon expects.

“but I still love you, and this doesn’t change that.”

Coming Monday August 23rd @ 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments below)

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heartsmadeofbooks · 3 years ago

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Preview: New fic.

Hi, hi, hi ♥

It took a little longer than expected, but I'm finally ready to share with you all my new fic, Clear Skies. It's a story that I've been looking forward to writing for a while and though it had a slow start and I had to get through some obstacles, I'm happy to say I'm finally satisfied with it. I can't wait to start this new journey with all of you.

This story features a wonderful cover art by the amazing @nerdishedits. She's been my rock since I started writing it and a great cheerleader when I needed one, so I'm super honored that she did the art for it.

Clear Skies is a story of two men finding love in the most unexpected person, as well as about love being the push you need to grow, to stand up for yourself, and to chase after what you really, really want. The first chapter will be published on Saturday, August 7th.

Here's a little preview. I hope you'll enjoy it ♥

After an intense afternoon helping Isabelle, Kurt finally headed home feeling ready to change into comfy clothes and maybe relax with a few episodes of trashy reality television. If he was lucky, he would even be able to convince his roommates to order some pizza...

But once he made it all the way to Bushwick (one day he would be able to live somewhere in Manhattan, he hoped) and opened the door to the loft he shared with two of his friends from high school, he found Santana pacing the living room, looking gorgeous in a very tight black dress, heels sharp enough to stab someone, black hair falling down her back in a gorgeous cascade.

“Hummel, where were you?” She asked as soon as she saw him. “You should have been home at least an hour ago.”

“Sorry, I had to help Isabelle at a photoshoot and it ran a little longer than expected,” Kurt replied, as he unbuttoned his peacoat. “What's wrong?”

“You're supposed to cover for me tonight at the diner!” She exclaimed. “Gunther called when you didn't make it on time for my shift.”

Kurt groaned. “Oh shit. That was tonight? I'm sorry, Santana. It's been such a long day...”

“Well, get over there already,” she said, almost ushering him back out the door. “I promised him you would be there soon...”

“Wait, I need to get my uniform and...” Kurt ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure I have to? Can't Rachel cover for us...?”

“No! She's on a late rehearsal. I should have already left too, I'm going to be late for my date. Come on, Kurt, you promised,” she said, a little desperately. “I'll cover for you tomorrow so you can get some sleep. But please...”

“Okay, okay,” Kurt muttered with a sigh. “I'll get changed and I'll be on my way in a couple of minutes, don't worry. Just get out of here.”

Santana grabbed her coat and purse and was out of the loft before Kurt was even done talking. Feeling increasingly miserable, Kurt marched into the section of the loft they called his bedroom (he would give his right arm for walls and a door, god) and immediately changed into his uniform.

By the time he finally made it to the Spotlight Diner, he was spectacularly late and Gunther, the owner, wasn't very pleased with him. Afraid he would take it out on Santana, Kurt promised to make up for it by staying an extra hour. Gunther nodded, pleased, and without saying a word, he disappeared behind the counter, leaving Kurt to take care of the waiting customers.

Kurt was busy for a very long time after that, since it was peak dinner rush time. He was grateful when it all finally calmed down a bit, and he sneaked into the kitchen to have a glass of water and eat a quick sandwich. He was famished and his feet hurt like hell. He wasn't sure how he was going to make it til the end of his shift. It was bound to be a long, awful night.

As he thought longingly of his bed, the softness of the sheets and the pillows, the weight of the duvet and tried to ignore the heaviness of his own bones, he made his way back out the kitchen, only to realize someone had just taken a seat at one of the tables in his section.

He grabbed a menu from the pile behind the counter before he walked towards the table, reminding himself to plant a smile on his face even though he didn't feel like it.

“Welcome to Spotlight Diner. My name's Kurt and I'll be your...” He stopped in his tracks when the man sitting at the booth looked up. As soon as his eyes fell on Kurt, his lips parted and his pupils dilated, making Kurt stutter for a moment. “Uhm. I'll be your... your chorus boy waiter today.”

Kurt lifted a hand and touched his face quickly, making sure there wasn't anything on it. He didn't understand why the man was looking at him like that. He blinked down at him, and wished he could stare at him for a while, though, because he was strikingly handsome. His dark hair was beginning to curl around his face, clearly breaking off from whatever product he had applied to it, just a few grey hairs peeking through at his temples. He had a very expressive face and – there was only one way to describe them – very kissable lips, the kind Kurt wouldn't have minded nibbling on. But it was his eyes that really caught him off guard – they looked so honest and earnest, so kind and bright, and the way they reflected the light made them seem almost golden.

They looked a bit sad, too, but Kurt told himself he was just imagining things. And he shouldn't have been paying this much attention to a customer anyway. He should have been taking his order.

“Here's a menu if you need it,” Kurt muttered quietly, placing it on the table in front of the man. “Unless you know what you want?”

The man seemed to come out of some kind of trance. He shook his head a bit before he glanced back up at Kurt, a polite smile on his face that was gone too quickly. “I'd like some coffee for now. Thank you.”

“Sure. Coming right up,” Kurt said, smiling back, before he turned around and walked away a little quicker than necessary. He hid behind the counter for a moment and used his cellphone to check his face but no, no lettuce between his teeth, no stains on his nose, nothing that could make someone look at him like that.

It was kind of ridiculous, how hard Kurt's heart was beating at the moment. He didn't even understand why.

#Yaaaaaaaaaaay #So excited about this #I hope you'll like it ♥#Fic: Clear Skies #Klaine #Klaine fic #Klaine fanfic #Klaine fanfiction

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

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subwaysurf45 · 2 years ago

Text

Thank you so much for 700 followers, this is absolutely insane!

Here’s a sneak peak at tomorrow’s Episode of A Little Rusty:

“Heavy sobs ripped out of his chest as his hands grabbed a fist full of your white cardigan as more than just this moment fell out.”

...get ready

#Thank you #A Little Rusty

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recurring-polynya · 3 years ago

Note

Tokusatsu Au where Rukia plays the lead actress in a superhero action show. Renji plays one of the villains and they are The most popular ship in the fandom. Bonus points if Orihime plays the main villain and loves every second of it.

This was the very first prompt I got, and I fell in love. Unfortunately, aside from a brief period of being grotesquely fascinated with Power Rangers as teen, I know almost nothing about tokusatsu. I did as much research as I could and I attempted to watch an episode of Kamen Rider, but my eyes glazed over halfway through. Anyway, please forgive my inaccuracies, I wrote this with my heart.

ao3 | ff.net

🏍 ⚡ 🎬

“Uh, looks like we’re almost out of time,” the panel moderator for “High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe!: A Sneak Peak at Season 5” declared, “but would you be willing to take just a few audience questions?”

Head Screenwriter Kurosaki Ichigo glanced at Leading Actress Kuchiki Rukia out of the corner of his eye, and she gave a tiny nod.

“Yeah, sure!” he replied.

There was already a young woman waiting at the microphone, practically vibrating with anxiety. She was wearing a t-shirt that had ZabiTo4Ever!! handwritten in marker on it. Rukia knew, deep down in her bones, what the question was going to be.

“Hi, yes, hello, big fan of your work! My question is: are Tomoe and Zabimaru going to kiss this season?”

“No,” Rukia started to say.

“As you probably know,” Ichigo said loudly on top of her, “the show holds close to the core plot points of Kuna-sensei’s manga, although, because of her minimalist style, we do expand a lot of the dialogue and filler scenes. She has said in several interviews that High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe! is not a romance manga, so the odds of Tomoe and Zabimaru ever kissing on screen are very, very low.”

The young woman stared at Ichigo grumpily. “Does this also count Zabimaru’s secret college student identity, Satonako Takeru?”

Ichigo stared back at her. “Yes. It does.”

The next question came from a person wearing a full suit of HellKnight’s plasma armor made out of overlapping plates of cardboard. Rukia was kind of impressed by it. She wondered if he could sit down.

“Hi, Kurosaki-sensei, I am a huge fan of your work,” a voice emanated from deep within the cardboard. “I was wondering if you are influenced at all by fanworks, and if Episode 73: Pride is on the Line!: The Bake Sale Must Go On! was based in any way on the classic fanfiction, ‘Tell Me All Your Best Lies’? It’s the top story by kudos in the ZabiTo tag, which I might point out is the most popular shipping category on AO3.”

Ichigo cleared his throat gently. “I am contractually not allowed to read fanfiction, although I do enjoy fanart! There are some incredibly talented artists in the fandom, although for some reason, no one ever wants to draw pictures of Lead Screenwriters.”

“I’ll draw you, sleeping on the set like you always do,” Rukia offered, and that got a pretty big laugh. Rukia’s Tumblr of behind-the-scenes doodle comics was beloved among the fandom.

The next question was from a nonbinary person wearing a big poufy skirt and a hairstyle that would make their make-up and hair guru, Yumichika, sit up and take notice. “Hi, this is a question for Kuchiki-san! If the show is going to roughly keep pace with the manga, as it has done up until now, you should be shooting the storyline where Tomoe and Queen Bloodbuzz switch bodies later this year. I was wondering if you could comment on how you feel about filming that storyline?”

Finally! A good one! “Yes!” Rukia nodded eagerly. “I don’t usually like to speak for my fellow cast members, but Orihime and I are beyond excited about playing each other. We’ve been studying each other’s mannerisms and practicing already! Does anyone want to hear my Queen Bloodbuzz cackle?” She wagged her eyebrows as the audience cheered. “Here goes-- bwaHaHaHaHAHAHAHAAHAAAHAAAAAAAA!”

“Bonechilling,” Ichigo commented dryly as the audience erupted.

“Amazing, Kuchiki-san!” the moderator exclaimed. “I think there is time for one more, but this will be the last question!”

A tall girl in a full set of High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe motorcycle leathers stepped to the microphone. She was holding a notebook. “Hello!” she warbled. “In a 2020 interview with the Psychics and Sidekicks podcast, Abarai Renji was asked about his opinion on ZabiTo as a ship, and he replied,” she consulted her notebook, “‘Tomoe is such a cool lady and talented Battle Clairvoyant, and she always follows her heart and stays true to herself. I think that Zabimaru can’t help but be impressed with her, even though they’re enemies, and I always try to roll that into our on-screen interactions.’ I know that in the past you’ve refused to comment on the ship, but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on, y’know, his thoughts?”

“Well, he’s correct, of course, Tomoe is very cool and admirable,” Rukia replied, which drew a few laughs, although it seemed like the audience was leaning forward in anticipation of her answer. “Like I said, I don’t like to speak for other cast members. I’ll be doing a big cast panel with Abarai and Inoue and Matsumoto and Ukitake tomorrow afternoon, and I hope you all can make it! See you then!”

The moderator thanked them enthusiastically, and then Ichigo and Rukia slipped out the back guest entrance.

“Evasive as always, Kuchiki,” Ichigo teased.

“Whatever,” Rukia sniffed. “The higher ups say we’re not supposed to comment on stuff like that, and I was not commenting. By the way, how many secret fanfic accounts are you up to? Four?”

“It’s only three!” Ichigo paused. “I wrote that fanfic the guy brought up.”

“Of course you did,” Rukia sighed. “I do blame you personally for the popularity of the damn ship.”

“Me? Blame Kuna for making up two such sexy, emotionally constipated dumbasses!” Ichigo defended.

“Also, it’s not Ichigo’s fault that you and Abarai have insane chemistry.”

Rukia spun around, grinning. “Orihime!”

Rukia’s two co-stars, Inoue Orihime and Abarai Renji, the portrayers of Tomoe’s demonic archnemeses, stood in the hallway behind them.

“We sat in on your panel!” Orihime beamed. “You two were brilliant!”

“Don’t worry,” Renji added. “We were incognito.”

“Incognito” was relative, Rukia supposed, when you were at Tokyo’s biggest tokusatsu

convention.

Orihime was wearing a Zabimaru outfit so detailed that she probably could have won a prize down at the cosplay hall. She had the gravity-defying ponytail, the eyeliner, the insane widow's peak (complete with forehead tatts), the fangs, the motorcycle boots. The paper mache snake skull helmet was a little lopsided, but it was charming. She had her top zipped a little higher than canon, but that was forgivable, too.

Renji had taken the opposite tack of looking as much like a normal person-- or at least a normal Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe superfan-- as possible. Relaxed fit jeans and an oversized hoodie de-emphasized his ultra-fit physique. He was wearing a t-shirt with a very dramatic rendering of Orihime that said “Queen Bloodbuzz can step on me!” and a ball cap with the logo of Seireitei University, the fictional college Tomoe and Takeru attended.

“You think you’re in disguise,” Rukia pointed out, “but there are thousands of teen girls in this place with entire Tumblrs dedicated to your stupid face when you’re out of costume.”

Renji cocked an eyebrow at her. “You underestimate me, Rukia. I have bought… new sunglasses.” With a flourish, he whipped out a pair of the dorkiest wayfarers she’d ever seen, and flipped them onto his face. “I’ve disappeared! Who am I? Where am I?”

“You look really great, Orihime,” Ichigo said, his cheeks coloring a little bit. “Did you get Uryuu or Yumichika to help you with that costume?” In his continuing theme of doing things he wasn’t supposed to, Ichigo had finally started dating Orihime on the downlow around the time they finished up filming last season. It had done absolutely nothing for how shy he still got around her. They were, in Rukia’s opinion, cute as hell.

“Oh, no, that would be cheating!” Orihime replied, wagging a finger at him. “Well…maybe I did cheat, just a tiny bit. Renji helped me make the helmet and he held up references for me while I was painting on the tattoos.”

“Only the forehead ones,” Renji quickly added.

“He wouldn’t even offer feedback on my booby tattoos!” Orihime frowned. She leaned forward. “Rukia, how do they look?”

Ichigo turned even redder.

“Perfect, as in all you do!” Rukia replied loftily.

“What’s everyone got coming up next?” Renji asked. “I was thinking of slipping out and trying to pick up some real coffee.”

“I’m judging a villainess-themed cosplay competition,” Orihime chirped. “But I’m dying for a blueberry caramel iced latte. Renji, my henchman, pleeeeease!”

“Of course, my liege,” Renji replied in his Zabimaru voice.

It’s not like it had been a hard decision to accept the role of the motorcycle-riding, badass heroine of one of the most popular manga of the last decade, but it had turned out to be one of the best decisions of Rukia’s life. not just her career. Aside from a few of the money-obsessed executives, she liked nearly everyone in the cast and crew, but the fact that the fact that the ruthless, homicidal, literally Hell-spawned villains of the show were played by the two sweetest marshmallow people she had ever met just took the cake. Renji and Orihime had already known each other from some voicework they had done previously, and their excitement at working together on a live-action project had infected the entire cast from the start. Rukia wasn’t sure, but she strongly suspected that Renji was the one who had hyped Orihime up to ask Ichigo out.

“I have a writers’ workshop I’m moderating this afternoon, and I wanted to review the writing samples people sent in,” Ichigo said, scratching the back of his head. “I’d love to stop by that cosplay contest, though, at least for a few minutes.”

“You’ll be needing caffeine, too, then, eh?” Renji offered. “Hot, black, and in the largest cup they make, as usual?”

“Ugh, you’re the best,” Ichigo groaned. “You wanna power-up this season? Costume update? You know what? Maybe I’ll just have you defeat Tomoe once and for all, no one likes her anyway.”

“C’mon, you know I’m the world’s number one Tomoe simp, don’t do that!” Renji laughed.

Rukia rolled her eyes. “I’m free and I could use some fresh air. Besides, it’s going to take all your dumb muscles just to carry Kurosaki’s vat of coffee back here.”

“Cool!” Renji proclaimed. “We’ll be back soon!”

“Thanks, Renjiiiii!” Orihime waved.

“You need to stop off and put on a disguise?” Renji asked.

“No point in it, I always get recognized,” Rukia sighed, pulling her sunglasses out of her purse anyway.

“Here,” Renji said, plunking his hat on her head. “Maybe this will help.”

“Thanks,” Rukia replied, and then did a double take. “Whaaaaaat is on your head?”

“Shut up!” Renji laughed. He usually shaved his head when they were filming, because it made it easier to deal with the make-up and wigs, but since they were between seasons, he’d grown his hair out into a short, tousled mop of reddish-brown waves. He looked, for the lack of a better word, dreamy. “I shot a movie over the summer, and they wanted me to look softer.”

Rukia looked at him over the top of her sunglasses. “You didn’t tell me you were doing a movie!”

“Oh, it was just a little indy romcom thing. I wasn’t sure it was gonna pan out, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“You were in a romcom? You’re kidding me!” They ducked out of a side door of the convention center into the bright sunshine.

“Yeah, it’s about a guy who goes to the gym to try to get ripped to impress a girl, and makes friends with me, this nice, already ripped dude who gives him lifting tips and encourages him a bunch. By the end of the movie, it turns out we have crushes on each other.”

“Oh, no, that sounds really cute, actually!”

“It was written by a woman who graduated from one of Ichigo’s writing workshops. The script was really snappy and Ichigo thought having someone like me as the gym guy would give it just a bit of campy cachet. You know what a good sense he’s got for stuff like that.”

“That was cool of you to go out on a limb a little,” Rukia replied.

Renji rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d been wanting to try something like that for a while, actually.”

Rukia blinked. “You aren’t… you aren’t thinking of leaving the show, are you?”

“Huh? No. No! No, the show means the world to me, I would never. But… it’s not gonna run forever, y’know?”

“I would have guessed you’d want to be a big action star or something!” Rukia said, throwing a few air punches. “That’s my dream!”

Renji stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. “Yeah, that’s what I thought I wanted when I first got into acting. I’d read the Tomoe manga, and I thought playing Zabimaru would be a good jumping-off point, besides just being a cool character overall.”

“Is that… not true?” Rukia frowned.

“Oh, I mean, I guess so! I didn’t really know about the fandom, though and… to be honest, I’m kinda into the idea that there are all these fans who think I’m complex and redeemable?”

Rukia regarded him out of the corner of her eye. “They just want to fix you.”

“Maybe! Ichigo made me read this one fanfic that was eight thousand words of the reader getting sick and Zabimaru making them soup? And feeding them the soup? I still haven’t decided how I feel about it.”

“How does he have time to find these things? Does he even sleep?”

“Anyway, it doesn’t hurt to be well-rounded and it was fun. I’m still mostly an action guy, but I wouldn’t mind doin’ something with a romantic subplot. A period drama or something like that. I look pretty good in hakama, you know.”

“I bet you do,” Rukia laughed. She squinted at him, but his expression was unreadable behind the shades. Renji didn’t have the classic leading man looks, not like her ridiculously famous older brother, but she could definitely see him as the best friend, the B-plot romance, with his cute, messy hair and that big doofy grin.

“By the way, I’m sorry you had to field that question about me spilling my romantic sensibilities on that podcast.”

Rukia laughed. “You didn’t even answer the question, either! These people are relentless!”

Renji stopped at a street corner and peered down the various possible directions they could go. “Which way feels like it might have a coffee shop?”

“You didn’t have one in mind before we left? I thought you knew where we were going!”

“Nah, I just like to go out and see what there is.”

“I can look up a map,” Rukia said, reaching in her bag for her phone.

“Let’s just go this way,” Renji said, stepping out into the street in the direction that had the WALK light. Rukia sighed and had to scramble to catch up with him.

“So, what do you think about it?”

“Huh?” Rukia asked. “Think about what?”

“Our ship. ZabiTo.”

“I can’t believe you just said that word out loud. And you know we’re not supposed to give our opinion on it!”

“Aw, c’mon, we’re not supposed to give public statements on our opinions. I don’t think there’s any harm in talking between ourselves. We’re in disguise, even.”

“‘Disguise’,” Rukia sniffed.

“You don’t like it, I can tell.”

“He’s a bad guy! Everyone always talks about chemistry, and that may be true, but I just don’t think that Tomoe could ever get over his acts of violence and cruelty.”

“Queen Bloodbuzz is cruel. Zabimaru is not cruel.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but still. He’s kidnapped just about all of Tomoe’s friends and or turned them into monsters at one time or another. He’s always setting Karakura Town on fire or flooding it with magic lizard goo. He ruined the sports festival.”

“Maybe the sports festival deserved to be ruined,” Renji muttered under his breath.

“Okay, you’ve got a point on that one,” Rukia admitted.

“It’s really clear though, that he’s got some agenda beyond just simping for Queen Bloodbuzz--”

“The simping for Queen Bloodbuzz is the most relatable thing about him, to be honest.”

“Granted. But, what if he’s got a good reason for everything he does, actually? What if he’s doing all of this against his own moral code as a means of infiltrating Hell itself and getting himself into a position of trust so that he can bring down the Lords of Hell from the inside?”

Rukia slipped her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose. “Does Kuna give you Zabimaru spoilers?” The reclusive creator High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe! was only barely involved with the television show, but she did privately meet with each of the cast members about once a year. Most of Rukia’s meetings consisted of Kuna giving her constructive criticism on her battle poses.

“No, mostly we practice sneering,” Renji replied. “But I gotta play the guy, so I gotta think about this, you know, what motivates him? I mean, you’re probably right, it would never work out. But unlike Tomoe, whose principles would call for her to ignore any attraction she has to him, Zabimaru has the freedom to pine for her, perhaps because his love is futile and he doesn’t think he deserves it anyway.”

“That’s kinda dark, dude,” Rukia frowned.

“Yes, well, that is the kind of character acting that netted me the 2019 Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Best Villain Award, Foreign Language Category.”

“That’s literally what’s going through your head when you’re shouting that if I can’t make some sick motorcycle jump, you’ll turn all my friends into stuffed animal versions of themselves?”

“No, of course not! At those times I’m thinking about how much I love my job. OH! and what is that I see!” Renji struck an extremely Zabimaru pose. “A MISTER DONUT!”

“My hero!” Rukia exclaimed, unable to resist an opportunity to shout dramatically. “I’m sorry I doubted you!”

“I think we should get some donuts, too. Orihime loves donuts,” Renji declared.

“Oh, for sure,” Rukia agreed. She was thoughtful for a moment. It would be easy to move on to a different subject, the subject being donuts, but she wasn’t happy with leaving the last conversation hanging. “Look, Renji, just because I don’t like the dumb ship, you know that’s not a reflection on you, right?”

“Huh?” Renji replied. “You mean you don’t mind if I like it?”

“Well… I mean, I don’t, I guess, but what I really meant was, er… we joke a lot, but Tomoe and Zabimaru are just parts, y’know? Just because I don’t think Zabimaru isn’t good boyfriend material doesn’t mean I…” Rukia trailed off, suddenly realizing what she was saying. “Um. What I mean is. You’re very nice and probably one of my favorite people I’ve ever worked with and if someone I knew wanted to ask you out, I would definitely encourage them to, A+ guy, I’d say, probably would make a great boyfriend.”

Renji pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead and regarded her for a long moment. “For the record, Kuchiki, I think that both you and Tomoe would make excellent girlfriend material.” While Rukia stood there and gaped like a fish, he turned and pushed open the door to the coffee shop. “Ichigo likes crullers and Orihime always wants the most colorful thing they’ve got. Do you know what you want?”

“I need to think about it,” Rukia squeaked. She wasn’t talking about donuts.

🏍 ⚡ 🎬

Bonus: Here are my notes from when I was making up the show. I hope this wasn’t too confusing!

High-Spirited Battle Clairvoyant Tomoe!

based on a manga by reclusive mangaka Kuna Mashiro

Head Screenwriter: Kurosaki Ichigo

🌟 Starring: 🌟

Kuchiki Rukia as Yukimura Tomoe, a spunky college student who can see ghosts and fights demons from Hell! She rides a motorcycle!

Inoue Orihime as Queen Bloodbuzz, a Lady of Hell, who seeks to gather energy from the Living Realm so that she can become the Supreme Ruler of Hell. Very aesthetic. Much bees.

Abarai Renji as Zabimaru, Queen Bloodbuzz’s ruthless henchman. He leads a double life as fierce-looking, but gentle-hearted college student Satonaka Takeru! What is his long game??

#renji's birthday 2k21 #my writing #this was really hard to write actually #because i had to make up SO MUCH STUFF #i hate making up stuff #astute readers will notice that i just recycled rukia and renji's fake names from between tides #i am so in love with this au tho #especially ichigo and his false pretenses ao3 accounts

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cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Hearts, Ch. 2: Martinis, Girls, and Guns

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond AU ~ Sequel to Golden Bullets

Following a messy split, Harrison, Agent 007, resumes his role as an elite womanizer, after his recovery from his previous mission; meanwhile, you’ve stepped back from your 00 status, taking on cases as MI6’s assistant director from your office. When a new threat emerges to MI6 and a dear friend gets kidnapped, can you and Harrison set aside your differences to save special agent Q, better known as Tom? Or will the stakes- and your love, push you two further apart?

Word Count: 3800

Gif is not mine

Golden Hearts Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: sexual themes, maybe some swearing, harry and harrison and reader all being jealous idiots

Featured Song: “Tomorrow Never Dies” by Sheryl Crow from Tomorrow Never Dies (1997)

~ “You're not the only spy out there, It's so deadly my dear, The power of wanting you near”

A/N: Special shoutout to @duskholland for helping me come up with ways to write “sensual” scenes and to @allegra-writes for helping me learn more about the tango (which idk if this even counts lmao, don’t hate me yall it’s just a steamy dance). Also, the tango sequence was inspired by an episode of Chuck... but idk if anyone’s seen that.

~~~

“She’s not coming.” Harrison said, irritation clear in his voice as he stepped out of his BMW. Leaning against his own car, Harry grabbed his duffel bag from his feet with a frown.

“But you said you could convince her.” Harry answered, and the blond shrugged, running a hand through his hair. He went around to the back of his car and opened up the trunk for him to get out his two bags.

“I thought wrong.” He muttered. With their bags slung over their shoulders, they made their way across the tarmac to the jet that they were absolutely legally borrowing from MI6.

“We’ll just have to go on without her.” Harry paused, “I still think maybe I could’ve-“

“Harry, don’t take this wrong, but if I couldn’t convince her, then no one could.” Harrison stated definitively.

“Why’s that?” The younger agent asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand the sudden irritation in his friend.

“No reason.” He replied, biting his tongue. With Harry following him, he entered the jet’s cabin. Harrison shuffled to put away his two bags, one full of weapons and one of his actual things.

“I’ll get the jet ready.” Harry stated, setting his bag in a seat. As he made his way to the cockpit, Harrison noticed a fourth black duffel bag in the cabin. He eyed it suspiciously, but, before he could question it, he heard his friend speak again. “You’re here!”

“You think I’d leave saving Tom to you two divs?” You questioned with a laugh from the pilot’s seat as the surprised Harry took a seat in the copilot’s seat.

Harrison stepped into the doorway of the cockpit, looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face; like he too was surprised you were here, but also like he was proud that you had come. You smiled softly at him, “I thought I should save the person who’s the reason that we’re alive today.”

Registering your words as a repeat of his own, he couldn’t help the fond smile that crossed his face. “Get this thing in the air, yeah?”

“Prepare for takeoff.” You told him, before turning to the controls before you. With your back turned to him, you missed the bittersweet look on his face as he eyed you over one last time before he left for the cabin.

The air was silent between you and Harry while you two got the jet ready for takeoff. You weren’t quite sure what to say about the delicate situation that was this new, top secret mission, so you did your best, “We’ll find him, Harry.”

“I hope so.” Harry mumbled, trying to keep his focus on the jet and his emotions under control.

“He’ll be alright. He can handle himself out there.”

With the jet cruising on autopilot, you followed Harry out of the cockpit to find Harrison hunched over his laptop, checking Tom’s encrypted message again. You weren’t sure how many times he’d examined the message, but yet again you weren’t sure how many times you repeatedly looked at the images until you stumbled upon a discovery last night.

Seeing him look at the one image in particular of the one man who the database could not identify yesterday, you sat down across from him, simply stating, “His name’s Mr. White.”

“Mr. White? Didn’t 009 detain him three years ago for involvement in S.P.E.C.T.R.E.?” Harrison asked, glancing up from his computer to look at you. Whether subconsciously or not, he sat up straighter, his shoulders back with meaning.

“Yes, and, since we had little to no evidence of major involvement, MI6 released him on parole. Last known file was that he was dying from thallium poisoning, and guess where he went to live out the rest of his days.”

“Spain.” Harry answered.

“Barcelona to be exact.” You stated. “And, according to MI6’s database, Mr. White’s back profile matches that of the mystery man in Tom’s photos.”

“So you think White took Tom?”

“Yes.” You nodded, definitively. “White’s our best lead right now. Besides, M has suspicions that Oberhauser has returned, and, if he has, then he’ll be looking to regroup S.P.E.C.T.R.E. with White.”

“Oberhauser’s dead.” Harrison argued, his eyes narrowing at you.

“It wouldn’t be the first time MI6 has mistaken a case.”

“This Mr. White,” Harry trailed off, “How do you suppose we find him if he is in Barcelona?”

“He has a mansion just outside of the city.” You replied, a proud smile on your lips. “I hope you two brought your dancing shoes because we’ve got a party to crash tonight.”

~~~

Light streamed in through the open window, perfectly angled to strike in your sleepy eyes. You shuffled awake, rolling over away from the window. Your eyes peaked open, and you smiled at the site before you.

With his hair a mess and his lips parted enough that a bit of drool was slipping out, the fast asleep Harrison was your favorite thing to wake up to. Feeling your shift in the bed, he subconsciously tugged you into him with his arm wrapped around your waist. You smiled to yourself, feeling his feet nudge your legs; even asleep, he wanted to be as close to you as possible. Ever so gently, you reached a hand up to run through his hair as you tried to memorize every detail of his face. Your hand slowly shifted downwards, running over his puffed out lips.

“Why are you staring at me?” He mumbled against your fingers, eyes still closed tight.

“You’re drooling.” You teased, your finger running over the small wet spot in the corner of his mouth. Blindly, he puckered his lips out to kiss your hand, making you laugh.

Harrison chuckled as he opened his eyes and shifted closer to you to give you a proper good morning kiss. Caving into him, you rolled onto your back and his lips chased yours, never breaking the kiss while he climbed on top of you. You let out a moan, one of your legs wrapping around his hips.

The moment his fingers began to lazily tug on the hem of your t-shirt, which was really his, his phone began to buzz with the sound of his alarm. At first, neither of you made an effort to turn it off, enjoying the simplicity of each other’s embrace, but, as it continued, Harrison regretfully pulled his lips from yours.

“I need to get going.” He mumbled, moving off of you to reach his phone.

“Do you really have to go?” You asked, and he let out a small laugh.

“Duty calls.” He leaned over and gave you one last kiss before he climbed out of the bed. You sat up against the pillows, white bed sheets falling around you. You watched with a small frown on your face as he moved about your room, collecting his clothes for the new day. Your eyes drifted over to the luggage at the front door. He was off on another mission in Luxembourg this time… or maybe it was Switzerland. Ever since you stepped back from your 00 position, you had a hard time keeping up with it.

“What if you didn’t go?” Your voice was so quiet that Harrison almost thought he had imagined the whisper. Tugging on his white button up, he looked at you with a lopsided smile.

“Love, you know I have to. Besides, it’s only a week. I’ll be back from Austria before you know it.” He answered. He could sense that there was something unsure in your voice, and he gingerly sat on the bed beside you, his blue eyes searching for an answer in yours.

“Runaway with me.” You said faintly, but definitively, as your hand clasped his, “Let’s go somewhere, somewhere where it’s just us. No more sneaking around, no more MI6, no more missions, none of it.”

Harrison looked at you for a moment, and you could see him going through his options in his head. Instead of saying anything, he just pressed his lips to yours tenderly. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours, “I’d follow you anywhere. Just let me do this mission first.”

“I love you.” A small smile slipped past your lips as you tried to contain the eager feeling inside you.

“I know.” He answered, flashing you that signature smirk.

“Y/N, come on, you gotta wake up.” Harry’s voice pulled you from your dream, or rather another memory, as he shook your shoulder lightly.

“Yes?” You mumbled, blinking your eyes open.

“Harrison’s starting the descent now. We’re here.” He explained. As you took a moment to clear your head, he studied you curiously. “Were you having a bad dream?”

“Not at all.” You gave him your best smile, but he could still register the uneasiness in your figure.

You wouldn’t call it a bad dream, per se. It was just a rather sad thing to think about now. That morning two months ago was the last morning you were truly happy and it was the last morning you spent with the one person that you wanted to wake up to every morning.

Figuring it’d be best to change the topic, Harry did just that. “While you were sleeping, I got the three of us rooms at the hotel closest to White’s mansion. MI6 has no blueprints of his house, but it’s secluded enough that-”

“That Tom might be there?” You finished his thought for him, and he nodded, biting his lip nervously.

“That’s the hope.” He replied.

“Did you two come up with a plan too?” You asked, and he nodded again.

“White will most likely have cameras everywhere and guards in areas where we can’t go. If I can get to his computer, I can hack the security system to search for Tom.” Harry explained.

“And what would Harrison and I do?”

“Keep an eye on White and watch for any trouble in the ballroom.” He stated. At his words, a smile of admiration came across your face. He didn’t sound like the cocky wannabe 00 agent anymore; no, he sounded like a true MI6 special agent. “What’s that look for?”

“You’re really coming into your title, 003.” You teased, making a small blush hit his cheeks.

“I learned from the best.” Harry winked cheekily.

Just a few hours later, the three of you were settled into your individual hotel rooms that Harry had acquired. You busied yourself with getting cleaned up for tonight, trying your best to not think about the fact that Harry’s plan ignored the very fact that it’d entail for you and Harrison to spend actual time together. You couldn’t really blame him though; he was oblivious to the history between the two of you. All he knew was that he was on a mission to save his brother with MI6’s best. And, for the sake of Tom and Harry, you needed to remain focused tonight.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you out tonight?” Harrison asked as soon as Harry stepped out of his hotel room.

“I don’t need help. Tom taught me how to hack; it’ll be a breeze.” Harry reassured his friend. He adjusted his cufflinks while they made their way down the hall to your room. Laughing a little, he inquired, “Why do you keep asking? Do you not want to be on White watch with Y/N?”

“I wouldn’t say-” He started, but the curly haired boy walking beside him cut him off.

“You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?” Voicing the speculation that had been brewing in his mind for the past few hours, Harry had an accusatory sense about his words as they came to a stop in front of your door. He looked at Harrison with questioning eyes.

“No, definitely not.” Harrison just about scoffed in response. Defensively, he turned to Harry, “Do you have a thing for her?”

“No.” Harry answered too quickly for his own liking. They stood like that for a moment, staring at each other with suspicious eyes, as if they were silently daring the other to move.

It was Harry who caved first, turning to open your door with the keycard. With the door wide open, Harry and Harrison stood frozen staring at you as you had a leg up on the footrest, strapping your heel in place. You looked over at them, questioningly, “Is there a problem?”

Both boys shook their heads and stepped inside, the door shutting behind them. You switched your feet to put on your other shoe, trying to pay no mind to the two sets of prying eyes across the room. You completely knew you were showing a little in a dress perfectly tailored to your body, cutouts along your torso to emphasize all the right places, complete with a deep v neck and a high leg slit. With your heels on- specially equipped with your favorite secret knife stilettos, you stood to your full height to look at Harrison and Harry properly. You’d be lying if you said your eyes didn’t immediately catch onto Harrison and his tight, yet perfect fitting tux. The dark navy blue ever so slightly highlighted his eyes even more. Noticing your gaze on him, his lips twitched into a small smirk, and you immediately turned around to the set of ear pieces on your hotel desk.

“Here.” You handed them their ear pieces, and all of three of you put them in.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked you.

“Just about.” You said, slipping a couple lipsticks into your bag.

“I’ve missed those.” Harrison stated. He’d recognize those gold and silver lipsticks anywhere. Harry looked at him, raising his eyebrows curiously. “Gold are grenades, silver are tranq darts.”

“Genius.” He replied in awe.

You quickly applied one final touch up of your own lipstick, nothing special, before looking at them with a nod. “Ready.”

Riding in the classically styled Aston Martin DB5 from MI6, the three of you arrived to White’s party and easily blended into the crowd of people. The ballroom was busy, packed with people dressed to the nines. Splitting up, you all mingled your way around the room, taking in as much surveillance as you could.

“Two guards at the south exit.” Harry murmured into his ear piece.

“And two at the east exit.” Harrison added quietly.

“The west exit has three.” You mumbled. “Something’s got to be hiding back there.”

While you stationed yourself by the live band, pretending to be interested in their music, Harrison made his way to the bar, his personal favorite vantage point. He slid into his seat, eyes scanning the bar as a bartender approached him.

“Martini. Shaken, not stirred.” He ordered and you bit back an eye roll at his words.

“Keeping it classy, I see.” You said through the ear piece.

“Love, you know I can’t say no to a martini.” He replied, a cocky smirk resting on his face.

“Champagne?” Harry asked, holding out a flute of the golden liquid to you as he came to stand beside you, effectively drawing your attention away from Harrison.

“Thank you.” You took the flute from his hand and swirled it lightly.

“I didn’t poison it.” He joked before taking a sip of his own.

“She’s not a fan of champagne.” Harrison’s voice came through your ear piece. You glanced over at the bar to see him watching you and Harry, his fingers wrapped around his martini glass. Never breaking eye contact with him, you drank the bubbly champagne down in one quick motion.

“There’s White.” Harry pointed out, spotting the host across the room. “He’s out here, so I’m going in.”

“Be careful.” You said quietly. You watched him as he disappeared through the crowd. While you had faith in your former trainee, that didn’t mean you couldn’t still be concerned about him.

“Don��t worry about him.” You heard Harrison say through the ear piece and also behind you. You turned to see him standing there, half- full martini glass in his hands.

“I thought you were staking out by the bar.” You motioned to the drink in his hand, and he smiled before finishing it off.

“The view’s much better over here.” He took your empty flute from your hands and placed it on a waiter’s tray, right beside his own now empty glass. The waiter moved along swiftly. “You know what the best way to survey a room is?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, shaking your head at him, already knowing his suggestion. “Not here.”

“Dancing.” Harrison sent you his signature smirk, his hands reaching to unravel your arms. “Come on, remember Argentina?”

“I do remember, but we can’t exactly tango in Spain.” But it was too late as he pulled you out onto the dancefloor, just as the musicians picked up their tempo with a new song.

“Sure we can.” He winked. Despite your protests, you still let him take one of your hands in his and rest his other hand on your waist, holding you close enough that you could smell the martini in his breath. To prove his point, he spun you in time with the music. He tried to take the lead, but you wouldn’t let him off that easily as the two of you danced and spun around the dancefloor; hips, feet, arms, all of you moving together in a fluid motion. With his warm hands trailing over the open slits in your dress, he quietly breathed out, “I see you’re still a great dancer.”

“You’re a little rusty.” You answered, your chest pushed against his. Your eyes briefly scanned the room, looking at the security guards at the exits and White. “Aren’t we supposed to be observing the room?”

“I am observing.” He argued, and you narrowed your eyes at him, stepping with him in time to the musician’s beats, your legs brushing against his sensually.

“Observing White, not me.”

“He’s not nearly my type.” He joked, his smile beaming as he looked at you. You went out for a spin again, but when you came in this time, you brought your leg up, hitching it to his waist with ease, thanks to the slit. Instinctively, Harrison’s hand grabbed under your thigh, his calloused fingers running over your smooth skin. His other hand splayed across your bare back, holding you up as he dipped you down quickly.

“White’s on the move.” You whispered to him when you were brought back up, your leg still clinging to him tightly.

“I’m watching him.” Harrison mumbled back to you, before dipping you again. This time, he dipped with you, drinking you in with his nose tickling your collarbone and trailing up your neck until his eyes were level with his. It wasn’t until then, under his electrifying stare, that you realized just how fast your own heart was racing. Still holding you tightly in the dipped position, Harrison darted his eyes down to your lips, and, for a split moment, you weren’t even sure if you’d mind if he kissed you right then.

“Harrison?” A voice asked from in front of him. His head darted up to see the stranger that somehow knew him.

“Madeleine?” He brought you back up to a standing position. His hands immediately dropped from your side, and you stepped away from him to see the stranger. You felt yourself stand a bit taller seeing the other woman before you. This Madeleine was by all means a standard model looking woman- tall, thin, fragile features, and a beautifully simple periwinkle silk dress.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here. How are you?” She asked with a genuine smile, and you quickly picked up on a slight French accent when she spoke with a hint of an Austrian accent.

“I’m good, yeah. And you?” Harrison replied, almost nervously. You glanced between him and Madeleine, confused by the exchange occurring, and that’s when you saw it. The small spark in Harrison’s eyes as he looked at her, a spark that was once reserved for you. You felt an unfamiliar feeling begin to twist in your gut.

“Never been better.” She smiled, and even her smile was perfect. She looked over at you, laughing a little. “I’m so sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Madeleine Swann. I met Harrison back in Austria.”

“Y/N.” You answered, shaking her hand gracefully, despite that feeling growing inside you. Austria. Of course it had to be that mission.

“What are you doing here? In Spain?” Harrison asked her with a smile.

“This is my father’s party.” Madeleine explained and you bit back your surprise. “We haven’t talked in years, though, so I’m not quite sure why he invited me tonight.”

Before the conversation could carry on further, Harry’s voice came through the ear piece that you almost forgot was in, “I’m coming back out. I checked every bit of his system and Tom’s not here.”

“I’ll let you two catch up. I really should be going.” You told Madeleine and Harrison, who sent you a quick nod.

“It was lovely to meet you.” Madeleine called after you before you could fully walk away. You gave her one last fake smile and turned to go find Harry in the crowd. Just as you saw the familiar head of curls through the sea of people, you heard a sharp scream from the other side of the room, sending the civilians into a frenzy as they tried to run away. Through the commotion, Harry managed to reach you.

“What happened?” You asked him, and Harrison ran up to the two of you with a distressed Madeleine behind him.

“White’s dead.” Harrison stated. “We need to leave.” You glanced over at Madeleine, and he reached to grab her hand, “We can trust her. She comes with us.”

“We don’t have time to debate it.” Harry said, pointing towards the armed security as they drew their weapons. Quickly, the four of you ran with the crowd of terrified guests back to your cars.

“I’ll go with Madeleine to get her car. Rendezvous at the hotel.” Harrison announced, not giving you or Harry time to react before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

You and Harry ran back to the DB5 as fast you could. He slipped into the driver’s seat, and you took one last glance back at the chaos leaving the party. You felt your breath catch in your throat as you saw the one person you thought you’d never see alive again.

“Y/N, come on!” Harry urged, pulling you from your thoughts. Shaking your head, you got into the car.

No. There was no way you just saw him.

~~~

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#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield fic

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