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dindjarindiaries · 5 years ago

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Oooo how would Pedro's characters react to a selectively mute character? How would his characters react hearing their voice for the first time when they're finally comfortable enough to speak to them?

I absolutely love this concept. Let’s go. (These are gonna be long, folks.)

Din is no stranger to being mute. I mean, come on, this is his specialty. He’s always been known as a man of few words—but with you? He’s met his match. Sometimes, he’ll try to ask you something, but you can always answer with a gesture rather than with words. He understands why you’re so guarded, it’s the same reason why he’s done the same thing himself for so long, but he wants you to be able to trust him enough to speak in front of him. So, slowly but surely, he starts opening up to you—knowing you’re not going to answer and not expecting you to. He’ll even tell you his name, just because he thinks it’ll make you feel closer to him. When it’s been a while, he’ll feel discouraged. Maybe you can see how bad of a person he truly is, or at least how he’s always thought of himself. But his entire body will freeze up when he returns long overdue from a job to see your panicked form on the hatch, calling out to him: “Din! You’re okay!” It’s like the Maker sent some sort of divine being down to him to sing in his ears. The slouch in his shoulders from the hard work of the mission will disappear, and he’ll walk faster to the ship, ready to finally get to know more about the beauty with such an angelic voice.

Javier is going to be so frustrated with you at first. It’s hard for him to work with someone who won’t even talk to him. Steve will have to calm him down at many points, especially if he starts his rants in front of you. Eventually, he’ll learn that he’s being an asshole when he does that, and it doesn’t give you any more of an incentive to speak to him. So, he finds a loophole: notes. He’ll toss one your way every once in a while, and you’ll write your reply on the back of it. These notes go from being something casual to something sacred—almost to the point of love letters, pointing out the sparkle in the other’s eye, the curve of their jaw, etc. Javi comes to love your strong sense of privacy, the way you guard yourself, because it’s made you a mystery to figure out—and now he’s trapped in you. You’ll still refuse to say anything until you nearly die out in the field, finding yourself on the floor of a sicario’s house with a bullet mark on your vest. Javi’s the first one to run over and make sure you’re alright, and upon seeing him, you can’t help croaking out a, “Javi?” that makes his eyes instantly meet yours as his jaw drops. “Don’t leave me,” you’ll plead, hands shaking from the quick brush with death. All he can do is nod and take your shaking hands in his, still in awe that the voice he’s hearing is yours and not some divine sound from the heavens.

Ezra is used to dealing with mute people. He’ll stay entertained by talking to himself, reciting some random facts he’s learned from a book or observing the surrounding terrain as you trudge through planets for a harvest. He won’t mind your silence, he really won’t, but he’ll still ask you yes-or-no questions here and there that you can answer to with a nod. At night, when you’re camped out, he’ll just tell you stories, reaping his benefits from the look in your eyes that tells him everything your words wouldn’t have even been able to say. But you know he really needs your voice when he’s trying to reap a necessary harvest and he can’t. He’s still learning with his left arm, it’s been so hard without his faithful friend of so many years on the right side of his body, and he’s starting to get not only flustered but also emotional. The corner of his lip twitches, his brow furrows, his intelligible vocabulary is exchanged for curses. You, standing by his side, watch as he butchers another one and nearly throws himself away from it. You place your hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention, and say: “It’s going to be alright, Ezra.” And God, does he really feel like it’s going to be okay now, because your words just reach right into his very soul and cleanse it. If he didn’t have tears before, he definitely does now, but he blinks them away to turn back to his work and live up to your words, telling you later when he’s not so speechless about how exquisite your voice sounds.

Whiskey has a goal to get you to laugh before anything else. If he’s being honest with himself, Whiskey likes to talk and be in control. So, even with someone who’s mute, he’s not going to dull his nature down. He’ll talk you up a storm, and if he asks a question and doesn’t get an answer, he’ll pretend like he knows how you’d answer it and goes along with that. “You’re awful quiet, darlin’,” he’ll remind you, just to earn a shrug in response. After a while, he’ll even go to Ginger Ale, asking if you’ve got some sort of medical condition. “Maybe she just doesn’t want to talk to you, Jack,” she’ll scoff. And ouch, that one’s gonna hurt him. He’ll try to hide it, but he’s not used to someone being so—what he thinks is—repulsed to him, and when he sees you he’ll panic. He’ll start stuttering, struggling to find the right words to say, and then he’ll ultimately give up. He’ll start to become just as quiet as you. This concerns you so greatly that you know you have to say something. So, knowing his upbeat and hearty nature, you decide to do it by cracking a joke. You come across him being flustered and rather sad as usual, and you tap his shoulder to get his attention. When his dark eyes are on you, you’ll ask: “You seem down. Was it something I said?” Whiskey will be so shocked at first, but after a few moments, he’ll crack up with laughter. Afterwards, he’ll shake his head, his eyes sparkling as he says, “Your voice is so beautiful, sweetheart.” And you’ll blush and just continue falling hard for him.

Frankie (Catfish) will like the silence—at first. For much of his life, he’s been surrounded by loud sounds: unending gunfire, flying helicopters, shouting from various leaders that’s just made his ears crave some sort of peace. He finds that in you, and he absolutely loves that. He doesn’t mind that you’re not seeking conversation. He’s got enough shit circulating through his head. After a while, though, that darkness starts to build up, and he needs to let it out—he needs to talk to someone—but he knows you’re unlikely to answer. Still, he can’t bottle it up. He’ll excuse himself, and you’ll hear him go into a nearby room and start talking to himself in a rush, rustling around and increasing volume. Your heart will pound as you realize that he’s locking himself away because he needs to talk, and you need to do more than just listen now. You’ll go to hesitantly knock on the door, and when he opens it, you’ll notice the desperate glint in his dark gaze along with the purple rings under his eyes. Swallowing hard, you’ll give him a nod. “I’m here for you, Cat,” you’ll assure him. Utterly comforted by your voice alone, he’ll practically collapse into your arms right then and there, holding you close like you’re something he’ll lose all over again—and you’ll realize that he’s been the one you can trust this entire time.

#these are LONG i’m sorry #but please their softness #headcanons #headcanon #hc #hcs #din djarin #the mandalorian #javier peña #javier pena #javi peña #narcos #ezra #prospect 2018 #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #frankie morales #catfish #triple frontier

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demonsonthemoon · 4 years ago

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The Flood and its Aftermath

Fandom: Supernatural Pairings: N/A Word Count: 1861 Summary: Sam had always thought that coming out would be the hardest thing. Note: I set out to write what was meant to NOT be a coming-out fic. Then it turned into a coming-out fic. Turns out writing what you would have wanted coming out to feel like is really therapeutic? Who would have guessed.Anyway, Sam Winchester is a non-binary lesbian in my heart.

Read it on AO3.

Sam had always thought that coming out would be the hardest thing.

The silver lining being that, with the lives they lived, there was really only one person she needed to come out to.

Dean.

Dean Winchester, the manly man who thought he was making fun of Sam by calling her a girl. The kind of guy who would refuse a good drink if it came in a pink bottle.

But Sam wasn't stupid and they knew better. Dean wasn't as much of an asshole as he made himself out to be, not really. That kind of bullshit was just the best way that Dean had found to protect himself.

Still. The hypermasculine posturing hadn't exactly been reassuring to Sam considering that he needed to tell his brother he was trans.

He'd thought that coming out would be the hardest, because it was the first step, the one that was supposed to open the floodgates.

In the end, it had been relatively easy. The anticipation had been awful, a crawling feeling under his skin where guilt and fear mingled.

People could argue all they wanted that lying by omission wasn't technically lying but it sure felt the same way to Sam. She wasn't sure what telling Dean would change, which was perhaps what made it so scary. She knew, however, that she couldn't physically keep it a secret anymore, that it was making her sick inside.

Besides, secrets had nearly ruined their relationship many times over.

She was sick of that too.

So there came a day, in the bunker, in front of a dinner Dean had lovingly prepared (because he cooked now, more than spaghetti-Os and PB&J sandwiches) where Sam told their brother that they were trans.

Dean's first reaction was confusion. His second was awkward laughter. Which was followed by more confusion. Sam let him work through it, knowing Dean needed to get past his surprise before they could really start talking.

Sure enough, Dean frowned deeply before asking : “When you say you're transgender, you mean you feel like a woman?”

“No. Well, not exactly. It's more like... Like there's a spectrum between being a man and being a woman and I'm somewhere on that spectrum. It moves around a lot. Most often these days I feel closer to womanhood, I guess, but it's never really one or the other so it's hard to tell.”

“So... what, you don't feel like a guy, but you're not a woman either?”

“Yeah. Something like that. Non-binary is the term. I guess technically I'm genderfluid, but I like non-binary.”

“How long have you...?”

Sam shrugged. “Depends on what you mean. I only put a word to it maybe... a year ago? Two years? But looking back... I think I might have felt this way for a long time. Especially in college. I was just... curious. About gender, queerness. I thought I was a straight guy, though, and it felt... I don't know. Voyeuristic? So I didn't really explore it. And there were times, then and later, when something didn't feel right, but I just blamed that on everyrhing else that was wrong with me.”

“You know that's not true, right?”

“What?”

“That there's something wrong with you. There's not.”

“Dean-”

“I mean it. This isn't wrong. And all the rest of it...” The demon blood. His psychic powers. The memories of a body without a soul and of a soul being tortured. “It's all stuff that was done to you. It's not who you are.”

Sam wasn't sure he wholly agreed with his brother. He wasn't convinced you could separate the essence of a soul from all that had shaped it throughout the years. That particular line of thinking had backfired every time he had tried it. But this wasn't the time to have that conversation.

“I know it's not wrong,” Sam said, only addressing one part of Dean's argument. “That's why I'm telling you. Being non-binary... It feels right. It feels like me.”

“Okay,” Dean replied. Then, with slightly more assurance: “Okay. So... what does it change? Do I call you like... my sister? Or... my sibling, I guess?”

Sam smiled. The apprehension they'd been feeling for almost an entire days was quickly dissolving, leaving behind relief and a fierce kind of love.

“Yeah. I'd like that. Either of them. I mean... It's fine if you don't, I get that it's-”

“Dude.” Dean winced right after interrupting them. “Not-dude. Whatever. I'm probably gonna mess up. A lot. Like I just did. But you've got to let me try. You told me this because it's important to you, right? So you need to let me know how I can make you more comfortable. Not just what's okay or what's easier but what you actually prefer. Okay?”

Sam held up her hands. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry, it's just... It's complicated. I'm not actually planning on transitioning medically. Can't really afford to, not with the risk of someone looking into one of our fake IDs. And before you suggest black market hormones – I know that look in your eyes, don't deny it – I just don't want to. This is the body I've got. It took me years to stop feeling like there was something wrong with it, but I'm finally getting there. I don't wanna change it. But that means... I'm always gonna look pretty masculine, okay? Even if that's not how I feel, I get that that's what other people see. And that's... okay. It's how it is. I don't want to come out to everyone I meet, there's no point and it's just none of their business. So sticking to masuline language is better. It's not just easier, although that's part of it. It's more comfortable than always being put on the spot.

“Okay. That... It sucks that you even have to think like that, but I get it.”

Sam shot her brother a grateful look. She doubted whether he really did get it, whether he understood how painful and frustrating it had been to come to these conclusions after finally finding ways to explore her gender identity. But all that mattered was that he was trying.

“What about when it's just us then?”

“You could... switch? Pronouns, I mean. Sometimes he, sometimes she. Singular they. Same with gendered words, when there's no neutral way to say something.

Dean stayed silent for a few seconds. He nervously ran a hand through his hair, not looking at Sam when he finally spoke. “Tell me if I say something fucked up, okay? I know I'm not always the most... sensitive, when it comes to those things.”

Sam nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“From what you said about-” He made a vague hand gesture. “- fluid genders, I get that it makes sense to switch pronouns. But you also said you felt more feminine, right? And I... I'm so used to seeing you as my brother and as a guy, so...”

Dean paused, as if waiting for Sam to tell him off for what he'd just said. But they wouldn't do that, because they knew it was true and that Dean wasn't saying this to prove a point about who Sam really was.

“I just think that if you let me call you he, I won't actually be able to switch to thinking of you as anything else.”

A bittersweet emotion bloomed under Sam's tongue, making him choke and his eyes water. Sam had argued with himself, again and again, and he'd figured it was easier to give his brother an out. It would hurt less like this, he'd thought, less than if he'd asked for more and had had to face his brother's failures full-on.

But Dean was flat-out refusing to take the easy way out.

Sam knew his expression probably looked ridiculous, but he smiled. Wide and bright, and with his eyes still prickling.

“She and they work, then. Thank you.”

Dean looked embarrassed. “Sure.”

He wasn't looking at her, but Sam didn't mind. She was happy. She basked in the silence between them, silence that was no longer heavy with secrets.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Mmh?”

“Is it still funny if I call you Samantha?”

Sam laughed, despite themself. Dean's grin was shy in return.

“It was never funny, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

So that, it turned out, had been the easy part.

The hard stuff came after.

The hard stuff was finding a way to get Dean to stop walking on eggshells around her everytime he had to correct himself on pronouns. The hard stuff was learning to correct Dan herself, forcing herself to stop letting it slide despite every part of her that screamed it wasn't a big deal and that it was safer to say nothing. The hard stuff was learning to know herself and then have that knowledge be stripped away by the gaze of strangers every time she and Dean went out in public.

Sam had learned to love his body out of necessity. Because they knew how easy it was to lose control of it, and because most days it was the only thing they could rely on. Years of living amongst demons and angels had taught them that the physical form was only a vessel. And so it hurt when other people couldn't understand that.

There was another thing that the hunter's life had taught Sam. Pain was easier to deal with when you were used to it. But it didn't take long to lose that habit.

And so the sweetest moments, the euphoria of knowing and of feeling known, they made the other times even more difficult. They made the casual assumptions and the well-meaning but off-track comments feel like a constant weight over their shoulders.

The hardest thing, in all of this, was that Sam couldn't get angry. He couldn't fault people for not instinctively realizing what had taken them 30 years to figure out. He couldn't complain about people using the wrong pronouns, not when he used them himself. He couldn't begrudge people for not seeing him for who he was, not when he didn't know how to make that person intelligible in any sort of language.

And so Sam couldn't get angry. They got tired instead, the kind of fatigue that settled into their bones like it had in the first few months of that year when Dean had been in Purgatory and Sam had been driving because he didn't know what else they could do.

On those days, Sam kept going because she knew there was no better option. And she knew, in her heart, that this was only a matter of having lost the habit. She knew that it only hurt so bad because the ache wasn't constant anymore, because there were moments (with herself, then with Dean, then with Castiel and Jack and Jody too) where she could be herself without it being a question, where she existed not only in translation but in the glory of her own tongue, and when she didn't have to try.

The wise man asks the fool:

Why do you hurt yourself so?

Because it feels so good when the pain stops.

#Meeni writes fics #Sam Winchester #Supernatural #Non-binary Sam Winchester #Trans Sam Winchester

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munsonsduchess · 4 years ago

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So, I re-watched The Old Guard, again. Just like my Mag 7 re-watch I made some notes, six pages of them to be exact which is why I’m gonna drop them under the cut so I don’t clutter up anyone’s dash with my mildest of observations and all my feelings for a sad alcoholic Frenchman.

I love how we’re introduced to everyone, Andy walking alone through Marrakesh and Booker speeding through the narrow streets on his bike. Are we supposed to think they’re strangers or do they know each other

Bookers little smile when he catches up to Andy like he’s so happy to see her again and Andy’s face lighting up to see him again too

Andy spent a fortune on a book because she knew Booker would like it. “First edition Don Quixote, that wouldn’t come cheap” “it didn’t”

“What brings you to Marrakech?” // “Family'' leave me alone I’m already sobbing

Andy honey they’ll still be able to see that picture in deleted photos but you tried and that’s what matters

Nicky and Joe!

Nicky is so happy to see Andy. That little smile. It’s adorable

“You look good” “you look ok” gentle family teasing is the best ok

“Boss”

It’s been a year since they saw one and other and they just love each other so much. No one touch me.

Nicky and Booker betting on the baklava and Joe just sitting there like “let him lose his money it’s fine, he won’t learn and it’s funny”

Everyone teasing Nicky for loosing and he’s just stood there like “no it’s fine ”

These are the best people for the job and Copley knows it and doesn’t care how much it will cost him. He has faith

Copley knowing Nicky is there and the little wave

Andy taking her axe with her. I love that axe

Just a group of immortals walking through the desert with swords and guns nothing to see here

“Peace be with you” those catholic teachings never quite leave

“It’s a trap!”

That has got to hurt. Those guys emptied full clips into them. Like I get the need to do a job and do it well but come on guys that’s overkill

This is what women want. Andy and her axe

Nicky still having faith there are girls

The picture on Copley’s desk. Like if you knew why did you have to go through this bullshit?

Andy has lived too long and seen too much

Like I know now that Booker knew what was happening or maybe he didn’t know the extent of it but him saying sorry did feel genuine

Andy is just all kinds of done. She didn’t want to do the job in the first place

Nile proving that yes you can be in a strange place and you can serve your country but you don’t have to be a dick about it

“Keep it respectful”

She made an effort to learn the language and learn the customs which goes a long way to establish trust

How traumatic must this have been for Nile? She always knew there was a possibility of being injured in combat or worse never coming home but to be injured so fatally and have your friend hold your life in their hands only to come back and be rejected because you’re an anomaly. A freak

Goes a long way to explain Booker’s feelings too

Nicky and Joe sleeping in the train car is something that is obviously so normal for couples and goes such a long way to show people how ‘normal’ queer people are

“What did you see?” “Part of a name tag” thanks Booker that’s helpful

“I felt her die”

“Everything happens for a reason boss”

Booker didn’t want to go after Nile. He didn’t want her involved

Nicky pushing for them to go after Nile. The emotional centre of the group, appealing to their own experiences and feelings from their first times

Andy is not happy and I can understand how she feels. Given their current situation bringing an unknown element into the mix is only going to complicate everything

“I know I saw her die”

No scarring. Nothing to suggest that anything happened to Nile

The seeds of doubt already growing amongst Nike’s friends and allies

Merrick looks like he should have been a doctor who villain who got his shit kicked in by Donna

Copley you asshole what did you think was gonna happen? They were just gonna get clips emptied into their bodies and let the mercs walk away? Use your big boy brain

Nile trying to come to terms with what happened to her. Everyone around her looking at her with suspicion. Even her Sargent who’s sending her away from more tests

The hostility in the barracks. The fact that her things are already packed.

Everyone knows what happened. Nile has never been more alone just like Nicky said

Trying to drown out the noise of the world and decompress and understand what happened“

But you can call me Andy”

Just casually steals a military transport. Nbd

MA’AM PLEASE I AM ALREADY GAY. Riding around in a tank top and shades like that is not helping

“These damn kids”

Zero hesitation in shooting Nile. This is a woman who has run out of every kind of fuck

“Why does it always have to be so goddamn slow the first couple of times?”

“You shot me” “yes honey now back in the car

”Andy might think she’s cold and heartless and only here to do a job but you can see how much she already cares about what happens to Nile

Soldiers. Fighters. Family

You know what I’m really glad they didn’t make Andy’s tank top skin tight or moulded to show off her body. That isn’t how she rolls

Andy is so proud that Nile stabbed her. Look at that smile

!Nile already having the makings of a plan within minutes of stepping onto the plane

Andy just like “god isn’t real, I’m real though and people thought I was god”

I wonder how many nights the group sat up until the wee hours discussing things like theology. Andy who was worshiped as a god. Nicky and Joe who fought in a holy war for their beliefs and Booker who probably had his own feelings on the subject

Andy being so chill about the crash. The best poker face

It was a good try Nile and look Andy is proud of you!

The smile on Andy’s face when she’s fighting with Nile gives me so much serotonin

Soft Andy. Who had to be tough to teach a lesson

Poor Nile. Coming to terms with what she is and the fact that she might never see her family again

Family dinner time!

Awkward family dinner time

Nicky and Joe staring at each each other with their puppy dog eyes “we’re meant to find each other”

Then Booker and Andy like “misery loves company”

Everyone’s just like “awh Nicky and Joe are so cute”

Andy reliving the people she’s fought with and lost

Booker knows just how much ‘help’ talking to ones family about the situation is

Booker do not put your finger on the trigger of your gun when it’s still in your trousers! You might be immortal but that’s gonna hurt a lot more

Oh no. Quynh.

Andy’s face. I can’t

Joe in tears telling the story“

Before me and Nicky it was just the two of them”

Booker knowing exactly how it feels to hang there for hours and not die or dying and coming back time and time again. Knowing how Quynh and Andy must have felt

I cannot imagine what it must have been like for Andy. To be with someone for so long. The only other person who understands you. To be ripped apart like that

“Why do you blame yourself” that’s not a nice question to ask people

The big emotional talk with Andy and Nile in the churchyard being interrupted by the gunfire

Andy being so afraid Booker wouldn’t come back and delegating to Nile who just accepts her orders

“Welcome back asshole” / “it feels like someone was dancing on my chest”

The banter

Nicky being banished to the table in the corner after 2006 is my favourite headcanon

“Wait for my signal” Andy is more pissed than ever at the people coming after her family

“Big wounds take longer to heal” Nile as a millennial presses x to doubt

The sheer emotion in Andy’s eyes as she fights. The tears. She’s doing this for her family.

Will I ever stop harping on about found family in this show? No I will not“

How can you even tell what the signal is?” One explosion later “oh wait nvm”

The wound on Andy’s shoulder probably doesn’t even feel like anything with the amount of adrenaline

The van. These two“

What is he your boyfriend?” Stanzas of Arabic poetry later, “he’s not my boyfriend he’s all and he’s more”

Nicky and Joe Horny on Main all day every day

These cocky little shits “can you remove the chains? no? ok”“

There’s a TV Joe!” “Champagne?” it’s not a field trip boys

“I used to keep my stuff here” in an abandoned mine she found in the 1150s or that’s when she thinks she found it

Nile being amazed by Andy’s ‘stuff’

Booker meanwhile makes a joke at the expense of his sister

Merrick really should have been a doctor who villain honestly. The grand gesturing the weird mood swings. He could have been great in a two part episode and then had to reckon with Donna

Donna Noble is my favourite companion don’t @ me

Copley beginning to have second thoughts on everything

Andy realising only now that she hasn’t healed from the fight in the church“

Just because we keep living doesn’t mean we stop hurting” I have a lot of Booker feelings ok“

I thought you were the brains of this outfit” oh honey no

Bookers family. Oh no.

No but really how hard must it have been for Booker. To know that his son, his baby was suffering from cancer such an awful disease all the whole cursing his father for being selfish, uncaring, cursing Booker and Booker can’t do anything about it. He’s immortal, he heals, disease will never ravage his body, but he can’t share it with his son. He can only sit and watch as death claims everyone he’s ever loved. Living with the fact that his family despised him at the end of their lives because they didn’t understand that his immortality is a curse.

I have a lot of Booker feels don’t @ me

The pharmacy girl though. Helping just because she could

Reaffirming the reason why Andy started to help people in the first place

A selfless act. A purely good deed. Nothing expected in return. An unselfish act

Andy’s wound and Lykon’s death causing Andy to come to terms with her own mortality

Merrick “prosperity data” and Copley “I’m sorry those are people not objects”

Nicky is not here for your bullshit

Malta Sex Vacation ™

HORNY JAIL

Family bonding time with Nile and Andy

Andy “whatever it takes” and Nile “not on my watch”

So what I want to know is obviously Booker was in on it from the beginning but did actively derail Andy looking into Copley after Joe and Nicky were taken or was he just genuinely having a hard time

Nile prioritising her flesh and blood family and Andy totally understanding because she’s doing this for family too“

You and me Book. Now and always” my heart can’t cope

Nile finding the empty clip. Realising what’s about to happen and going back for her new family because as much as she loves her flesh and blood family this one matters to her as well

Meanwhile Copley I guess got a tip off from Booker (?) and knew this was all going down

The conspiracy wall

Booker you bastard why did you shoot her in the back?

I love this man but god damn

Booker wanting to be ‘normal’ because the memory of being rejected is still so raw

Suicidal tendencies in a 200 year old man

They’re both so upset by the whole thing. The betrayal

Book loves this woman with all his heart and soul. This is the woman who saved him and now she isn’t healing. She’s dying

Booker putting up so much of a fight so they wouldn’t take Andy

“I’m sorry Andy I’m sorry”

You might disagree with me but in my mind Booker never meant to hurt anyone. He didn’t want to be a lab rat. Didn’t want anyone else to be a lab rat. He just wanted to be ‘normal’“

All things die”

“Your time is coming” // “As is yours” Nicky is gonna fuck someone up

“I’m new” says Nile after shooting herself in the foot to make a point

Copley’s conspiracy wall or his fanboy wall for all the good Andy, Booker, Joe and Nicky have done

Copley’s grief at losing his wife being the driving factor for handing the group over to Merrick is tragic and heart breaking and just goes to show how much of a human story this really is

Nile said no guns Copley

Nile is here to save her family

“Those three men in there and I we’ll keep you safe” // Nile coming in guns blazing for them instead

Joe is going to kill Booker himself

“You and Nicky always had each other. All we had was our grief”

Everyone being so surprised to see Nile like “what the fuck?”“

Just leave me here” // “No man left behind”

Meanwhile Joe is fine with just leaving Booker right there to be the last lab rat

The groups concern for Andy who’s always been so strong

The concern. The subtle little head nods Andy does to let them know she’s ok

Andy spies an axe

Joe being so concerned for Nicky and making sure he comes back ok

Nicky immediately scrambling to his feet to go and help Andy

“What happened in 1934?” // “1834”

“Wait for the signal” “like the last one?” “Go big or go home!”

Arguing over who goes first and Andy just “if it doesn’t work our next time you can go first”

And there’s your signal

“You shot Nicky” Joe is not messing around when it comes to his other half“

You ok?” // “Everything hurts”

Andy has been immortal for so long she’s lost all sense of feeling human. Then Nile shows up to do just that. Remind her

Merrick calling Nile selfish like I’m sorry you entitled little shit what did you say“

Do you think he speaks Russian?”

YEET!

That one must have hurt

Nicky and Joe just like “wow the new girl is hardcore”

“Faster than the elevator”

Gotta save Andy’s axe

Nicky sits in the middle which is the actual worst place to sit in a car

Do you think they al rocked up to a hotel covered in blood like “don’t ask just give us a room and a shower”

Joe still seething at Booker through the pub window

Nile having to live with the fact that her family will never know what really happened to her. That they’ll all think she was KIA and whatever body they send back won’t be hers

The 100 year naughty step

I love that Nile was gonna let Booker off with an apology like “he didn’t mean it he’s just a sad alcoholic”

Nobody look at me. Ok. Andy and Booker saying goodbye on the shore. I can’t. This is it. This is the scene that breaks me

“I won’t see you again” // “Have a little faith Book”

Joe really wants to hit Booker. Probably did in the interim

The big picture“

Maybe this is the why Andy”

Andy laying down the law and Joe in the background like “yeah this isn’t a request”

Meanwhile in Paris. Booker is tired and just wants a drink

I am a fan of the scruff though

If that’s water Quynh definitely brought it in herself for The Drama ™

QUYNH THOUGH

#the old guard #long post #disjoined thoughts #i have a lot of booker feelings #i am not apologising for what he did #i just have a lot of feelings about the why #in which my fave is the traitor of the group #why you ask? wish i knew mate #duchess.txt

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dotdotdottie · 4 years ago

Text

Teacher’s Pet || Dot & Rio

Timing: Recent

Location: UMaine Campus

Tagging: @dotdotdottie & @3starsquinn

Description: Dot finds her knew favorite student <3

Although Orion didn’t have much of a break since he took classes over the summer, his body was still trying to readjust to the normal Fall classes getting started again. Before a few months ago, Rio had never worked a day in his life. Now between classes starting up, having a job at the funeral home and still trying to get the Scribrary archived, Rio found himself more exhausted than usual. But things were different this time. It wasn’t going to be like his freshman year of college where he wore himself into the ground and had a minor mental breakdown. He was determined to keep his head above water. Even if the surface right now was a general education English class that Rio found himself constantly yawning in. As his mind would begin to wander, his hunter hearing started straying from the professor’s voice and around the classroom. He could hear the music from people’s phones as they ignored a lecture, the light snoring from a kid in the back of the class, and then the sounds of a few kids laughing, probably at someone else’s expense. Rio spotted the three, glancing over at the TA and talking about something Rio couldn’t quite make out because his hearing decided it was much more interested in another student’s podcast that just started on their headphones a few seats up. Rio sighed and rubbed at his eyes, trying to refocus on the professor. None of that was his business anyways.

The longer Dot had to TA for classes like this, the more often she thought about just quitting her degree. She didn’t want to teach these bratty kids who didn’t seem to get that they had to work to actually get a good grade in the class. Instead they thought bothering her into changing their grades would work. Hell fucking no. Dot had worked her fucking ass off in college to graduate summa cum laude and if she could do it as a double major with a minor, these fucking assholes could do the work. She was finishing grading some quizzes when the Three Dumbassteers slinked their way over. She glanced up with a dull expression,“No I am not changing your grade, Mark. Maybe if you stopped talking in class you would do better.” Whatever the ratty freshman quipped back at her, she ignored. As the three students continued to pester her, Dot pointed at a student nearby who had just rubbed his eyes, keeping her voice low so as to not interrupt anyone trying to focus,“Do you see him bothering me over grades? No? Great, be like him. I like him. He is good and not annoying me!”

Minding his business was exactly what Orion had planned on doing before the TA was pointing over in his direction. “ Rio perked up immediately, his face flushing a bright red as all four of them looked over at him. Rio smiled nervously, holding up his hand in a small, motionless wave. The three scowled at him and Rio felt his face burning in embarrassment. The TA was right, it wasn’t like Rio was trying to pester her for help with grades. He had been doing fine with the exams and papers. As long as they did the readings the material wasn’t extremely difficult. At least Rio didn’t think so. Despite the embarrassment from being put on the spot, he wasn’t going to claim that the compliment from the TA wasn’t flattering. “Oh uh- Thanks. I mean… I’m sure if you all just got a little bit ahead on the readings it’d be easier to follow along, yeah?” Rio suggested, trying to remain as neutral as possible. Apparently, it didn’t seem to impress the three too much whose scowls only deepened. Since they already weren’t fans of Rio, why not try to side with the one who actually seemed to like him. “Hey uh- I mean if she even considered that she could potentially lose her position. That’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

Aw, what a cutie, he was embarrassed that she called him out. Dot loved when people got embarrassed from something she did. It was honestly just so much fun. She could marry this kid for even suggesting that other people do the reading. “You’re my new favorite.” She turned to the other three,“If you did the readings you probably wouldn’t even need to pay attention in class, so you could sit there and do whatever.” She wouldn’t even be annoyed if that's what they did as long as they had the grades to get away with that. There were some people in class Dot would never bother because of how well they were doing, even if they slept the whole time. “I could if they thought I was doing what you’re asking me to,” She confirmed, giving the three her best disappointed look. The three grumbled about it not being fair before sulking back to their seats. Dot turned to Rio again,“Let me buy you a coffee after class for that.”

New favorite? Orion felt a wave of flattery and embarrassment wash over him. He wasn’t exactly new to the idea. In high school, it didn’t take much to be a teacher’s favorite. Rio was quiet and turned his work in on time and that basically made him a lot of the teacher’s star pupil. But here in college, it had rendered him practically invisible. The three student’s weren’t happy about the TA’s decision and they complained about her while shooting dirty looks at Rio. He hoped that didn’t come back to haunt him. Those guys looked like the typical frat tools that Rio had always tried to purposefully avoid, but he was pretty sure that they weren’t part of Adam’s. Adam’s frat seemed way too chill to worry about asking teachers for grade raises and silently threatening fellow students. “Uh- really?” Rio found himself asking when she offered to buy him coffee, “You don’t have to. Like, you don’t owe me anything.” Though he didn’t hate the idea. Not that Rio drank coffee, but he could get a hot chocolate. “I just can’t believe they actually expected you to change their grades, y’know? Does that happen a lot?”

Maybe Dot would get rid of one of them if they asked her again. They looked healthy enough to be tasty, but she was trying not to eat her students. It was a little too close to home she supposed and she really couldn’t deal with how sad the rest of the class would get. It just wouldn’t be good for her skin. Other people’s sadness made her breakout. “Eh, I want to.” If he questioned it again though, she wasn’t sure how tempted she would be to go through with it. She nodded as she circled another wrong answer. “Yep. All the time actually. They think I get it because I’m around your age. I never asked anyone to help my grade.”

Perhaps it was because Orion never connected with many people in school that made the idea that someone wanted to grab coffee with him so completely unbelievable. For the most part, the friends that he had made had mostly been through forced encounters that grew into friendship. Blanche and the club plus acting class. Winston with anime night and sleep walking into the Scribrary. He had been stranded in a house with Layla overnight to escape a vampire. But this was different. A stranger that had casually suggested grabbing a coffee after class. Was this how normal people made friends? “Right. Yeah of course. I’d love to then.” He wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t be awkward as heck, but he wanted to take that risk. “Right. I can’t tell if I’m surprised or not.” Just based on his high school experience, Rio remembered the types that were constantly buddying up with the more motivated people in class to get “help” with assignments. Plus the teacher’s engrossed by school sports that always let things slide by. Maybe he had hope that people that got to college might be a bit more enthusiastic about learning. “But oh well I guess. Honestly, I think it’s kind of funny how confident they looked walking up to you. Made their deflation just a tiny bit more satisfying.” Rio allowed himself to try for a joke partnered with a small grin.

“After class then. There’s a place close by we can walk to.” Dot really should be finish grading after class, before her own class, but her brain was going to melt out of her head if she didn’t take a break. Her motivation for school had been waning too much for this. Everyday she was more and more tempted to drop out and tell everyone else to fuck off. Dealing with students all the time didn’t make her anymore excited, which she knew was a bad sign considering she was on track to be a teacher. She should have taken people’s advice and go for kindergarten instead of high school. “They have no idea I could eat them alive,” She smiled to herself, more than a little pleased by her joke. No one knew how dangerous she really was and she did get some giddy joy from it.

#chat log: rio #teachers pet #short and sweet

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nat-roman0ff · 5 years ago

Text

shawn & the great tko

shawn & the great tko

requested

---

word count: 2,116

warnings: jealous boyfriends, douchebags and a weak right hook..

---

“Shots!” Someone screams at the bar.

You cover your ears at the sound and silently scream at yourself for agreeing to come out tonight. It was someone’s birthday, you don’t remember whose and now you’re packed densely in some tacky nightclub with a bunch of strangers.

At the very least, you had Shawn by your side, an arm wrapped firmly around your middle and swaying you to the music. He kisses your neck every once and a while when he’s feeling frisky, his hands creeping lower and lower on your side.

“Are you having fun yet?” He asks, kissing the top of your head.

You side eye him.

“That’s a rhetorical question, I know you’re miserable,” he shouts above the music, “I promise you’ll get a treat later for sticking this out with me. You know I hate going to these things alone,” Shawn pecks your cheek and loosens his grasp on you just slightly.

You turn in his arms, rubbing your hands on his chest, “what kind of surprise?” You tease the open part of his shirt, with it buttoned just one damn button too low.

He raises an eyebrow and dips his hand under the skirt of your dress, letting his hand glide between your legs, “I think you know,” he says lowly, nipping at your earlobe.

“Okay break it up, lovers,” Brian interrupts, pink cheeked and already drunk, “we’ve seen enough for a lifetime at this point.”

Shawn responds by licking the side of your face and smacking your bum. You jump slightly at the action and Brian gulps down the remainder of his drink, walking away from the two of you, shaking his head.

“Hey, hold these,” you hand Shawn your purse and drink, “I’m gonna go hit the head.”

He laughs, “you’re so gross.”

“But you love meeeeee!”

“That I do. Need me to come with you?” He asks, smirking.

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure that bathroom hasn’t been cleaned since 1995. I’m all set. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

You kiss his cheek and walk towards the back of the club where the bathrooms are. There’s a line, of course, there’s always a line for the women’s bathroom and you watch the men walk casually in and out of the men’s room as you cross your legs tighter.

Another few minutes pass and the line has barely budged, so you cross to the other side of the hallway and into the men’s room. It’s empty in there, go figure, and you take up your business in a stall. When you come out there’s a man at the sink.

“Oh shit, sorry. Long line for the ladies room and I couldn’t hold it,” you laugh off as you wash your hands.

You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, like you’re something to be watched, “not a problem, sugar.”

You do your best not to react, to just play nice and leave because this moment has happened so many times in so many places and these are the moments in life where you just wish you could’ve been born a dude.

He stares you down as you dry your hands with a paper towel and pull the hem of your dress down more, “have a good night,” you mumble as you make your way to the door.

The man stands in front of it, blocking the handle, you immediately take three steps backwards further into the bathroom, away from him. You mentally kick yourself for having Shawn hold your purse that had your phone in it.

“How about I buy you a drink and we talk a little, Pretty Thing?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as he plants himself between you and the door, and you instinctively clench your hands into fists. He doesn’t move, but looks you up and down and smirks, “I like the dress.”

“Thank you, it has pockets. And I’m also not interested in getting a drink or talking to you,” you blurt out, your body trembling in fear.

You’d learn a long time ago not to trust men alone in confined spaces - and this douchebag was no exception, “aw, why not? I’m a nice guy.”

The man chuckles and takes a half step closer to you, but you stand your ground, “because I’m not interested. I don’t owe you an explanation as to why. Now if you’d kindly move aside I’d like to get back to my friends,” you say through gritted teeth.

He takes a step to the side, just barely enough room for you to walk by him to open the door. He reeks of alcohol, cigarettes, and cheap cologne. You have no choice but slide against him to get out, and he reaches out to squeeze your ass. Before you can second guess yourself, you slap him across the face and stomp out.

The tears spill over now, and you do your best to wipe them up before finding Shawn. You see him in the crowd, his back facing you and wearing your purse backpack proudly like the dingus he is. As soon as you reach him you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. It’s hard to hold back the tears and shaking, and he immediately knows something is wrong.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Shawn asks frantically, his huge hands on either side of your face.

He wipes away your tears with each of his thumbs as you sniff through speaking, “I - I, there was a long line for the women’s bathroom,” you sniff, “so I went in the men’s room because it was empty and when I got out there was a man in there and he didn’t leave at first and he kept looking at me like I was something to eat and when he finally let me leave he grabbed my ass.”

Shawn’s face turns stone cold, his jaw clenching and unclenching, “someone fucking touched you?”

You nod between his hands.

He lets you go, “where is this asshole?” He starts, scanning the room, “Gonna give him a piece of my mind.”

“Shawn, don’t,” you say, wiping the rest of your tears away with the back of your hand, “it’s fine, I’m fine. I was just scared because he cornered me. I’m alright, I’m just being dramatic.”

He scoffs, “baby he cornered you alone in a bathroom. God only knows what was going through his head. You aren’t being dramatic by being upset. What’s going to be dramatic is when I flatten him in the middle of this club.”

“Babe,” you grab onto the collar of Shawn’s button up shirt, “it’s really not worth it. Please don’t make it a thing. I don’t want to cause any drama tonight.”

“I’m not kidding, I’ll knock a motherfucker out,” he says and it makes you laugh.

You push on his chest, “oh Shawnie, you’re too soft for that,” you say through sniffles.

He narrows his eyes, “I’ve hit someone before.”

“Peewee hockey doesn’t count.”

He clicks his tongue, “I’ve thought about hitting someone before.”

You chuckle and stand on your toes to give him a kiss, “you can be my hero another day.”

Shawn snickers, “still wanna kick his ass,” he murmurs against your lips before going in for another kiss.

“Yeah, yeah,” you tug on his hand, “You need to buy me another drink.”

“Anything for you, my dear,” he says, trailing behind you, his hand in yours.

When you reach the bar you see the man from the bathroom a few spots down from you. He sees you immediately and you do your best not to make eye contact with him. You can practically feel his eyes burning into you. Shawn absentmindedly twirls a piece of your hair around his finger and orders your drinks, none the wiser to the creep gawking at you.

“What do you wanna do now?” Shawn asks, “dance, people watch -”, you both give each other the look, “okay so we’ll people watch,” he finishes.

You two go over to one of the tables your friends had reserved. Not wanting to be too far from Shawn, you sit on his lap to keep him close, his arm wraps loosely around you and rests on the tops of your thighs.

“Okay, okay we got our first one. Two o’clock: drunk girl trying to take a selfie with the calculator app on her phone,” Shawn points across the room.

You laugh, “now it’s my turn,” you scan the room, “there! Ten o’clock, that guy looks like he fell asleep standing up with that girl grinding on him.”

Shawn bites your bare shoulder then smoothes it over with a kiss, “nope I’m gonna win,” he pokes you with his nose while he looks around, “Ah! Dead noon, middle of the dance floor, dude straight up puked all over himself.”

You scrunch your nose, “gross. Alright there’s gotta be a better one than that,” your eyes skim the room and you see him.

You immediately get uneasy and feel like you’re being watched. Shawn notices your body stiffen and rubs your back soothingly, “what’s up? Is the drink upsetting your stomach? I know sometimes tequila hits you weird.”

The room starts spinning, and it’s not because of the alcohol. Your vision blurs, and you have tunnel vision on nothing but him. He never stops staring, making sure his eyes lock with yours as he slowly sips his drink. He watches you like a lion watches a gazelle in the wild, canvassing, casing, until they’re ready to attack their prey.

“No - yes, I’m -”

“Is it that fucking guy? Did you see him again?” Shawn doesn’t realize it, but his hold on you tightens.

You can feel your skin start to burn, and your heart rate pick up, “let’s just go home, babe. Please?”

Shawn’s staring madly into the crowd, eyes searching for the man. He knows when he catches him, and you can tell he knows by the way he clenches his jaw until it’s perfectly sharp. His pupils dilate and eyes narrow on him.

“Is that him?” He asks, pointing directly at him from across the crowded club.

You nod.

“I’m going to go have a word.”

Before you have a chance to protest he lifts you off of him and scurries away. Goddamn him for being so lanky and quick. You do your best to keep up and you can see his knuckles whiten as he clenches his fists. You’re hot on his tail when he reaches him.

“You’ve got some goddamn nerve.”

The man looks taken aback, “excuse me, little boy?” He scoffs.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on my girlfriend again, do you hear me?”

The man just laughs and throws his head back. You stand protected behind Shawn.

“That’s your girl? You could do better.”

Shawn’s fist collides with the man’s cheek, but he doesn’t flinch. Your worst fear comes to life when the man draws his fist back.

“Oh shit,” is all Shawn can manage before his body meets the floor.

---

“And what did we learn tonight?” You ask, dabbing the dried blood from Shawn’s face.

He glares up at you from his seat on edge of the bathtub, “don’t pick fights with people that are bigger than you,” he manages, his voice garbled by the two tampons shoved up his bleeding nose.

“And what else?” You press.

Shawn rolls his eyes, “that you’re not a damsel in distress and you don’t need saving and toxic masculinity and blah, blah, blah,” he groans.

“Very good,” you pip, getting the last of the blood off of his skin, “think you’ve stopped bleeding yet?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Shawn winces as you pluck out each of the tampons out of his nostrils, “how’s it feel?” You ask.

He wiggles his swollen nose around his face, the bruising already beginning under his eyes and around his cheekbones, “I don’t think it’s broken, but I’m going to look like an elephant stepped on my face for a couple weeks.”

“I don’t know,” you take a step back and examine him, folding your arms across your chest, “I kinda dig the broken face thing. Makes you look like a bad boy.”

Shawn raises an eyebrow, “Oh?” He says, reaching out and pulling you forward by your hips.

You bite your nail and shake your head, “nah, I like you much better as the big dumb mush that you are.”

Shawn smiles, “give me a kisssssssss,” he whines.

You oblige and bend down to kiss him, only to be met with:

Ow.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mandes fic #shawn mendes fanfic

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nokomiss · 5 years ago

Note

Gonna take this as an opportunity to request a rare pair. Either May/Tony or May/Rhodey for “volunteer chaperones”

It was a mistake. A complete, total, absolute mistake. May was never, ever doing this again.

She looked around, overwhelmed. Yep. She was still surrounded by teenagers armed with battle robots they’d built themselves. Allegedly they were all to remain at their workstations with proper protective equipment, but they were teenagers. They were absolutely not going to wait until the competition to try out their lasers and saws on each other.

“Peter, I’m gonna tap out,” May said, trying not to wince as Peter’s robot unfurled a whirring blade and attempted to cut a piece of lumber in half. “I’ve gone through too much to watch you chop off a thumb now.”

“My thumb is nowhere near the blade,” Peter said, waving his hands in a manner she supposed was meant to be reassuring. “Besides, you never know, it could grow back.” He gave her a shit-eating grin, and May nobly managed to refrain from calling her kid an asshole.

“Chaperones are allowed coffee breaks, right?” May looked longingly towards the exit.

“You’re supposed to supervise me the whole time I am engaging the robot,” Peter recited, making air quotes with his fingers. “It’s in the Teen Battle Robot Competition handbook.”

May rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll be gone ten minutes, tops. Cover for me.”

“May!” Peter hissed, adorably frazzled for someone who fought crime on the regular. She ignored him and wove her way through the crowd, trying not to focus on the terrifying murder robots the children were creating all around her. This was so seriously not her thing. She slipped on her sunglasses and headed out the door, aiming for the nearest coffee shop.

She aimed to be gone for ten minutes, though thanks to the line and the fact that she really didn’t want to return to robot hell immediately, it stretched out past half an hour. She finally returned, iced coffee in hand, pushing through the door while scanning the room for Peter.

Instead she ran directly into someone. Her hand holding the coffee bumped into her chest, covering her top with iced coffee.

“Shit!.” She shook droplets of coffee off her hand as she transferred the cup to her dry hand, and patted at her shirt with the napkin she’d had wrapped around the cup.

“By all means, save the shirt, screw the bystander.”

It couldn’t be. May looked slowly up, still dabbing the napkin at her chest, to see Tony Stark standing there, grinning at her.

“What are you doing here?” Crap, that was rude. May tried not to be rude to Tony, because while he could be supremely irritating and smug, he had done things for her kid that she could never repay him for. But… what was he doing here? And dressed like, well.. A farmer. She quietly chose not to question it too much. Besides, this was her time with Peter, as ill-suited to the outing as she might be.

“Same as you, I assume,” Tony said, flagging down someone who magically had a towel on hand. He offered it to her with a, “I can help if you want.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, thanks,” May said, but she accepted the towel. She dried up the worst of the spill -- it was sheer luck that she was wearing a dark top that wouldn’t stain, merely clung to her damply. Tony seemed to appreciate it, though she raised an eyebrow at him when she noticed him looking. He had the decency to quit immediately.

May didn’t love the idea of Tony popping in and taking over her time with Peter, though, no matter how little she was enjoying the killer robots. It was exactly up his alley, and she should bow gracefully out, but… “I hope you aren’t here to be Peter’s chaperone. I’ve got that covered.”

“And bless you for it, that kid is a disaster,” Tony said fondly. “I’m here for that sarcastic little bastard over there.” He gestured towards a kid in a faded AC/DC shirt who was using a controller to aim what appeared to be a ray gun mounted atop his robot at the ceiling.

“You don’t have a kid,” May said with certainty.

“Nope,” Tony agreed. “But Harley’s a kid I watch out for, and he’s almost as bright as your kid.”

Pride laced his words, and he was watching the boy with a soft fondness that made May feel immediately guilty for her own possessiveness moments before. She of all people should understand the bond you could forge with a child not of your own blood, and know the legitimacy of such a bond.

“He have superpowers too?”

“Nope, and it’s probably a good thing,” Tony said cheerfully. “Think Peter will notice I’m here?”

“You think he hasn’t already?” May said. It was the right answer, Tony’s eyes lit up in a genuine way that made it clear to her how often she saw him playacting at happiness.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to Harley,” Tony offered. “Unless you want me to get you out of those wet clothes first?” He waggled his eyebrows in a way that was so over-the-top that May just laughed.

“Shockingly I didn’t bring a wardrobe change to a day outing. It’ll dry.” Hopefully she wouldn’t smell too awful when it did.

“Here.” Tony shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders like a letterman’s jacket before she could think to protest. Despite the rough material, it was warm and smelled like Tony -- expensive and a little much -- but May didn’t take it off.

She didn’t even want to, which… was something she would have to examine more closely. She was no stranger to gallant gestures, and she didn’t normally accept them from people she wasn’t interested in. Tony was a force of nature, she told herself. He wouldn’t accept it back even if you tried.

Plus, there were way too many teenage boys in the room for her to really want to walk around in a cold, wet shirt that clung uncomfortably.

Tony flung his arm over her shoulder, apparently deciding that if his jacket was allowed to do so, so was he, and he led her over to the kid he’d claimed.

Harley was the polar opposite from Peter -- confident, sarcastic in a biting way, and treated Tony like he was any other human being. It was a sharp contrast to the hero worship Peter tended towards, and the shyness and sweetness that she was always worried was going to be worn away by the world they lived in. But watching Harley and Tony together made it obvious that deep down Harley was another kid who had been given the short stick by life and was trying his best to carve his own path through it.

Harley also kept giving her what could only kindly be called the stink eye. It took her a moment to work out why -- he’d watched Tony stroll up with his arm around her shoulder, she was wearing Tony’s jacket like they were going steady, and it was fairly obvious that her expertise was not in mechanical engineering.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the kid was assuming about her, and May couldn’t figure out a casual way to tell him how very wrong he was. Finally she settled on, “I gotta go see how Peter’s robot is coming along.”

“You know he’s actually lined up to battle Harley’s robot,” Tony said, and it was obvious from Harley’s confused expression that Tony had not divulged his connection with the competition.

He looked back and forth between them. “Who’s this Peter kid?”

“An intern,” Tony replied smoothly.

Harley was clearly not satisfied with this answer. “You’ve never offered me an internship.”

“This is a different thing,” Tony replied. May winced; Tony was entirely too new to managing teenagers to understand what he’d just done. Harley’s expression darkened and May knew without a doubt that Peter’s robot was a dead machine rolling.

“I’m just going to head back over there,” May said, gesturing vaguely towards Peter’s distant station and hurrying off before she got somehow wrapped up in the argument Harley was about to start.

She hustled off, and only realized she was still wearing Tony’s jacket with Peter raised an eyebrow at her.

“I ran into Tony -- literally--�� and dumped my coffee on myself,” she explained.

“Very, uh, gentlemanly of him to offer his coat,” Peter said,. “And why was he even here? He hasn’t said hi to me.” He checked his phone, where she could only see messages from Ned bemoaning his parents for choosing this weekend for a family trip.

“Apparently,” May said, stretching out the word to show it was news to her, too, “he’s mentoring a kid in this competition. I didn’t get the details.”

May marvelled as Peter’s expression became a mirror for one Harley had worn moments before. Tony really knew how to pick ‘em.

“What? What kid?” Peter stood on his tippy-toes, looking around to try to spot Tony. His expression darkened even more when he found him. “That kid? He’s the three-time champion! Last year his robot managed to freeze and set his opponent on fire simultaneously!”

May’s eyebrows raised. “You know him?”

“Some other kids were talking about him earlier,” Peter explained. “They somehow didn’t mention that Tony was with him.”

May thought back to Tony’s appearance and he had appeared more low-key than usual. The jacket she was still wearing was denim, which… she wouldn’t have thought was in Tony’s wardrobe at all, honestly. “I think he’s in disguise.”

“Huh,” Peter said. “I didn’t know he knew how to do that.”

“To be fair, I only realized it in retrospect.” May shrugged. “I think the fact that he isn’t announcing his presence is doing most of the disguise work for him. No one would believe Tony Stark would show up at a battle robot competition and not try to win.”

“He is though,” Peter said darkly. “With that kid.”

“Well,” May said, looking at Peter’s robot, “guess we just have to kick that kid’s ass.”

Peter grinned.

An hour later -- and the time seemed to magically fly by much faster than before, now that May had a goal in mind -- it was time for Peter’s first battle. He wasn’t up against Harley until the third round, and May felt a little proud that Tony had assumed Peter would make it through to the finals without any help. Her boy was brilliant, and it always gave her a warm feeling when others acknowledged it, too.

Especially Tony, but she would never, ever tell him that.

Peter’s robot destroyed his competition in under a minute, and twenty minutes later, in his semifinal round, he took out a robot that seemed to be made entirely of buzzsaws in an agonizing three minute match.

He won, though, and they settled in to watch the competition. Harley’s robot had destroyed his first competitor in thirty seconds, and in this battle, he revealed that he’d somehow installed a flame launcher on the underside that melted the wiring on the robot he was fighting in the semifinal.

Finally, it came down to Harley and Peter. Tony was beaming proudly, and May had no idea how anyone failed to notice it was him, flannel or no.

“Kick his ass, kiddo,” May told Peter encouragingly. “You’ve got this.”

Peter gave her a double-thumbs up, and marched into battle.

May slid over to where Tony was watching, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as their kids prepared to destroy each other. “Hope you’re prepared for defeat.”

“You know I can’t pick favorites,” Tony said, “except for how there’s no chance in hell that Harley’s not gonna win this.”

“Wanna bet?” May said teasingly.

“Why, Ms. Parker, I wouldn’t have taken you for a gambling woman, but yes, yes I do,” Tony said. “My kid wins, I get to take you out for that dinner.”

Tony had been threatening to take her out to dinner for months. “And if my kid wins?” she asked.

“Why, you have to take me out, of course. Terms have to be fair.” Tony’s grin should make her want to smack him, but May had found that the bastard tended to grow on you.

She considered it half a moment, but… what the hell. She held out her hand to shake on it.

When she turned back to the rink, she noticed that both Peter and Harley were giving them the stinkeye, even as the ref counted down for the battle to begin.

Once it did, there was absolute carnage. May saw a streak of fluid that looked alarmingly like blood arc through the air after a saw unfurled off Peter’s robot and surprise-attacked Harley’s. Then as Harley’s robot retaliated, there was fire and sparks. When the smoke cleared, both robots were incapacitated.

“A tie!” declared the ref, much to the disappointment of both boys.

May glanced over at Tony. “Guess it’s a draw.”

“So we have to do two dinners, obviously,” Tony said without skipping a beat.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Harley and Peter turn towards each other, and she was proud to see Peter offer Harley a handshake. A moment’s hesitation, eyes cast towards Tony, but Harley shook firmly. She had a feeling that was not going to turn out great for Tony.

“It’s a date.” Tony continued, looking so overly confident that May knew that he was hoping that she’d agree.

May’s attention crashed back into focus on the man in front of her. This could go so very badly, and there was Peter to think about, for when things inevitably crashed and burned, but…

May had made most of her best decisions in life on impulse, and she knew what she wanted to say. “Pick me up at seven.”

#my fic #mcu #may/tony #prompt response #sorry this took forever!#but here it is #angel-gidget

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firebird-inkheart · 4 years ago

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A Child’s Understanding Final

(previous)

Sabo led them to the well in the middle of the town, deciding it was more practical to wait there instead of lurking in front of the Yew. While Honyo collapsed and became a lump on the side of the well the boys worked on drawing up some water. The cicadas’ symphony rose with the tidal wave of silence. A gentle breeze wafted by, breaking the almost stagnating heat pouring from overhead.

It was almost a perfect summer day.

Honyo sniffled, dragging the back of her hand across her face over and over again. It was useless though. No matter how many times she did it there were always more tears that would appear to replace the other ones. The anger smoldering within was cooling, but in the wake of its absence was a queasy feeling that hurt just as much as the throbbing in her head did. The cut on her head had swelled into a sizable, tender lump now.

She glanced back at the Yew. It was a good thing poppop had showed up. Those shitty adults hadn’t been taking her seriously even though she had shown them she could understand the things they said. Hopefully poppop would succeed where she had failed and get those assholes to take back the things they said.

The bucket hit the lip of the well with a dull thud as it was hauled up. Sabo pulled out a spare kerchief and dunked it inside. He wrung it out and crouched, gently tilting her head, and began dabbing at the cut. Ace sat beside her when she winced, slipping his hand into hers.

She thought, again, of how much she liked his hands. They were rough from years of hard work and training combined, covered in scars and scabs. His knuckles were scraped, red, from where he had bludgeoned the man with the oversized bow tie. They weren’t strangers to a fight and were capable of great feats of strength. But even for as rough and powerful as his hands were, they were also incredibly gentle things. How anyone could hate them― how anyone could hate the boy that they belonged to ―she just didn’t understand.

“What were you thinking?”

Honyo blinked, pulling her face from Sabo’s grasp to look at Ace, her good eye growing large. Ace was scowling.

“Why did you start a fight with them? And by yourself! I know you’re strong, but even you couldn’t hold out against all of them. And they hurt you because of m―” He choked. “Because you―”

His face twisted something awful then. The corners of his mouth twitched as he fought to keep a wobbly frown from fully taking over, settling on a grimace, teeth clenched in frustration. Thick brows bunched together. Dark eyes shined, pained.

A lump formed in her throat the same time warm, fresh tears blurred her vision again.

“It’s not fair!” Honyo exclaimed. Her lower lip trembled. “Adults always think they know better so that means they can say whatever they want and not deal with the consequences. They said such awful things that hurt you and yet you’re just supposed to accept it? We’re all supposed to just accept it? That’s not fair at all!”

“You’re right. He shouldn’t have to just accept it. No one should.” Sabo agreed solemnly. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “But you heard what they were saying about Roger. About his family. Ace has to hear stuff like that all the time and keep moving forward anyway, or else the world will know about him and they won’t let him be until he’s gone. It shouldn’t be like that at all! But unless someone changes how things are run then we’re all stuck dealing with this shit called the justice system.”

“They’re wrong though! They’re wrong be-because Ace is good and kind and― and is so warm, l-like the sun! And the sun isn’t bad because it brings life!” She was sobbing now, wringing the boy’s hand with both of hers. Thoughts continued to tumble out rapidly as she repeated herself with desperation. “You deserve to live! You deserve it, you deserve it, you deserve it! And I’m glad you’re alive!”

Ace shook. He was being twisted and pulled in all sorts of directions, the heart beating within him, the heart so many claimed belonged to a demon, growing warmer and warmer as Honyo laid her own heart out. It was impossible to see clearly anymore.

He reached out, wrapping his arms around small shaking shoulders, and touched his forehead against hers.

Hot droplets pattered against her lap. And then a sniffle reached her ears. A shudder ran through Ace.

‘Oh…’ Ace was crying.

Her arms wound around him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, tightly hugging him back.

“Thank you,” came a very wet whisper. “Thank you.”

Behind them Sabo smiled, scrubbing his eyes before throwing himself onto the sobbing pile. They all went tumbling with a shriek―

That went on much longer than any of the children actually screamed for. A crash resounded from the bar and seconds later the balding man with the bowler hat scrambled outside, throwing the doors open with so much force they bounced off the walls more than once. Bowler hat guy managed to trip his way down the steps before the rest of his group came stumbling after like newborn colts. They ran over each other in their haste to get away from the man calmly strolling out after them.

“Have a nice day gentlemen,” Shin called, waving and smiling pleasantly. “And do consider never coming back.”

The children stared at him, two in utter disbelief and the other with stars in her teary eyes.

“Honyo?” Sabo slowly detached himself from the pile.

“Yeah?”

“Remind me to never get on your dad’s bad side.”

Ace nodded in agreement, helping her sit up. “Seconded.”

Shin turned towards them, his cold smile warming up instantly. He continued walking in his easy going manner until he reached them. “All settled!” he cheered. “You kids won’t have anything to worry about from them ever again.”

He crouched, cupping his daughter’s face once more to examine the cut. Satisfied that it didn’t appear too grievous― she’d be smarting for a while for sure, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off her anytime soon just to be safe ―he pinched her cheek with a small sigh.

“Bean, I know you meant well, but please, be more careful next time you decide to start a brawl in a bar.”

Honyo nodded and swiped at her tears with the back of her hand again.

“That being said, I’m proud of you.” A large grin lit up his face. He ruffled her hair while casually looking over the boys. “That goes for all of you. You kids really know how to put the fear of god into a bunch of grown men!”

Shin laughed, the sound loud and comforting, as he scooped all three of them into his arms. They yelped and giggled at suddenly being squished together and for a moment the air was filled with nothing but glee. When the laughter began dying down Shin pressed his forehead against Ace’s crown, merely humming in response when he looked up in an unspoken question.

“Now, let’s get you guys home,” Shin stood, swinging the kids around once before setting them down again. “So we can tell everyone about Bean’s first bar fight!”

“Yeah!” they cheered.

Warm fingers tangled with her own. Honyo glanced down at the hand that was only just a little bigger holding onto hers, then up at a very freckled face. That smile was bright, like looking into the sun. Her chest fluttered, losing her heart, in a heartbeat. She quickly looked back down and pretended to not notice the fire consuming her face.

He squeezed her and she couldn’t help but grin.

Yeah. She really liked his hands best of all.

++++

Bonus:

“You got into a bar fight? And I missed it?!” Zoro’s spoon clattered into his bowl with a heavy plop, sending soup splashing in every direction.

Beside him Luffy pulled at his hair with a despairing wail. “I was fixing the turnips when I coulda watched Honyo trash a buncha geezers! Turnips!”

Chante placed a bowl in front of him and gave him an unimpressed look. “I wouldn’t call eating half the row ‘fixing’ it niño. And tomorrow you’re gonna fix the carrots. Teach you to slingshot yourself near the garden again, huh.”

She glanced at the three troublemakers wolfing down their food, running a worried eye over Honyo’s bruised face and Ace’s red rimmed eyes. Her gaze drifted towards Shin, who absently wiped at Luffy’s face― seriously, she just gave the kid food, how was he so messy already? ―and let out a short, quiet sigh. The kids only gave her a very slimmed down version of the story, enough so that she at least got the gist of what happened, but she was going to have to press Shin for more details later.

“What even was the fight about?” Adri asked around a mouthful of spoon.

Sabo and Ace traded looks before shrugging. Honyo frowned at her soup.

“Some worthless adults said some worthless things,” Sabo answered, nonchalant.

“I still didn’t get that guy to take back what he said,” Honyo muttered.

“Didn’t need to hear him say it.” She tilted her head, looking up at Ace. His hand landed on her head and mussed it playfully. “There were better things to be heard from better people afterwards anyway.”

And with that a large grin split across his face.

#scribe's work #{ficlet: A Child's Understanding}#aldfjksjf #i'm so sorry i took forever to conclude this #hooray for happy ends tho!#feel like i could have wrapped it up better but ya know #just trying to be glad i finished it at all asjflsdjfld

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397bartonstreet · 5 years ago

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Hey @johnny-and-dora this is for you for the fall fic exchange!! This prompt I wrote for was “autumnal walk in the park” I’m really sorry a pre-series, pre-relationship undercover case is probably not what you asked for but it’s what came to me. Hope you like it!

Also thank you @b99fandomevents for organizing this. These types of things always strike excitement and activity in the fandom during the hiatuses. You guys are awesome!!

About a month ago, Detectives Peralta and Santiago made a huge bust of one of Brooklyn’s most prolific drug rings they’d been investigating since the early summer months. And it was awesome. They smashed into the doors of an abandoned warehouse straight out of an 80’s cop movie. All the men and women inside scattered and refused to go down without a fight, but they were no match for the Nine Nine. There were gunshots, screaming, kicking, punches, all the shebang that make these kinds of events extra epic. They got every single one of those sick, surprisingly attractive bastards. And Jake walked out of that place holding two handcuffed men in slow motion, with an ambient orchestra, an explosion behind him, and wearing sunglasses at night. He looked so cool.

Except they missed one dude. The leader of the drug ring. A fearsome man having hundreds of thousands of dollars to his name, elusive in records, and several deaths on his hands. His name… is Frank Smith.

Jake is still bitter about that.

The day before, Jake got a tip that this Anatole Kuragin (he refuses to call him Frank Smith) would be exchanging information with another dealer in plain sight at Prospect Park in the middle of the day. Jake guesses he understands the logic, no one would expect such a wanted criminal prancing around in daylight. But if he were truly smart, he wouldn’t risk it. And you can never tell if strangers walking through the park are also hiding in plain sight, waiting to catch you in the act and arrest you.

Captain Holt gave the orders for Jake and Amy to disguise as a married couple simply taking their child on a stroll through the park. Which is where they were now. Casually walking through Prospect Park pushing a clunky stroller they found in the precinct and wearing probably the dorkiest outfits Jake has ever worn on a case. He’s dressed like a father in suburbia, not a dope ass detective about to make a dope ass arrest.

“This is the worst. How am I supposed to look cool when I’m wearing a sweater vest and khaki pants?” he grunts toward his partner.

“Jake, this is not about looking cool, it’s about making the arrest and making the community a better place,” Amy says haughtily.

“This is like, the 20th case I’ve done with you and every single time you say something lamer and lamer,” he responds.

“I’m not the one keeping count.” Jake ignores her and instead makes his first survey of the park. They were told that the perp would be wearing a golden chain around his wrist to be easily recognized, but so far he sees no intimidating assholes wearing the friendship bracelet. Everyone here seems to be teenagers totally not smoking pot and families that look just like they do right now. They blend right in.

“The tip said that the exchange would be near the bridge. Let’s casually walk over there and take a ‘break’ on the bench and we’ll wait there,” Jake whispers to her.

“Ooh, it’ll give us time to enjoy the view. New York parks in Fall are the best. Everything is all colorful and beautiful, it’s like one of the only good things about this state,” Amy says. Jake switches his view from the people to the trees. It is beautiful, if he took casual strolls - which, who would want to be alone with their thoughts for that long- this would be the perfect time to do it. It’s picture perfect, with the way the leaves steadily drizzle down like rain, and the cloudy sky seems to bring out their vibrant colors. And the slight chill causing a want for warm drinks and comfy sweaters. It’s romantic, and he almost wants to pretend he’s not here for a case, and instead just take in the view. With his earphones in of course, he meant what he said about being alone with his thoughts.

“It’s a shame we’re working, I’d totally challenge on you who can make a bigger leaf pile,” she says with a smirk and he’s pulled out of his thoughts to cast her something impish.

“Oh, you’re on. We’ll come back tomorrow, I’ll even bring a pumpkin pie because I’m going to cream you,” he smirks. They reach the agreed bench to wait out the perp, and Amy struggles a bit to align the stupid stroller when she sits.

“What? That made literally no sense,” she says as he sits down beside her.

“Of course it does. What do you top pie with? Whipped cream and I’m going to whip you into cream, title of my sex tape.” Amy cringes and he can tell she’s resisting the urge to punch him in the arm.

“That’s disgusting, and if you have to explain the comeback then it wasn’t a good one.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Alright, back to business. You watch this way and I’ll watch that way,” he says and points in the opposite directions. All playfulness immediately leaves Amy’s demeanor and she’s back to being completely professional. It’s one thing Jake can admire about her, she’s incredibly dedicated at her job. She can flip the switch from casual to focused in a second, he can’t even do that.

Jake blinks away his thoughts, turning his attention back to his side. A comfortable silence falls between them, the only noise being Amy rocking the stroller back and forth and her shushing at the doll inside.

He’s trying not to show that he’s definitely staring intently at the man sitting alone on a bench, when he feels a sudden weight on his thigh. He looks down to see Amy’s hand opened expectantly. When he turns to her, she’s still just scouring the scene.

“What?” Jake asks. Amy turns back to him and flexes her hand in gesture.

“Hold my hand,” she says impatiently, as if this is just another everyday bit of police work.

“Hold your hand? For what?” he’s incredulous when he asks this, but he still places his hand on top of hers and Amy grips back.

“Because we’re supposed to be married,” she says.

“Isn’t the giant stroller in front of us indication enough that we’re straight smashing it?” Amy flashes him a glare.

“A stroller only goes so far, we won’t be very convincing if we’re stiff as boards.” She has a point, but of course he’s not going to say that out loud. Instead, he tightens her hand around his and pulls it closer to his lap. Out of instinct, of course, because that’s what couples do.

He can’t help but note that it feels kind of nice, her hand a cold contrast to his warm one. He tends to overheat, even in the Fall weather, and her hand provides some nice relief. He doesn’t dwell on that though, he has a case to solve, and it’s the last time he’ll ever hold Amy Santiago’s hand anyway.

Jake tries squinting as discreetly as possible at the wrists of those in his line of sight, trying to spot the golden chain. There aren’t many men lurking around the park, and none of them seem to be wearing any bracelets. Except for one guy, who has his hands behind his back. Jake keeps an eye on him.

“Are you cold, Patricia? You need mommy to give you another blanket?” Amy says loudly so anyone around them can hear.

“Patricia?” Jake asks.

“What about it, Jake” she groans, bracing herself for a round of teasing.

“That’s what you would name your daughter? Patricia?”

“It’s just the first one that popped into my head okay,” she hisses. “What would you name her?”

“Me? I’d probably name her something badass. Like Rogue, or Rebel,” he says, nodding his head.

“Rogue sounds like the antagonist of an awful racing movie,” she laughs. “If I had a daughter, I would probably want to name her something that’s kind of meaningful and touching. I’ve always thought about naming my daughter Carmen, after my grandmother,” she says.

“Aw, that’s actually really nice. Then I’d call her Caramel. Caramel Carmen. Giving your daughter nicknames is Peak dad.”

“Your daughter? Are we having this baby together,” Amy snorts, a mischievous glint in her eye. She absolutely knows that pointing this out will make him squirm, and Jake hates that she’s right.

“What? No! It’s just… the undercover situation that’s all… stop looking at me like that” he says and doesn’t wait for her reply, just puts his attention back to the mission. Thankfully she doesn’t press, just lets him continue the surveillance. What he sees is lots of people that look like them, but then again not really. There’s at least one parent with a kid around them or pushing a stroller as awkward as theirs. And in the park, with the autumn leaves falling around them, and the kids making piles and kicking at them. They’re real, natural, unlike they are.

He remembers having that with his own mom. Whenever his mom found time and wasn’t working, she would take him to the park. And in the autumn months, he’d do exactly what that little kid with the chocolate curls and Ninja Turtles beanie over there is doing. Shoving pine cones into his pocket and then chucking them into the arm to see how far he can throw them. Looking back to his mother for praise.

If he was a dad, he’d be throwing pine cones with him.

And for a moment, he doesn’t know why, he lets himself imagine what it would be like if this was real. If he was sitting in a New York park during its peak season, with a stroller in front of him holding a baby, a real baby that would be his, that would grow up to be like that little boy over there. The hand he’s holding in his lap would be his wife’s, a woman he actually loved. If it were his wife, he thinks, he wouldn’t just hold her hand, he’d lace their fingers together. He does just that, changing positions to demonstrate how he’d do it. He would also stroke her thumb softly, and he gives the hand he’s holding an experimental caress. He looks up at Amy, who is still rocking the stroller and her eyes still focused on what’s in front of her. If Amy were his wife, he’d playfully tug on that strand of hair that’s gotten loose from her ponytail- he stops. If Amy were his wife?

He blinks several times, pulling himself back to earth and away from whatever just happened. He even shakes his head a little for good measure, to rid of whatever the hell kind of intrusive thought that was. Amy would be the last person in the entire world he’d marry. He’s known her for a year now and the only non work related thing he’s ever heard her talk about was a seminar for perfecting the art of nonverbal communication. Which is like the nerdiest thing he’s heard anyone ever say. If anyone were to be his wife, it would be the hot, flirty, movie ticket seller that’s always giving him eyes.

He looks down at their hands to see that they’re still joined. Not only joined, but laced together. Not only laced together, but his thumb is still slightly caressing hers, and he quickly lets go like he’s burned himself. Amy doesn’t even seem to notice his internal struggle, or acknowledge the way he let go suddenly. She just puts the hand on the handlebar to aid the other.

Well… he guesses Amy is pretty in that pre-makeover nerdy type before the transformation that makes her popular kind of way. Not that he watches those movies.

But not for him, no way. Not Amy. He doesn’t even know why he’s still thinking about this.

“You want to yell at me for being stiff? You look like an animatronic,” he teases, hiding his awkward cough through a laugh.

“Shut up Peralta. I’m just trying to do my job here,” she says. A shiver suddenly wracks her body. “God, I need this guy to hurry up, I’m freezing.”

“Seriously? You’re wearing a scarf and gloves.”

“I get cold easily, leave me alone,” she says, and another shiver chatters her teeth a bit. It makes him feel kind of bad, the only reason they’re out here anyway is because he didn’t go for the ring leader first like he normally would before getting away. The boss is always the biggest collar, and in the excitement he didn’t think. So, before he can think about it too much, he’s shrugging off his leather jacket.

“Here, take this,” he holds it out for her.

“Oh, no, I’m fine man, I’ll just-“

“It’s fine, you wearing my jacket will add to our undercover look and make us less suspicious,” he says with a lowered voice. Amy purses her lips in contemplation for a moment more before taking the jacket and sliding into it, shuffling a little to make sure her badge, gun, and handcuffs are still easily accessible.

“Thanks,” she says, her voice betraying some shyness and embarrassment, she’s about to say something more when something catches her attention, her brows furrowing and lips pursing. “I found the guy. Gold chain on his wrist in plain sight.”

And just like that they’re back in the zone. Two detectives lurking about twenty feet away from the bastard they’ve got their eye on.

“Alright you get left, I’ll get right. Rosa is waiting for us in a black van over there so we have to grab him and take him to the car. Remember, be as quiet about this as possible, we don’t want to scare anyone.” Amy says. Of course with cases like these they can never be too quiet, but the quieter it is, the less panic there will be.

They both stand and walk the stroller towards the perp, Amy going left and him going right like instructed. Away from the bench they were sitting on, and away from the happy children and parents enjoying the daylight. Away from the little boy with the Ninja Turtles beanie that reminds him a little too much of himself. Away from the fathers he’ll probably never be.

And sure, maybe he won’t ever be a father, or have a wife to have autumnal strolls with. But right now he’s got what he does best. And he gets to do it right now, take down a badass crime boss in… maybe not the most badass outfit. You win some you lose some.

Being a detective is all he’s ever wanted, and he’s totally good with that.

He really is.

He swears.

#b99 2019 fall fic exchange #b99 fic exchange #b99 #b99 fics #my fics

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thepanofyourkitchen · 5 years ago

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you know what i find annoying? the way fanfiction (and, let's be honest, canon as well) portrays young Sirius, his childhood and what he would be like on that first day of Hogwarts

let me explain - from what i've seen Sirius is shown as his Griffindor rebel self since the very beginnig, hating his abusive racist parents and being perfectly nice and tolerant to everyone and while that's a nice concept, it's also a pretty unlikely one

i just hate the trope about sirius' parents being abusive from the moment he was born. it makes no sense. sirius is their firstborn, the heir to their family and perfectly pureblood child. i believe they loved him and regulus, that they spent time with him when they could, taught him magic, went on family trips. that his early childhood was good and his family seemed perfect. doesn't it make it even more painful later when it all falls apart? imagine little sirius who used to be happy at his own house and never knew what it meant to be afraid. his mother would call him "darling" , smile at him like he brought her sun and sing him lullabies when he couldn't sleep. his father would ruffle his hair and tell him how proud he was of him whenever sirius would get a spell right and maybe even show him some quiditch ("but don't tell your mother, alright son?") there would never be any big scary talk before hogwarts - no threats of disowning, no harsh words, only encouragement and "oh, Orion, our Sirius is a big boy now, when did that happen?" spoken in soft voice by Walburga as she watched her son excitedly read the familliar looking letter, tears in her eyes but smile on her face. it's not that they don't care about his house - they do, but in their minds there is just no way their son will go anywhere else than Slytherin, it's as obvious as magic in their veins, the thought he might be anywhere else never even crosses their minds. they never say "you will be in Slytherin or else...", they say "you will look great in green, honey" and sure, they warn him to behave and try to not dishonor their family, but it's lighthearted and Sirius just nods with a mischevious grin. they would walk him to the station, wish him good luck and say "you will write to us at least once a week" with a fake seriousness. then his mother would kiss his cheek, his father would hug him quickly and then they would wave at him until he was on the train.

only few days later they would get a letter and they would see "Griffindor" written in their son's handwriting and it will not be an insult. Walburga will say "i don't have a son anymore" in the coldest voice possible and toss the letter into the fireplace. Orion will do the same with any letter after that first one, never bothering to read them and never writing a reply. his wife never even asks about those letters, doesn't say their son's name out loud. soon letters just stop coming. christmas (or yule or whatever) is tense and cold this year in Blacks house, the absence of sirius more evident than they were expecting but never acknowledged, save for regulus complaining that his brother abandoned him and saying that he misses him and "mom, when will siri be home?" met with only a cold glare as an answer. when sirius is finally back for the summer there's no one at the station, only a house elf. his mother doesn't call him "darling" anymore. instead she calls him "a disgrace". they no longer smile at him like they used to - only glare and frown and snap - for the first time he's a stranger in his own house. for the first time he's afraid of his parents. he can't quite believe everything changed over one thing that doesn't even matter outside of school. suddenly his parents don't love him anymore and sirius doesn't know what to do.

and when regulus gets his letter next year there is not "you will look great in green" said in a warm loving tone. there is a harsh "you will be in Slytherin or else" so cold it almost freezes the bood in his veins.

i just think this version is so much more believable - and heartbreaking. it's logical that sirius' parents become abusive only after he did something to cause that. being sorted into Griffindor would do the trick. and well, it's one thing to be hated by your family for your whole life, but to have parents who loved you so much and then just stopped for no reason? devastating and traumatising. i imagine him being distraught and confused at first and later very angry at them which triggered his rebelliousness when he's older

the other thing that bothers me is how sirius is shown as pro-muggles and not racist at all from the first moment, even after being raised and brainwashed into the prejudiced thinking for his whole life

sirius is eleven. i don't know many children that age who would even understand the concept of racism, much less decide they disagreed with it without any reason at all. he was a boy whose parents always said only purebloods wers worth anything and anyone else was dirty and not to be associated with and why would they lie to him? they were his parents, they loved him and he loved them, they were so wise and surely right about everything, why would they say those things if they weren't true? sirius was a heir to the most ancient and noble pureblood family, he had probably never met a muggle or a muggleborn before Hogwarts, so how could he know what his parents told him was wrong? children believe what they're told at home with no second thoughts because there's just no reason for them not to. sure, he could be a bit more open minded than his family - maybe he was curious and secretly wanted to meet a muggle to see what was so awful about them? maybe he sometimes watched people on the street from his window and wondered what was so different about them that would make his parents hate them so much? i'm certain his belief in the blood supremacy would be completely superficial - just something his parents told him to be true and so he would repeat what they wanted, but didn't really understand it. like if someone asked sirius what did he think about wizards who befriended muggles he would answer they were blood-traitors without hesitation but he wouldn't be able to explain what this meant and why it was a bad thing. so i believe he would be a bit of an prejudiced asshole at first, even unintentionally, but at the same time would be very easy to convince that it's not the right thinking at all and that he would try to be better and fight what his parents taught him. i would even go as far as to say he would be casually offensive without meaning to - like using only the word mudblood to describe muggleborns. but not because he wanted to be mean but because that was the only word for people like them he was ever taught - do you honestly believe Blacks would call them muggleborns? i don't. so he's not perfect and he needs to learn but he will and soon he really will be the first to defend anyone discriminated against and probably the most ani-racist of them all - but he needs time

that's what bothers me about those "first train ride" fics

in my mind it would be like this: sirius boards the train sure he will be in slytherin, ready to avoid blood-traitors and mudbloods at all cost if only because he doesn't want to let his parents down (and his cousins would surely tell on him) (he might be planning to try and talk with one of the muggleborns anyway, in secret, to see if they are really that bad), but during the train ride something happens to change his mind - maybe he sees older slytherins bullying some little kid over his blood and gets defensive? maybe he meets james while he's trying out some prank and joins him because he's still sirius and they get along splendidly and wow he got a friend who's just like him and oh you're a Potter that's not good but then he's like "whatever i like you i don't care what my parents say"? maybe he sits in one comparment with remus and lily and they are both nice and smart and he likes them but then lily says something about her parents being muggles and sirius is shocked but listens to them while they explain blood doesn't matter and starts doubting his parents? anyway, after he arrives in hogwarts he's not sure what he wants anymore. slytherin seems cold and sharp and boring. griffindor seems fun. but his parents won't like it if he's not where they wanted. sorting hat sees sirius is not really bigoted, that he has a good heart and open mind but is a little misjudged and under bad influence and so it sorts him into griffindor. he still doesn't know what to think but his new roommates seem okay and maybe it wouldn't be so bad? it's just a house in the school, surely his parents won't be too upset about that?

and when few days later he gets a letter from his parents promising to disown him and saying he was not a Black anymore, sirius cries in james' arms until there are no tears left. he regrets going against their wishes, of course he does, because he's a child whose parents just told him they don't love him anymore. but there's a part of him that already knows his family was wrong about some things, that there's nothing he can do to change their minds and really, he likes being a griffindor. so maybe it wasn't 100% a mistake but it sure feels like it in that moment. james hugs him like his mother used to do and promises to be his new family if his old one was too stupid to see how wonderful sirius was. this night is the beginnig of an unbreakable bond between the boys, the friendship and love that would last for the rest of their lives. and that's good.

but it doesn't make anything right, not really

sirius struggles. he misses his family, he's hurt and confused, he doesn't undestand what he did wrong. he's a little kid and his family hates him - i can't imagine him being fine and unaffected by that because "he had never agreed with their viewes and didn't like them anyway" like it's often showed in fanfiction. sure, with years he starts to hate them to, he's furious and spiteful and will do everything to anger them and make them disappointed even more (but isn't it still kinda begging for their attention?) and Yes, with time he learns he's better off without them and he creates himself a new family. he does it all but it takes years and isn't easy.

but even after all those years, i feel like he still probably has some moments of weakness when he lies awake at night, remembering their last holidays before hogwarts and how happy he was and wishes his mother would call him "darling" again

#sirius black #harry potter #hp #sirius #Black family #hogwarts #rant #i'm ranting #i've read like thousand marauders fics and i'm bitter #i want my baby to have actual feelings and character development #i love sirius black and i would die for him #the sirius black rant you didn't know you needed

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years ago

Text

A Flame For A Cabbage (Season Finale)

Azula wanders around somewhat aimlessly. She doesn’t know where she is or how she got here. She is conflicted as to how she should feel about this place. On one hand, there are cabbages everywhere, all sorts of them; cabbages that look to be made of emerald, albino cabbages, spotted cabbages, and spirit cabbages among others. On the other hand, there is no one to sell them to. Not that she can see anyhow.

Being an opportunist, Azula harvests several of these stranger cabbage varieties. She holds one up to the half-light of the jungle canopy. She wonders if she might be dead. That would explain her confusion and the odd cabbages. But Azula doesn’t feel like she has died. She doesn’t know how she would have. Unless she had been a silent host for the virus this whole time and it has finally claimed her. Or maybe she had fallen off of the blue dragon.

It might just be that the void has simply decided to claim her this time around. Granted, she always thought that the void would be a lot darker and with less cabbages.

“Avatar Yangchen, the monks always taught me that all life is sacred. Even the life of the tiniest spider-fly caught in its own web.” She hears a familiar voice.

“Yes. All life is sacred. Well, except for the life of that one mosquito that got in my mouth and bit my tongue.”

Aang blinks, he has never heard of a mosquito doing that before. “I know, I'm a vegan.” He declares proudly.

“Avatar Aang, I know that you're a gentle spirit, and the monks have taught you well, but this isn't about you. Not everything is about you.”

“Hey, Avatar.” Azula cuts in.

“But I’m the main character.” Aang ignores her.

“Many great and wise Air Nomads have detached themselves and achieved spiritual enlightenment, but the Avatar can never do it. Because your sole duty is to the world. Here is my wisdom for you; take a glock and cap a bitch!” With her piece having been said, Yangchen disappears like dust in a breeze.

Momo emerges from behind a tree, bench pressing a log thrice his height and weight. “I guess I don't have a choice, Momo.” Aang comments. “I have to kill the Fire Lord.” He says it as though he had never caused enough collateral damage to kill a background character. But that doesn’t really matter, because background characters still don’t have feelings anyways. In fact, Ozai has just killed a background character for the lolz. He opens each summer with an annual festival wherein background characters are hunted for sport. Aang has never partaken in such a monstrosity but he has killed so many background characters without knowing it, that it is hypocritical of him to be angry at Ozai for killing background characters.

“Avatar!” Azula says, but she says it into a megaphone so Aang jolts and falls off of his rock. It is fine though, because Momo holds him upright. Momo is still bench pressing a log.

“Yes, Azula?”

“Since it is only you and I right now, I have no choice but to ask you if you would like to buy a cabbage.”

“Not right now, Azula. I have to save the world.”

Azula rolls her eyes. Main characters are sooo dramatic. Azula is glad that she is not a main character. The reader is reminded that she is a main character and is granted a reminder of how she silently wept to herself, clutching her favorite cabbage and a roll of toilet paper because she realized that letting go of her boyfriend was a mistake and she is lonely. “Look, Avatar, cabbages are the world.”

“They’re your world, Azula.” Aang replies firmly. “One of these days you’re going to have to realize that there’s more to life than selling and growing cabbages.

Azula gasps in offense and clutches her hand over her heart. For a moment she thinks of Jet. Instead she says, “no, Avatar. Cabbages are the most important thing.”

“I don’t have time for cabbages. I have to…” He pauses. “Hey, you’re really good at plans and stuff! How can I save the world without killing the Fire Lord?”

“I will tell you, if you buy a cabbage.” Azula replies smuggly.

Aang groans and fishes out a few gold pieces and thrusts them into her palm.

“Have you tried using quantum physics to replace this world’s Ozai with one whose worst crime was telling one extrodinarily awful dad joke?” Azula asks.

“Azula, I don’t know how to do that.” Aang replies.

“Oh.” She responds. “Well you aren’t getting your money back.”

.oOo.

“You sent for us, Princess. Is everything all right?” The head dailluminati agent greets.

“Actually, everything's not all right!” Sie looks behind him. There is nothing there, nothing of importance. The thing that is not alright is that he cannot seem to remember his Netflix password and he still has to finish Pretty Little Liars. “Do you know my Netflix password?”

“Uh ... password?” The man answers.

Sie types that in, only to be denied access once more. Even if he does find the right password, it does not matter because TVs do not exist. His Nexflix does not exist. Sie blinks, what was he trying to do again?

He thinks it over. That’s right, his father has left after crowning himself the Phoenix King. Unfortunatly for the world, the spirit that had possessed his soul, causing him to do ridiculous things like own a flamingo rock garden and bulk buy an excess of toilet paper has fled. Ozai is now a complete and unrepentant asshole again. He made sure that everyone knew it by looking Sie dead in the eye and telling him, “you are no daughter of mine. You are a mere peasant. A waste of space.”

“But, father…” Sie had started.

“I am not your father.” The man spat, before making his way to his airship. It had been like a knife in Sie’s chest. He does not know why his father is treating him like this so suddenly.

It haunts him as he sits on his throne. At least he thinks that it is his throne now that his father is gone. He doesn’t even hear the dialluminati agent apologize to him. Nor does he notice the lizard people who have assembled in the room. They chatter amongst themselves, something about a very important meeting for the superior species. A series of beams flash down and suddenly Sie is alone in the throne room. Alone and pacing back and fourth. It is all falling apart, everything is falling apart. He can’t let it fall apart or he will have to deal with her wrath…

.oOo.

Azula folds her arms over her chest. She has to admit that she is growing bored. She had always thought that the coming of Sozin’s comet would be more exciting. More bombastic! But it is actually quite peaceful. This strange island has a nice and balmy breeze. The only sound comes from the lapping of the ocean and the rustling of a breeze.

“Where am I?” She wonders out loud. Really, she ought to get back to the Fire Nation. She has cabbages to sell and her new business partner to talk to. Though she thinks that the Jasmine Dragon might be closed being as the Earth Kingdom is about to be burned to the ground. Azula scoffs, wondering whose foolish idea that was. What. A. Moron.

“Hey, so this island is actually just a giant lion-turtle!” Aang calls from afar.

“Fascinating.” Azula mutters uncaringly. “Does it know how I can sell cabbages to a nation that is focused completely on war?”

“I’m not sure, he’s talking to Momo about his workout routines.”

.oOo.

“Attention, crew, this is your captain speaking. Everyone please report to the bomb bay immediately for pan-fried noodles and roast duck.” Sokka announces. Azula feels a faint pang of jealousy that she cannot place. “We have a very special birthday to celebrate.” But they won’t be celebrating any birthdays, they are practicing social distancing.

“Hey, I'm Qin Lee. I work up in communications.” Qin introduces himself.

“Oh, hi. I work down in the engine room. That's probably why we never met before. Big airship, you know?” Replies the man casually. “So, do you know whose birthday it is?”

Qin is about to tell the man that it is his birthday when another man approaches and exclaims, “I can't believe the captain remembered my birthday. He really does care.”

Qin coughs, “he was actually talking about my birthday.”

But Sokka wasn’t talking about any of their birthdays. With the press of a button the void opens up and claims its remaining sacrifices. It has been appeased. Sozin’s comet will not demolish the world as they know it, Bosco and his band of furious furries will not return, and the universes will not merge together in a chaotic and destructive blend. This, however, excludes Earth Kingdom Azula, whose eyebrows allow her to travel through time and space. But she is only eight years old so she does not yet know how to use her eyebrows to ignore the laws that hold the universe together as everyone knows it. What she does know how to do is use her eyebrows to blast holes in the walls as Suyin shrieks in agitation.

.oOo.

Azula yawns, she wishes that the Avatar would hurry his conversation up so that she may speak with the lion-turtle.

“...but I don’t want to kill him! I can’t kill him, I’m a vegan!” He throws his arms up in the air. “There’s got to be another way. Azula said that I should try to bend time and space but I don’t think that I can master that on time.”

Azula rolls her eyes. “That’s the wonderful thing about bending time and space. You don’t have to know what you’re doing.” She gives her bangs a lazy flick. “Really, the less you know how to do, the more effective you will be. Just tear a hole into the delicate balance and let the chaos take care of the Fire Lord for you.”

Aang blinks. This is uncharacteristically sinister for the usually peaceful cabbage merchant.

“Now move aside and let me speak with the lion-turtle so he can bless me with the wisdom I need to improve my marketing strategies and people skills.”

“Do you understand, avatar?” The lion-turtle asks.

“Can you repeat that last part?”

The lion-turtle nods before speaking in tongues. “If you can memorize that chant and successfully analyze the fire lord’s zodiac as it applies to the comet, you will be able to take his bending from him. If you do really well, you can also take his soul, his dignity, and his left sock.”

Aang nods. “Thank you…”

“Chuck.” The lion-turtle says. “You can call me Chuck.”

“Finally.” Azula mutters. “Help me face the lion-turtle.”

Never passing an opportunity to show off his swol legs, Momo lifts Azula up and holds her in front of the lion-turtle.

“Do you mind?” Azula frowns up at Aang.

“You listened to my conversation!” Aang points out.

“You aren’t trying to run a business. I can’t have any potential competition knowing my strategies.” In reality, she is planning on asking the lion-turtle for romance advice and she does not need the avatar to see her get all flustered upon thinking of Jet and his beautiful abs. “Don’t you have a Fire Lord to face?” She asks.

“I don’t wanna.” Aang whines.

“Well then I guess that everyone you know and love will die.” Azula says nonchalantly.

Aang shrugs. He isn’t too worried; both he and Jet died and came back.

“My parents aren’t home.” Azula says.

Being as the void still has some influence, the world seems to glitch. A fizzy, staticy image seems to overlay Aang’s face, making him appear like a blue hedgehog as he hastily makes his way to his glider. He has to go fast.

Azula gives a sigh of relief and watches the boy depart before turning back to the lion-turtle. “I have a problem.”

‘A’ is an understatement. She has several problems. Most of them pertain to the dipping of cabbage stocks. But there are a few that have to do with the fact that she still has not had her fill of roast duck and pan-fried noodles--at this point she is practically willing to eat her body weight in the stuff. Another such problem is that she had stepped in a puddle and now her socks are wet. But these aren’t her main concerns. “I had someone important to me. He’s gloriously beautiful, he’s funny, and he taught me how to draw dickbutt. I think that I...have a very deep attachment to him. But I have to focus on my cabbages because I...I love my cabbages.”

“Yes, go on.” The lion-turtle nods.

“I think that I am going to have to choose between Jet and my cabbages. I need a way to get Jet back without sacrificing my business.”

The lion-turtle lifts a claw and presses it to her forehead. She understands now. She understands everything. She knows how to make this right.

Momo sets her down beside her cabbages before he flies back to the lion-turtle’s face.

“So anyways, if you want legs like these,” comes an extremely deep bass voice, “you’re gonna have to do a lotta squats”

“Sick, dude.” Replies the lion-turtle.

.oOo.

Sie unfolds his lawn chair and lays back. Though the sun is not out, the comet shall provide him with enough heat to work on his tan. His coronation ceremony hasn’t yet started, possibly because Ozai had never given him the crown. Boy is Zuko going to be disappointed. He doesn’t know what they are going to fight over today. He takes a sip from his coconut drink as a sky bison obstructs the sunrays he that he is trying to bathe in. Sie smirks, he knows exactly what they will bicker over.

Yes, he will open by scolding his brother for blocking his sunlight and then he will hit him with the big one!

Zuko leaps off of the bison, a parachute expands. “You’re not going to become Fire Lord today!” He declares over the roar of the wind.

“What?” Sie asks, he cannot hear Zuko from this distance.

“You’re not going to become Fire Lord today!”

“What!?”

Zuko lands. “You’re not going to become Fire Lord today, I am.”

“Yeah, about that.” Sie says, missing his opportunity to begin the first fight. “Father never gave me the crown so neither of us will become Fire Lord today.” Sie shrugs.

Zuko frowns, “we can still fight over the crown for when father gets defeated.” Zuko suggests.

“Yes, I suppose that we can, brother.” Sie agrees. They are off to a horrible start with this whole arguing thing. “There’s only one way to settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be. Rock, paper, scissors!” He whips out a small booklet, a rock, a piece of paper, and some scissors.

“You're on!”

“What are you doing? He’s playing you. He knows hhe can't take us both, so hhe's trying to separate us.”

Zuko shakes his head, “we’ve been playing Monop-uno since we were kids. It’s a two player game.”

“But even you admitted to your uncle that you would need help facing Sie.”

“It’s fine, my sister has always been awful at rock, paper, scissors and this way, no one else has to get hurt.”

Katara nods and Sie and Zuko stand on opposite ends of the courtyard, kneeling as you do before beginning a game of rock, paper, scissors. It is always best to start any board, card, or any kind of game by kneeling before your God and asking for protection lest the game transform itself into an ouija board and you find yourself dealing with Zozo the board demon. The camera pans to show Zuko kneeling on his side of the courtyard and then to Sie kneeling on his. And then to Zuko standing up and turning around; he slips on a banana peel as he does and topples. The camera pans out again to show Azula passionately making out with Jet. This is an error; that was supposed to have been a private moment. The camera pans out to Sie who removes his sunglasses, for he does not have a ceremonial robe to remove.

“I'm sorry it has to end this way, brother.” Sie says.

“No you're not.”

With that the battle begins. But if you look into the portal nestled in the corner of the courtyard you can glimpse at another world entirely. Another world where Azula and Zuko are about to face each other. In this world the conversation was much longer.

“No you’re not.” Zuko says.

“Yes I am.” Responds Azula.

“Are not.” Zuko replies.

“Am to!” Azula insists.

“Are not!”

“Am to!”

“Are not!”

“Am to!”

“aRE NoT!”

“I am TO!”

They do this until Sozin’s comet passes and then stand in solidarity, weeping because they have both missed their chance to spectacularly show off their firebending. They hug each other and cry. They apologize to each other for being little assholes. Katara rolls her eyes and shakes her head; that whole family is full of drama queens.

In this world, Zuko and Sie take up their stances. Zuko makes the mistake of revealing his choice in his stance by holding out his pointer and middle fingers. He improvises by pretending to bend lightning. Sie scoffs, “lightningbending is forbidden until round three!”

“Sorry.” Zuko apologizes, “I was getting excited.”

“Rock! Paper! Scissors! Shoot! Long ago, the four hand signs lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when the Shoot Nation attacked. Only the Cheater, master of all four hand signs, could stop them, but when the world needed him most, he vanished…”

“Katara, please.” Zuko says.

Katara coughs, “sorry, I was just trying to get in the spirit of the game.” She puts her foam finger away.

“You can still call ‘rock, paper, scissors, shoot’, if you want.” Sie says.

“I guess.” Katara shrugs.

.oOo.

Azula covers her ears, she does not know what that dreadful sound is, it is like a shrill ring combined with elevator music. It has a catchy beat, but, spirits, it should not be played while she is trying to have a moment with Jet! She wishes that the void would stop trying to talk to her while she is with Jet. At least she is assuming it is the void.

“Well that just killed the mood.” Jet remarks.

“Yeah…” Azula trails off. Truth be told, she was not ready for this yet. She thinks that it is too soon in their rekindled relationship to show him her mixtape, even if it is totally fire. “Maybe next time.”

“Sure, next time.” He smiles.

“Jet?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think that my business is going to fail?”

“What!? No! No! I just said that because I was mad.”

Azula smiles, she might actually be getting teary-eyed. “Well, I’ve only sold a single cabbage, and I was only able to sell that one by taking advantage of someone’s frustration.”

Jet laughs, “that’s how you’ve always sold your cabbages! By manipulating and taking advantage of people, you’re doing great!”

“Yes, but I usually manipulate and take advantage of more than one person…”

“Well, you always make your best sales in the midst of disaster, and it just so happens that we are in the middle of the biggest battle in over a hundred years!” He gestures to the fire and chaos in the streets of Ba Sing Se--for this is where the lion-turtle has dropped her off. People are screaming and wailing and panic buying more toilet paper, forgetting that toilet paper is very flammable. “I mean, the Fire Lord is about to burn the entire Earth Kingdom to the ground!”

Azula’s eyes light up. “You’re right! This is absolutely catastrophic! I-I think that I can do this.”

Jet takes her hands, “you can do this.”

.oOo.

“Tag, you’re it!” Zuko declares.

Sie curses. He picks up a dodge ball and chucks it at Zuko who dodges it and dashes for the nearest pair of scissors that he can find. Sie throws another dodge ball. Zuko sets this one on fire as his fingers curl around the scissors. Sie takes this chance to grab a rock.

Zuko snarls, before recalling something important. “I am on base!”

“Ha!” Sie calls, “base has moved over there!” He points across the courtyard.

Zuko curses.

“One point to princess Sie!” Declares one of the spectating Dailluminati agents.

“BOOOOO!” Hollars Bumi, who has flown in from all the way in Omasok to witness this event. He is not pleased at the current standing.

Sie chucks the dodge ball once more. Zuko leaps out of the way. “What no paper today?” He shouts. “Afraid I’ll use scissors!?”

“Oh, I’ll show you paper!” Sie spits. He takes a deep breath and pulls out a sheet of fine art paper. Zuko drops into a defensive stance. Katara and Bumi bite their nails. The Dailluminati agent steps out to take a phone call.

Sie begins quickly and meticulously folding the paper into an origami turtle-duck. Zuko’s eye go wide. Sie’s look between Zuko and Katara. “Quack, quack, bitches.” He says with a smirk as he throws the duck at Katara.

“Nooooooo!” Zuko throws himself between Katara and the origami turtle-duck. Zuko lands with a harsh thud and the origami turtle-duck lazily drifts down and lands harmlessly upon him.

It then explodes and transforms into a real turtle-duck. The turtle-duck doubles in size and begins judging Zuko’s fashion choices and life-decisions until he can handle no more.

“Zuko!” Katara calls. “Don’t listen to it, your outfit is on point!”

Sie cackles madly, “but it doesn’t go with his eyes!”

Zuko weeps harder.

.oOo.

Azula confidently marches right into the epicenter of the chaos around her. She scans the crowd for the most horrified face. She comes upon a woman who is shrieking and begging the void to claim her before she can be burned alive.

“You!” She points at the woman as Jet begins singing the soulja boi.

The woman turns to her.

“As you can very clearly tell, you are going to die.” Azula pauses. “So you might as well spend every cent that you have on my cabbages.” It might be the firey backdrop or the way it casts swirling shadows around Azula. But the woman is absolutely terrified, she stumbles back before she practically throws the coins at Azula. The merchant collects them and hands her several cabbages. “Thank you for your business! Have a lovely day!”

“Th-th-thanks.” The woman shudders. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Azula smiles. “But will it be necessary with you?” She turns to the man next to her.

“No, ma’m.” The man trembles and holds out a few coins.

“Wonderful!” Azula claps her hands together. “Enjoy your cabbages.”

Soon she doesn’t even need to approach her customers, they are coming to her. They actually want her cabbages. She is going to get so much roast duck and pan-fried noodles.

“Wow, Azula, you’re doing incredible!” Jet remarks.

“I know.” She agrees.

“Hey! Merchant!” Shouts a familiar voice and Azula’s blood runs cold. A Fire Nation soldier steps out of the crowd.

“No…” Azula mumbles.

“Yes.” The woman says.

“I will not allow you to set my cabbages on fire.” Azula declares and pulls out a John Cena knife--Mai is using her Kenu Reeves one--the soldier will never see it coming.

“Set them on fire?” The soldier asks.

“Yes.” Azula replies. “I know that you have been chasing me to set my cabbages on fire because you think that they are infected.”

“That’s not why I’m chasing you, merchant. I’m actually just here to return something that you dropped.”

Azula cocks her head, “oh.”

The woman hands her a picture. Azula feels around her pocket. Spirits, she hadn’t even realized that she dropped it.

“Aww, that’s the first dickbutt we drew together.” Jet smiles. The panicking crowd stops to give their own affectionate ‘aw’ and ‘that’s so cute’.

“Thank you.” Azula says. But the soldier is gone. No. Not gone.

“Sike!” The soldier yells. “That was just a decoy!” She sets Azula’s stall on fire.

Azula screams in anguish. It had been going so well. So, so well. And now…

Her stomach knots in rage and pain as her cabbages cry out in agony and torment. She balls her fists, it isn’t fair. It isn’t right. She has worked so hard for this. This was supposed to be her moment. Her big breakthrough.

Azula screams again. This time she can feel the rage flowing through her, opening each and every one of her chipoints. The energy swells and surges until it overflows. Her eyes glow a vivid blue and the crowd steps back. All but Jet.

Jet is a foolish man. When Azula enters the Farmer State, her power is unchecked and horribly deadly.

Large carrots and kumquats burst from the cracks in the ground. “You will suffer for destroying my cabbages.” Azula vows. But it isn’t just Azula speaking. It is also the souls of each and every deceased cabbage she has ever grown. They now lend her their unfathomable power.

“Azula, don’t do this.” Jet calls up to her levitating form. “You’ll kill all of these people.”

“Ehhh...they were going to get burned to a crisp anyways!” Azula shrugs as she sends a sharpened carrot crashing down. It nearly impales the soldier. Instead strikes the ground creating a crater in the center of town.

“Azula, please!” He begs.

But the merchant is too far gone. This doesn’t stop him from drawing nearer to her. A deadly rain of jalapeno peppers fall all around, mercilessly pelting the crowd.

Jet takes her hand. “Azula, I love you.”

Azula shudders, no one has ever done that before. No one but her cabbages.

“You don’t need your cabbages. You have me now.” He promises. “We could grow new cabbages. Better ones.”

“But what about the missed opportunity?” Azula frowns.

Her eyes still glow, but her body falls. Jet takes her into his arms. “There will be new ones. Better ones. You’ve partnered with the Jasmine Dragon!”

The glow fades from her eyes, she feels so terribly small. “But this was supposed to be my moment.”

“This is your moment.” Jet gives a soft and warm smile. He cups her cheek and gives her a gentle kiss. “This is our moment.”

The crowd gives another ‘awww’. The soldier grumbles to herself, for her boyfriend has just left her.

Maybe Jet is right, maybe life isn’t only about growing and selling cabbages. Maybe there is more to it. Jet squeezes her hand as Ozai’s air fleet reaches Ba Sing Se. Azula is glad that she has gotten a taste of true affection before she meets her demise.

Ozai steps further out onto the platform and takes a deep breath. He pulls out a megaphone, “princess Azula, it is time to end this foolishness.”

Azula groans to herself.

“This has gone too far!”

She folds her arms over her chest.

“Please come home, I am tired of the Cabbage Merchant, he is too needy!”

“I am the Cabbage Merchant, father!” Azula declares.

Ozai inhales sharply through his nose only and rubs an exasperated hand over his face. “You are the princess of the Fire Nation! You get on this airship right now and go to your room.”

“I will not.” Azula stands her ground. Jet slings his arm around her. She is a cabbage merchant now, this is her life!

Ozai claps his hands together and holds them to his mouth. “Okay, how about this. If you come home right now, I’ll let you keep your boyfriend.”

Azula keeps her arms firmly crossed. “I am staying right here with my boyfriend and my flaming cabbage stall.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I took your tank away, I might have overreacted a little.” Ozai gives in. “Please end this, whatever it is, and come home.”

Azula only offers him a smirk.

#Avatar #Azula #Cabbage Man #Zuko #Jet #Ozai #Aang #Katara #Jetzula #Fanfiction

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allthestripes · 6 years ago

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For You - a Valentine’s Creek fic (for bruhchantite)

Craig wasn't what most people would consider a romantic. He had nothing against the idea of romance, he had just always thought it wasn't the thing for him. Never had it occurred to him this could change. When it did, it was as surprising as being run over by a train. He had been able to see the impact coming, but could still hardly believe it once it hit him.

He supposed that was just the affect Tweek had on him.

Nothing went as he expected when it came to the other. From his ability to handle other people's emotions to his willingness to put up with things he found annoying, Tweek was the outlier in every occasion. Only for Tweek did he try to understand someone else's worries and fear. Only for Tweek did he work to find solutions that were outside his comfort zone.

Only for Tweek.

A small smile formed on Craig's lips as he sat back in his desk chair, spinning in it to look around his room. He took in the familiar site of the guinea pig cage in the corner, Stripe napping in her little hut, then his eyes moved over his bed, the dresser, the toy chest, a perfectly folded stack of laundry... and coffee cups. A beverage that had at one point been a stranger to him was now a constant presence in his room and life. A side affect for sure, but he had to admit, it did smell nice. He could no longer separate the warm scent from that of his boyfriend, but that wasn't so bad. It just meant that whenever he smelled coffee, he felt himself smile and relax a bit.

There was a knock on his door and he got up, going to answer. Swinging it open, his light smile turned into a full grin. "Hey, babe," he said.

Tweek was standing in the doorway, a travel cup of coffee in hand. "Hey, Craig," he greeted, moving into the room when Craig stepped back. "Sorry I'm late, the coffeemaker wasn't working right so I had to mess around with it."

"No worries." He took Tweek's bag, setting it beside his at his desk. "So, I know I said we should have a homework date, but why don't we do that homework later and have a movie date now?"

Tweek rolled his eyes and shook his head, but smiled all the same. "Wow, you're really twisting my arm here, Tucker. What am I suppose to say, no?"

"I mean you could if you wanted to," Craig said, putting a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "But that probably wouldn't stop me from putting on a movie and not doing my homework anyway."

"It wouldn't, and instead you would keep me from doing my work."

"I would never."

"Liar."

Craig put a hand to his chest, looking hurt. "Awe, babe, how could you say that? I would never do something like that." They stared at each other for a moment, then began to laugh.

"What movie where you thinking?" Tweek asked, moving to sit on Craig's bed as the other flipped on his television and opened his Netflix.

"There's a lot of new stuff, anything you want to see in particular?" He sat beside Tweek, casually tugging him closer. Tweek easily gave in, relaxing into his usual position curled against Craig's side.

"Well, it's almost Valentine's Day," he said. "Any terrible romance movies on there?"

"Let's investigate." They scrolled through the romance movies, and after finding nothing that looked even remotely entertaining, they settled on Hair Spray. Sure it wasn't a romance movie so to speak, but hey, there was romance in it, and it was a great and fun film.

When the movie was getting underway, Tweek spoke up. "I can't believe I used to think Zac Efron was hot."

Craig blinked, glancing over at him. "You did?"

"Don't lie and pretend you did," he said, nudging him. At the blank look, he huffed. "Alright, fine, who did you think was hot in High School Musical?"

"Uh, I don't know, I didn't think about it? Probably Vanessa Hudgens. I think that's who Clyde always ranted about and I just agreed with him because it was easier than anything else."

Tweek snorted. "I didn't take you for a sheep."

"You want to be the one to tell Clyde the person he finds hottest isn't the hottest to you?"

"...alright, fair enough. You got me there."

They finished the movie in relative quiet aside from occasionally repeating lines they liked and laughing. Once it was over, Tweek swiped the remote, turning off the tv and ordering Craig over to his desk.

"We have to do our work now or we never will," he said. "The faster we do it now, the more time we have to goof off later."

"Ugh, why do you always have to make sense and use logic?"

"Because you refuse to."

"I refuse to because you always do."

"Again, because you refuse to. Now stop trying to distract me and get out your math, mister."

Craig sighed in defeat, pulling out his text book and paper, setting to work at his desk as Tweek took over his bed, scattering around his notes to seem them all better. They worked silently, though Craig couldn't help but continuously turning around to look at Tweek as the other concentrated on his work.

When he did it for the fifth time in just a few minutes, Tweek shut his textbook and looked up. "Alright, Tucker, you gotta stop that. I can feel you looking at me, and I can't focus."

"It's not my fault you decided to look cute," Craig said with a grin, leaning back in his seat to look fully at him. While Tweek blushed and spluttered, he continued on. "Besides, you're way nicer to look at than equations."

"I can't stand you," Tweek whined, throwing his history packet at his head. "You and your teasing!"

Craig laughed, holding up his arm to block his face from the paper attack. "Well, since we're distracted for good now, why don't you let me tell you something?"

Tweek paused, looking at him curiously. "...tell me what?"

"As you know, that bullshit holiday is coming up, and I was wondering if you wanted to go out."

"Wait, you mean you want to do a full on Valentine's Day date? You?"

"I know, it's shocking, but I'm serious." He stood up, going to sit beside Tweek once again. "I know I'm not super great at being romantic and all that jazz, but I want to give it a shot. We've been together for five years now, I think it's time for me to step up my game."

"Craig, you don't have to do anything you don't want to for me," Tweek said, putting his hand over the other's lightly. "I know you do the best you can, and that means the world to me. You've already gone above and beyond in helping me with my problems and finding ways to help me through them."

"I want to," he said softly, turning his hand over to squeeze Tweek's lightly. "As dumb as it feels to say out loud, I really do want to be the person you need me to be. I really love you, Tweek. I want to be there for you any way you need."

Tweek looked away, feeling guilt spike through his stomach. "But I've... I've never done that for you."

"Are you kidding?" Craig reached up, gently turning him back to face him again. "Tweek, you've done so much for me. You've helped me become comfortable with who I am, and you support me in everything I do. You even help me not be such an asshole." He smiled in triumph when this got a small laugh.

"Honey, you've made me a better person," he continued, moving his arm around Tweek's shoulders and pulling him to his side. "These years with you, I've really grown, I'm not the little shit I used to be. I'm calmer, nicer, and I'm... I'm not afraid to show my feelings anymore. That's entirely thanks to you. You gave me the confidence to be myself without demanding I be anyone else. You just wanted me to be me, and I can do that freely now."

"Craig..." Tweek swallowed heavily, feeling his heart flutter in his chest.

"You've done more for me than you realize," Craig finished, locking eyes with him seriously. "When you came to see me that day in fourth grade, you changed my life for the better. I do what I can to help you out because I love you and... and I see having a future with you." His face burned with embarrassment as he voiced his private thoughts, but pressed on. It was important for Tweek to hear and understand.

"I know a lot of relationships don't last, especially from elementary school. But we've already beaten the odds on that one. We're about to be high schoolers and as far as I know, we don't seem to be ending our relationship any time soon. When I think about the future and what I want to do with my life, it would be a lie for me to say you aren't right there beside me. I don't know what will happen when we get older, but I know that for now, I want to do whatever I can to make you happy. If that means leaving my comfort zone sometimes, I'll do it."

Tweek's mind raced with a thousand thoughts and his heart skipped a beat as he processed everything the other had told him. Craig's words wrapped around him like a blanket, enveloping him in warmth and love. He had so many things he wanted to say in return, each jostling to escape first. In the end, none of them were said. Rather, he lurched forward and kissed him.

Craig responded immediately, his arms encircling Tweek's waist and tugging him closer. When they parted, neither spoke for a long time, enjoying the peaceful moment and each other's presence. Tweek was the first to break the silence.

"To answer your original question, yes," he said, smiling up at Craig. "I would love to go on a Valentines date with you."

"Oh, good, because I may or may not have already bought movie tickets and gotten reservations at a restaurant." When Tweek raised an incredulous eyebrow, he grinned. "With mom's help. And she agreed to drive us, too."

"What would you have done if I'd said no?"

"I would have laughed and brushed it off as a joke, then told mom to cancel. Maybe cry to myself. Luckily, I don't have to think about it, though, because you didn't say no."

"I could always change my mind."

"Sorry, no take-backs. You have to go now."

"Oh, woe is me," Tweek laughed, rolling his eyes. "And here I thought Clyde was the dramatic one."

"Excuse me but I am not dramatic, I have the perfect ratio of reaction to situation, I'll have you know," Craig said, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"Mhm, oh, yeah, sure," he agreed.

"Hey, I'm serious!"

"I'm sure you are." Craig glared at him before a smirk crept onto his lips. Tweek eyed him suspiciously. "What?" he demanded. "What's that look- No, no don't you dare!"

He moved to jump away, but before he could escape, Craig's arms trapped him in place and he was being tickled mercilessly. Tweek shrieked and squealed, wiggling and squirming as he tried to get away, but he failed. He was stuck until the assault ended.

Luckily for Tweek, the attack was stopped early by Tricia pounding on her brother's door. "Hey!" she barked, making Craig pause and giving Tweek a chance to catch his breath. "Stop murdering my favorite!"

"Fuck off," Craig yelled back. "He's my boyfriend, I can do what I want!"

"He's my-! Uh, something!" the little girl challenged. "Don't make me come in there!"

Craig groaned, releasing Tweek and allowing the boy to flop onto the bed. He wasn't really threatened by his sister, but if she came into his room, it would be almost impossible to force her out again.

"You're such a brat, Tricia."

"Fuck you, Craig!" When the sound of her steps disappeared back into her room, Tweek let out a breathless laugh.

"She's my hero," he said, sitting up on his elbows.

"Don't let her hear you say that," Craig warned. "You'll never get her to go away and we'll never have peace again."

"Hm." Tweek rolled off the bed, getting to his feet. "Now about that homework..."

#craig tucker #tweek tweak #creek #south park #creek valentines #my writing #fanfic

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averyrogers83 · 6 years ago

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Straight From The Heart pt3

Title: Straight From The Heart

Author: @averyrogers83

Summary: You had been hurt so many times throughout your life that eventually you closed yourself off to all possibilities of ever finding true love, but a man like Chris change all that and convince you to take a chance on him or will you close off your heart forever.

Warnings: Fluff filled story with some angst, bad language. Chris x Reader

Word Count: 1,740

Author’s Notes: This is written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan#star’smarvelplaylist. I don’t normally do RPF’s but I’m trying my hand at it. I don’t know these people personally so none of this is true nor do I perceive to know how they think. This is purely from my imagination and is not intended for anything more than personal entertainment. And my writing is s**t. Sorry for any grammar errors.

Prompt: “Everything I Do, I Do It For You” by Bryan Adams song prompt

You begrudgingly get ready for work, it being Friday you get to go in later becauseyou always tend to stay late during the week to get everything done before the weekend and by Friday the boss is actually decent and allows for casual Fridays which means as long as we are completely caught up we can leave before five pm. One of the perks of working in IT. The day goes like any other, you getting through all the stupid questions, fixing issues that should have never happened if anyone with half a brain knew what they were doing and avoiding Casey.

He knew it was your birthday so he tried to make an extra effort to come by and make amends with you, but you made sure you were too busy to give him a second to try and worm his way back into your life. You had learned your lesson and there was no way you were ever getting back together with him.

By noon you had already gotten half the work orders on your desk out of the way when Sandy stopped by your office so the two of you took a short break in the mess hall and grabbed a quick bite since you were too preoccupied to eat anything earlier. By three pm you were all caught up and ready to head home. You headed off to Sandy’s office, but apparently she was already gone for the day, which was odd because the two of you always left work at the same time. You shrugged it off and headed out of the building, if you didn’t leave now someone would find a reason to stop you and keep you there so you opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator.

You made a couple stops along the way home, grabbing a couple of books from your favorite bookstore and a pint of ice cream at the corner grocer before entering your building. Frank the doorman always there greets you with a smile and birthday wishes and you make your way to your apartment. At least the day wasn’t completely awful. You exit the elevator and go to open the door before coming to a screeching halt, “that’s funny” you think Sandy had left before you so she should be home, usually if she has plans for the evening she tells you so know you’d have the house alone. The only other time she locks the door is when she has a guy over and she wants to make sure she has plenty of time to hustle off to her bedroom if they are in a precarious position in the living room.

You fumble around in your bag and finally find your keys and slip it into the keyhole, the place is in complete darkness but you think nothing of it and turn on a few lights and that’s when they decide to attack. Your friends and neighbors jump out of whatever hiding place they were in and scream “Surprise” making you jump and already melting Half Baked Ben and Jerry’s splat on the floor. You normally hated surprises, but seeing how it was your birthday and the one guy that somehow made it home just in time to help you celebrate it just happened to be there, you were willing to let this one slide.

You made pleasantries with everyone that was there, thanking them for the birthday wishes and being there to celebrate with you as you made your way through the room, there was one person you couldn’t wait to see, but every time you would get close someone else was there trying to monopolize your attention. When your boss Stephen starting in on some tirade about the idiots in accounting you had to excuse yourself and head to the balcony to get some air. The last thing you needed was to talk about work when you were trying to have fun.

The cool air immediately assaulted you when you slid the door open and walked out onto the balcony taking a deep breath of the fresh air thankful to be away from the crowd of people, stale air and blaring music.

“Hey stranger.”

Startled you turn, you hadn’t realized that anyone was out there with you.

“Casey, how did you get in?”

“One of your neighbors let me in.”

“Why the hell are you here?

“You didn’t let me wish you a happy birthday at work, and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Casey there is nothing to talk about. We are done and nothing you can do or say will make me change my mind. You’ve wished me a happy birthday now kindly leave.”

“No! Not till I’ve had my say.”

“Casey, please all I want to do is spend my day with my friends and the people that I care about.”

“I want you back. I made a mistake and I know that now. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and…”

“Stop, I don’t want to hear it. You cheated on me and there’s no coming back from that.”

“Funny, you’re one to talk.” Casey scoffs

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you’re the one that cheated first.”

“You’re insane you know that right” you laugh “I have never cheated on you.”

“You may not have slept with anyone else, but you have been emotionally unavailable to me for months before Jasmine and I ever hooked up.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” your voice escalates two octaves, you’re thankful that the music is still blaring on the other side of the door so no one could hear your heated exchange.

“Every time I tried to take our relationship to the next level you shot me down.”

“NO I didn’t!”

“Really, how about when I asked you to move in with me. You made some excuse as to why you couldn’t leave Sandy all alone in this apartment.”

“You know Sandy and how co-dependent she is. I can’t leave her by herself..”

“Sandy is a grown adult who can take care of herself. You’re not her mother.”

“What does it matter anymore anyhow, you still cheated and therefore we are still done. Now if you don’t mind kindly leave before I have your ass thrown out.”

“FINE! I’ve said what I’ve come to say. You can’t blame me for what happened. You’re just as much at fault.”

You hear the glass door slam shut behind you as your turn your attention back to the bright lights of the city. You couldn’t believe that bastard for just showing up, you were fuming, tears began to stream down your face. How dare he blame you for his cheating.

You couldn’t think straight and your buzz was quickly wearing off from the cool night air and the heated exchange, your mind preoccupied with what transpired that you didn’t notice the door slide open and shut.

“Everything ok?”

You quickly wipe away the stray tear “yeah, I’m fine” you say shakily

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be crying on your special day.”

“I know I just am so mad right now.”

“Well I say you forget about that asshole, and you and I go back inside where it’s warm.”

You nod in agreement and let Chris wrap his arms around you as you walk back inside. You hadn’t realized how cold it had gotten until you got back inside and a shiver ran over your body. You were thankful Chris had gotten you before you had turned into an icicle.

The music was still blaring and the party was still in full swing and you were bound to make the most of it. Casey was gone and god willing nothing else was going to ruin this night. The two of you made your way back to the bar and grabbed another drink until the music suddenly changed tempo and a familiar song came over the speakers and before you knew it Chris had pulled you into the middle of the room and took you into his arms. Your bodies slowly swaying to the music as you try and let everything that transpired over the past hour dissipate.

“So what happened out on the balcony, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Doesn’t really matter now does it?”

“No, but I just hate seeing you upset over that asshole.”

“Well we don’t have to worry about that asshat anymore. I think he’s finally out of my life for good.”

“Good, he doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

“I know right. However one thing he did say really pisses me off.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“He blamed me for his cheating.”

“What?! That’s ridiculous.”

“He said that I have been emotionally unavailable to him for months and that’s why he cheated on me.”

“That’s stupid. You want me to kick his ass?”

You can’t help but laugh so hard you let out a snort, “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, I’d do anything for you.”

“No, but thanks for the offer.”

“You know everything I do, I do it for you. You’re my girl.”

“You’re funny, what would I do without you.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out either. Look, I’m not going to lie, I’m glad you’re single again.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“Because maybe now I can have a shot at being your boyfriend. I’ve been in love with you ever since I became your neighbor six years ago, but the timing never seemed right. Not till now, I made the mistake of letting you slip through my fingers before and I’m not going to let that happen again.”

He looked at you with concern in his eyes, you hadn’t said a word since he professed his feelings for you, your brain still trying to comprehend what he was saying making sure you were hearing him right. You had always had feelings for Chris, but never acted on them for fear of rejection, but to hear that he felt the same way about you made you giddy inside. Before he could say another word your lips crashed against his. You longed for this moment for so long you didn’t want to ruin it by saying something stupid so you let your lips do the talking for you.

This has to be the best birthday present you could have ever asked for.

@star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @sarahp879

#star's marvel playlist

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nothing-but-kpop-dreams · 7 years ago

Text

Mark Is Acting Weird (9.5/10)

Author’s note: I am so sorry that it took so long to update. I have been so busy and i have had writer’s block. Sorry for grammatical errors and sorry for this only being a half scene. I will try my best to get the last parts out sooner.

Genre: Angst

Word count: 1489

ALL PARTS

3 DAYS LATER

JACKSON POV

“Bye guys, see you tomorrow.” He said as he made his way to the door, ready to go back to y/n’s apartment.

“Wait!” Bambam said. “Are you going to spend the night at Y/n’s again? That’s like the third night in a row.”

“Yeah, she’s still on the mopey side, she doesn’t want to be alone…”

“Aw man, really?” Yugyeom asked with concern.

“Yeah”

“Hold up real quick!” Jb called out as he ran up to him. “Mark actually texted me this morning, before you joined us in practice.”

This was something that caught Jackson’s attention. As far as he knew, Mark still wasn’t speaking to anyone. “Really? What did he say?” he asked immediately.

“That he wants to talk to you.” Jb said.

“What? Really? But why?” This didn’t make sense. Why would Mark want to talk to him? Did Mark already talk to y/n? Was he going to blame him for y/n breaking up with him? Jackson couldn’t think of any other reasons as to why Mark would want to talk to him of all people right now.

Jb only shrugged. “He only sent me a text that he wanted to talk to you-“

“Why are you barely telling me though now? Like I could have gone back to the dorms way earlier to talk to him!”

“I was waiting to see if he would say anything else.” jb explained. “So tonight you come back home with us… and let us know what Mark tells you cuz we all still want to know what is going on with him.”

“Yeah, of course!”

Jackson stood outside Mark’s door, hesitant to so much as knock. He looked to his side, five faces staring at him impatiently to go inside the room. He turned back at the door, giving the softest of knocks. “Mark? It’s me. Jb said you wanted to talk?”

He waited a long moment, but got nothing. He looked back over at the others, who all silently motioned for him to knock again. He did so, a bit more effort in this attempt. “Mark? Dude, let me in so we can talk.”

This time he heard the knob fidget a slight bit, but it didn’t actually. He let another moment pass by, realizing all Mark did was unlock the door. He slowly he turned the knob, opened the door and stepped in just as Mark retreated to the bed.

“Hey dude.” Was all Jackson said in an awkward tone.

Mark lay in his bed with a subtle frown on his face. “Close the door.” He said with an empty voice

“Ok… So what’s up?” Jackson asked, trying so hard to be casual about everything. He didn’t know how to assess the whole situation. Mark was his best friend but right now it felt like they were strangers, he didn’t even know how to talk to him.

“…How is she?”

“What?”

“How is y/n?!?” based on his tone, apparently Mark was frustrated already.

“…Oh… Uh...” Jackson didn’t know how he should reply. Should he tell the truth and let Mark know y/n was as down as he is or should he lie and give Mark the impression that y/n was better without him? The best thing to do in this case, was to not answer the question at all. “Why are you asking me that?”

“I know you’ve been with her.” Mark said in a dark groan.

Suddenly it felt like this whole conversation was going to take a turn for the worst. “A-and who told you that?”

“Dude, please. No one had to tell me. You are so loud that without you in the dorm, its almost dead quiet. Where else would you be if not with her?”

“…Well you never went after her, so I did.”

Mark let out a long sigh and sat up from the bed finally making eye contact with him. “Jackson, I’m not gonna get mad at you over that. And you’re right, I should have gone after her instead of just locking myself in here.” His head hung low as he spoke. “Um, has she been using her phone at all? I’ve been trying to get ahold of her.” He said with shame.

Jackson couldn’t help but feel so bad for him. He had never seen Mark this sad before. The one other time Mark was this upset was the first time he got home sick. “Not really man. When I’m over, she kinda avoids her phone.” he said truthfully

Mark nodded. “It’s just I’ve called her and texted her I don’t know how many times.” He said with a hint of a whimper. “And I don’t know how I can talk to her. I just need to talk to her.”

“It hasn’t even been a week though. You should give her a bit more space for now.” Jackson advised, partially wanting to keep y/n for himself just for a bit more. “You should try to just get back on schedule. We still got deadlines to meet and shows to do. Start off by coming to practice and getting your head straight again before you try to talk to y/n.”

“No! I don’t want to do any of that! I don’t want to do anything! How can I do anything when I feel like shit?”

“No offense, but you deserve to feel this way! You should have thought twice before telling y/n what you did! You think you feel like shit?!? How do you think she feels right now? Especially after dealing with all your crap!”

From once, Mark actually stayed quiet at his words. “…You’re right… You’re right! You’re fucking right!” his raised his voice as if getting after himself, finally coming to a realization. “I really need to call her!” he said urgently as he grabbed his phone

Immediately he called y/n, waiting for her to pick up. To no surprise however, she didn’t pick up and a deep frown was back on Mark’s face.

Mark’s sad eyes looked up at him in desperation. “Can you get her to talk to me? Please?”

There was that watery look in his friend’s eyes and Jackson couldn’t say no. He pulled out his phone and brought up y/n’s number. “Here, trying calling her and see if she’ll answer if she thinks it me.” He said in defeat. He hated to do this, to trick y/n in a sense. However, knowing how y/n’s been the last few day and now seeing Mark, it was best for both of them to talk and get some type of closure.

Mark snatched the phone and quickly pressed the call button. He waited a long while before y/n finally picked up the phone.

“Yeah Jackson?” could be heard from where Jackson stood. “I’m still fine if that is what you’re calling about again.”

Mark let out a sigh of relief, a faint smile forming on his face just hearing Y/n’s voice. “That’s good to hear.”

Recognizing Mark’s voice, y/n hung up the phone immediately and MArk’s expression turned sour in an instant. “She hates me” His voice was back at a whimper.

Mark ran his fingers through his hair a bit aggressively, maybe a failed attempt to calm himself down because he eyes were beginning to water more to the point where a few tears streaked his cheeks.

“She just needs some space.” that being the only thing he could think of that would be of any help to calm Mark down.

“I’m such a fucking asshole!” Mark’s voice cracked. “Why did i fuck everything up?!?”

Jackson only stood to the side in awkward silence. He genuinely wanted to comfort mark, but what could he say? He couldn’t say “it’s not your fault” or “don’t be too hard on yourself” or “it’s not that bad”.

“Jackson, you gotta help me bro!” Mark said in desperation. “I-I know that i fucked up and i don’t care if she won’t take me back anymore, but i just need to take to her. I just need her to know that I love her and- and that i never meant to say what I said. I need to explain… I need to explain everything.”

Jackson looked back at himi with uncertainty. “I don’t know dude-”

“Please!”

“Mark-”

“Jackson, please! She hasn’t replied to me, and she hung up on me without a word, she is never going to talk to me unless you help me out- just please!”

“...Fine…” Jackson took his phone back from Mark and brought up his text conversation with y/n. * Practice ended early and i came by the dorm to get a few things. Mark kinda took my phone, sorry about that, but I’m coming over again at the usual time.* Then he looked down at Mark. “Get dressed and come with me.”

-Admin Boat

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commodorecliche · 7 years ago

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hey babe!! I just have a little q for u. Do you have any advice for writing porn/mature scenes into stories? I struggle with this more than anything, and end up making the rest of my piece really awkward trying to write my way around it instead of writing it. Any advice? Sending via ask bc maybe someone else will benefit from my question too.

Woo! I’m finally getting to answer this ask - I’ve been out and about with the fam today. And it was just… not an opportune time to talk about writing about people doin’ the do. But I’m home now and can actually answer this.

I’m going to put this below a cut, because obviously this is long and NSFW (duh). R18+ below the cut. You’ve been warned!

Okay so smut can be understandably very difficult to write. From my experience with reading smut, I’ve noticed that the biggest and most glaring issue is that people don’t know how to make it realistic. And ‘realistic’ can refer to a lot of different things: it could be because something is anatomically impossible, it could be because they are over-exaggerating the feelings/sensations descriptions to the point where they are over the top, it could be because the writer is inexperienced and doesn’t know what certain sexual acts entail, it could be because they keep calling a character’s penis their Love Hammer. Staying realistic is accomplished via simplicity: like having the tone of your smut stay in line with the tone of your piece, or maintaining your characters emotional states throughout the sexual experience. But all in all, it’s pretty easy to tell when smut is bad: bad smut just doesn’t feel realistic.

A lot of people’s go-to advice when asked about writing smut is to tell people to go watch porn in order to learn about sex better - but I actually disagree with that tip. I don’t disagree with it from any moral stance or personal preference, either. I like porn. But of course, some porn has it’s moral, feminist, and ethical issues - but those are things that are best left to another post. Porn can certainly been enjoyable and sometimes even helpful. But the reason I would tell most people to just skip trying to learn about smut from porn is because most porn nowadays is astoundingly unrealistic. It’s not made to be informative about sex or how sex works/feels - it’s made to be entertaining to a viewer. And for many people it is. But it isn’t realistic, and a lot of stuff that happens in porn just does not translate well to the page.

If you are curious and feel that something visual would help you get a better understanding of sex, then I would recommend looking up lower budget/amateur level porn. It typically is more realistic as far as the experience of both partners goes.

But aside from that, something that will really help you better understand writing smut?: go read smut. Go find smut that you LIKE. Read a bunch of smut. Take notes about it. Find smut that sounds AWFUL to you. Find smut that sounds AMAZING to you. Find smut that turns you on. If it turns you on, or makes you feel emotional, then odds are it’s good smut. Naturally, everyone has their preferences as to what they like in smut, but it’s pretty easy to spot bad smut. (I’ll get to that a bit later)

Okay, Lindsey, so how do I understand smut better to WRITE it?

1) Understand the tone of your piece.Tone: The tone of your fic as a whole needs to match the tone of your smut. For example, if you are writing a fic that is heavily emotional, where the focus is mostly on their first time together, or on their emotions/feelings, then suddenly tossing in a nasty, kinky, graphic sex session to top it all off is going to ultimately feel out of place tonally. (That isn’t to say that situation CAN’T be executed well, but it takes skill. But if you’ve got a fic where characters are… learning about their feelings for each other, waxing poetic about how much they mean to each other, being sappy and emotional together, and then toss in a “OH, FIST ME DADDY” scene, it’s gunna feel… off.)

2) Understand the characters you’re writing.Characters: Understand the characters you’re working with. Whether these are your own characters or someone else’s characters (fanfic), you need to examine the personalities that have been crafted for them. Are they a character who would become deeply emotionally involved with someone? Are they a character who is emotional, but also very physical? Are they a character who is reserved/shy sexually? How experienced are they in bed? If they are experienced, then what kind of experiences have they had before? Etc. Because your understanding of a character is how you are going to want to portray them in bed. If they are a shy, inexperienced virgin, guess what? They probably won’t be rushing to swallow a cock. And they sure as heck aren’t gunna be taking a dick the size of a baseball bat up their tush immediately. Build up to it, make the smut work with their characterizations.

3) Understand the nature of the relationship you’re writing.Nature of the relationship: This goes along with the previous point, but what kind of relationship do these two characters have? If they are getting together for the first time, have they been friends since they were kids and are deeply emotionally invested in each other? Is this a casual hookup? Are they in love? Have they had sex before and are just now realizing they want to have something more serious together? Have they been in a long term relationship for years and are intimately familiar with each other? Are they sexual strangers? Is this a case of “love/lust at first sight”? Is this relationship meant to last? Etc.

4) Understand what kind of sexual encounter you’re writing.Nature of the sexual encounter: What kind of encounter is this? Are these two characters in a relationship and unable to contain their desire for each other? Are they having a sordid quickie in the bathroom at a party? Are they having soft, slow, meaningful sex together in the quiet of a bedroom? Is this the first time they’ve ever met? First time they’ve slept together even if they already know each other? Are they nervous? Are they desperate and hungry for each other and frantic to have each other? You can make any of these work with any kind of relationship, btw:

“These characters meant for this to be a casual hookup, but they accidentally got a little too emotionally invested".“These two characters have been together for years, they adore each other, and they love to experiment with each other sexually, so sure honey, get that fist up in there.“ “These characters have been pining over each other and are finally getting together.” etc.

You can have a lot of fun with smut, you just have to figure out what kind of smut you’re wanting to portray. And a lot of that is going to depend on the points above.

Okay, Lindsey, that’s super. I’ve got a grasp of all that stuff, but it still feels clunky! What would making actually WRITING the smut easier?

1) Learn. Anatomy. And learn about sexual acts. Don’t be afraid to look up blowjob tips or look up guides on how to rim/eat out/finger somebody effectively. Go read people’s personal accounts of sexual experiences. Go read comments where people talk about what they like in bed. It’s super helpful.

2) For the love of god, avoid as many ridiculous euphemisms as you can. Think of sex in a much more grounded sense - don’t think of it in metaphorical terms. Some subsitution words are okay, obviously. A penis can be a dick or cock, sometimes even a member, but even that sounds a bit ridiculous sometimes. A hole can be an entrance, a rim, etc… But for the love of god, avoid nonsensical euphemisms. I have seen smut that legitimately, without any hint of irony, called a penis a “meatstick”. Meatstick is not sexy. If you were in bed with someone, and they said “Oh yeah, baby, you like my meatstick?”, you would laugh your ass right off that bed. You would laugh your ass all the way back to your house after you left that moron naked and alone in their bed. Nobody is in bed and thinks to themselves “god this meathammer sure is just the bees-knees”. Sex is sexy! You don’t need to dress it up with ridiculous euphemisms. You don’t need to call a dick a meathammer to make it sexier. Call a dick a dick. Call a pussy a pussy. Call a clit a clit. Call an asshole a hole.

(**Note: I am speaking from a cis perspective about this. Writing trans characters in sexual situations is something that I feel a trans individual should advise, rather than me. I do not feel it would be right for me to try to offer advice about how one should or should not refer to sexual organs when it comes to a trans or nonbinary perspective, as that is not a perspective that I have experienced. (This is especially important I think regarding body dysphoria; I want trans individuals to have THEIR say about what is or isn’t appropriate as far as genital descriptions. And this may come down to personal preference, like a lot of smut.) If any trans individuals would like to weigh in on this or offer advice, please feel free to comment! But… I still stand by my assertion that you should never in a million years call a penis a meathammer.**)

3) Don’t forget that sex can range from strictly physical, to strictly emotional, to a mixture of both. And depending on the tone you want to set, you should pick what kind of range you’re working with. If it’s more physical than emotional, try to focus on the physical aspects of it - what are they physical sensations? If it is more emotional, then show how the character is feeling as the actions take place. Most of the time, you’ll be working with a mix of physicality and emotionality. And even strictly physical sex can have emotional sensations (happiness, euphoria, frustration, etc…) Tell us the actions that are happening, of course, but don’t forget to show us how the characters feel about them too.

4) Foreplay, foreplay, foreplay. Even if this is a one night stand, foreplay is a must. Jumping straight into the sex can be wholly unsatisfying for both parties. Let them kiss - let them bite each others’ necks. Let them suck hickies into each others’ skin. Let them touch, let them tease. Nibble ears, play with nipples, dig fingers into hipbones, grind pelvises against thighs in desperation. Let them be hungry for each other. Like someone once told me: If this sexual encounter isn’t a “hit-it-and-quit-it” situation, don’t treat it like one.

5) Avoid too much dialogue - especially lengthy dialogue. Once sex starts happening, your characters likely won’t be having lengthy conversations about the meaning of life, ya know? Dialogue can certainly happen, but it’s not like a normal conversation. It’s breathy, it’s strained, it’s needy, it’s curt. It’s filled with moans and whimpers and uneven breaths.

If it’s desperate/quick/needy sex, keep your speech curt and to the point: “Yes”, “God, fuck”, “Please”, “You like that?”, “More”. If it’s more relaxed/emotional sex, your speech can be a little lengthier, but not by much: “You’re so beautiful”, “God, I love you”, “I’ve missed you so much”, “Tell me you love me”, “Please, I want you”, “It’s okay”, “Kiss me”, “God, you feel so fucking good” (PS, don’t be afraid to let them swear).

6) Focus on the big picture - don’t just focus on the actions, or even just the emotions. What sounds are they making? How are they breathing? Are they nervous and whimpery? Are they aggressively desperate and growling with need? Do they moan? Is it hot in the room? Are they above the covers? Under them? Do they hiss when they’re touched? Are they breathless? Do they bite and kiss and lick? Do they rake nails down each others’ backs? Give us a whole picture. (And as with any writing: SHOW DON’T TELL. Don’t say “He breathed rapidly”, say “He panted” instead.) Paint us a picture, give us a scene to visualize.

7) Think about what YOU enjoy. Seriously. If you’re ever in doubt about whether or not something sounds sexy, or if it would feel good or not, think about your own sexual experiences and about what you like. Whether you’ve been with a partner or just on your own, or even just remembering your own fantasies. You likely understand sex and sexual sensations more than you think you do. If you ever are unsure, think of your own feelings, your own emotions, and your own sensations. It can really help.

Got any examples, Lindsey?

Making smut sound realistic takes some skill, but of course, like with any skill it just takes practice. The more you write it, the easier and more natural it will be. And the better you understand sex (whether from experience, observation, reading, etc…), the more easily you’ll write sex. Below, are two examples: one is an example of “do” (using a snippet from one of my own works, hopefully that isn’t too... idk, pretentious? it’s what i had on hand lol) and an example of “don’t” (using a notoriously bad, published erotica scene).

Do:

Shiro presses down into him, body rolling against his - fluid and pliant and wanting, going wherever Keith would have him go. He only moves away when Keith ushers him to do so. Nimble, determined fingers push at the waistband of Shiro’s pants, urging them down as best he can. Shiro understands - he’d have to be a fool not to - and he leans up, ridding himself of his pants and briefs as Keith unbuckles his own and does the same.

They’re naked now and Keith’s body feels the same as it always has. Shiro finds comfort in the familiarity. He eases between Keith’s legs once more, folding himself down close, his elbows resting at either side of Keith’s head. He cages him, encases him, guards him off from the world, lowering his mouth to Keith’s with a gentle roll of his hips.(from my fic, “Coherence”, there is more smut in there if you want to see more of how I write it, this is just a little snippet)

(for the love of god) Don’t:

He came again so hard that his dick wrenched out of her hand and a shot of it hit him straight in the eye and stung like nothing he’d ever had in there, and he yelled with the pain, but the yell could have been anything, and as she grabbed at his dick, which was leaping around like a shower dropped in an empty bath, she scratched his back deeply with the nails of both hands and he shot three more times, in thick stripes on her chest. Like Zorro.(from “Winkler” by Giles Coren)

Takeaways:

- Don’t be afraid to research- Don’t be afraid to talk about how things feel- Don’t be afraid to talk about what things/characters are doing- Don’t be afraid to emulate your own experiences- Don’t be afraid to show the physicality of it- Don’t be afraid to show the emotional aspects of it- Stay grounded, stay realistic

So yeah, that got a lot longer than I meant for it to be, but I hope that this was at least somewhat helpful! If any of y'all have any specific questions/concerns that I didn’t address here, please feel free to reply/message/inbox me and I’ll do my best to answer!

Thanks for taking the time to read this monster-length wall of text, too… I hope it helps!!

#writing #advice #lindsey knows stuff #writing tips #smut writing #sheith #my fics #lindsey talks #awesome mutuals

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