#but damn I have got to stop filming way too much footage of every step

[vincentbriggs]

Finally finished the video I've been working on for months! It's an hour and 21 minutes and I make 3 different leaf bolero vests in it.

I'll post more pictures later but right now my eyeballs are very tired and I need to go do non-screen tasks for a while.

[sissylittlefeather]

It Feels So Right (how can it be wrong?): Part 1

A/N: a new 3-part mini-series that was supposed to be a one-shot but got too long 😂. This is gonna be a fun one. I hate to give too much away up here, but just know we've got Austin filming Elvis, ghost Elvis, and you...

Shoutout to my beloved @ccab for hatching this one with me one late night. I love you, bestie.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! This is gonna stay dirty. Kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~3.2k

Honestly, you're a glorified assistant. Your job has a technical title, but you spend most of your time getting coffee and running errands for anyone on set who asks you. It's very rarely the actors. Usually, you're at the whim of everyone behind the cameras. You've been graduated from college for five years and you're just waiting for your shot in the film industry. In a lot of ways, you're blessed just to be on the set of this movie, so you swallow your pride and fetch lattes for every grip and sound guy that hollers for one.

Admittedly, you don't know as much about it as you probably should, but watching the filming has you convinced this Austin Butler will be up for an Oscar. You know Elvis and this guy has him nailed. You've seen footage of him a thousand times and Austin's performance seems to line up perfectly.

What you don't know, what no one but Austin knows, is Elvis is there. He stands and watches, not far from you actually, and in crucial moments, he takes over. Usually, he doesn't leave the sanctuary of Graceland, but when he heard about this movie, he knew it was an opportunity. And when he saw Austin and his dedication to the role, he knew that he'd be open enough for him to step in when he wanted. The first time he tried it, he shifted from one foot to the other for a few seconds and jumped, not knowing exactly what would happen. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands. They were close, similar long fingers, but not quite right. His body was thinner, more cut, and his face felt different. He called for a break and made his way to a place with a mirror. When he cautiously chanced a glance, he was shocked to see Austin's face looking back at him. It worked. He knew possession was possible, he was a ghost after all, but he'd never tried it before this. After the scene was finished, he decided the experience was so satisfying, he'd try it again. So he did. Over and over again throughout the filming process Austin would wake up with no memory of doing certain scenes. He figured out quickly what was happening and didn't seem to mind, so when he turned on set and saw Elvis, he wasn't even alarmed. Elvis had been surprised to be seen after all these years, but it didn't take the two long to strike up a friendship.

By the time Elvis noticed you, he'd been talking to Austin and possessing him regularly for weeks.

You come back from your morning coffee run and set the tray on a table.

"Coffee's here, guys!" You holler to everyone whose order you diligently fetched. For some reason, this time, you catch Elvis's attention. He watches, amused, as you sarcastically deliver all the coffees.

"Who is she?" He whispers to Austin.

"I'm not sure. I think her name is y/n. She gets coffee for the behind-camera guys." Austin answers nonchalantly.

"Have you actually looked at her?"

"I'm way ahead of you, man."

"You asked her out?"

"Not yet, but-"

"What are you waiting for?!" Austin looks at Elvis exasperated.

"I've been a bit busy."

"Can I?"

"Can you what?"

"Take her out." Austin laughs quietly.

"I don't know. Can you?" Elvis sighs.

"Can I use your body, I mean?"

"To go on a date? With a living girl? I'm not sure that's a reasonable plan." Elvis nods, defeated, and Austin walks back out on set to continue filming.

But Elvis can't stop watching you. He hovers around you, longing to be seen. You have an undeniable grace that has him damn-near spellbound. Austin pretends not to notice Elvis's preoccupation with you. He has plans to ask you out himself, eventually.

But Elvis gets tired of waiting. There's not too much left to film and he doesn't want to miss his chance. So one day, he jumps into Austin to film a scene during the '68 Special and just... doesn't leave. Instead, he swallows his nervousness and walks up to you at the end of the day.

"Hi. I'm... Austin." He holds a hand out for you to shake.

"Oh, gosh, I know, I'm y/n." You can't believe one of the actors knows you exist, much less is talking to you. And it's Austin Butler in black leather.

"I've been watching you. And I- okay that sounds creepy. You're just very pretty and I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to go out with me? Tonight?"

"Oh wow... tonight?" You have a bed with your name on it and a pizza you plan to order, but this is Austin Butler and he's asking you out.

"Yeah..." Elvis isn't going to take the chance that Austin might refuse to let him take you out.

"Sure? I mean. Yes. I'd love to go out with you." A warm smile spreads across Austin's face and you can't believe how relieved he seems. Truly, it's Elvis, but you don't know that.

"Okay! Great! Can I pick you up in a couple hours?" Elvis isn't sure how he'll stay in Austin for this long, but he's going to try his best.

You nod and give Austin your address. Then, you make your way home completely in awe of the fact that you have a date with Austin Butler tonight.

******

Later that night, there's a knock on your door and you put the last minute touches on your makeup and walk to it to open it. When you do, you're a little shocked to find Austin with his hair fixed like Elvis, in a suit with the shirt unbuttoned half way down his chest and a thick gold cross sitting on his sternum. For some reason, this outfit doesn't feel like him. And it's not; it's 100% Elvis, but you have no way of knowing that.

"You ready, doll?" Why does he even sound like Elvis?

"Yeah, lemme just grab my purse."

You spend the rest of the evening on one of the best first dates you've ever experienced. Conversation comes easily to both of you, and you think it's unbelievably endearing that he takes you to a diner, and a movie, and a roller skating rink.

You've never been good at roller skating, so you spend most of the time hanging on him and trying to keep your balance.

Elvis is in heaven. He hasn't had this much fun in almost 5 decades. And the feeling of your hands on his skin and your body pressed up against his, even if it's not exactly his, is something he's desperately missed. When it's time to take you home, he's dying to take you inside and feel more of you on him, but he doesn't want to push you or take advantage of you in any way. Instead, he walks you to the door and stands with you awkwardly under the awning of your apartment complex.

"This was really fun." You want to ask him inside, but you're not sure if that would be too slutty. Still, he's a movie star, he has to be used to that. Right?

"Yeah, it was." You notice his eyes flick down to your lips, so you turn your face up to signal that he can kiss you. Elvis gets suddenly nervous. He hasn't kissed anyone in a very long time. After a few seconds, you realize he's not going to kiss you, so you step back.

"Oh... I'm sorry..." Elvis wants to kick himself for missing the window.

"For what, doll?"

"Nothing, I just thought... it's nothing." He takes a deep breath and remembers who he is. Then, he reaches out and grabs you by the waist, pulling you into him. He crashes his lips into yours and kisses you deeply. It's weird to kiss with someone else's mouth, but it doesn't take him long to figure it out.

You revel in the fact that Austin Butler is kissing you. You.

After you make out on the porch for a good fifteen minutes, you pull back from the kiss and look up into his eyes.

"Do you... wanna come in...?"

"Can I?" Elvis is shocked that you'd ask that so soon. Then, he remembers that it's not 1956 anymore. 1969 happened... he was there... and women are different now.

"Yeah... if you want to..." You start to get nervous that maybe you've made him uncomfortable. "You don't have to-"

"Yes. Please. I'd like that." You nod and smile and turn to open the door. He swallows deeply as you lead him into your apartment. It's been a long time since he's kissed someone, but it's been even longer since he did this. And kissing is easier to do well without practice.

You turn to him and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom. Is it possible that Austin is shy? He seems a little nervous to be headed that way with you.

"Do you not want to do this?" You stand facing each other next to the bed and look up into his eyes as he nods fervently.

"I do. I really do. I just... haven't... in a while..."

"Oh. Well, that's okay." Elvis smiles with Austin's face. He reaches out and fiddles with your shirt on your shoulder. Then, he moves his hand up to your cheek and runs his thumb over your lips.

"I just never thought this would be possible."

"What do you mean?" Elvis's heart jumps.

"Oh, umm, just, I've been watching you for a long time. I didn't think you'd want to go out with me." You smile and Elvis relaxes. He leans in slowly and presses his lips to yours again. He's surprised by how easy it is to fall back into a rhythm with you as the kissing ramps up and his hands, Austin's hands, begin to roam over your body. Without thinking, he slides them up under your shirt, dragging them across your back. He wants to lift your shirt and pull it off, but again, he's not sure just how far you're willing to go. Seemingly reading his mind, you remove your shirt for him.

You're shocked at how shy Austin is. You assumed he'd take the lead, but he seems reluctant even to take your shirt off. You push his jacket off of his shoulders and it falls to the ground. Your fingers go to the buttons and you take his shirt off too.

"Wow..." It comes out of you as a whisper while you run your fingertips over Austin's rippling abdominal muscles. Elvis looks down at himself and flexes his stomach as you touch him. This is different, but seeing the way you look at him, he's not exactly complaining. Bodies like this weren't common in his day, but he's thankful for Austin's dedication to diet and exercise in this moment. Something about it boosts his confidence and he reaches behind your back to remove your bra, but his fingers fumble. He peeks over your shoulder and eventually figures it out, pulling your bra forward off of you and dropping it to the floor. His hands slide to your breasts hungrily and he realizes how much he's missed the softness of a woman's skin against him. He pulls you in close and his kisses reach a fever pitch as he begins to move his mouth down your body. You revel in the sensation of his tongue on your nipple, throwing your head back in pleasure.

He turns you and lays you down on the bed, scooting you backwards and crawling on top of you. You arch your back as he kisses your stomach gently, finally landing at the place between your bellybutton and the top of your skirt. He hooks his fingers under your waistline and looks up at you, blue eyes wide with lust.

"Can I?"

"Yes. Please." He smiles softly and slides your skirt down your legs, removing your shoes at the same time.

"Mmmm." He groans as he holds one of your feet in his hand and kisses your ankle. You have beautiful feet and this is just another thing Elvis has missed about being with a woman. He feels his erection throbbing where it presses against the fabric of his pants. This creates a new sense of urgency in him and he hooks your panties with one finger between your legs and drags them off, quickly tossing them to the side. Now you're completely naked and he just stares at you for a minute. He was right to take this chance. You're worth it.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're just incredibly beautiful. I don't think I've ever wanted a woman this badly." You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and your core. He's unbelievable and if he's not careful, he'll have you head over heels for him. You sit up and begin to unbutton his pants, but he stops you. "This first, honey. Come here." He lays with his head on your pillow and pulls you to him, situating your hips above his face. He puts both hands on your ass and pulls your clit to his lips.

"Oh, fuck!" You grab the headboard while he goes to work licking and sucking you like his life depends on it. His tongue makes tantalizing circles on your sensitive button and you want to scream it feels so good. Elvis can tell by your reaction that he hasn't lost his touch, even if he is technically using someone else's mouth to do it. You look down at Austin with his face buried in your pussy, eyes closed like he's truly enjoying what he's doing. He slides first one and then two fingers into you and pumps them in and out while his tongue moves on you fervently.

"Oh, God, Austin, I'm gonna cum!" For a second, he forgets that he's Austin and his eyes pop open, but he adjusts quickly as your orgasm slams into you and your walls pulse around his fingers. Electricity explodes in your core and shoots lightning bolts to your fingertips in exquisite waves. When you finally come back down, you fall sideways off of him and lay on the bed. He wipes his face with his hand and sits up next to you.

"How was that, doll?"

"Oh. My. God." That's all you can get out and he smiles widely. He's still got it.

He stands up next to the bed, kicks off his shoes, and drops his pants and underwear. This is the first time he's looked down at himself and seen Austin's cock. Elvis is a little in shock. Not only is it huge, it's circumcised. He hopes it'll work the same way. Before he has too much more time to think about it, though, he looks up and you're on your knees in front of him.

You hold the base of him with one hand, put the other on his ass, and lick a circle around the tip.

"Fuck, y/n." Yep, it works the same way.

You slide as much of him as you can stand into your mouth, letting him hit the back of your throat. His head falls back and his mouth opens as you continue to work on him, bouncing and sucking and running your tongue along his shaft. Elvis is in heaven with your mouth around him and as much as he never wants it to stop, he wants to feel the rest of you too. Still, he reaches down and takes a handful of your hair as you let him thrust gently into your mouth for a bit. Then, he stops and stands you up, looking down into your eyes.

"Can I make love to you?" Your heart skips. No one has ever asked you that before.

"Yes. Yes, please." You lay back down on the bed together and he lines himself up with your entrance. His heart is pounding in anticipation. It's been so long.

He begins to push into you slowly, letting you stretch to accommodate his size. You moan softly as the sensation almost overwhelms you. When he's fully filling you, he pulls back slowly and thrusts forward again, groaning at the feeling of your tightness around him. He picks up a steady pace of fucking into you and you wrap your legs around his waist. Elvis is impressed with Austin's body and his ability to thrust without getting tired. It's been a very long time since he had that kind of youthful vitality.

"Yes, yes, yes!" You cry out breathlessly as he pounds you.

"God, y/n, it's so good." He moans again and kisses you deeply, feeling his orgasm begin to build in his hips. You're teetering just on the edge too, breasts bouncing with his rhythm. His cock is perfect to hit just the right spot inside you as he drives into you.

You feel him tense up as he slams into you one last time, throwing you over the edge into oblivion as well. You throb around him as he shoots you full of his warmth and shudders his hips into you. He relaxes and sets his head on your shoulder, both of you sweating and breathing heavily. After a few seconds, he slides out of you and lays next to you on the bed.

He's dying to tell you that he's Elvis and not Austin. He wants you to know that it's him. But he's afraid that would freak you out too much, so he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he turns to look at you and you look back into Austin's face.

"That was amazing." You say, smiling. He smiles in return.

"It really was."

"Do you wanna... stay...?" You feel like you should know better than to ask, but you do anyway. Elvis knows he can't hold onto Austin when he sleeps, though. He'd be shocked to wake up here with you with no memory of how he got here.

"I wish I could, doll, but I can't. I'd love to do this again sometime, though."

"Yeah?" He rolls over and runs his fingertips down the side of your face.

"Yes. I really would." He leans in and kisses your lips softly. Then, he sighs deeply and rolls over, getting out of bed and putting his clothes on. It doesn't seem like he wants to leave, but he does anyway. He kisses you at the door again, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I'll see you soon, doll." You think to yourself that you'll see him tomorrow at work, but you don't say that part out loud. He walks through the door and you close it softly behind him.

He stays in Austin just long enough to get him home and in bed, laying there for a bit thinking about the encounter he just had with you. Elvis hasn't had a better day in over 50 years. Finally, his eyes close and Elvis pulls himself out, letting Austin sleep.

He's nervous about how he'll react when he finds out Elvis used his body to go out with you, but what's done is done. And he has every intention of begging to let it happen again.

******

Until part 2. Thoughts?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.). 

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.) 

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy. 

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Twitter ー Ayato Sakamaki [2020 Compilation]

–> This post includes all tweets posted on the official Rejet Twitter account for Ayato Sakamaki (@DiaLoverAyatoS) in 2020.

Shuu l Reiji l Kanato l Laito l Subaru l Ruki l Kou l Yuma l Azusa l Carla l Shin l Kino

February 14, 2020 (Valentine’s Day)

> Isn’t there anything interesting going on?

> If there’s a chocolates day, they should make an ‘all-you-can-eat-Takoyaki’ day as well!

> Make some Takoyaki too! (@Reiji)

March 14, 2020 (White Day)

> Yo. What’s with the big smile? Did you expect something?

> Fine. I happen to be in a good mood today, so I’ll share my feelings with you.

> The time we spent together, to me they’re moments that go by in the blink of an eye, but I haven’t forgotten a single one of them. That’s just how special of a woman you are to me.

–> I think they are referring to how Vampires experience time different from humans as well, since they live for so much longer. So what may seem like a long time for a human, is only a very small fraction of their lifespan for a Vampire.

March 22, 2020 (His birthday)

> Yo. You’ve prepared this stuff, thinkin’ of me the whole way through, right? ...Hehe, way to go! I don’t give a damn ‘bout birthdays, but I didn’t hate gettin’ to spend time with you like this. But, don’t think this is the end. Think of me every day, not just on my birthday. You can do that, right?

April 1, 2020 (April Fools)

> Oi, Chichiari!

--> This is a pun on Ayato’s nickname ‘Chichinashi’, meaning ‘having breasts’. So the opposite of a Chichinashi, basically.

> Idiooot! That was obviously a lie!

> Imma do it as well! Gather everyone in the living room! (@Reiji)

> The living room’s up first! Brace yourself! I’ll give you the scare of a lifetime!*

--> Literally he says he will spook you so hard, your heart will stop beating.

April 30, 2020

> Oi, Chichinashi! Take a look at this!

> I’m in this video, see? Somebody filmed us and uploaded the footage on some website!

> Whatcha think? I’m lookin’ pretty handsome, right? Guess this makes me a star as well!

> Let’s watch it together. I won’t let you say you’re too busy.

July 7, 2020 (Tanabata)

> A raise in my pocket money! #TanabataWishes

August 15, 2020

> I won!

> This popsicle’s a winner!

--> A lot of popular popsicle brands in Japanese have ‘win’ or ‘lose’ written on the stick. If you win, you get another one for free. So Ayato literally says ‘it’s a winning popsicle stick’

> Gonna go get one more right away!

October 15, 2020

> I just remembered we had homework

> Oi, Chichinashi! Do it in my place!

October 16, 2020

> You mean the pineapple juice? It wasn’t that good. (@Subaru)

> Oh come on, a sip should be fine, right? If you didn’t want anyone else to drink it that badly, you should have written ‘Nubaru*  on there.

--> This is an ongoing joke on DL Twitter. Subaru found the word ‘Nubaru’ (ヌバル) written on his coffin as a prank. It resembles スバル after all, with the katakana for ‘su’ (ス) and ‘nu’ (ヌ) looking so similar.

October 20, 2020 (DL x Mayla Classic)

> Yo.

> The thing you’re lookin’ for isn’t here. It was hidden here, but I moved it just now.

> You wanna know where I put it? Take a guess. If you get it right, I’ll give it to you.

> The hint is…The place where we first met. Come on, get goin’.

–> Move to the living room

> And? Found it?

–> Step towards the couch

> Exactly. On top of this sofa. We first saw each other here, didn’t we? You mistakingly thought my heart had stopped…Well, who cares ‘bout the past.

–> Find the earrings

> Whatever, just try puttin’ them on. Suckin’ your blood while you’re decorated in bright red might not be all too bad.

October 31, 2020 (Halloween)

> Screw your candy! Get it outta my face! Instead you should hurry and let me pull a prank on you!

November 10, 2020

> I’ve got a takoyaki bento today!

> The cold takoyaki was a sticky mess, it was disgusting.

December 18, 2020

> It’s hella freezing. ...Right, on a day like this, we gotta go get some pipin’ hot takoyaki! Get those legs movin’, Chichinashi! I’ll even hold your hand!

December 19, 2020

> Come on! Make up your mind already. You’re the one who wanted to drop by a cafe so don’t make me wait! I’ll...Oh! I’m choosing this drink. The red color reminds me of blood, it fits me perfect! You should order this one too. You’ve got no other choices, understood?

December 24, 2020 (Christmas)

> Stop makin’ a damn fuss, but shut up and let me bite you. It’s my Christmas present, right? You’ll get to feel good too anyway. Let’s have a blast together. Come on, scoot closer.

[yourcoffindoor]

Bulletproof Heart Pt.4

AN: YAY its finally here! Thank you so much to everyone for reading and for your patience! This is the final part of this series. enjoy <3

"Y/N?" a gentle tap on the wall outside your bunk. It was Liz. "We have an interview with Spin in like 5 minutes."

You groaned and pulled your wrinkled sheet over your face, turning away from the sound of her voice, soft and hesitant as though she were afraid the slightest noise would shatter you further.

"You guys go without me," was your muffled reply, "I've hogged the spotlight enough anyway."

" Are you sure? They'll probably be pissed the lead singer isn't there."

"Then let them be pissed."

Liz lingered in silence for a moment before deciding it was best to leave you be. It had been a couple of weeks since you'd found out about Alex's little foray into filmmaking, and a gush of old trauma had emerged new again. All the work you had put in to rebuild yourself and to forge a new life had all but crumbled away in a matter of minutes, and you isolated yourself in response.

You stopped leaving the bus because of the stares. Once rumors had gotten out that there was video footage of you doing the deed, people seemed to glance over at you before whispering insidious somethings among their companions. You didn't need to hear their conversations to know just how humiliating their words were. Things took a turn for the worse when reporters began to have the audacity to ask you about the video, probing into if you were in a relationship with Alex. It was then that you realized he had sabotaged your moment, your success, and made it all about him.

You began to miss a few shows, something you had never done before. But you just couldn't bring yourself to give a damn. Your bandmates kept their distance, realizing you needed your space; but their concern was permanently painted on their faces.

"Hey Y/N," Gavin spoke hesitantly one afternoon, "You know...Gerard's been asking about you."

The sound of his name made your heart beat quicker. You hadn't made an effort to see him since the video came out. "Oh?"

"Yeah he really wants to see you. He's worried about you...we all are."

"I'm fine." you said curtly. "I mean, tell him not to. I'm fine. I just need to be alone."

"You sure? I think some social interaction might do you some good--"

"Gavin, I want to be alone. Please."

He merely nodded before heading out the bus door, finally giving you what you asked for.

Out of respect for the fans, you managed to pick yourself for performances again, but it felt like you were merely going through the motions, your passion nearly extinguished. You became angry at yourself for feeling this way, like you were giving up on yourself and your goals. Between sadness and guilt, there was no bright side you could look to as an escape.

Then, you ran into Alex.

This was what you had really been dreading. You knew how smug he must be, knowing he must've gotten under your skin, his favorite place to be. You'd snuck out of the bus for some much needed fresh air, but you didn't need to go far before you heard your name being called.

"Y/N! wait up!" a chill shot down your spine. You didn't turn around. Instead, you began walking faster.

"Hey, hey, hold on a second--" He grasped your arm, but you pulled it back so quickly it seemed to surprise him.

"Leave me the fuck alone."

"C'mon don't be mad."

You couldn't help but laugh at the nerve of his comment. "How could I not be? I didn't even know you had filmed me. I didn't get to agree to any of this! And then you decide to make it public? And you," you said, angry tears building up to a waterfall, pushing a fist into his chest, "you are a nightmare that won't go away! Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Alex was calm-- So calm that it only angered you further. "You're thinking about this the wrong way. The publicity could be great--I mean people are already eating it up. They love us together. Honestly? I did us both a favor." He smirked, making your skin crawl. "But there's something else, Y/N. Something you should remember." He leaned forward, speaking into your ear in a low, serpentine voice, "This is what happens when you think you can go off and make something of yourself without me."

You were speechless, your stomach dropping as if it had been kicked. "You're disgusting. I'm leaving."

"Going to see your friend Gerard? Hey, ask him what he thinks of our movie for me. I'm making another one with some My Chem fans anyway." He spoke to you with your back turned, already walking away, but you could hear him smiling.

You halted in your steps, torn between slapping Alex across the face, crying, or simply walking away. After a deep breath and far more self control than you knew you possesed, you chose the latter, swiftly walking back towards your bus to isolate once more.

****

The sun was revolting.

That was the first thought when Gavin flung open the curtain that marked the border of your bunk, your own personal ecosystem that no one had dared enter for the past few weeks. He kneeled on your mattress and reached over you to open the blinds on your wall, and you winced as the sun struck your face like a laser.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N!"

"Gavin, its August."

"Well it might as well be Christmas when you hear what I have to tell you."

You groaned and rubbed your eyes. "What is it? I'm prepared to be underwhelmed."

"I didn't even need to open that window! There's that bright and sunny optimism we've come to know and love."

You hit him with a pillow. "Out with it."

"Alex got--"

"ALEX GOT KICKED OFF WARPED TOUR!" Liz shouted, bursting into your bunk from out of nowhere.

"What the hell Liz! I wanted to tell her!"

"Too slow!"she teased.

Your head was reeling. "Wait, wait, wait....what? How?"

"Don't know all the details but it definitley had to do with his...activities. Turns out he was asking underage fans to flash him and his band to get backstage and shit. Someone snitched I guess, thank god. The whole band's been kicked off and banned from Warped tour.

For the first time in forever, you laughed.

You practically cackled. You laughed so much that it felt like you couldn't stop.

"I think we broke her." Liz muttered to Gavin.

"That's fucking amazing." you said, wiping tears from your eyes.

"It is, and its good to hear you laugh again." Gavin said. "Come out with us later, to celebrate."

"I will sometime, but I'm still not quite ready. People are gonna try to ask me questions, I just know it. I'm still not up for it."

Liz and Gavin nodded. "We'll be here when you are."

***

Later that afternoon a few quick knocks sounded from the bus door. You debated getting up to answer it, but human interaction was the last thing you wanted right now. There were a few more small knocks; and you able to ignore the unwanted visitor until, after a moment of silence, something slid under the door. Once you heard their footsteps disappear into the distance, you peeled yourself from your nest on the couch to investigate.

It was a white envelope with your name scrawled across the front. You hesitated for moment, wondering if another piece of your past was about to jump out and bite you. But after steeling yourself you pressed on, your fingers swiftly retrieving the mysterious contents.

You immediately smiled. It was a card with a drawing of you on the front, in a style that was unmistakably Gerard's. You were on stage wailing into the mic, confidently waving your middle finger. You couldn't help but laugh.

Fuck em all. The world needs you out there. If you're feeling up to it, come to our set tonight.

Hope to see you there.

-G

You closed the card and reveled in the much needed buzz of happiness it gave you. Gerard. You thought he would've have been angry with you since you had all but ghosted him these past few weeks, but that clearly wasn't the case. Your legs wanted to run after him, but you as you were covered in dorito dust and sadness, you decided to stay put. You'd make yourself somewhat presentable and then see their performance tonight.

***

You stood just off stage,  just hidden enough in your oversized hoodie to feel comfortable. Right before they began their set, Gerard turned and saw you, eyes widening with a glad surprise as though he hadn't thought you'd actually come. His expression quickly melted into a welcoming smile, and you couldn't help but break out into soft grin of your own.

The band greeted the crowd, already energized and cheering them on. You'd expected them to launch into a song, but instead Gerard began speaking.

"This is a special set tonight guys, because someone very important to me is here. Someone so strong, so kickass that sometimes I wonder if she's even a real fucking human being." He glanced over at you, eyes electric and impassioned, immediately i heat rise to your shrouded cheeks. "Well some asshole tried to hurt her. Tried to make her feel small. But I want her to remember she's too fucking amazing to ever let someone make her feel that way."

You could feel the sting in your eyes as tears began to build.

"And that goes for all of you out there, cause these same assholes have been messing with fans too. So if you ever see shitty ass rock dudes in shitty ass rock bands asking you to show them your tits for backstage passes, I want you to spit right in their fucking faces and yell 'FUCK YOU!”

The crowd went crazy, and you couldn't help but let out a small cheer as well, despite the tears streaming down your face.

"Y/N," Gerard breathed, "This is for you." and with that, the band launched into one of the most passionate sets you'd ever seen. You stayed for it all, loving every moment. As soon as it was finished, Gerard thanked the crowd and made a beeline off stage, directly where you had been stationed all evening.

His eyes were dancing with happiness at the sight of you, pumping with the adrenaline of performing, sweat still dripping from his dark hair. "Hi," he said,pausing for amoment as though he was holding back from so much more, "you came!"

"After the invitation I received? How could I not?"

"So you liked it?"He beamed, his cheeks, pink from exertion, reddened further. "I wanted to do like a mini comic but I ran out of time." As he grinned, fresh crimson gleamed from a small split in his lower lip. What you thought had been makeup turned out to be a genuine injury.

"You're bleeding." you observed softly.

His brows furrowed in confusion, a finger darting to his lip. He dabbed it, smearing blood onto his chin.

"Damn, again? Don't worry, it's nothing."

You didn't hesitate to grab a tissue from your pocket, step forward and gently press it against his cut. He looked down at you with affection, causing you to look away as your heartbeat picked up its pace. Instead you analyzed his face and noticed it was patterned with small bruises.

"Doesn't look like 'nothing' to me. What happened?"

It had been just the two of you speaking intimately just off stage, but crew and media began pouring through and milling about the area. You realized just how close you were standing to Gerard, and pulled your hand back when you noticed people watching. A pew passerbys patted Gerard on the back, offering their compliments of the band's performance. He quickly thanked them, barely turning his attention from you, afraid you might run off. He grabbed your hand, leading you to a quiet area.

"I may have gotten into a fight."

"What!? You don't even leave your bus, how did you get into a fight?"

"I had to. Someone very important to me was being hurt."

You stared at him for a moment, putting the pieces together in your head. Gerard knowing about the video, Alex's sudden departure from the tour...

"Gerard, you didn't."

"I did, and I'd do it again, Y/N. Besides, you can't say he didn't have an ass-kicking coming to him."

You let out a soft laugh, but your vision began to blur as tears welled. A swirl of emotions welled inside of you, tumultuous and much more than you had anticipated feeling tonight. You were touched that Gerard was so concerned about you. Embarrassed that he had to get involved at all. Glad that he did, after all.

At the sight of your tears, he stepped closer. It was him now who tenderly wiped your face, brushing away stray tears with his thumb.

"Jesus, Y/N, I can stand a few punches to the face but I can't stand seeing you cry."

That was all you needed to hear to get oceans pouring from your eyes instead of streams. You embraced Gerard, burying your head into his shoulder. Gerard folded his arms around you in response.

"Y/N I want to tell you...I mean I hope you know...just how important you are to me and how I feel about you. You deserve to be happy."

"You're so nice to me that I almost don't know how to process it." you admitted beneath an awkard, tear-ridden laugh. "Thank you. You need to know you're important to me too. I..I just--" You planted an aggressive kiss on his cheek, unable to express your myriad of emotions in words.

"There, I think that expresses everything."

"Everything?"Gerard asked, brushing a strand oh hair behind your shoulder, "There's a few points I'd like to add."

His hand cupped the side of your face and your lips met, softly at first, a salty mixture of tears and coppery blood. The kiss quickly deepened, caught in your own world, unable to get enough of the taste of each other. That is until Gerard winced and pulled back, blood dripping from his lower lip. His cut had only deepened from your exertions.

"We'll have to postpone this until that's better." you said, handing him another tissue.

"Damn. Kinda regretting that fight now." He laughed.

"Don't regret it. Besides, its not an entirely bad look on you." you teased.

A bashful expression crossed his face as he brushed his hair back from his face.

"I hate to say it but I have a press thing to do in a few minutes with the guys. Meet me in my bus later?" He said, offering another peck on your cheek.

"I'd be crazy not to." you replied, ambushing him with one final hug before he walked off.

You realized something immediately. Despite everything, the heartache, the surprises--you regretted nothing. And as you lifted your fingers to your lips, still buzzing from impact, you knew this had been a tour that changed your life, after all.

Tomorrow, you'd be back onstage, ready to begin again.

Taglist: @pacifymebby​

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 23

Bio dad Bruce Wayne month 2020

.............. (:

First< Previous > Next

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

“How long were we gone?” Marion asks her, as they run through the halls back to class.

“Ahhhh,” The Akuma hadn’t been that hard but it still took time, “forty-three minutes,”

“It’s not that bad,” Marion shrugs, slipping as they turn the corner.

“Not that good either,”

“Now what would make you say that?”

“Marinette! Marion!” Lila’s shrinking greets them the second they open the classroom door, “Why would you leave me to do all the work?”

“Oh I see,” Marion whispers to her, she gives an ‘I told you so’ look.

“They had already completed more work in the three minutes they were here than you have in the past forty,” Damian sneers, Marinette watches with amusement as Lila visibly forces down the snarl.

“It’s meant to be a group project,” Lila’s lip quivers as they reluctantly take a seat at the table.

“Is that why you’ve spent the whole time talking to others and stealing their ideas?” Damian raises a brow, and hot damn if only she could film this.

“I wasn't stealing them, they wanted to help me out since my group abandoned me” Lila turns ‘innocent’ eyes to the tables near them, “Right guys?”

“I never said you could use our ideas,” One of the Gotham students looks upset as she talks.

“Plus you didn’t actually talk about the project only yourself,”  The other says, focusing on the worksheet in front of them.

“You could have at least tried to join another group,” Damian points out, gaming back Lila’s attention as she tries to defend herself, something about not wanting to upset the twins.

“Do you guys not like Lila?” Mylene, who was put with the students asks.

“Not really,” The second one shrugs, looking up from his worksheet for Mylene, “all she does is talk about herself and try to guilt you into feeling sorry for her,”

“Huh, I guess” Mylene shrugs, Marinette doubted they could break her out of Lila’s web, “Well Lila has a lot of achievement even with her disabilities,”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Mylene looks shocked at the first Gotham students' tone.

“Mm, you get kind of good at reading people growing up in Gotham,” The other says, leaning back in his seat, “I would avoid her when walking down the street,”

Marinette looks away from their conversation, not wanting to see that look on Mylene’s face any longer. Instead, she focuses back on Damian and Lila still locked in a heated argument.

“Someone looks like their about to murder Lila,”  

“Oh sorry, I’ll reel it in,” Marion says deadpan, not looking up from his paper.

“Not you, him,” Marinette nudges him, making him look towards the pair.

“Oh,” Marinette can only sigh as a grin splits his face, “You want me to handle it?”

“Are you going to diffuse the situation or focus the blood lust on yourself?” Marinette asks instead.

“Hahaha, don’t be ridiculous,” Marion’s grin widens as he bounces over to the pair, leaning against Damian’s head, “Hey Dami,”

“Cheng-Dupain,” Damian tries to glare at him, giving Lila the chance to escape, naturally going crying to Rose and Alya, “Why do you insist on clinging to me?”

“Ummm, cause it annoys you why else?” Marion leans over to get in his face, not shrinking away from the scowl.

“Dupain-Cheng can you explain his behavior?” Damian turns to her, even under the weight of Marion.

“No, but he backs off if you hit him hard enough,” Marinette slides into the chair across from him, curiously his group members nowhere to be seen.

“Nette how could you!” Marion places a hand on his heart, “I am insulted you would think so little of my dedication,”

“So I cannot remove him by force?” Damian asks despondently.

“No, he’s like a leech-”

“Hey!”

“-He’ll fall off when he wants to,” Marinette shrugs, fiddling with her backpack.

“Everyone is so mean to me Dami!” Marion collapses against him, although he doesn't sag under the weight, “Don’t you feel sorry for me?”

“I do not,” Damian tuts, focusing on his book, “Do not call me Dami,”

“I’ll stop calling you Dami when you call me what I want,”

“And what would that be?” Damian asks with disinterest.

“Big brother,” Marinette gives him a warning look, just getting a wink in return.

“Absolutely not,” Damian snaps, trying again to push him off, not that Marion will budge, “We aren't even related, Dupain-Cheng tell him-”

“Big sister, call me big sister,” The look of utter betrayal on his face was completely worth it.

“I thought you had more sense than to feed into this rumor,”

Won't be a rumor for long

“Think of it as reverse psychology then,” Marinette shrugs instead, that news would come later today.

“That is unlikely to work,”

“What if we called you little brother then?” Marion leans back over into his line of sight.

“ No ,”

“No fun,” Marion shakes his head.

“No fun at all,” Marinette agrees.

“Cheng-Dupain you are an idiot,”

“Is that so?” Marion grins, getting up but not before ruffling Damian’s hair.

They watch as he practically skips to the front of the room handing a stack of papers over to the teacher with a flourish. They read over it with a frown that slowly melts into approval. Even if they can’t hear they can tell Marion is being congratulated, confirmed by him walking back seconds later with a smug grin. While the rest of the class rushes to finish off the project.

“What now little brother?”

“Impressive,” Damian's tone doesn't betray any sense of being impressed, “Of course I finished it in the first fifteen minutes of class,”

“Dami, I haven't even been here for fifteen minutes!” Marion cries out, taking a seat at the table instead.

“Tt” Damian reluctantly admits, “... that is true,”

“Are you conceding defeat?”

“ No ,”

“I think that's a yes,” Marion nods wisely under Damian’s glare, pointing to Marinette, “Nette write this down,”

“I hereby officially declare Marion the winner of the first challenge issued,” Marinette recites, doing her best loopy handwriting in her sketchbook, “As such he has the ability to bring this up every time Damian calls him an idiot, this will be valid for three years,”

“I never issued a challenge,” Damian’s face twists up, still looking betrayed that Marinette would go along with Marion’s game, but it looked like Damian needed some fun in his life anyway.

“Is that really how you want to spend your objection?” She asks instead, rolling up the paper and handing it to Marion.

“... Three years is excessive,” Damian corrects, just as the bell rings.

“Ops too late, bells going!” Marion jumps up before he can protest further, “Alright let’s go!”

With that Marion starts pushing Damian out of the classroom. They get halfway out of the building before Damian breaks off to grab something before leaving. The twins loiter around in the empty halls while Damian takes his sweet time.

“Uh-oh, Satan's envy approaching,” Marinette doesn't need to look down the hall to know Lila is headed their way.

“Hi Lila, can we help you?” She asks politely, but not polite enough to look at her as she does.

“Just because these stupid Gotham kids don’t believe me don’t think anything has changed,” Lila finally release all the spite that had built up over class into her tone. At this point, Marinette was willing to bet they were a form of stress relief for her.

“Are they stupid?” Marion considers, leaning against the wall, “They don’t believe you, I would guess that's the bare minimum of intelligence,”

“Everything will go back to normal at the end of the week!” Lila shrieks, “Well leave Gotham, I’ll make up some lie about you and everyone will hate you again!”

“Lila, what makes you think we care anymore?” Marion drawls, honestly they had much bigger things to worry about today than Lila, “It’s been so long I have no desire to be their friend again,”

“Then I’ll have to step it up!” Lila smiles nastily, Marinette catches Damian at the end of the hall phone out and has to keep the smile off her face, “Everyone will hate you so much they’ll really bully you and make your lives miserable! Do all the things I say you do to me!”

“Like push you down the stairs?” Marinette raises a brow, subtly nudging Marion to look at Damian.

“Yes,” Lila crosses her arms, looking smug.

“And destroy your property?” Marion catches on, even braving a little wave to the camera.

“Yes,” Lila scowls like they’re stupid for not understanding.

“Spread nasty rumors about you?”

“Yes!” She snaps at Marinette.

“Every time you’ve ever lied that we were mean to you?”

“Yes!”

“Great,” Marinette claps her hands, looking over to Damian. “You got all that?”

“I did indeed,” Lila pales as he comes up behind her, “I suggest you keep to yourself and not influence my decision on what to do with this footage more so,”

“I- you can’t- wait!”

“Get out of my sight,” Damian scowls, it being a lot more effective on her than Marion as Lila scuttles away.

“Dami have I told you that I love you?” Marion grins, giving Damian a side hug.

“Don’t be melodramatic,” Damian tries to push him off but Marion just latches on tighter.

“I loooovvvvveeeeee you soooooooo much,”

“That's it I’m no longer sending this footage to your class,”

“Dami nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo,”

Marion somehow, somehow manages to keep it up until they reach the car. Alfred promptly forces Marion to drink a glass of water much to Damian's relief. Since Marion had ruined his voice with his little stunt there wasn't anyone to fill the silence. Marinette kept trying to distract herself, looking out the window and fidgeting with her clothes, they were in for quite the show, which would be great if they weren’t the main attraction.

Marinette can see Damian keep glancing over at her. She can see how he goes to say something several times before stopping himself. It breaks her heart to see him become more downcast the longer they ignore him. She looks to Marion for support, but he just taps his fingers to an erratic beat. He meets her eye just grimacing, she nods relieving the pressure from him. The atmosphere in the car grows stifling on the too-long journey to Wayne Manor. Marion practically leaps out of the car before the car even rolls to a stop.

Marinette follows Damian out of the car, watching as he walks more stiffly to the manor. She follows without the easy silence they usually have. They are guided to a room where everyone was waiting, technically family or not Bruce had given them a brief of every last one, and had likely done the same for them.

“What's going on?” Is Jason's immediate question, Selina slips into the room behind them.

“Is this about the rumor?” Tim asks, papers in one hand coffee in the other.

“Yes!” Marion points at him, nervous energy coming through his erratic movements, “And no,”

“It's really less of a rumor and more a very lucky guess,” Or unlucky depending on how this goes , Marinette adds privately.

“…. What?” Dick asks confused, everyone else either in thought or with dawning realization/horror.

Bruce slides a sheet of paper forward, on it a genetics test she isn't going to ask how he got a hold of.

“WHAT!” is chorused across the room, making Marinette flinch at the noise.

“Welcome to the family,” Dick pulls the two into a group hug, and is this what Damian feels like when Marion hangs off of him? The big brother hug?

“Wait... but who…” Tim trails off, looking far too tired for this conversation.

“Selina,” Bruce looks uncomfortable with all eyes snapping to them.

“Of course,” Jason mutters with a surprising amount of venom, knuckles white.

“This is unacceptable!” Is Damian’s outcry hands slamming onto the DNA test, she can feel Marion flinch beside her.

“How long have you known?” Dick turns hurt puppy dog eyes to Bruce, the hurt behind it making even Marinette’s stomach churn.

“What about-” Jason cuts himself off, glancing at the twins mysteriously.

“Excuse me” The twins jump at Alfred’s voice talking quietly to them, they get released by Dick who goes to Damian, getting brushed off, “But it may be best to give them all some time to process,”

They nod, slipping out of the room with the butler, leaving behind a mess of yelling as the door closes. They stand outside in silence for a moment before Marion breaches it.

“Well… that went well,”

“Ah Patrol the perfect place to ignore feelings and take them out on other people,” Marion stretches, looking over Gotham city. Marinette shakes her head at his antics, focusing instead on the fight in the alley below.

“Seems like we’re not the only ones,” She watches as Robin tears through the goons one by one, alone with violence she hasn't seen from him yet. Marion looks down as well, being the first willing to get in between the angry Robin and his angst.

“Hey there little bird,” Songbird drops down into the alley, Robin doesn't even spare the two a glance, “Let's try not to give the doctors a harder time than usual kay? I mean it’s Monday no one wants to deal with that,”

“It’s Tuesday,” Robin smashes another face in as if the date was the main complaint about what he was doing.

“Right, regardless, what's up?” Sparrow moves forward to take down the last thug in a much… nicer way.

“Nothing,” They both match him with equal stares of disbelief until he caves, “... my position is being challenged,”

“For Robin?” Songbird asks, something in Robin’s posture gives him away, “I know we joked about the name but we weren’t-”

“Not you,” He snaps, grappling hook taking him out the alley.

“Civilian life then?” Sparrow guesses, following him onto the rooftops, “We know a thing or two about that,”

Robin ignores them speeding up to run across Gotham. They let him for a while going to a spot that had a great view of the city. Marionette nods at Songbird when Robin lands on a gargoyle.

“I don’t know who they are, so I can’t speak for them,” Songbird lands in front, cutting off the best exit for Robin to jump to the next building, ignoring his look of irritation, “But I know you’re amazing and skilled enough not to be replaced,”

“Doesn't matter, that's just the way things go,” Sparrow lands behind them, crossing her arms as Robin seems to debate with himself, “Besides... it’s not just regarding skill,”

“Did you talk to them about it?” She asks, he pivots around to look at her, or rather glare, “Do you even know they want to take your place?”

“... No,”

“Alright then, just consider that maybe they’re not trying to hurt you,” Songbird rests a hand on his shoulder, which he surprisingly allows. He guides Robin to sit down as they do, looking over the city from atop the gargoyle.

“... This is how all the other Robins have been replaced,” He says after a time.

“And what? After that they all went ‘oh well guess it’s time to live a quiet life’,” Songbird’s comment lessens Robins frown, it might even be able to be classified as a smile for him.

“No, of course not,”

“Then there's no need to worry,” Songbird shrugs, kicking his legs no fear for the street far below him. “If you do get replaced, and I don’t think you will,” Sparrow adds quickly, “I have no doubt you will become something even greater,”

“... I’m meant to become Batman, it’s my birthright, and now it’s being challenged,” Robin reveals likely fatal information in the wrong hands, she prided herself in the trust that he thought they were the right hands.

“Again, talk to them about it,” Marinette suggests, rubbing a small circle into his shoulder.

“... They don’t even know?” To that Songbird bursts with laughter, offense crossing Robin's face.

“They don’t know then why are you panicking?” He laughs, lessening the tension in the air, “You’re worried they’re going to claim a title they don’t even know about,”

“....” Robin goes silent after that and they let him mull it over for some time. Marinette can tell Marion is judging when it’s best to pull him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Heard you beat Sparrow on the swings,” He says randomly, looking out over the city, “Bet I could top you,”

“Yeah right,” Robin scoffs, relaxing a bit as he is broken from his thoughts.

“Well you see I have a secret,” Songbird conspires in a soft tone, despite literally no one being around to hear.

“And what would that be?” Robin sounds condescending, but she picks up the hint of keenness underneath it all.

“Singing,” His grin gives Robin pause.

“First of all that's a horrible strategy, putting energy towards singing instead of swinging,” Robin decides after a minute, “Second you’re horrible at secrets,”

I’ll have you know I’m an excellent secret keeper,” Songbird stands, ruffling Robins hair despite the look of indignation he gives,  “So rest assured this conversation stays between us,”

“... All of Gotham is going to know by the end of the night aren't they?” Robin gives Sparrow a flat look, she smiles.

“Yep,”

“HEy!”

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

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd @trippingovermyfeet

[qvid-pro-qvo]

iii. the dinner date.

ocean’s eleven au, aaron hotchner x female!reader. the dinner date.

inspiration from this prompt. some of the dialogue is taken directly from the film. 

i. // ii. // iii. // iv. // v. // vi. // vii.

-

it’s morning. that’s what hotch sees when he blinks awake.

there’s an upside to infiltrating a five-star hotel and casino you mean to rob, and that’s that the beds are often perfect, and sunlight comes through the windows at the ideal time of day. early enough that the visitor doesn’t feel like the day is wasted, but late enough to encourage going down to the floor, hitting a couple of rounds after a much-too-expensive brunch. 

aaron hotchner is not the target demographic. he knows too much about the behind-the-scenes of this particular place to linger in it, but he is... fond of the bed all the same. there’s something about a hotel bed, the way the sheets feel against his skin, that makes everything feel, at the very least, okay. after all, there’s no personal history in a hotel. there’s only what you wake up to do and fall asleep doing. mistakes left behind for the housekeeping to wash away.

and god knows he has a lot of mistakes to wash away. 

he sits up. moves to the bathroom, to the shower. dresses in a decent suit, because anything less would make him stand out the same way anything more would, and his job isn’t to stand out. his job is to relax, and observe, and remain behind the scenes until he needs to step in. by the time he looks in the mirror, his armor is on, and the sun is a bit too high in the sky for his liking, but he quickly makes his way to the adjoining room, where dave and some of the others are lingering. 

“what’s the problem?” he immediately asks. because alvez and simmons are here, and they shouldn’t be here. they should be on the floor, causing a distraction, because that’s what they do. that’s the plan. 

“i don’t know, boss. garcia said to wait, so i waited,” alvez tells him, shrugging, which earns him a hit from simmons. 

“oh, so garcia said?” simmons rolls his eyes. “i told you we should’ve gone. you know jareau and lewis are waiting for us.” 

“and get caught? come on, man, that’s stupid -” 

“you’re stupid -” 

“hey,” rossi says, firm, and the two of them stop shoving and just glare. hotch just looks between them, finally meeting rossi’s eyes for a casual, silent conversation. 

rossi just smirks. 

you hired them. 

yeah. he did. 

he turns to the other person in the room, gives her a steady gaze. “garcia. what’s the problem?” 

she’s fidgety. hands playing with a flamboyant pen that matches her extravagant necklace. she forces herself to stand out, and it’s why her best work is behind the scenes. “foyet doesn’t want anyone touching what he’s got,” she says. “obviously. so the only way for someone to get in is to get me a hardline wired. that way we have control of visual and audio. it gets us a secure and steady in, rather than me having to fight foyet’s firewalls every time i want to change camera angles, or replace a video - “

hotch lifts his hand to stop her. he doesn’t need the details. he just needs to know if it’s feasible. “so. a hardline would get you what you want?” 

“if we want to finish this recon, yes. it’s the only way for me to get all of the sightlines we need.” she looks frustrated, but lifts her chin to look at him anyway, dips it in a nod. “sir.” 

so hotch thinks. he thinks, because he’s the idea man, and when he nods, it makes garcia raise her brow.

“sir?” 

“get changed. you’ll go in yourself. dave will get you a uniform, and you’ll install the hardline. alvez and simmons will provide the distraction, which was their... original goal, and you will go in and get what you need.” 

her eyes widen, and had been progressively growing to the size of dinner plates during his plan. “sir, i’m not... i’m not meant to be out there. in the field. in the casino. i’m supposed to be here, behind my screen, looking from a distance -” 

he offers her some vague reassurance, with a smile and a hand on her shoulder. “and you will be. as soon as you finish, you’ll be back here, but for right now, what we need is that direct wiring into the system, and i don’t trust these two to get what you need.” 

that gets the attention of the men, who both lift their gaze to glare at their boss. but it’s not a real glare, just like hotch’s slight is not a real slight, and eventually it gets sorted. aaron steps back and watches the inevitable happen, watches alvez and simmons shove each other again on their way out the door. he rolls his eyes, looks at dave again, before taking his own leave. 

“where are you going?” rossi asks, moving towards the bar as garcia sits silent. new for her, with the new role, as hotch starts to move out of the room with a purpose. because hotch is through with watching, after a moment, when another plan springs to mind, another moment formulating in hs brain. 

“going to check on lewis, prentiss, and morgan,” he calls back. “and then i have some... business.” 

hotch and rossi work because they have trust. so there’s no questions, just a brow raise, a nod. 

“leave them be, aaron,” rossi calls out after him, which gets no reply. after all, no one else needs to know that it’s not morgan and prentiss and lewis he’s keeping an eye on, and it’s not alvez and simmons he’s tailing. 

leaving hotch to take care of... business. 

-

it’s evening. two days until their plan kicks into action. but hotch’s mind isn’t on the upcoming heist. no. his mind and his eyes are on you. 

after all, prentiss, playing the big spender, has foyet’s attention. alvez and simmons are working the security, the ins and outs of the place, especially after getting garcia settled in.. reid is on foyet, marking his every move, and jareau and garcia are getting the looped footage for the big day. lewis is at one of the tables, dealing good hands, learning that system.

it works. the team works. 

because while foyet is preoccupied with satisfying a vital customer, it means that he’s late to dinner. and at 7:16, hotch can see the way your head tilts to the side, just a little, the way your eyes start to scan the restaurant with a purpose. his eyes trace the line of your dress, your back dotted with beauty marks that he once had the privilege to put his lips on. 

a privilege he lost. threw away. tossed aside. 

he comes up from behind. walks with slow, deliberate steps, an unconscious attempt to mirror foyet’s gait, and as he moves close the burden of tension in you shoulders releases. you’re smiling, because your ears lift, ever so slightly, and when you turn to face him he pretends for a moment that it’s all for him. 

“one minute late. for a moment there i thought i’d have to start a search...” 

but the smile’s gone. you see him, and your vision goes a shade of red, surely, because your beautiful smile turns into a mouth agape. brows furrowing, eyes wide. your hand clutches your clutch, nails digging into the bejeweled bag, and hotch tries not to think about how in love with you he is but finds himself falling all over again. 

“...party.” 

he says your name. gently, like it’s the word of god. “i got out,” is what he follows it up with. not exactly the smoothest opening line. 

“you got out?” you’re still shocked to see him, so your voice is weak.

“of prison.” 

realization settles over you like a veil, closing you off. “aaron.” 

his given name. the only person who says it much anymore is dave. but in your mouth, it’s the only one that fits. 

shock turned into realization, which is now morphing into indignation. it plays out like a symphony on your face, and he moves to take a seat on your table, looking towards the waiter. he waves him down. “whiskey, and a whiskey.” he pinches his fingers, showing the sizes he wants, turning back to you with an elbow on the table.

there’s no more vulnerability on you. his eyes trace the line of your dress, meeting your eyes with a smile playing on your lips. 

“it’s good to see you,” he offers, but you don’t take the bait. 

“you shouldn’t be here.” 

“i got parole. as long as i call...” 

“i mean here, aaron. at this table. sitting down.” 

there’s faux and real hurt in his gaze as he sits back, your glasses set in front of the two of you gently. “so. no time for old friends?” 

“believe it or not, the less time spent with you the better.”

you lean back. lounging almost, in your chair, like you belong. your chin is raised, meeting his eyes, defiant, and he just sighs. leaning forward to take a drink of the amber liquid.

he didn’t think it’d be easy. bringing you back to him. but damn, if he didn’t think it would be easier. looking you in the eye and realizing he lost so much more than he realized. the room feels like it’s disappearing, and the only thing is the two of you sitting and this table. 

but he pretends. he’s good at that. offers a small smile, a signature of his, and he watches as you tense at the sight that used to bring you so much... comfort. “so you think that foyet is the person who deserves your time? you don’t know who he is. if you think you’re free from a liar and a thief -”

the look you shoot him is nothing short of furious. “i think i’m free from you. and george... george cares about me. which is more than you ever did.” 

he leans back in his seat, too, and looks you over. looks over your dress, the way it shines, the pretty blue, and tries not to reason that you chose blue because he told you once that it was his favorite color on you. because you were more than that now. separate from him. no matter how much he wished it different. 

“the museum upstairs looks great.” his mouth feels dry, but he manages to put something hard in his tone. “tell me, what’s the differnce, between monet and manet?” 

“one that you never bothered to learn,” you quip back, and your hand squeezes your bag just a little bit more. “aaron, you need to leave.” 

“and you need to listen. he doesn’t... care about you.” 

“and you’re one to talk about what it means to care about me, right? the expert?” 

aaron doesn’t know how to respond to that. he was hoping there would be some tact, but you’re doing what you’ve always done. getting to the heart of him, pulling down defenses. but he can play that game, too, looks down at your left ring finger. “what happened to your ring?” 

and because he knows you, he sees the look. the glance towards your own hand, the catch of your bottom lip between your teeth. you’re fighting something, and you must win so you can look him in the eyes once again when you say it.

“i sold it. or did you not get the papers?”

the papers. divorce papers. ones he turned over his hands a few times before walking out of the place. “i did. my last day inside.” he smirks with it, and your eyes drop, not looking at him, looking at almost anything else. 

“i told you i’d write,” you finally whisper. with a sigh, you release your clutch, and glance behind you. waiting for a rescue. 

“i’m sorry,” he tries, earnest. he means it. he doesn’t lie anymore, like he told you, but your eyes just roll. 

“i’m sure you are, aaron. but i’m not.” 

he knows he deserves that. and yet he still pushes. leans close. this is a game, the two of you are playing, and he’s good at those. always has been. “i’m here. for you.” 

it’s the truth. bald-faced, almost as much as his lies before this whole mess, and that irony seems to settle with you, your open mouth closing tightly, jaw clenching. 

“you’re a liar, and a thief. i don’t think i should find it a habit to believe what you say.”

“i don’t do that anymore,” aaron sighs out.

“what, steal? get hunted down by the FBI?”

“no. lie to you.”

you scoff. shake your head. “so you just lie to other people to get what you want?”

“i lied to you because you were all i wanted.” he leans forward, and his hand reaches for yours. by some miracle, you don’t pull away immediately, so he can savor it. your hand in his, like old times. “i’ve changed. i’m not putting up a front anymore. this. this is who i am.”

your jaw clenches. you almost seem to think about pulling away - there’s an aborted twitch of your hand, and his hold on you is loose enough, but then... then it stops. your touch lingers.

“y/n. look at me.”

and you do. turn your eyes on him, and he feels bare. he is bare. there’s no walls up, anymore. no more armor. 

“you’re not the person i thought you were,” he says, brow furrowing as you scoff out a laugh. his thumb catches on your knuckle, and your shiver... disgust? “you’re... more. you’re you. please. come with me.”

“no, i’m just not the person you wanted me to be anymore. the girl who knew nothing because she wanted to know nothing.” your hand pulls from his with a sharp twist of your wrist, and he tries not to think too much about the ring he still has on, the one that you sold. “i didn’t ask questions, and that ended up with the FBI on my doorstep. so. i think i’ll pass.”

his eyes close. “i told you, i’m not lying to you. so i would ask you do the same for me.” 

“i’m not lying, aaron. that was your job.” 

he thinks. thinks about you, and foyet, and how it makes his stomach churn. “does he make you laugh?” 

you push forward now, making sure he hears every sound you make. “he doesn’t make me cry.” 

there’s a silence in the heartbreak. so quiet that neither of you notice the new set of footsteps apporaching the table. 

“mr. hotchner. what a... surprise.” 

the voice makes aaron tense, makes you lift your head with a smile that begs him to set you free. 

“george,” you say, and it’s warm. he reaches for your shoulder and you don’t tense, you move into the touch. 

“foyet,” hotch adds, and it’s polite. civil. cold. 

“sorry i’m late. i was settling things with an influential guest,” he returns, and when he looks at aaron hotchner, there’s something there that sends hotch a chill down his spine. “i guess i didn’t know we’d be having a guest.” 

hotch lifts from his chair, so that he’s eye to eye with the man. george foyet, in the flesh. he’s shorter, up close and personal, but his presence seems to fill the spot by your side. his grip on your shoulder is firm, and one of your hands has lifted to cover his. 

“george, this is aaron,” you tell him, through your teeth. 

when foyet laughs it’s grating. “i see. the criminal.” and even with, he extends a hand, a hand that aaron takes, shakes with a small smile. “the elusive aaron hotchner. it’s a pleasure.” 

hotch’s mind is racing, thinking of how many millions he is going to pull out from under foyet’s feet. but for now, politeness. charm. “of course. lovely hotel you have.” 

“made all the more beautiful by her,” the man brags, and when he leans down to kiss your cheek you smile, ducking your head. when foyet moves to sit aaron doens’t impede him. doesn’t dare disrupt the dinner. “are you enjoying your stay so far?” 

he is, in a way. but not right now. not as he watches foyet take your hand, stretch your arm across the table, kiss your knuckles. “i am. i was just leaving my own meal when i saw my ex-wife and wanted to... just say hello.” 

“exactly. he was just saying hello,” you agree, and when the two of you meet eyes he doesn’t miss your pleading. 

leave, aaron. you need to leave.

“exactly. we were simply catching up. thinking about... better days.” 

a dig that earns him a glare from you, but foyet seems unbothered. 

“well, i hope you have a wonderful night, mr. hotchner,” foyet tells him, and it would almost be sincere if not for the fact that his eyes don’t leave you. “i don’t want our appetites to spoil.” 

aaron’s fingers twist around his ring. 

“of course. goodnight, y/n.” 

“goodnight, aaron.” 

hotch leaves the two of you behind. doesn’t look back, even at the sound of your voice lilting in the dining room, the sound of foyet’s arrogance not too far off either. walks quickly towards the stairs, moves up them with purpose, single-minded and not bothering to think about the lanky rookie trailing a distance behind. 

after all, aaron is good at games. he knows how to play. and in the end, isn’t that what a heist is? a game that aaron knows how to win? 

-

tag list: @blakeprentiss // @genevievedarcygranger // @quillvine // @falcon-arrows // @afuckingshituniverse // @sercyan // @sparklingkeylimepie // @kianagilder-blog // @alexxcorona113 // @mandyandy22 // @thedeaddrop // @angelsbabey // @lolychu // @icyprincess // @gabbygabbie // @cevanswhre // @roses-and-grasses // @mayaaaa // @baadmaxx // @ssaic-jareau // @mooneylupinblack // @rachelxwayne // @greenie128 // @dilaudidwinchester // @stylesboy // @grandpascurtains // @softbibxtch // @winterscaptain // @hurricanejjareau // @evans-dejong

[kirstinmaldonado]

CHAPTER TEN 2.0

I had a horrible migraine Monday night. It was one of those that you feel after holding back tears all day, or letting it out all day, it was centered right in-between the eyes on the upper bridge of my nose. My eyes sweltered under discomfort. The icepacks or a cool touch to the head, something my mom would always do (she always has cold hands), couldn’t even console me. I didn’t feel feverish at all, but the pain was sharp and pulsating like a nervous heartbeat, over and over, until I couldn’t concentrate on TV or anything anymore I just had to go to bed and hope I could fall asleep. 

I rarely get those kinds of headaches, that placement and severity. I’m usually fortunate to pass with dull, achey, temple headaches; and even my hangovers are never so pointed and jab-like.

My mom on the other hand, has dealt with migraines for years. I remember her pain as a kid, waking up in the morning wondering where she was, only to find her in the dark in her room, barely able to speak sometimes. I was always so sad to see her in such anguish, all alone in the dark. Silent. Still. While her head throbbed as if a brass band was playing “The Music Man” at too loud a decibel.

We watched a lot of horror films, my mom and I. In contrast to all the Disney films, I grew up on Jeepers Creepers, Scream, Final Destination and all the Freddy, Jason, true horror classics (yes, and all seven billion of their sequels). When she would be in bed, in the dark, we’d joke that she was a vampire needing her rest and that she needed to stay in the dark unbothered, and that lightheartedness to the situation made us smile and contented us.

Monday, Ben asked if migraines ran in my family, and though I told him about my mother’s constant battle with them the last couple years I was hoping mine felt more situational as opposed to genetic. Fingers crossed on that, and kudos to mom and those who get migraines for sticking it out cause they can be a big B-I-T-C-H.

I say situational, because it’s been A WEEK to say the least, with big things and confrontations happening in the public eye and in my own private life. The last two weeks have been incredibly eye-opening, painful, uncomfortable, moving, you name it. An entire rainbow of emotions (Happy Pride, by the way, cuties, I haven’t forgotten about you all).

I feel as if I’ve transformed into a new person with big, wide, new eyes, shedding some old skin that felt a little naive and a little out of touch with how the world, not should work, but how it’s REALLY been working. I’ve been talking to my black friends and fans, talking to my Hispanic family and hearing their stories, and talking amongst my friends and respected mentors. I’ve been doing some soul-searching and digging through memories of my own cop experiences (one, for example, at 17 with two white males [we were pulled over and eventually surrounded by 4 armed cop cars that got us out of the car, surrounded us, and wouldn’t tell us why] and wondering but knowing how that situation could have been if they were black), my jokes of being white-washed or assimilating in to white culture and not focusing on my own, and me coloring my hair blonde and wearing colored contacts not MY brown eyes for so much of my life and wondering what the intention of it all was for. Was it genuine or was I doing it to fit in, did I think it made me prettier, or more likable? Did I think or know that it would get me roles, because many ingenues or leading ladies at the time didn’t look like me?

At a point, at multiple points, all the things I’d uncover or watch in recent news had my stomach hard and in knots. Every new clip made me feel like I wanted to throw up, but I couldn’t stop now that I had SEEN.

I was confused. Hurt. Believing what I’d seen, but needing other facts as if I was missing something completely because it all did not make sense to me. How COULD it?

I apologize for all the reposts and rants, but I hope it’s stayed in line with being something you should SEE, regardless of if its uncomfortable or not, so that you KNOW what is happening, while also trying to call action to addressing the issue but moving FORWARD towards a solution. I don’t want violence on my page. But now it’s hard to turn a blind eye.

The organized BLM LA protest on May 30th changed my life. After the speeches, we wanted to continue marching, moving, using our freedom of speech and combining our white, brown, black, and all colors in-between of voices so that we could be ONE VOICE UNITED to be HEARD. 

I don’t think I went to the front lines because I was white-passing and felt safer, or because I was a woman so could be “less a threat.” I went because my black allies, who I didn’t even know, asked us to because the front was starting to get unnecessarily violent. I went because I had done nothing wrong and planned on doing nothing wrong. I went, in a way, to be an innocent. Because if I was in the front with no bad intention, the people beside and behind me would be okay.

As we walked through the crowds, their hands on my shoulders, their thanks, flared something visceral deep inside of me and I knew I was here to protect and mediate, and in a way, fighting against hate in whatever form as if I was a newborn Avenger. Someone cried out “I love this, this is what this movement is for!” and that has stayed with me as so many lighter-skinned protesters made their way to the front. Because that IS what this is for. Not to divide, but to unite to fight for justice against those that have unnecessarily been wronged.

I’ll never forget one black man that my friends and I urged to stay back beside us in the lines that had pushed to the front. He was angry. Upset. Hurt. Defiled. I’d never understood the pain the black community felt. But as we tried to reassure him, block him from the batons (from THAT COP), bring him back to the safety of the group, when I was hit in the ribs and the face as collateral because he would have been hit so much worse, the last thing he said as we pulled him back was “I want them to hear me.” And suddenly I felt holding him and consoling him was wrong, like I was a part of stealing his voice from him even though all I wanted was to keep him safe. Suddenly I felt so upset, so angry; although, of course, I’ll never even know HALF of that feeling as a non-black person who, to my knowledge, has never been treated differently for their identity.

I’ll never forget the way he said it. With so much hurt and pain, the anger fading in to just pure anguish and loss.

I felt like I’d silenced someone, so all I could do was get back to the front. It was my turn to be silent and let their voices carry behind me.

I’m sure you’ve seen the video going around, the stillness before the cops were ordered presumably to push the line back. While I can have a whole blog post of levels and steps they could have taken before the cop bashed through my canvas sign with his baton, you can look at the video and see for yourself. People getting hit because they were at the front, with no provocation. The man striking me with a baton, honestly probably because I had said openly to watch out for him, because he was showing a LOT of premature violence, because of how quickly he went after the man we were protecting; yet then only pushing the white girl next to me with his hand, even though she unfortunately was struck multiple times from another officer.

All awful!! All taken a step too far. I’ve never been more in shock. Ben was trying to pull me off the floor so I wouldn’t get stepped on. Our friends were hit by rubber bullets. Our other friends on another street running from tear gas.

The tear gas, the rubber bullets, the bruises and the ache have *I PRAY* started to leave Los Angeles as all the protests have started to become more peaceful and more organized. Since, I’ve been to three and they were all just, beautiful, and moving, each one getting better and bigger as the week went on. I carry a sense of pride and love seeing the aerial footage of all the people Sunday, and I think back to what my May 30 experience was compared to June 7th. I heard it was the largest protest yet. And while I felt like a sardine in a can, it was so packed, it was beautiful and it’s a memory I’ll hold forever!

I sidebar to say, I may no longer be cheering at the literal protesting frontlines with you for a while  — I must return to Texas soon for family so must safely quarantine  —  but know the fight for equality, for justice has not ended just because it’s not trending anymore! I think I’m gonna have to shackle myself to my house so I won’t leave, haha, but know there is so much you can be doing from your home! As my grandma said, after the protests which are the catalysts and the calls for change the REAL reformative work begins!! And the road is long! 

The most important thing, in my humble opinion, is to show up. To not be afraid. To ask the questions. To educate yourself through your friends with their experiences or through history.

Humbly, you must think, but what even can I do to help?

Showing up isn’t JUST protesting. It’s signing petitions. Donating to charities. It’s calling local reps. It’s doing the research and thinking, what can I do to lend my voice to help create a better world for all and doing it authentically if even imperfectly because deep down you also want to right these injustices and demand change! Do it in public. Do it in private. But do it because you believe in it!

I know everything feels a bit dark and overwhelming right now! The amount of times I’ve needed a “break” and then wanted to cry because my black friends and fans don’t get the opportunity to take “breaks” is countless. But your mental health is important for you to be the strongest ally you can be!

And if you’re afraid of backlash, understand that many are hurt. I know many feel nervous to speak up in a damned if I do, damned if I don’t kind of way. But EACH of your voices are, and have always been so, so important. And each and every one of you have an important say and CHOICE/VOTE in to where we lead our country!

Someone told me this week that although sunflowers follow the sun, when it is cloudy and dark, they turn to face each other and share their energy!

I don’t know if that’s a million percent scientifically accurate, but the sentiment brought me to tears. In times of darkness, we should all be able to lean on each other for support.

We can all be sunflowers in the dark. <3

Love you all.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

A, The Bachelor AU please?

Sirius hated this show. He really, truly did. A whole bunch of desperate women who'd been told they were worthless for half their lives felt pressured into auditioning because they were the scandalous age of twenty-four and not yet married. And then there were the bloody men that signed on, looking forward to free dates and sex (in the later episodes) without having to do any of the legwork of actually finding dates. 

That being said, Sirius wasn't so secure in his finances that he could afford to quit. As part of the crew, he had all his expenses paid for for the duration of the season, and a hefty check to go home with. If he thought that he could get work somewhere else, he would. He'd applied and been rejected more times than he could count, and the longer he worked on The Bachelor, the harder it was for non-reality shows to consider him. He'd only gotten onto this show because Remus had already been working on it. To be fair to Remus, he'd warned Sirius that it was horrible from the very beginning, but the bills had started piling up and being a waiter just wasn't cutting it. 

While he was working, he kept his mind on the framing of the shot and not anything that was happening inside of it. It was only when the work was done for the day that he let himself complain, even in his head. 

He was so used to ignoring all of the people that appeared in front of the camera that he almost tripped over his feet when he saw who the Bachelor this season was. Bloody gorgeous was the only phrase coming to mind, and he couldn't get his brain to work past that. All the past Bachelors that Sirius had met looked basically the same. White skin, light brown hair, vague five o'clock shadow, and a smile that looked like it had been purchased directly from a dentist's advert. They were never really skin or really buff, just somewhere in the middle, but not so much in the middle that they'd be considered out of shape; it was so much nothing that it drove Sirius up the bloody wall. 

This guy though, he looked nothing like the others. He could've been plucked directly from Sirius's imagination. He reminded Sirius a lot of James, his boyfriend from secondary school. They'd broken up when James went back to India for uni, and he hadn't heard from him since. 

Sirius cocked his head, then gaped. That was James. What the sodding hell was he doing here? "James?" he blurted. 

James looked over when he heard his name, then grinned. It still made Sirius's heart stutter in his chest. "Sirius? Bugger, it's good to see you." He hugged him, and Sirius hugged him back automatically. He felt the same way in Sirius's arms as he remembered, even though they were both older. 

"What the hell are you doing here? I didn't think this sort of show was your thing." 

James's mouth twisted. "I lost a bet. In my defense, I never thought they'd actually accept me. Lily couldn't stop laughing when I got the news." 

"You still talk to Lily?" 

"Well, she ended up at the same uni as me, so it was easy. Plus she didn't speak any Hindi when she first got there, so she kind of needed someone to help translate." James gave a helpless shrug. "I tried to look you up, but you weren't talking to your parents anymore, so." 

"Yeah." He hadn't wanted to be easy to find, but that was because of his family, not anything to do with long lost friends. He didn't feel like explaining that, but James probably knew it anyways. "So if you don't want to be here for the usual reasons, what are you planning on doing?" 

James shrugged again, looking supremely uncomfortable. "I dunno. When it gets to the end, I guess I could just not give a rose to either of them and that would work, right?" 

"Not sure," Sirius admitted. There was a formula to how the show was supposed to go, but they broke the rules every once in a while if they thought it made it more interesting. "They might have you fake it just to have a finale," he said, because they'd done shite like that before. 

"Really? They'd do that?" 

"It's a scripted show, mate." 

"Great," James said flatly. "I'm really looking forward to this." 

"Kinda sounds like you shouldn't have lost the bet." 

"Shouldn't you be on my side?" James asked. 

"How would that be funny?" 

James snorted, then made a disgusted face when someone called his name. "See you later?" he asked hopefully, taking slow steps backwards so they knew he'd heard them. 

"Definitely." 

James grinned before leaving, and it lit up his entire face. 

Sirius's heart ached for a moment. Good to know that he was still in love with James even though it had been years. Their break up had been sad, but inevitable. James had known where he was going to uni since before they'd even met (let alone started dating), and it would've been stupid for him to have changed his plans for Sirius. Even if he'd offered to stay, Sirius would've insisted that he go. Maybe, since James wasn't here for the relationship promised at the end of the show, Sirius could see if he was interested in getting back together. 

"Was that James?" Remus asked, and Sirius jumped; he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard him coming. 

"Yeah," Sirius said. 

Remus kindly did not mention that he'd surprised him. "Huh. I didn't know he was back in the country. I talked to Lily last week and she didn't mention it. What's he doing here? You back together?" 

"Not yet," Sirius said automatically, then had to correct himself. "I mean, I have to ask him if he's still interested. He's not here for me." 

"Then what's he doing here?" 

"He's this season's bachelor. He lost a bet," Sirius said, preempting the next question. 

"Fucking hell," Remus muttered. "This'll be interesting." 

*

James showed up at Sirius's door-- Sirius didn't have to ask to know that Remus had told him which room he was in-- that night when shooting was done. "That was miserable." 

"I'll only get worse," Sirius warned. "After they start pretending to actually like you, they get more catty." 

"What makes you think they won't like me? I'm a damn catch." 

Sirius snorted, shoving at his shoulder. 

James caught his hand before he could pull away. Their eyes met. And held. 

Mark that down as definitely still interested, Sirius thought to himself, somewhat giddily. Neither of them said anything, but sometimes they didn't need to. This was how it had all started for them at Hogwarts. They'd had to reassure each other after a while that yes they fancied each other and wanted to date, but that initial interest had been easy to spot-- and it was the same now as it had been then. 

"I really missed you," James whispered. 

"I missed you too. Kinda sucked not being able to talk to you." 

"Yeah," James said with a crooked smile. He let go of Sirius's hand and turned to face him a little more fully. "Look, I know it's... been a while, and maybe you're dating someone else-" 

"I'm not." 

"Good to hear," James said, fondness seeping into his expression. "I know the timing's utter shite-- with the show and everything-- but I'd like to give us another try. I mean, we were good together. Really good." 

"We were," Sirius agreed, smiling at him return. "How about this. We work on the show in the day, and at night, we just... do this. Talk. Catch up. If we're both still interested when filming's done, then we can talk about where we go from there." 

"Should I start working on my talking points now or?" 

Sirius snorted. He'd missed this. 

*

As it turned out, the producers opted to let James choose neither of the finalists because they had enough footage to make up the drama elsewhere. James was unspeakably relieved about that, and if he was honest, Sirius was happy about it too; he knew that it wouldn't have meant anything if James had had to pretend to choose one of the contestants, but it was nice all the same. 

Because James was an absolute sap, when he went to Sirius that night, he brought him a red rose. He even had a little smile on his face like he knew exactly how corny it was and loved it for that very reason. "Do you accept this rose?" James asked. 

"You're so buggering stupid," Sirius said, the words not near enough to hide the blush on his face. 

"That's not the line." 

"I'm making it one," Sirius said. He snatched the rose from James and pulled him into a kiss. 

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Twelve Days of Holly, Jolly Tidings - Day 11

Disclaimers: I watched “Dash & Lily” the other day on Netflix. This story is LOOSELY based on that book and Netflix series.  I do not own “Dash and Lily” or Newsies or anything recognizable within the series.  There are occasional curse words throughout the series, nothing too horrible but there’s some. 

Catch Up Here

Monday, December 23 

Two days before Christmas found Kat curled up on her couch watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” and hugging a mug of peppermint hot chocolate in her hands. Her doorbell rang, causing her to pause the movie, getting up to answer the door. 

Pulling open the door, her eyes went wide seeing someone dressed up as a gingerbread man standing at her doorway.  “Are you Katherine Plumber?” 

Knowing this had Jack’s name written all over it, she slowly nodded. “I am. And you are?” 

Instead of answering her, the gingerbread broke out in song, singing “Holly Jolly Christmas” loudly, along with intricate dance moves and twirls. Part of Kat wanted to slam the door in its face, but a bigger part of her was secretly enjoying the singing gingerbread man. Once he finished, kneeling in front of her with his hands stretched out, she clapped for him. She paused, giving him a look. “Thank you for that absolute stunning performance.”

Pulling the gingerbread man’s hat off, she started laughing loudly seeing who was underneath. Giving her a dirty look, Albert shook his head. “Damn Jack for at least paying me to do this.” 

“Do you want to come in?” Kat asked, pushing her front door wider, allowing him to step inside. 

Albert was one of Jack’s friends that she absolutely adored - he went to college with them. Him and his fiance Finch were really good friends and they were often invited to game night at their house.  “So how much did Jack pay you to do that?” 

“You don’t want to know.” Albert shook his head, giving her a look. “Besides, he told me I had to bring this to you.” 

Holding out the green notebook, Kat took it from him with a grin. “Thank you and thank you for making my day with that song and dance.” 

“You’re welcome. Thank goodness you didn’t get any of that on film.” He grinned, putting the gingerbread man’s head back on. 

She grinned . . . little did he know that she had a Ring as a doorbell. She wouldn’t be sharing that knowledge, allowing the video to do all the talking when she shared it with Jack and Race. 

“Thanks again Albert.” She grinned, walking him to the door. “Have a great rest of your afternoon.” 

She watched him walk down the stairs before shutting the door behind her. Shaking her head, she leaned against her door, opening up the notebook. 

Happy 11th day of Christmas, Kat! 

Hope you enjoyed that performance Al put on for you. BTW, I want the footage from your Ring! 

I apologize that you’re getting the notebook late . . . . it took far too long to convince Albert to do that. I had to bring in the big guns of Finch, Race, AND Spot to get him to do it. But I hope that it made you smile. 

For today’s adventure you’re going to the tallest building in the city. Go climb your mountain, your adventures awaits . . . so get a move on!  Once you’re at the top, continue reading. 

Grabbing her warm hoodie and her coat, she grabbed her bag, tucking the notebook into it before heading out the door. She shook her head, thinking she should’ve grabbed a mug of something warm before hitting the streets. 

Stepping out of her apartment building, her eyes widened seeing the freshly fallen snow that fell overnight. At least six inches had fallen, creating a winter wonderland throughout the streets. Rubbing her hands together, she dug her gloves out, putting them on before heading towards the subway station. 

Ducking into the underground, a heater blows warm air at her before a coldness could seep into her bones.  Walking through the turnstile, she headed for the platform to wait.  She smiled hearing kids jumping and giggling as they too waited for the train to arrive.  With it being two days before Christmas, spirits were high and excitement palpable on the platform.

Skipping onto the train, she watched a little girl mimic her before taking a seat at the far end of the car.  Keeping her eye on the little girl, Kat watched her as she kept a hand on the handrail as she spun, twirling her dress, her infection giggling ringing loudly in the car.  Kat wiggled her fingers in the girl’s direction as her face lit up, eagerly shaking her hand back at Kat. 

Several stops went by before she got off the train, heading to the street level. She would never get tired of getting off the subway and seeing One World Trade Center standing in front of her. The first couple of times she saw it, she would never be ashamed to say that she cried. It was just that powerful and moving. 

Making her way to the building, she was relieved to see the area wasn’t that crowded.  She stopped at the waterfall pools to pay her respects before heading to the stunning tower.  

Walking into the lobby, she bought tickets to the Observation deck before joining the queue to the elevator.  A couple of other people were in front of her so they made quick work on getting them onto the elevator and up to the 102 floor. 

Stepping off the elevator, her eyes adjusted to the bright natural light from the big windows.  Finding an empty bench, she took a seat, taking in the scene of the big windows, the city laid out at her feet, with a 360 degree view. 

Opening the notebook, she found today’s entry before continuing to read. 

Welcome to the One World Trade Center Observation deck. It’s another favorite place of mine - there’s something about being so high in the air that you can see a full 360 degrees around you.  It’s a good place to think and draw when I’m feeling restless. 

Anyways, I wanted you to come here to look at the prettiness of the city from your perch above.  You have your stories about 9/11 just like I do but that’s not the purpose of today’s adventure. It’s just to appreciate the beauty surrounding you. 

So, spend some time reflecting on the beauty around you. Write down everything you see beautiful, no matter how little or big it is. 

Spending the next few minutes, she wrote down everything beautiful she had encountered in the last few weeks. The smile was permanent on her face as she relaxed with the sound of her pen scratching across the paper. 

She felt someone sit down at the other end of the bench but paid them no attention as she continued to write.  Clicking her pen, her eyes reread the things she wrote before moving onto Jack’s scrawl. 

I think one of the things that we all do is getting caught up in the little nuances of the day that we forget that there’s something beautiful in every day. There’s always something good in the messy world we live in. I often have to remind myself to stop and smell the roses - slow down and just enjoy the little things that are around me. 

Now, there’s a surprise for you today . . . . but it’s different from your usual surprises. In the exhibit hall, there’s a Christmas theme exhibit that you’ll want to check out. It’s actually really cool. In the exhibit, you’ll find your surprise. 

Closing the book, she reread the last paragraph, confused by Jack’s words. Knowing, not to question him, she tucked the notebook back in her bag before walking over to the exhibit hall. Walking up the ramp, her eyes widened seeing the whimsical artwork along the walls. There was a wintery scene painted with various creatures greeting her as she walked; a mix of digital artwork and paintings. 

At one point, there was a digital video that played. Watching it, she smiled, getting lost into the artwork that surrounded her. Continuing on her journey, she was stopped by a stunning painting of a woodland scene. The moon was in the corner, shedding light on the many birch trees in perfect lines.  She searched the painting for an artist's name, frowning when she didn’t see one. “Stunning painting, huh?” 

“It truly is.” She whispered, not taking her eyes off the work. “I was trying to find the artist’s name.” 

“The artist’s name is Jack Kelly.” A familiar voice said as she looked over at his shoulder at him. He had a big grin on his face as he stepped up to join her. “Surprise!” 

Her jaw dropped. “It’s stunning Jack, absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you.” He ducked his head, a blush on his cheek. “You kinda inspired it.”

Kat’s eyes furrowed, looking at her boyfriend. “How?” 

“A couple of weeks ago you were talking about going into the woods just to get away, needing somewhere to breath and escape. I went home after that and painted this.” Jack smiled. “I knew they were doing this exhibit and after the hospital mural, I was approached to submit something for this. Your idea of needing to escape and going to the woods was actually good because it fit perfectly in with this wonderland.” 

Slipping his hand in her, he squeezed it. “You’ve inspired more art of mine than you probably know. You’re a good muse.” 

She giggled, a blush crossing her face as she ducked her head.  “That’s good to know.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell you which ones.” He grinned, tugging on her hand as they made their way through the exhibit. “Let’s finish walking through. I haven’t actually seen the rest yet.”

“This is pretty cool . . . do they do this every year?” Kat asked as they stopped to look at a few more paintings. 

Jack nodded. “They’ve done it the last few years. I came last year just to scope it out.” 

She grinned, slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow as they continued their walk. Along the way, Jack pointed out little things that she wouldn’t normally see. She smiled as they finished walking through the exhibit. 

Nodding, she followed him on the elevator as they descended. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. “You alright? Something is off about you but I can’t put my finger on it.” 

“Just enjoying the Christmas feeling in the air.” He grinned. “You know it’s only two days until Christmas.” 

She giggled. “A little birdie told me that. My parents left this morning for California.” 

“Their loss and my family’s gain.” Jack shrugged, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Come on, let’s head out.” 

Leading her off the elevator, they walked out into the cooler night. Kat tugged on their linked hands, dragging him over to a bench. Sitting down, she shut her eyes, and just relaxed. “Pssst …. what are we doing?” 

Cracking open an eye, she looked at him. “You were the one that talked about taking time to enjoy the little things. So I’m doing what you said.” 

“Oh ok.” Jack grinned, reaching into his pocket to grab something before putting it on Kat’s lap. “While you’re doing that, I’m just going to make sure no one kidnaps you.” 

Feeling a weight on her lap, she opened her eyes to look down - a white box laid there. “What did you do, Kelly?”

“Me?” He asked, eyes widened. “I didn’t do anything. This is your surprise for the day.” 

Her eyes widened, picking up the much bigger box than usual. “It’s bigger than all the rest.” 

“Way to pick up on that Captain obvious.” Jack mumbled, as she reached over and back handed his shoulder. “Maybe you should open it and not hit me anymore.” 

Removing the lid, her eyes went wide seeing a bracelet inside. But she gasped as she recognized the contents on the bracelet. Attached to the bracelet were all the charms from the previous 10 days. Picking it up, she twirled it so she could see all of her little surprises. Looking up at Jack, her lips curled up in a smile. “It’s perfect, Jack. Thank you.” 

Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his lips as he grinned. “I’m glad you like it.” 

“It’s a perfect representative of the last 11 days.” She grinned as he took it from her before attaching it to her wrist.   

“Perfect fit.” Jack twirled it so that all the charms hung from her wrist. 

Lacing her fingers with his, she gave them a squeeze. “Hey, I want to say thank you. You have completely turned around this holiday season for me. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He tugged her close, bending down and kissing her. “I hate it when you’re upset and angry and truth be told, I just wanted to do something that would make you smile. And you’ve got a family that you’ve created all on your own, outside of your physical family and they care just as much for you as you do for them.” 

Shaking her head, she looked down at their linked hands as tears crowded her eyes. “Thank you Jack.” 

“You’re welcome, Kat. I’d do anything to make you smile.” He kissed her. “Anything.” 

Standing up, he tugged her up into a standing position as she slipped her arm in the crook of his elbow.  “So I have a question for you?” 

Looking over at him as they walked, she raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” 

“Is there anything that you would change in the past eleven days?” He looked over at her, his lip between his teeth, as if he was nervous about something.

Taking a few moments to think back on the eleven days, she twitched her mouth as she thought. Jack chuckled at her face watching her. 

“Honestly, I don’t think so. You wrote so elegantly in that journal and made me think about a lot of things. You were constantly surprising me and bringing up the little details of our relationship that, honestly, I had forgotten about. It was a good trip down memory lane.” Kat grinned, shrugging. “But to answer your question, I don’t think there’s anything that I’d change.” 

Nodding, Jack grinned. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” 

“I mean . . .” Kat started, Jack quickly shaking his head. 

“You had your chance to speak your mind and you didn’t.” Jack interrupted, sticking his tongue out at her. 

Her eyes lit up as an idea hit her. “Wait, I have one thing.” 

Jack gave her a look, before nodding. “What’s that?” 

“Another favorite look of mine.” Kat’s eyes lit up and truth be told, Jack would do anything to see her face light up like that again. 

Biting his lip, he thought back on the past 5 years. “Another look . . . hmmmm.” 

“Trying to figure out which one to tell me about or the one that’s less scandalous.” Kat grinned, as they stopped at a crosswalk. 

Jack threw his head back, shaking his head. “No trying to figure out which ones I love more.” 

Crossing the street, they continued to lazily walk down the street, with no real destination in mind. Kat tilted her head towards Jack. “Got one?” 

“This outfit was the outfit you were wearing when I realized that I loved you.” Jack grinned. “We met in October and this outfit was one you wore in the middle of November. Remember when we went to clean up the woods?” 

Kat’s eyes went wide. They had volunteered with a bunch of other kids in their dorms to clean up the ravines behind their campus. “I was in ratty jeans and an old hoodie. That’s one of your favorite looks of mine?” 

“Yes, that’s one of my favorites. You had your hair tied up in a ponytail but by the end of the day, your hair was everywhere from walking in the woods. You kept telling me that you were a mess but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you.” Jack grinned, biting his lip. “You were so drop dead sexy and you didn’t even know it.” 

A blush crossed her cheeks, as she looked over at him. “Well if I knew that was going to be in your top ten looks, I would’ve cared a bit more.” 

“The thing is, if you had known, it probably wouldn’t be in my list.” Jack quipped back grinning. “Besides, that was the first time that it hit me that I was actually in love with you.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “So how long after that did you tell me?” 

“I think like a week.” Jack chuckled. “But everyone knew I was gone over you. I am surprised that no one spilled the beans.”

Kat laughed. “Much like the last eleven days.”

“Oh I told them I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them and bury their body if they spoke a word about the last eleven days with you.” Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

She threw her head back and belly laughed. “Jack Kelly, that’s awful.” 

“I wanted to make sure those idiots didn’t ruin the surprise for you.” He defended his actions. “But there’s more to come - you’ve got one more day left.” 

Her eyes lit up at that. “Any hints?” 

“Maybe . . . . do you want to know?” Jack asked, as they stepped onto her street. 

Biting her lip, she shrugged. “If it’s going to ruin anything, no I don’t want to know. If it’s not, then sure.” 

“We’re going to one of your favorite holiday places tomorrow.” Jack grinned. “That’s your clue, do with it what you will.” 

Filing the piece of knowledge away for later, she nodded. “I’m really looking forward to it. But you know this blows anything that I got you out of the water, right?” 

“It’s not a competition, Kat.” He raised his eyebrows. “But I wouldn’t sell yourself short.” 

She paused in her step, causing her arm to be ripped from the crook of his arm. “What do you mean by that?” 

“Not uh, Kat. You’re not getting anymore from me.” He chuckled, stopping at the bottom of her apartment stairs. Giving her a look, he held out his hand. “Now I believe you have something that belongs to me.” 

Digging in her bag, she grabbed the notebook, handing it over to him. “Thank you. Be ready by eight tomorrow morning and dress warmly.” 

“Eight is awfully early, Jack.” She raised an eyebrow. 

He chuckled. “Just be ready. I’ll bring coffee and I’ll see you then. I love you.” 

Pushing onto her tiptoes, she leaned forward giving him a kiss. “I love you too and I’ll be ready.”

“Have a good night, Kat. See you in the morning.”  He stole one more kiss before he headed down the street, back to his own apartment. She watched him until she couldn’t see him anymore. Shaking her head, she let her mind reflect back on the past few hours and just laughed. Anytime she spent with Jack would never, ever be bored, that’s for sure. 

[themadauthorshatter]

Toppat!Charles Part 5!!

GUESS WHO'S BACK WITH TOPPAT!CHARLES!?

Thank you all so much for your patience with this one, like I said, I've been going through a lot in my personal life, though things are getting better. 

If you haven’t read the previous parts you can find them HERE: 

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

ENOUGH ABOUT ME! TIME FOR THE RECAP:

Henry has taken the CCC's offer, despite opposition from Galeforce, Ellie, and even Daddy Dearest Terrence Suave.

Meanwhile, Right has polished up Charles and set him up in an actual room for a change of pace.

Not really a headcanon this time but a MASSIVE, MASSIVE trigger warning for torture, violence, and a trauma truck load of angst; we're focusing more on Charles this part since he was more of a cameo in Part 4.

Got that? GREAT!

LET'S BEGIN!

Like before we pick up where Part 4 left off, but with Charles in his new room across from Right, who has taken his position at a desk chair and is calmly talking to Charles. If this were a movie, we would only hear the music score before getting a close up of Right saying something to Charles, who reacts by raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes.

"What?"

Right sighs as he rubs the non-cybernetic half of his head. "Do I got to repeat everything to everyone?" He recomposes himself and meets Charles once more, the pilot shaking his head as he curls his knees into his chest and holds his hands on either side of his head.

"No. No, no, no, nononono. I can't do that. You can't make me."

"So you'd rather go back to rotting in your cell?" Right asks as he raises an eyebrow. "I'm offering you the chance to have some form of freedom and you're willing to throw it away for your stupid government?"

Charles keeps his head down, but clenches a fist. "They'll get me out of here. Just wait and see."

Right grabs Charles's ankles and throws them down before grabbing his jaw, forcing his to look up. Thhe two are inches away from each other and Charles's instincts are telling him to run since fighting hasn't exactly worked out for him.

"Look at where you are and what's been happening. Any time the government tried sending a destroyer, it didn't work. You were left alone in that cell with nothing but your shadow on the wall to talk to. You have a chance to get out and not have to deal with that anymore. You're seriously going to turn it down because you think the government's coming to rescue you? Taking my offer would get you out a lot quicker. "

Charles only glares into Right's human eye before doing a very ungentlemanly and dumb thing by spitting in his eye. (Unsanitary as well, I might add. Really, Charles, get with the program!)

Right backs away slightly, though it's more like an angry flinch because he recoils and then freezes.

Charles, however, keeps his glare as his wipes his mouth off with his sleeve. "Never."

Right is still for a moment before backhanding Charles with his cybernetic hand, not enough to seriously injure him, i.e. a broken jaw or knocking him unconscious, but it does leave him seeing stars and in a good state of, 'that hurt a lot more than it should.'

Right stands back, takes out a handkerchief, wipes his face off, and then pockets said handkerchief before folding his hands behind his back.

"You'll come to your senses. If you can wait, so can I."

With that, Right leaves the room just as Charles picks himself up, rubbing his cheek.

"See you tomorrow, Charles."

As the door closes behind Right, Charles's face and the room's temperature drop.

Cut to Right, who is leaving the hall and going to that room we saw in the Free Man ending, that cafeteria- like room with the big window overlooking Earth.

JUMP TO THE NEXT "MORNING"

Charles is sound asleep in his bed when a pair of toppats come in. One stays by the door and the other wakes up Charles.

The pilot, due to being out-strengthed and delirious from sleep, is pulled out of his room and can barely keep up with the toppats as they drag him to a different room.

In Charles's perspective, the world is dark and he keeps drifting in and out of sleep. He eventually opens his eyes to see he's back in the jungle, by the crashed helicopter. Right is nowhere to be seen, but Charles does see someone else, someone that he ACTUALLY happy to see. As in he smiles and tears up.

"Henry?"

Henry stands still as he stares at a growingly flustered Charles, who races toward him.

"Henry! Man, are you a sight for sore eyes! You have no idea what these guys've done. C'mon, let's go-"

Just as Charles is about to hug Henry, he holds a hand and stops Charles in his tracks.

"Hen... Henry?"

Henry's face turns from blank to angry or annoyed and he shakes his head, backing away.

Charles tries to follow him, but he can't. When he looks, he sees his feet are sunken into the ground and panics.

"Henry! Help! I-I think I stepped in quicksand!"

Henry only backs away further, now glaring at Charles.

"HENRY, PLEASE! SAY SOMETHING!"

Henry finally approaches him and leans close to his his face.

Before he can say anything, Charles's breath catches and he quickly finds he can no longer breathe. 

Charles tries gasping and exhaling, but only blows bubbles out of his mouth. 

The jungle fades away into a very dim grey, almost falling. Henry falls away with it, much to Charles’s fear. 

The pilot tries reaching for Henry and is pulled away, seeing as Henry swims further away from him.

Charles gasps for real this time as he is pulled out of a tub of water and focuses his gaze on Right, who is standing over him with his arms folded behind his back. 

“Good morning. Sleep well?’” 

Charles tries to push himself away the tub only to find his hands are either tied or handcuffed behind his back, I’m noting an ‘either’ here because while I can see Right using handcuffs or restraints like the ones we see in the Free Man ending, to save on resources and because Charles is already pretty weak, he’d probably just use a rope.

The toppats that woke him up and dragged him here both hold his shoulders, one holding the back of his collar. 

Charles glares at Right and struggles against his bonds, but he stays quiet. 

Right sniffs and nods at the two holding Charles. “Give ‘im a wash.” 

The one holding his collar grips his hair, yanking it and making Charles follow his movement before dunking him back into the water. 

Right watches as Charles struggles both above and below the water, mildly impressed that he’s still strong enough to the point that the two toppats are having a hard time holding him under. If this were a movie or a game cutscene, the camera would hold on Right’s face, resolute and expressionless, and all we would here would be the score and Charles struggling. Right blinks and an icon appears on his cybernetic eye, a solid circle with a ring around it. 

A camera. 

After a while, Charles’s movements slow and nearly stop completely, bubbles leaving his mouth and nose. 

Right nods at the toppats pull him up.

If that first dunk didn’t wake up and alarm Charles, this certainly did. 

Charles gives one of those loud gasps and coughs up water as he catches his breath. 

Once his breathing goes at least to where he’s not huffing and puffing, he feels one of the toppats grip his hair again. He fights against him, but is ultimately pushed back into the water. 

The partner repeats itself for a while. 

Dunk his head in the water, wait for him to stop struggling, pull him out and wait for him to just about get his breathing normal, rinse and repeat. 

After maybe a half an hour of this, Right notices Charles has started shivering after his last dunk and is having a hard time getting his breathing even. 

“Enough. Get ‘ im to a medic.”

They do so, and Charles follows with barely any strength to keep up.

The next day isn't any better. 

The toppats are ordered to sit Charles in a chair, his hands on the rests, his head in a restraint, and his eyes held open with something like reverse clamps; if you’ve seen or read A Clockwork Orange, you’ll know what I’m talking about. 

Right takes a seat next to him, a medic on his other side to keep his eyes hydrated, and the two watch a simple movie. 

Just a nice, sit down, home cinema night 😁😊

JUST KIDDING! NO THEY DON’T! 

“You seem too confident your government’s gonna save you.” Right turns his head to the screen and folds one leg over the other. “Let me remind you what they’ve done to us.” 

Charles follows his gaze as the film begins. 

I’m guessing the Toppat Clan has been around for a while, based on how many paintings/pictures of the leaders we see in Completing the Mission, so there would be PLENTY of news footage of the government using any means necessary to arrest any toppats they can get their hands on. 

The film Charles watches is nothing short of horrifying. I won’t go into detail, but just know that it’s pretty disturbing. Like, psychologically messed up. 

Charles is forced to watch as members of the government, something HE WORKS FOR, arrest, torture, and execute Toppat Clan members in extremely violent ways. 

Right is quiet as he watches because he’s seen this tape on more than one occasion; he also watches as a reminder as to why he joined the toppats to begin with. 

Charles, however, isn’t exactly that. After watching a clip of seeing a government official gun down a group of new toppat recruits, he finally snaps. 

“STOP IT!” Charles cries as he struggles in his chair and restraint, much to the annoyance of the medic. “PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP!” 

Right’s attention is now on the pilot as he continues screaming and crying, watching quietly as he takes note of his work. 

Charles screams as loudly as he can as the film keeps rolling, unable to look away as the government is practically used against him. 

Right uses this pattern for a LONG while. One day, Charles is physically tortured and the next he is shown more footage of the government hunting down toppats. 

This cycle is continued until, after maybe three months(it doesn’t seem like it’d be that long, BUT TRUST ME, IT CAN BE), when the toppats come for Charles, they find him standing, waiting for them. 

This time is different, though. 

Right is with them and approaches the empty eyed, silent Charles. 

“Learned your lesson?” 

Charles nods. 

Right holds out his hand, a smirk on his face. 

“Whaddaya say, kid? You want in?” 

CUT TO HENRY

Our multilived friend is lying in bed, having a very fitful sleep. I keep jumping to what we would see if we were watching a movie, but trust me on this, I think you'll really like this one.

In this dream, Henry stands in the middle of four mirrors, a different "ending" of him in the side mirrors and the ine behind him. In front of him is himself, on his left is the Toppat King ending of himself(I'm just calling him Toppat Henry), on his right is the Toppat Recruit endimg of himslef(Recruit Henry), and behind him is his Revenged self.

"You should've taken that offer," Toppat Haenry chides.

"Charles would've been safe, if you did," Recruit Henry adds with a shrug.

Henry hears his Revenged self cough behind him and hears his augmentations whirring. "We wouldn't be friends, if that happend."

"And that bothers you?" Toppat Henry laughs.

"Think about it," Recruit Henry says very smugly. "Since when have you needed friends?"

"Escaping the wall-"

"You got out alone before," Toppat Henry says with a tap to his hat.

Henry jumps when he hears glass shattering and turns to see his Revenged self has punched his mirror and cracked it.

"King, recruit, theif, it doesn't matter," he gurgles as blood oozes out if his mouth. "A toppat never keeps his word."

Revenged Henry hits hus mirror again and causes it to shatter, forcing our Henry to jump back and crash into his own mirror-

Henry wakes up and looks around his room, shaken and stirred. He checks his arm and back before sighing and hugging his knees to his chest.

"I hate when that happens."

Man, that was a psychedelic ending!

BUT THAT’S A WRAP ON TOPPAT!CHARLES PART 5!!!! 

This took a very, very, very, very, very, very, VEEEEERY long time, but here it is! 

Thank you all so much for your patience and following this series. I am having such a blast writing this, you have no idea. 

Thank you all for reading! Stay safe out there! And HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!!!🦃🦃🦃

[taebinzdimples]

The Heart of Seoul

Pair: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You’re studying abroad to expand your horizons in film study. Your last stop is in South Korea. Six months before you arrive back in America, you meet Jungkook. Your story begins there.

What to expect: Fluff, Angst, Heart Break, Mentions of Cheating

A/N: Hello guys! I’m back with another story. It was a small idea that I had that I ran with! The ending is similar to my last story but if you didn’t read that one then you’ll love this one! I cried while typing it out. Thank god I made the ending the way I did!

——

Being a foreign exchange student was hard. Your brother Chaol was funding your education abroad because he wanted you to come back and work for his company when it was over. Your brother was a big name in America and apparently around the world.

Wherever you went, people knew your name. It always pained you to know that people wanted to use you, avoid you, or simply think you were some entitled brat. It hurt but you were used to being alone.

You had been abroad for two years, coming home at least once a month to check in and then leaving again. You were majoring in Film Studies and had a minor in photography. You were grateful your brother was funding your education. It sucked though, that in six months, you would be back home, and reality would set in.

You sat in the park playing with your new camera that Chaol had sent for an early graduation present. It arrived last week but you hadn’t had a chance to play with it yet. You were so busy lately, it never occurred to you to take it out and play with it.

At least not until Mr. Lee was handing out the last assignment for the semester. It was to make a short movie and everyone got a different topic. Yours was called

The Heart of Seoul

What that meant, you didn’t know. Was it the people who lived in the city? The animals that roamed the streets? The cute boy sitting in the booth with six other guys?

Your eyes instantly shot up.

Holy shit.

You knew that boy. He was in your final class of the day. Jeon Jungkook, you remembered. He sat a couple rows up ahead of you. Now he was sipping his drink flashing a cute wave at you.

You blushed and turned away. That was so embarrassing and you couldn’t believe he caught you filming him. It wasn’t intentional. He just happened to be in the line of sight of your camera.

Suddenly a shadow came over you and you slowly looked up to meet beautiful brown eyes.

“Nice Camera.” He said as you stared at him. He was so beautiful. The way his lips were perfectly pursed, the way his nose was slightly too big but it fit wonderfully on his face, and his eyes. God those eyes would be the death of you.

“Are you okay? It’s (y/n) right?” He asked. It suddenly occurred to you that you had been staring a little too long. You cleared your throat and looked away while nodding.

“I’m Jungkook. I’ve noticed you in class.” He said before sitting down next to you. Your head snapped back to look at him. “You have?”

You internally groaned as you said that. It sounded like every cliché romance movie out there. Girl is invisible, cute boy notices girl, cute boy and girl fall in love. It was annoying.

He nodded and smiled a cute white toothed smile at you. “Yeah. You sit in the back a lot. Very mysterious.” He winked as you chuckled. “I figured you were just shy, or that your Korean wasn’t good.” He said as you chuckled.

You were versed in seven other languages and you were thankful. Being on your own and only one language would have put a big halt in your studying.

“I know a lot of languages. Korean is no exception.” You said confidentially and that made the brown eyed boy laugh. “Can I see that?” He asked pointing to your camera. You didn’t hesitate to hand it to him. He took it and messed with a couple other settings on it before turning it on himself and pressing record.

You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your body. “Hello Camera! My name is Jungkook and I am the first bit of footage that (Mr./Miss) (y/n) has on here!” He said waving. You shook your head before he turned the camera back on you. “Let’s see that beautiful face.” He said as you sighed shaking your head.

—-

It’s been three years since that day you met Jungkook. You managed to talk to your brother about extending your studying time. At first you lied and told him you were genuinely interested in learning more, but as time went on, Chaol had figured it out. He didn’t mind but Chaol helped you find a job that was in coordination with his company and you stayed.

You were sitting at the beach on your date as you looked at Jungkook while he was out by the water filming himself on your camera. It made your heart thump in response. You slowly took a drink of your champagne and watched your boyfriend in all of his glory.

He came back over to you and sat down. “This is such a perfect day.” He said as he looked at you.

“Oh yeah? Why is that?” You teased playfully as he chuckled. “Because you make it perfect.” You clicked your tongue playfully rolling your eyes.

“Gukkie, you are shameless.” You teased as he laughed showing his beautiful bunny smile.

Later, you returned to your apartment and Jungkook followed you inside. You two had moved in together after a year and you felt head over heels that this was your man. At least, you didn’t know what the next day would bring.

You woke up the next morning to a text from your friend Yeonjun. He was one of the main reasons you had come to Korea and he was supportive of your happiness, just not completely of Jungkook. You looked at the text and what you saw broke your heart. It was a photo of Jungkook with..

Another woman.

It didn’t seem like she was a friend. They were holding hands. The text read:

Are you going to let him get away with this?

You didn’t know what to think. You knew you should ask him but you didn’t want to fight. You never did. You were so against confrontation that the thought terrified you. Sure you had small arguments, but you knew this was going to be more than that.

You slowly got out of bed and went to the bathroom. Another text from Yeonjun was from another angle of the girl and Jungkook. You couldn’t see her face but she was clearly into Jungkook more than she should’ve been. It was like a slap to the face.

Cheating.

You couldn’t live with the thought that he could’ve been cheating on you this whole time. You didn’t response to Yeonjun because you suddenly heard a knock on the door.

“(y/n)? Are you in there?”

Jungkook.

“Yes! I’m just about finished.” You said keeping your voice as calm and stable as possible. A few moments later you stepped out and Jungkook was sitting on the bed. “Are you okay?” He asked you raising an eyebrow. You stared at him. It was hard to even think he could be cheating on you.

He was shirtless, his perfectly sculpted abs taunting you, his exposed legs inviting you in. His damn face was drawing it all together. You nodded as you walked out of the room without a single word, your phone in hand.

He watched you and you could feel those brown eyes burning into the back of your head.

“Are you sure you’re okay? No good morning kiss?” He asked poking out his bottom lip. It was enough to see that cute little freckle pop out that you loved so much. It was one of your favorite things about him. You didn’t turn to face him. The tears were already falling before you could respond.

Jungkook was in front of you and he saw it. The tears, the hurt on your face. “(Y/n) what’s wrong? What happened?” He asked frantically. He hated seeing you upset. It almost hurt him more to see you upset than anything.

“Is it true?” You managed to spit out. He stopped for a moment wondering what you were talking about. “What are you talking about?” He asked standing straight up.

Your phone was practically burning a hole through your hand as you shook from your nerves. Slowly you brought your phone up to expose the picture of Jungkook and the mystery girl.

“Are you..cheating on me..?”

The next words to leave his mouth, were not what were expecting to hear. Anything other than that would have been fine.

“You were never meant to find out this way.”

It was then your heart shattered into a million pieces. You couldn’t take the hurt that was consuming your entire soul. You walked to the bedroom and shut the door. Jungkook tried to stop you but you didn’t want to hear it. You needed to get away from him.

You got dressed and put your hair in a messy bun. Your skinny jeans were a little dirty, and your shirt was wrinkled. But you didn’t care, you had to get out. You packed a bag and opened the door. On the other side, Jungkook was sitting down but stood up as you looked at him. “Where are you going?” He asked you but you couldn’t bear to hear his voice anymore.

You pushed past him but he grabbed you. “(Y/n), wait, don’t leave me.” He begged but it was too late. The choice had been made. And you weren’t the one he picked. You pulled your arm away form him. “You made your choice Jungkook. You can manage yourself.” You said saying his full name. It was the first time in 3 years he had heard his full name leave your mouth. It was always between J, Kookie, or Gukkie. Never Jungkook.

—-

You found yourself outside of Taehyung’s apartment. You didn’t know where else to go. Over the three years, you and Tae had grown close as friends. He helped you get to know Jungkook better and he was the one who pushed Jungkook to make the move to ask you out. He had become your brother in a way, and you were thankful. You just needed to get away from Jungkook to clear your head.

The door opened to show a very tired and messy haired boy. “(Y/n)?” Tae asked tiredly. “Is everything okay?”

It was all it took to make you breakdown, and you were in Tae’s arms. He brought you inside and sat you down. You cried. You cried a lot. When you managed to finally stop, you explained everything to Tae. He was in shock to say the least, but he was there for you when you needed him.

“I’m so sorry (y/n). You can stay here for as long as you need.” He told you as he got up going to the kitchen to make your favorite comfort tea. Normally that worked, today, tea would never be enough again. The dark hole that was burning into your chest was almost overwhelming. “I think..I think I need to go back to America.” You told Tae as he stopped turning to you.

“No. You can’t leave. Surely there’s an explanation (y/n). Let Jungkook have time to explain himself.” He tried to reason with you. It wasn’t enough. You couldn’t be in the same country as the man that just broke your heart. The man you gave everything to. Your mind, body, and soul all belonged to Jungkook and you couldn’t live with that after this.

You didn’t remember the flash drive that you were going to play for Jungkook last night was still sitting on the kitchen island. It had a small note taped to it that had said “play me.” You didn’t know Jungkook was watching something that held a very personal meaning to you.

The flash drive that had the “Heart of Seoul” video attached onto it. The video that showed Jungkook as your heart in Seoul.

—

It was about 10:00pm when there was knock at Tae’s door. Tae had gone out with some friends for the evening. He had offered to take you along, but you didn’t want to ruin the mood or his fun. You thought that was the pizza you had ordered when you heard the knock at the door. So, when you opened the door, the shock of Jungkook hit you like a slap to the face.

He was crying. The tears falling down his face like a small waterfall, and it broke your heart. It was ironic how even though yours was broken, you still wanted to fix him first. “(Y/n)..” He choked out and it made you weak.

“Gukkie..” You whimpered softly. He stepped in shutting the door behind him. He knew he would find you here, but he wanted to give you time to clear your head before he came to you. The smell of his cologne, his laundry detergent, and him, were all too much for you.

You broke down.

He pulled you to him and you cried as he held you. “I’m right here baby..I’m not leaving you.” He said softly as he kissed the top of your head. You wanted to push him away, to hate him, to loathe him. You couldn’t. Instead, the comfort of his strong arms around you began to warm you inside. His soothing voice spoke wonderful tunes to your ears, and the smell of Jungkook was teasing your senses.

He led you to the couch as he sat you down. “I need to explain the photos. It’s not what you think. It never was. But you weren’t supposed to know anything.” He said as you looked at him wiping your tears.

“That sure sounds like it is what I think it is” You choked out. He looked at you as his heart broke too. “No. It’s so much more than that (y/n). I wanted it to be a surprise, but it got out before I could make it one.” He said as you raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

He took your hand and kissed the back of it as your skin was set on fire. It was annoying the effect this man could have on you sometimes. It was so easy to forgive and forget. Only this time, you couldn’t forgive, and you wouldn’t forget.

“That woman in the picture is a good friend of mine. Her name is Liana. We were friends back in grade school and her family moved here when she was fifteen. I hadn’t seen her in years. I found out that she had open a shop recently and I went to her for advice.” He explained to you as you listened. It still didn’t make sense to you. A friend he hasn’t seen or even spoken about suddenly showing up and getting close? It made your stomach turn.

He continued.

“She owns a jewelry shop. She does all sorts of custom jewelry or you can go in and buy one right off the shelf. I contacted her because I knew she would be the best to help me when it came to this.” He was putting his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small box. As he opened it, your heart stopped at the sight of what was inside.

It was an engagement ring.

“She was helping me pick out a ring for you. I was going to wait to propose until we went to America next month and I met your brother and father.” He said choking out a small chuckle. “But you got ahead of me and thought I was doing something I would never do to you.” He said softly as he cupped your face.

You felt so utterly stupid. How could you think that the man you love more than anything in the entire world could cheat on you? How could you think that he would ever hurt you like that? You wanted to yell, kick, even scream at yourself for being so stupid.

You looked at him as you smiled softly. It was a genuine smile but the thought of him cheating still hurt and it was your fault that it had even crossed your mind.

“I’m so sorry Gukkie.” You said as you cupped his cheek wiping his cheeks. “I saw the photos and I saw the closeness. It just never occurred to me that you would do this.” You told him as he smiled softly. He understood how it looked, and it did hurt him to know that’s what your mind had jumped to. It didn’t matter to him anymore though, because he loved you more than anything in his entire life.

“What do you say (y/n)? Will you marry me?” He asked getting down on one knee to ask you properly. You felt the world around you stop and the only thing that mattered was Jeon Jungkook. The man who was half your heart, half your body, and half your soul.

You leaned forward as you looked at his beautiful brown eyes and smiled softly.

Not only was Jungkook your mind, body, and soul, he was also your Heart of Seoul. So for that very reason, it was enough for you to say,

“Yes Jeon Jungkook, I will marry you.”

[holycafe]

Deja Vu

Coldflash Week Fall 2019: Different First Meeting

When the Oculus blew, Len didn’t die. Instead, he woke back up in the body of his past self on the night before his first ever run-in with the Flash. Now Len has a chance to do it all over again; what changes would he make this time around?

(I have a lot of edits and fics for this ship as well as destiel, sterek, etc. My masterposts can be found here. If you’re on a desktop site then you can just jump on over to my page to view the rest of my coldflash edits.)

A full fanfic for this will be on the way soon (hopefully), but please accept the following couple of extracts in the meantime and, if you feel inspired by this post, feel free to run with it yourself! I only ask that you give me credit for the idea.

[] [] []

The taste of Sara's lips lingered on his tongue. Len hoped she'd gotten away. He hoped they all had. His team. He'd never been much of a team player in the past, but that was before he'd joined the Legends. And look where it had left him: holding onto a device that was set to blow at any second.

All things considered, Len supposed this was a good way to go. He wondered what Barry would think of him now. What would the Flash say once he learnt that Len had died a hero? Would Barry mourn him? Maybe. He was a god damn bleeding heart if ever Len had known one.

When the Time Masters surrounded him, Len had time for one last line. One last snarky comment. He'd make sure it was a good one.

"No strings on me," Len said, and he closed his eyes to the blinding light filling the room.

His last thought was of Lisa.

He supposed he should have expected that... his sister had always loved that damn film and insisted on watching it with him every birthday. Though he'd missed it last year, having been recently arrested for killing their father, so she'd had to come to visit him in prison instead. Lisa forgave Len that though, saying Lewis Snart's death was a better present than she could have asked for and more than made up for one skipped birthday. She'd made him promise not to miss her next one, though... it seemed like Len was going to be breaking that promise. He supposed she'd have to find someone else to carry on that tradition with her from now on. Maybe it would be Cisco? He was a good guy, and it was obvious to Len just how much the two cared for each other. If it wasn’t Cisco, though, Len just had to hope it wasn’t Rosa either; she’d messed with Lisa’s heart too much already.

But, whoever it was, they had better take good care of his little sister or Len would come back to personally haunt their ass.

No strings on me.

No strings on me…

No strings on me…

"There are no strings on me!"

Len sat forward with a jolt, panting heavily as his mind swam with mental whiplash. It took him far too long to blink away his confusion and recognise where he was.

"Lenny? What's wrong? Are you okay?" Lisa was asking, placing her hand on his back. He tried not to cringe away from her touch

"You have no strings, your arms is free, to love me by the Zuider Zee," the song continued.

"Yeah..." he said slowly, looking away from Pinocchio dancing away on the TV to Lisa. Slowly, he settled back down on his sister's sofa. "Yeah, I'm fine." His heart was racing, and he was still panting, but he was calming down again now. "Just a bad dream." But it had felt like so much more than that... it had felt real.

"You fell asleep while watching Pinocchio?" Lisa asked, looking thoroughly unimpressed. She really did love this film. "It's not even nine o'clock. And it's my birthday!"

"Sorry, Sis," Len shrugged. He didn't have much else to say. The longer his eyes were open, the more faded the dream felt. Of course, it hadn't been real... Len internally chided himself for even considering that a possibility. Speedsters and immortals and time travel? That stuff could never really exist! It had just been a dream. A very, very weird dream.

"You're getting old, Lenny," his sister teased, and Len rolled his eyes.

[] [] []

The next morning, s Leonard and his team rode down the armoured van, Len could feel his heart racing in his chest. But he couldn’t let some dream interfere with his heist. He’d been planning it for months, and it was set to be the biggest haul of his career. He and all of his crew would be walking away with at least two mil’ each. He wasn’t about to bail out now.

So, Len continued on. However, he couldn’t help but throw glances over his shoulder as he dismounted his bike and grabbed the liquid nitrogen containers to bust open the door. And when the red blur did, in fact, come rushing to the rescue, Len didn’t hang around to check it out as he’d done in his dream. He jumped on his bike and got the hell out of dodge, mask still firmly in place.

Back at the safe house, Len’s mind was spinning. His dream… it couldn’t have been real. Could it? It wasn’t possible. But neither was the red blur which had interrupted his heist. Len stared at the screen, the surveillance footage he’d swiped from the van playing under his sharp gaze. It was exactly as Len had remembered it in his dream. Everything was happening in precisely the same way. The thought made Len’s stomach twist into knots. If the dream was real… then that meant that Len had only eighteen months left before he died.

But, what a hell of an eighteen months they would be: becoming Captain Cold, going up against the mob, getting rid of Lewis once and for all, travelling through time, and doing and taking whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

Well, almost…

There was one thing that Len found himself wanting desperately. One person. Someone that Len would have never expected to fall for…

And Len supposed that that was it: that was how he could find out, once and for all, whether this dream of his was coming true or not. Len would have to track down Barry Allen. If he was real, then this whole thing, whatever it was, must be real too.

That was how he found himself inside CC Jitters the next morning, waiting on an impossible man.

His dream-self had done surveillance on Barry from the moment he’d squeezed the man’s name from Cisco’s lips. Months of monitoring his comings and goings. He’d learnt everything that he possibly could about Barry, stopping only once Len had found the young man getting cosy with a female cop and noticed the way his gut twisted with jealousy at the sight of the pair… But that wouldn’t be for another year yet.

In Len’s dream, the Flash had frequented this coffee shop day in and day out. So, if Len wanted to run into him, then this was the place to do it.

Len didn’t have long to wait before the door opened and in walked Barry Allen and Iris West. Iris patted her friend on the shoulder and moved behind the counter to put on an apron. But Len’s eyes were trained on Barry. He was dressed like a preschool teacher in a sweater vest and shirt with a pair of slim-fit jeans. It looked good on him, though Len would be surprised if he found anything that looked bad on this man.

The goody type didn’t usually do it for Len, but there was so much more to Barry than met the eye and thus, regardless, Len found his heart racing frantically against his chest. Though, maybe his reaction was less about seeing Barry again and more about the crushing realisation that his dream had been real.

Len couldn’t understand how that was possible. He’d dreamt about the future. But how? He wasn’t a meta… was he?

Barry was leaning on the counter now and talking to his friend. From this angle, Len could just about see the grin on the Flash’s face. One part of Len wanted to stay and watch this impossible man some more, but another part of him needed time to think things over. Getting up, Len shrugged his coat back on over his shoulders and made to leave the café. But then someone was tripping up and crashing into him.

Len stumbled, shooting a hand out to a nearby post, and steadying himself and the other man before they both went hurtling to the floor. He looked down to find Barry Allen’s big green eyes looking back up at him, the to-go cup he’d been holding slipping to the floor and spilling all over Len’s shoes. Though, Len realised he didn’t quite mind that. He could always buy a new pair.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” Barry said, pulling himself up. “I was backing up, and I wasn’t looking where I was going. And I… I’ll pay for your dry cleaning!” Barry continued. Len looked down at himself, seeing that some of the coffee had indeed also splattered against his new coat. Len didn’t mind that either. Barry twisted to grab his wallet from his jeans pocket, and Len realised he was still holding onto Barry’s shoulder; he quickly let go.

“They’re only clothes,” Len said. He sounded breathless. He was breathless. Len was working without a plan here, and he always had a plan. He hadn’t intended to meet Barry today, but now that he had… "Let me buy you another drink,” Len said, slipping into his drawl like putting on a good pair of gloves. He watched Barry closely and was happy to see a brush of colour sweep across the younger man’s cheeks.

"But, I was the one who bumped into you,” Barry protested, still holding his wallet as though he was going to insist on paying. Len placed his hand purposefully over Barry’s.

"Yeah, you were," Len said, smirking. He enjoyed the way that Barry grinned at him in return. Their relationship in the dream had been much more difficult. But this? This was easy. "You look like a caramel latte, kind of guy."

"How did you know?"

"Call it a hunch," Len shrugged. The truth was, he remembered it being Barry’s go-to drink in his dream. Though, his friends would often order a Flash for him as a joke. Len would have liked to make that same joke now, but that particular drink wasn’t on the menu… yet. “Also,” Len said, dipping down to pick the spilt disposable coffee cup up off the floor, "it's written on your cup."

"Oh, right," Barry laughed. Len, smirk still in place, stepped around the spill to toss the now-empty cup in the trash at the same time that Iris came over with a mop. Barry apologised to her, but she only gave Barry a not-so-subtle wink and nodded with her head for Barry to follow Len to the counter. Barry had turned an even brighter shade of red by this point.

Len ordered the man’s drink and then leant back against the counter, elbows propped up behind him and taking his time to slowly look Barry up and down.

“So, Barry, do you make a habit of running into people at coffee shops or am I just lucky?” Len drawled, and Barry scratched nervously at the back of his neck.

“Well, I try not to,” Barry laughed. “Not everyone’s as nice about it as you are,” he said, and Len almost burst out laughing. He didn’t think anyone had ever called him ‘nice’ before. “Wait, you know my name?” Barry asked. But he quickly shook his head and tapped his crown in a ‘duh’ gesture. “The coffee cup,” he said, answering his own question. “Though, now I’m at a disadvantage because I don’t know your name.”

“Hmm,” Len uttered. He leisurely looked Barry up and down one last time, drawing it out and enjoying how the younger man squirmed under his gaze. “I think we can rectify that,” Len said eventually, then he quickly pushed back off the counter and turned around to grab a napkin. He took a pen out of his coat pocket and scrawled his name and number down. By the time he was done, Barry’s order was ready, so he handed both the cup and napkin to the speedster at the same time. "You can run into me anytime, Barry," he winked and then sauntered out of the coffee shop before Barry could do anything more than blush.

[supremeuppityone]

Written for Klaroline Valentine's Day Bingo 2020 @kcvalentinesbingo

Prompt: Casablanca

Author’s note: This was inspired by Ricky Gervais’ 2020 Golden Globes monologue, in which he thoroughly pissed me off.

Warning: Potential triggers; implied assault survivor

Please review here.

           Red. Everything was red. The rage sank into Caroline’s bones until nothing was left. From the uncomfortable murmurs of the rest of the audience, it was clear that she wasn’t the only one furious with Alaric Saltzman’s patronizing speech to open the Oscars ceremony.

           “If you do win an award tonight, don’t use it as a political platform to make a political speech. You're in no position to lecture the public about anything, you know nothing about the real world. So, if you win, come up, accept your little award, thank your agent and your God and fuck off.”

           There were so many things wrong with the washed-up comedian’s vile statement, that Caroline let out an audible gasp, not bothering to let her features settle back into a polite mask. Her agent was going to be pissed if the cameras happened to catch her now. But it was nothing compared to how pissed Katherine would be in a little while. As a nominated filmmaker, Caroline understood she was in a unique position to make a call for social change. And as one of the few female filmmaker nominees, it was her responsibility. She covertly took out her phone, typing a quick message to her staff, and then leaned back into her seat with a self-satisfied grin. Game on.  

           Her documentary focused on Congolese women who were taking back their communities torn apart by sexual violence. It was her honor to give voice to the warrior women who had created safe spaces for women — teaching them self-defense, providing legal representation, and fostering marketable skills.

           She toyed with the orange and red bracelet, hiding a bittersweet smile as she recalled the way some of the women at the community center had attempted to teach her how to make the rolled-up paper beads. It was the day she shared her story with them. Her pain had been her own for so long. She’d nearly punched Katherine for telling her the bracelet clashed with her designer gown and that she should instead go with the loan from Bulgari.

           The back of Caroline’s neck prickled as though she could feel the weight of someone’s stare. Casually glancing around the packed theater, her blue eyes widened when she realized Klaus Mikaelson was staring at her. Wildly famous, the dimpled British actor’s mantle must be overflowing with prestigious Oscars, BAFTAs and Golden Globes. Why was he staring at her? Again. Despite years in the industry, this was the first awards season her work had garnered enough attention to warrant nominations. And unwanted attention from A-listers.

            A few months ago, she’d attended the Directors Guild Awards, slightly starstruck and still in disbelief that her work was finally getting recognition. She nervously was sipping champagne when someone insistently tapped her shoulder. Familiar with many of the more heinous Hollywood Gropers, she whirled around, ready to shred some wrinkled, self-entitled balls. She stopped short when she realized it was a skinny teenager who somehow managed to look even more nervous than she.

           “Um. Hi! So, um I think you’re Caroline Forbes. Right?”

           Caroline softened, assuming his painfully earnest demeanor meant he was an intern or one of the stage assistants. Her smile was gentle as she said, “Yes, I’m Caroline. What’s your name?”

           Brown eyes went round with excitement as he took both of her hands in his, wildly shaking them up and down as he gushed, “I’m Henrik and I go to USC and we just studied you in my Defining the Feminine Narrative class!”

           Flustered, she could feel an enormous smile spread across her face. It was rare that she encountered someone who knew who she was. Now what? Offering to sign something or pose for a photo sounded unbelievably pretentious. “Oh, wow. Thank you,” she finally said, “I had no idea.”

           “I’m actually um, doing a research paper right now on your documentary about dowry-related violence in India,” he shyly confessed, hiding behind his long brown hair.

           “Seriously?! I just started cataloguing some additional footage; trying to decide if there’s another story to tell. If you want to give me your email, I’d be happy to share my research with you. Maybe it will inspire you to create something amazing.”

           Before Henrik could respond, an unexpected voice interrupted, “Impressive chat-up lines, little brother.”

           Klaus stood there with his sexy dimpled grin that always spelled box office gold. And he’d been poured into that tuxedo. Damn. “Klaus Mikaelson,” he said, as though she hadn’t watched every movie he ever made, “and I had no idea Henrik was such a fan.” He put a companionable arm around the timid boy, telling her, “Henrik’s the true talent in the family. Thank you, love, for noticing.”

           He eyed her with interest, and she immediately reddened, cursing her painfully white skin for making every emotion so obvious. “These ceremonies are so frightfully dull. Would you like to join us at our table, and then perhaps later, you and I could go for a drink?”

           Damn it. He was one of those guys. Now flushed with irritation rather than embarrassment, Caroline replied, “You should ask Tatia. It’s only polite — since she’s your date.” Lately, the gossip sites had exploded with headlines gushing about the whirlwind romance between Klaus and the stunning supermodel, Tatia Petrova. Even if there was the chance it was a clever ruse to garner media attention, there was no way Caroline wanted any part of that nonsense.

           Klaus flashed that dimpled smirk again, his accented voice amused as he said, “Tatia is more of an...inconvenience than a permanent fixture in my life. There’s only so much frivolous chatter I can tolerate. But I suspect that you would provide endlessly fascinating conversation, sweetheart. You’re starting to make a name for yourself with all those exotic travels and penchant for saving the world. There’s a light that shines in you; it sets you apart from the rest.”

           He was seriously giving her the ‘you’re not like other girls’ speech. Dick. “Pass,” she said flatly, already starting to walk away. “But thanks for adding bad pickup lines to my ever-growing list of atrocities I need to save the world from.”

            Thunderous applause interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Where Klaus was still staring at her rather than paying attention to the clip they were showing from his nominated performance. His performance in the Casablanca remake had earned him the Best Actor nomination, with critics and media outlets proclaiming his work in the big budget production to be a crowning achievement in his stellar career. Despite her indifference to the original 1940s movie, she still eagerly went to see Klaus’ remake, and his performance as the expat Rick had left her breathless. His American accent had been impeccable, and she actually got a bit teary-eyed when he arranged for his onscreen love interest, Lisa, to board the plane to safety while he stayed behind.

           Caroline could feel the heat rising in her cheeks the longer Klaus stared at her, irritated at herself for paying far too much attention to the gossip sites that announced Klaus’ amicable split almost immediately following their disastrous first encounter. She did not have time for Hollywood fuckboys. Even the ones with dimples. She had a world to save. Lost in her thoughts of burying her stupid crush on Klaus, she completely missed that he’d apparently won and was being herded offstage.

           She leaned forward eagerly as her documentary category was called. Regardless of the winner, her documentary had garnered enough attention that a few months ago, she’d learned an anonymous donation singlehandedly funded the Congolese women’s charity for the next decade. It was rare that people surprised her. Maybe one day she’d learn the identity of the generous donor. While the vignettes played for each nominee, her heart giving a funny little tweak as she held her breath in anticipation.

           “And the winner for best documentary feature is...Conflicted Hearts: Congolese Women Fight Back, by Caroline Forbes!”

           The thunderous applause was deafening, and Caroline sat there in shock for several moments, unable to get her legs to move. When she finally managed to walk to the stage on shaky legs, she fervently hoped she hadn’t sweated through her Arcadius original. She cringed as Alaric grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him for a congratulatory kiss that she managed to avoid by jerking her head away. He should know better. Hazel eyes flashed as he angrily hissed, “Just smile for the camera and keep the whole ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting’ bullshit out of it. No one cares about your whiny politics.”

           She burned him with her gaze, the oranges and reds of her gown a perfect backdrop for her fiery rage. Not bothering to respond to his unspoken threat, she stepped to the podium, pleased to be bathed in the stage lights, drawing energy from their warmth. “I’ve now been told twice tonight not to get political. It’s stupid to think I’m going to start following orders now. We’re some of the most fortunate people in the world. We have an extraordinary platform that allows us to reach millions. And it’s our responsibility to use it. We live in this world too and we should be working just as hard as anyone to make it better.”

           The loud clapping sounded like vindication, and she hoped that the cameras were zooming in on Alaric’s face as it immediately purpled in anger. “My film is dedicated to the Congolese women who let me into their world, whose unparalleled strength gave me the courage to put into words my own trauma. They are warriors, and I hope that the anonymous donor who helped fund their women’s charity for the next decade understands the hope they’ve given to so many.”

           Her smile was a vicious blade as she announced, “Thriving in front of my bullies is sometimes the whole reason why I get out of bed. I just started a charity tonight because I know I can’t be the only woman who’s been told to keep ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting bullshit out of it’. My organization will help women speak out about sexual harassment and assault in the workplace, providing much-needed legal assistance and support to help them overcome the personal and professional consequences that make it difficult to speak out. It’s called ‘CARE’.”

           The standing ovation was immensely satisfying, but then she added, “And it stands for Condescending Asshats Refuse to Evolve’,” which had the theater shouting her name excitedly. Not a bad night.

           As Caroline was ushered backstage, she basked as so many warm smiles and enthusiastic handshakes congratulated her, pausing only once to catch Alaric’s furious expression. She held his gaze just as fiercely, pouring out every viscous word she wasn’t ready to speak. But one day she would be.

           Backstage, she nearly ran over Klaus. Flushed from his own win, he beamed at her while offering her a steadying hand. “Congratulations, love. Your win was well-deserved, and I don’t recall a more compelling speech. You’ve set a precedent tonight that undoubtedly will bring about much-needed change.”

           She blushed to the roots of her hair, wishing she hadn’t worn the intricately plaited hairstyle so she could give her hands something to do. “Uh, thanks, and you too. Your work in Casablanca was amazing.”

           “You saw my movie?”

           Caroline was taken aback by his hopeful, pleased tone. “I’ve seen all of your movies. Everyone has.”

           “I’ve seen yours too,” he confessed, ducking his head shyly. “Henrik is quite the fan and has all of your documentaries — even the one you created fresh out of film school where you exposed the hypocrisy of a ‘morality clause’ for beauty pageant contestants in your hometown.”  

           “Seriously?!” She gaped at him, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t thought about that in years. That documentary had gotten the attention of several groups, which eventually led to funding for bigger projects and more exposure to the causes that she was the most passionate about. “I had no idea that you’d...I mean, I’m flattered you took the time to watch my films.”  

           The tips of his ears reddened as Klaus replied, “Meeting you was a bit of a revelation for me. Your drive, your fearlessness at giving people a platform so their voices and stories can be told — it’s inspiring. It made me want to make some changes in my life, which I started doing several months ago.”

           “I had no idea. I’m, uh, glad to have helped. Can I ask about the changes?”

           “Maybe someday I’ll tell you,” he answered enigmatically. “In the meantime, I’d be honored if you would accept my donation to your CARE charity. I’m doing my best to be a reformed condescending asshat.”  

[therainroguefanfiction]

⚽ Paid; Aoyama (Sportember #020)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, Family

Word Count: 2,035

Pairing: Reader, Aoyama

World: Clean Freak! Aoyama-kun

Prompt: “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Sport: Soccer

Author’s Note: So, I tried looking up Aoyama’s first name but couldn’t find it anywhere. With that said, I chose the first name of Haruka! If anyone knows his canon first name, please let me know! ^~^)/

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“Y/N! Come down here, will you?”

You paused the anime you were watching on your laptop, pulling yourself off of your bed before heading downstairs where your mom was standing in the kitchen, placing the beef stew into the crock pot to cook overnight. Aoyama was sitting at the table, wearing his baby blue latex gloves as he worked on his homework. “What’s up, kaa-san?”

She smiled at you over her shoulder before turning back to her task. “Your brother has a game tomorrow but it’s a bit far. Can you take him?”

You glanced over at your younger brother, who glanced up at you with a derpy expression on his face. “I don’t have any plans tomorrow so sure thing.”

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate it!” Kaa-san gave you a one arm hug, something she was unable to do with her youngest child because of his germophobia. Haruka couldn’t stand to be touched, he hated being dirty, and he refused to touch anything without his gloves, but you were his special older sibling that he adored and the only person he could handle touching him. Though, even that had its limits.

You settled down across from him. “Who are you playing against?”

“Takada academy.”

“Takada?” You mused. ‘Why does that name sound so familiar? Hmm.’ It was just on the edge of your mind, but you couldn’t bring it to the surface. ‘Meh, whatever. It’s probably not even important.’

“You should video it!” Kaa-san stated with a proud grin, setting the video camera on the table in front of you. It was one of those super expensive ones that professionals use.

“Where the hell did you even get this?” You muttered as you picked it up to inspect it. “So heavy.”

“I was interested in being a film maker for a brief period when I was in high school,” she stated, clapping her hands together as her eyes gained a faraway look.

“Right…” you leaned back in your chair, giving her a weary look. “There’s really no need for me to film. There’s gonna be a bunch of reporters there with their cameras focused on him. You can just watch their footage.”

She huffed, putting her hands on her hips and puffing out her cheeks. “Why can’t you just do this for me?”

“Because it’s a pain,” you answered honestly, letting your head fall back as you closed your eyes. “Plus, I don’t even know how to work the damn thing.”

“Language,” Haruka mumbled softly, sending you a look.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“If they don’t get good shots, I swear,” Kaa-san huffed in annoyance as she returned to the food, making you chuckle.

“Don’t worry, they always get the best shots of him. He’s a little celebrity, after all~”

“He really is, isn’t he?” She sighed dreamily. “One of my children is a star.”

“And the other?” You prompted with a raised brow.

“The other… is very protective over their baby brother and I appreciate that!”

“Gee, thanks.”

“We all have our roles to play, you know. Just because your role isn’t as glamorous doesn’t mean it isn’t important!”

“Sure, sure. What’s your role?” You wondered. “Official stew maker?”

She glared at you. “Real funny, Y/N.”

“I know, I’m a real comedian.” You stood up, stopping to ruffle your baby brother’s hair on the way to the door. “I’m going back to my room now.”

“Don’t stay up too late!”

“Okay~” You shit the door behind you, flopping onto the bed and slipping your headphones back onto your head.

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“Y/N, wake up please.”

A groan passed your lips as you squinted at the bright light shining right into your eyes and it took several blinks before your vision cleared up enough to see who had woken you up.

Haruka was standing beside the bed, his hand suspended in mid-air, clearly unable to bring himself to shake you awake. Your room was sparkling brighter than the sun because he had taken the time to clean it before waking you up, as he did every time he entered your bedroom. Unfortunately for him, you were quite the messy person, often leaving dishes in your room and empty chip bags scattered about like leaves on a windy day. He loved you dearly but he wished you would be more cleanly.

“What time is it?” You muttered, putting your hand over your face to block the light.

“Eight o’clock.”

“And what time is your game?”

“We are supposed to be there by nine-thirty.”

“Shit,” you groaned, throwing your covers off your body so you could get ready.

“Language,” he scolded softly, his brow furrowing as he watched you. “You really should take a shower…”

“I took one last night,” you tugged open the dresser drawer, pulling out a pair of casual clothes before turning back to your brother. “Out so I can change.”

“I really think you should -”

“Haruka.”

He frowned at the stern look you gave him before slowly nodding and leaving the room. He hated upsetting you almost as much as he hated being dirty and he knew that his germophobia got on your nerves, so he tried his best to overcome it around you. This was something you had definitely taken notice of and appreciated.

When you finished getting dressed and headed downstairs, you found him buttering a piece of toast, those latex gloves protecting his hands from germs.

“You need more than toast,” you frowned at his back.

He shook his head, holding it out to you. “It’s for you. Okaa-san made me breakfast before she left.”

Your lips twitched up as you accepted the toast. “Thanks little bro. You ready?”

With a nod, he peeled the gloves from his hands before setting them in the sink to be washed. The urge to wash them then and there was strong, but he managed to refrain, but not without looking back at them more than a few times. You opened the door for him, closing it and locking it behind him before heading to your car.

He stood off to the side as you unfolded the clear plastic, draping it over the front seat for him to sit on. He had told you on more than one occasion that your car seats were disgusting and that he’d rather die than sit on them. Politely, of course.

“Thank you,” he mumbled softly as he slid onto the seat.

You hummed in response, shutting his door before walking around to settle in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition. No words were spoken between the two of you, settling for a comforting silence with the radio on a low setting, but that was fine with the both of you.

“Sheesh, there’s so many people here,” you muttered to yourself as you tried to finding a parking space. “I’m gonna let you out. I’ll find a spot and be there soon, okay?”

He nodded, waiting for you to come to a stop and lean over, opening his door before he got out, using his foot to close the door behind him.

Several minutes passed before you were able to snag one, putting it in park and turning off the ignition before stepping toward the field. You could hear the large crowd before you saw them and it made you cringe. People just weren’t your thing and sports fans were even worse. You just wanted to blend into the back of the crowd and mind your own business but when the coach saw you, she waved you over with a grin.

“Aoyama, over here!”

Dozens upon dozens of heads snapped toward you with stars around their heads and hearts in their eyes, expecting to see the first year that had become a soccer star but, instead, they got you, the older sibling with zero star power. The shine faded and their eyes narrowed at you, judging you to be an imposter. You could feel their piercing stares following you a you stepped through the crowd to reach the coach, who you were positive was a sadist.

“I told you to just call me Y/N,” you scowled at her, stuffing your hands into your pockets and trying to ignore the stares at your back.

“Oops, I forgot,” she grinned. “Where’s your brother?”

“Washing his hands probably.”

“Y/N, my love~!” Tsukamoto rushed toward you with his arms outstretched, lips puckered in hopes that you would kiss him.

You stepped back, sliding your foot forward so that he tripped, landing face first into the dirt. “I’m not your love, idiot.”

“How cold!”

“Y/N!” Zaizen folded his arms across his chest, giving you a stern look. “Where is your brother? He needs to be warming up!”

“Ya’ll do realize I’m not his keeper, right?” You deadpanned. “I don’t have him on a GPS system.”

“Hah? But you’re his older sibling! You should know where he’s at during all times!”

“You got a baby sister, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Where is she right now?” You quirked a brow, watching the different emotions crossing his face – first confusion, then embarrassment, and finally annoyance. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Ishikawa chuckled, bringing his hand to his mouth and pretending to cough when Zaizen glared at him.

Sakai took a step closer, glancing at you before quickly looking away, his cheeks dusted a bright pink. “You’re looking really pretty today, Y/N-senpai.”

“Thanks,” you offered him a soft smile and the pink darkened a few shades.

“Hey! How come you call me an idiot but you smile at him?” Tsukamoto cried, trying again to throw his arms around you but your foot to his face stopped him in his tracks.

“Because you’re an annoying idiot that doesn’t know when to quit,” you glanced the other boy, lips twitching up just a fraction. ‘Plus he’s adorable.’

“The game’s about to begin! Where the hell is Aoyama?” Zaizen huffed, angrily, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Do you mind going to look for him, Y/N-san?” Ishikawa asked you softly.

“Sure, why not.” With a shrug, you turned on your heel and headed away from the field, looking for your baby brother.

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Your eye twitched at the scene before you as you stood in the open doorway of the locker room, brain trying to process what the hell was happening but you could smell the smoke from its lack of progress.

A girl that you had never seen before was standing just inside the door without a shirt, her lacy bra on display. Gotou was standing in the middle of the room, clutching a bat lined with a bunch of bent nails and stickers of flowers. And, finally, Aoyama was scrubbing the locker room as if his life depended on it.

“I don’t get paid enough for this shit,” you sighed, bringing your hand to your face.

Aoyama didn’t look away from the locker he was scrubbing. “You’re not getting paid at all.”

“That, my dear brother, is the problem. You know your team needs you, right?”

“I’m almost done.”

“They kind of need you now, Haruka.”

He frowned, looking between you and the locker he was cleaning.

“Ah, don’t worry! I can finish this for you,” Gotou smiled brightly.

He hesitated a moment longer before slowly nodding and heading toward you. Together, the two of you headed for the baseball field.

“Do I want to know what the hell was happening back there?”

“She locked me inside so I couldn’t play. It was filthy,” his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“She what? That little – I’ll kill her!” You turned on your heel, prepared to return to the room so you could give her a piece of your mind, but Haruka’s fingers latched onto the end of your shirt.

“Don’t,” he spoke softly, tugging on it again. “She’s not worth it.”

“But -”

He pouted, making you sigh in frustration.

“Fine,” your hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch. “Make sure you kick their ass, understand?”

“I will, I promise.”

With a smile, you ruffled his hair before taking the place beside the coach, feeling your heart swell as you watched your baby brother playing the sport that he loved so dearly.

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[dobriking]

Bend Into A Break (4)

Summary: Not one, but two vlog-squads came with the death of Vine. And the rumored beef between you two is absolutely true! So, you and David (begrudgingly) set up a month long-retreat among your groups to film team challenges and go against each other. Y’know. For views. Pairing: David Dobrik x Readers, Enemies to Lovers, living together. Warnings: Profanity, mentions of drinking.  A/n: A bit of a filler chapter for a transition. Next part though... :) 

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 

The drinks got the better of them so you and David stand alone in front of the Houdini Mansion waiting for the bus to catch back to the route after God knows how many pitstops it took for extended bathroom breaks.

It’s cold this high up. With that and the strange-car ride you had with David, you’re anxious to get inside.

Suddenly you realize this is all very real, happening in real time and no longer just an idea.

You’re proud to say so but worried at the same time.

David has to work the doorknob, pushing with all his weight (a little too much) to get the door open. You step in after him, hugging yourself (slyly) and keeping behind him as you step into the entrance room. Just as advertised. Beautiful, dusted, slick, pristine, but dark indeed.

“Geez.” He chuckles, setting down his suitcase. “You really outdid yourself Y/n.”

You take a breath. “Tell me about it.”

“This place is insane.” He picks up a flower pot placed on a thin side-table by the door and under a thin window. You catch him sniff it and his eyes go wide (for whatever reason) before he sets it down immediately and hurries into the next room — the kitchen.

He lets out that high-pitched, giddy little laugh of his and you jump but choose to ignore it for his own good. He’s messing with things on the counter and you head up the stairs, gripping the railing and letting your palm slide along the shining wood as you test the creakiness of the steps.

They’re all good, fortunately.

But at the top of the stairs is one continuous hallway going in both directions, left and right. A good handful of the rooms promised are in this one hallway, with a bathroom at the end of each hall. Every light in the place gives its room a warm yellow tint and its actually quite flattering, especially with the heaps of glass decorations you’re sure will be added to fees in damages. And each bedroom has two twin beds, and two of each other accommodation.

You look over all the little knick-knacks.

Maybe the bus getting here a little late is working out better than you thought.

You jog downstairs to see David having trouble with the curtain by the front door. And you hold your fingers to the bridge of your nose as you try to gain your composure — why on Earth did he decide to mess with the thing in the first place? He yelps as the pole falls from its confines…

He senses your presence and turns slowly, a crooked smile on his face.

You take a deep breath, waving him off. “David, get the bags.”

“Got it.” He hurries with his head down.

You pick up the pole and stand on your tiptoes to raise it back where it can be hooked in place. David comes in, his backpack over one shoulder, your backpack over the other, and both suitcases in hand. “Uh, where should I—?”

“Just leave them there.” You finish with putting them in place and do what you can only hope he intended to do with the curtains, pulling them back and tying them away from the window. “And then uh,” you swipe your hands down your chest, brushing off any dust, “follow me.”

He drops everything though is a little late to follow as he works on keeping the bags upright. He skips after you, watching you observe the downstairs hallway just past the double-set of staircases.

Quite claustrophobic indeed.

You open some doors, first finding an office area, another bathroom, a closet, a door leading to a basement which you promptly close and yelp at, then you find a master bedroom with a door attached directly to the aforementioned bathroom. And that isn’t even all of it.

David hums, impressed.

“Okay,” you clap, “we’ve got two master bedrooms. One down here, one up there, and…” you backtrack, going down the opposite side of the hallway, “four regulars down here, four regulars upstairs. So, pick one — up or down.”

Even without a specified time limit, David’s jittery with the pressure. “Uh, ah-ah UH, DOWN?!”

You pat him on the back before passing. “Okay, you get that room.” You point to the master room at the end of the hall. “I’ll take the other master, and the others can room together.”

“What about Scott, Natalie? Amanda, Toddy?”

“What about them?”

He holds still, his only hint being a slight raise of his brows.

You roll your eyes. “Well, they’re adults? They can do whatever the hell they want.” But then you stop to think about their partners and the hatred on top of the potential discomfort with sharing a room with someone of the opposite whatever. “Uh, fine.” You pinch your nose. “Scott and Todd can share a room, Amanda and Natalie can share a room. Which kinda works in one way I guess — anyway, uh, can you check the pool and see if it needs to be filled up?”

And yes, it does.

You see for yourself when looking out the window. David’s jog slows as he approaches and he turns, finds you in the window, and throws his arms to his sides as he shrugs. The only thing in it is leaves, thankfully, and you suppose not too much dust that’ll flake off when filling it up.

He hops in and plucks them out, and that’s when you stop looking, afraid of what stupidity he may subject himself to in an empty pool.

You suppose that could be the subject of a vlog or something.

But still, you pout realizing just one more thing to do. On top of the empty pool there’s no food (as expected) so surely you’ll be arguing among 18 others on what to order, this is likely the last moment of bliss you’ll have before they start pouring in, and you have no idea how this room situation is going to blow up in your face. What scares you the most is how vicious everybody might be over dibs and who gets to use the bathroom first…

And on top of all that, the glass sculptures irk you dearly. You go around collecting them, cradling them in your arms, and transporting them to where you’ll be staying. You store them in the closest provided alongside some extra blankets and pillows.

Frankly, you doubt the owner would care if you broke them (they’re only getting twenty-two thousand from you alone with this little trip) but you really don’t want to add anything on that from plain-old negligence. You don’t worry about ‘improper’ placement of the knick-knacks because only a person who buys with intent to consistently rent a place like this lives outside of it.

While you’re at it you rearrange and hide other decorations too, brittle or not. Despite the size of the mansion, it’s still too cozy for 18 people to sit in comfortably. At least in the case of everybody in one room at once. While knowing it won’t be like that all the time, you know it will be at one point or another

You slip off your jacket and set it on a chair in the living room, the heat of running around getting to you.

And to also help with the heat you step outside into the chill and catch David chewing gum with a limp hose in one hand and his phone in the other.

“What are you doing?” You ask, keeping your distance.

He nods at you, then the pool. “Filling it up. Says it’ll take like, a day, so.”

You bite your tongue but just say it. “Y’know, I was thinking we could leave it empty? For now at least?”

With as volatile as the overall group is, he doesn’t think it wise to leave a concrete pool empty and free to fall into. Quite a morbid thought but a genuine one.

You cross your arms. “For like, extra vlog footage. We could do a balloon-fight test run…? Or I dunno, turn the hose on everybody? Isn’t that like the shenanigans you put in yours?”

He looks at the pool, “Uh, yeah,” and kicks some dirt into the pool.

“And before you think it, I’m not letting you put dry ice in the pool.”

“Dammit,” he hisses.

You roll your eyes though not out of malice. “Look, I’m trying not to get anybody seriously hurt here. I’m sure you have enough of that to fulfill your followers’ needs, so.” You shrug.

Another talking point about this project was the month of July being somewhat of a true vacation. To get everything as crisp and pristine as can be, to give your mercy time to brew, and to not waste any pre-existing footage, you’ll both be keeping your mouths shut about this for the time being, editing ‘regular’ vlogs for June alongside this project’s vlogs for July. You’ll actually get some time to exist without pointing a camera at everything after this.

“If you need some dry ice and if that’s really what you had in this month’s roster, then you can put it in any pool that isn’t the one we’re separately,” you emphasize, “paying twenty-thousand to use this month.”

He hates how right you are.

The others did get evicted that one time.

“Save all your crazy content for your usual stream, alright?” ‘Crazy’ isn’t quite objective and you know that but you don’t correct yourself. Instead, you leave, hoping he won’t grasp onto that.

David grunts, stomping at the ground and flailing the hose around a bit before tossing it down in the pool and heading inside.

“What, am I just not supposed to get any ‘crazy’ content from this, then?”

“No, you can.” You sit on the chair with your jacket over it. “Just nothing that gets us paying fucking 5k extra in damages! Actually, you know what? You can do whatever you want with the pool and anything else in this house but if it gets added, I’m not paying.”

“Fine! Deal.”

You roll your eyes. “Geez David. It’s just some stupid dry ice. Can you try and respect where you are for once?” Your voice is sincere, far from condescending. But still, David jumps, offended. You lean on the armrest and hold your head up with your hand, closing your eyes as you try to deal with your own irritation. The stress of knowing damn well you won’t be able to bring yourself to let him pay for whatever damages by himself is just adding onto the incoming doom that is your drunk friends. And thinking back on the car ride (which began quite scandalously before ending productively with a slew of new challenge ideas), you don’t like David’s silence.

You don’t want to sour the day completely, so you continue, “Just, whatever ‘crazy’ students you have in mind, can you tone them down?” You look at him, pleading. “Please? You don’t need to throw Zane out a fucking stained glass window for your audience to be entertained. I don’t want anybody getting hurt here.”

HIs fingers go to lips, a small, very sarcastic gasp escaping as he thinks ‘Man that would have been cool.’

But he laughs at himself, which shocks you. The sarcasm in his gasp wasn’t exactly clear.

He shrugs, “I mean, sure,” and plops down on the couch across from you. You squint, looking him up and down and waiting for a sign that what he’s agreed to isn’t true. But he’s focused on the couch, bouncing on it and pressing his palms in to question the cushions. His lips go tight, impressed, and you take a strained breath before hopping up.

He watches you leave and gets up after.

His hands slip into his back pockets. “Hey, do you think we should go back to some of the ideas we had?”

You’re already kneeling by your backpack in the entrance room with the same idea but say “Yeah, sure,” and promptly pull out your laptop. He stands in the doorway like a goof (focus a bit wonky) and he recalls himself as such after you awkwardly squeeze past him. He thinks to collect his own things but sees no use. He sits on the couch again, this time leaning forward to try and peak at your screen, his elbows on his knees.

You get up and sit by him to avoid straining his neck so early into this thing.

“Number one—“ you start, he holds up a finger, “—lip syncing contest.” You type into a word document as you speak. “Number two—“ another finger goes up, “—either a scavenger hunt or a treasure hunt. Number three is a cooking challenge right around the time Heath goes crazy. Four is Assassin, five is…?” You’re stuck.

“That like — us pretending to be stranded on an island, right?”

You chuckle. “Yup.” Quite the strange idea indeed but you can see it working. “We’ve got a murder mystery, going to an escape room for another, the quiet game—“ David hisses, knowing without a doubt his team will lose that one. But he still lives to see everybody’s reaction upon realizing they’re out of the game. “We’re gonna see who can stay up the latest so I guess the…24 hour challenge?”

“Yeah yeah.”

“Then there’s Youtube challenge day…” You shiver at the thought. Being subjected to some of the most infamous challenges in youtube history all in one day…the only thing keeping you up for it is the exclusion of things like the cinnamon challenge. Again — you’re not aiming to get anybody killed.

“Uh,” David pinches his nose then snaps at your screen, “That one we talked about.” You blink. “The horror movie one.”

You look out the window. There is indeed a forest surrounding the house — specifically the pool. The group didn’t even let you explain how the place isn’t haunted. The challenge you had in mind (and David thankfully added to) was to try and get each other to think it was haunted. To ‘tag out’ anybody who went to lengths to ease their fears. But with everybody thinking it’s haunted with Zane’s outburst, David suggested you tell campfire stories, set up some rules, and whoever needs to comfort themselves when they find themselves scared is out of the game. A bit of the same but the alternative would be to stay in the house which could have been enough of a threat on its own.

“Yup, yup.” You squint, typing it in. “Got it. Okay, and there’s also the Newly Wed game thingie, right?”

“Mhm. Make sure to have Scott and Natalie as hosts cause like—“

“Got it.” Can’t have those two knowing too much about each other when the rest of you are against your destined enemy.

“Okay, what else?” David asks as he comes to sit on his knees. But at that moment he looks over the back of the couch and through the window, hearing the low rumble of an oncoming vehicle. You look at each other for a moment before David jumps up and hurries outside.

You close your laptop and tuck it under your arm, then take your bags upstairs to your room. You put David’s too so nobody’s drunk ass trips over them.

You get to the middle of the stairs but stop when you see David welcoming people in, thankfully assisted by more than you both expected. Cody, for one, gives David a flat-lipped smile as he assists him and Chloe in helping Carly into the house. Erin’s behind them. She’s not exactly stumbling but rather lip-syncing to a song playing in her head that you can only assume she played on repeat during the drive.

You wince, realizing the repercussions of a bunch of hungover people who also happen to hate each other in the same house. But you’ll deal with that when the time comes.

You pinch your nose seeing the chaos steadily rise, and David is close to doing the same. He decides to stop helping (they’ve got it on their own) and watch people come in instead.

Once Carly is dealt with (sat down in the living room), Chloe comes to Emily’s side. Their bags are at their side and they have impressed grins as they look around the room.

“Nice.” Emily looks up at you, hair whipping over her shoulder. “Sure you want to get puke on all this mahogany?” You roll your eyes. Always been a bit snippy with you, huh? She forces a smile as she and Chloe stomp up the stairs opposite you.

David nudges you with his elbow. You squint at him, then he nods up the stairs where the two are headed with their bags.

You groan and run after them, skidding in the hallway and creating a squeeeaaaak with the soles of your shoes in an effort to approach them. You’re successful and get between them without retaliation. You grab their shoulders and mutter, “Let’s just wait to get set up, shall we?”

They’re curious and irritated but don’t do anything about it.

They follow David into the living room. He looks at you past their shoulders, and you give him a reassuring smile. He returns it, but neither of your efforts makes it seem like you think it’s going to be okay. You run out and help the bus driver take everybody’s luggage from the bus. You tip him again and give that familiar, solemn look. One that says ‘I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through.’ And he nods as though to say ‘Don’t worry about me.’

He steps back onto the bus to do a sweet-through, makes sure nobody left anything.

In your solitude, you put our palm to the bus and lean against it. You close your eyes and put the back of your hand to your forehead, thinking this all over.

“Good door,” Cody says, breaking your silence. He’s suddenly in front of you and pulling at the handle of his suitcase. “I mean it. IT was disgusting being on a bus with a bunch of drunks but better than it would have been if we were in our right minds.” Despite the sentiment, it’s hard to tell when Cody’s serious or sarcastic.

“But,” he presses his lips tight, looking at the ground before squinting at. you, trying to ignore the wind in his eyes, “never do this again.”

You deflate. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He pats your shoulder and heads inside. He grimaces at his surroundings.

You give the area as thorough a look as you can from your single spot. You suppose this is the closest you could get to a cabin in the woods type get-up around here. There’s a good amount of tees (not too dense to get lost in but not too spread apart to see creepy things in the distance) and a pretty significant path from here to the next wherever. You turn in a circle to survey everything. And you scratch the back of your head, staying in this position as the wind blows. Some strands of hair flow around.

You drop your hands; figure its best to head inside now, lest leaving David too overwhelmed.

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