#white friend turned very red defending himself

[shigussy]

kahoot was kinda after my time bc it was only ever used in a class once when i was in my last year of school but i feel like it was definitely bc someone named themself the n word but dw i know who did it it was a black guy who was trying to frame his white friend for it

[kryptonitejelly]

art donaldson x childhood friend reader who he hasn’t seen in a long time (whose had a crazy glow up) visits him at stanford at the same time as patrick and patrick starts hitting on her (him and tashi are in an open relationship) and art gets jealous.

(maybe she tells patrick she knows he’s in a relationship and he tells her tashi wouldn’t mind and she would probably be down to join idk)

art donaldson x reader // challengers // fluff; happy ending

a/n: i did not hit the prompt on the head 100%, but i’m not mad at it. this ended up turning into a monster i had no control off and ended up being alot longer than i expected (i haven’t done a word count, and did not mean for it to spiral into this but i enjoyed writing this very much). i am an art donaldson defender and this is my way of giving him everything he deserves (i hope you guys can see what i subtly tried to do in places - please leave comments/reblog if you see them, it would mean the world). also i typed this entirely on my phone without proofreading - you’ve been warned.

edit - as a disclaimer, i do not purport to comment on the victim/villain/any dynamic in the challengers universe. this space is purely for delusional thoughts and fiction only (see also)

-

Good luck.

Art shoots the text off to you before taking a swig out of cup of diet coke he has in hand. He leans forward, his forearms on his knees, teeth crunching on ice cubes as lets his gaze sweep across the court in front of him. It is devoid of players but already has the umpire and linesmen ready and waiting.

You’ll buy dinner if I win?

Art doesn’t expect to get a text back, so he checks his phone absently, but his face breaks into a tiny grin as he sees your reply. Most other players would have been hyper focused in the moments before a match but you, in the breezy light hearted way you always were, still had it in you to joke around.

Yes, but if you lose…

Art sends his response, the tiny grin still on his face.

I’ll feed you.

Your reply is fast and it makes art shake his head lightly a quiet chuckle dropping from his lips. He is just about to type another reply but is interrupted by the loud cheers that erupt from around him. Art looks up from his phone to see Anna Davies walk out on court in the same colour red as he had on. He claps politely with the rest of the men’s team who he was sitting amongst in the stands, in a show of support.

Art catches sight of Tashi and Patrick, both perched a few rows down from him with the rest of the women’s team both clapping and hollering in support. He notices the turn of Patrick’s head, no doubt to check in on Art but he doesn’t tilt his head or smile back in acknowledgement as he usually would - he is far too distracted by you.

Art can feel his jaw slacken slightly as you walk on court. He knows what you look like, but you in the flesh - Art thinks you are breathtaking. Your top is in a shade of your college’s colour, paired with a white tennis skirt that shows off a pair of toned, long legs. He catches a glint of metal just above your ankle, and he finds himself squinting in a feeble attempt to make out the look of the ankle bracelet that you have on. Art moves his gaze your face, taking in what he can see from his perch on the stands as you walk out towards your designated bench on the court, bright neon green bottle in hand, your tennis bag slung on a shoulder.

You had been close back home for most of your childhood and more formative teen years, and the both had kept in touch since he left for Stanford and you to your own school of choice, but too infrequently - the occasional text, more frequent reaction or comment on each other’s social media and the small conversations that spiralled from those interactions - like two planets orbiting in the same solar system, but not close enough. Life had overtaken, the excitement of moving your separate ways to a new environment, of college - tennis, academics, people, parties, it had overwhelmed you both, individually and together - made you just about forget that you had each other.

Art is transfixed. You are, lithe, glowing and with a hop in your step - Art finds himself questioning why he had never made more effort to keep you closer since you had both gone on your separate paths. He watches as you settle your bag on the bench, turning your gaze to the stands, eyes narrowing from the glare of the sun as you search the stands, only for your gaze to fix on his. Art sees you smile, lips turning up as you wink directly at him. It makes a series of heads turn to look back at him - your fellow team mates, the small group of supporters from your college who had come along, and the Stanford women’s team plus Patrick, half curious, half puzzled. Art can only raise a hand beside his chest in greeting as he remembers to breathe, letting the air he had been holding in his chest out.

He sees turn away while reaching for your phone which you had wedged in between the band of your tennis skirt and skin. Your fingers flying over the keypad briefly before you toss the phone into your tennis bag, hand fishing out your racket. Art feels his phone buzz in his hand and he looks down at the text that had come through.

Stanford still hasn’t taught you the right way to wear a cap huh.

Your text, a reference to his penchant for securing his cap on backwards, makes Art laugh, out loud, the sudden sound causing his team mates to crane their necks in attempt to look at his phone. Art swats them away as he refocuses his attention back on you, watching as you do a few hops, shifting your body weight from side to side before walking to your position on court, racket in hand. You lose the coin toss, and Anna choose to serve and yet your demeanour is one of ease, something Art can’t help but think is so stark in contrast to Tashi before a match. You aren’t smiling anymore, and yet in an unexplainable fashion, Art can feel you smiling as you bend to ready position, your hands flipping the handle of the racket around, poised to receive. He sees Anna toss the ball, her back arching, hand shooting up, before she connects her serve, and he watches you receive it with ease, your body moving in a smooth motion as you hit it back. Your strokes have their own weight and intention behind them, they are careful, thought out - but what surprises Art is he sees little calculation behind each. Instead, he watches as you let yourself feel each shot, as you let your instinct take control with each step. Art sees himself moving pieces of chess across the court when he watches replays of his game, but with your game, - Art manages to see colour, life, ease. He sees something he hasn’t seen in his tennis since he had last played with you, Art sees fun.

-

The match isn’t long drawn out, you win - effortlessly, just as each of your strokes and movement are. It frustrates Anna, as is evident from the increasing number of unforced errors she makes on her art which leads to her swearing loudly as you easily hit the last heavy, driving it quick and to the opposite corner of the court from where she is positioned. Art finds himself clapping enthusiastically along with the crowd as the umpire calls the game.

-

“You never told me you had such good looking friends,” Art feels an arm sling itself around his neck, pulling him close as he stands outside the court, waiting for you to finish your match debrief with the rest of the team.

“Shouldn’t you be with Tashi?” Art questions as he tugs himself out and under, away from Patrick’s hold. His eyes remain focused on the door of the tennis court, waiting for you to emerge.

“Some strategy meeting,” Patrick offers as explanation, “refocusing or something like that.”

Art starts to say something in response only to be stopped by the view of you walking out from the courts. You both lock eyes, not too similar from how you had with you on the court and him on the stand. Art thinks that your smile is more brilliant up close.

Neither of you say a word, as you walk up to him, hands reaching up to tug his cap off his head only for you to pop it promptly on your own head, the right way around.

“The right way,” you say in greeting, pointing towards his cap which is now sitting on your head, the Stanford red a confusing contrast to your your top, now a loose fitting tshirt in your college colours, as Art chuckles while running a hand through his hair, attempting to shake out any flatness.

“The red looks good on you.”

“Perhaps I should transfer.”

“Didn’t peg you for a traitor,” Art teases which makes you laugh.

“Do I get a hug,” you ask, both of you oblivious to Patrick who is just watching.

“C’mere,” Art says, his words inviting, but just almost slightly shy as he opens his arms to you. You step into his embrace, arms slipping around his body as Art brings his arms around your shoulders, hands bumping into the tennis bag you have on your shoulders. His embrace is familiar, and you let yourself relax into his hold.

“Could I get a hug?” you hear a different male voice chime in and you pull away to look curiously at the brunette who is standing just beside you both.

“Fuck off Patrick,” you hear Art say with no bite, but notice as he steps just that one inch in front of you in an attempt to place himself as some sort of barrier between you and the brunette.

“Patrick Zweig,” the boy says, ignoring Art as he proffers a hand to you which you shake to be polite while introducing yourself.

“Do you go to Stanford as well?” You take in his attire of jeans and a white tee, the lack of red - you would guess not but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“I’m just visiting,” he says, “I’m actually playing on tour.”

“Losing on tour,” Art corrects.

“Your tennis is insane,” Patrick comments, ignoring Art, “when will I see you on tour?”

“I don’t intend on turning pro,” you respond with the flash of a smile.

“Why?” Patrick continues the conversation, now slightly befuddled, “you’re a natural.”

You shrug with a laugh, not answering and simply brushing off his question.

“Why don’t I take you to dinner and you can tell me why.” Patrick’s statement makes Art roll his eyes.

“Aren’t you taking your girlfriend our for dinner?” Art chips to which Patrick simply shrugs not phased in the slightest and answers with a no.

“Thanks, but I already have a dinner to cash in on,” you offer Patrick a smile, before glancing at Art.

“I’m sure Art wo-”

“Nope, fuck off Patrick,” is what Art says again, not even giving the other man a chance to finish his sentence. It makes you laugh, but you follow as Art grabs your hand, tugging you off in a direction away from Patrick.

“It was nice meeting you Patrick,” you call out, turning your head towards him giving him a wave with your free hand, “good luck on the tour!”

You walk for a minute or two more until the tennis courts are out of range before Art stops. He lets go off your hand, but reaches instead to grasp the top of the tennis bag on your shoulder. You raise a brow questioningly only to have him tug again with a slight tilt of his head. You relinquish the bag to him and he hoists it on his shoulder instead.

“What a gentleman,” you joke, but with a smile on your face.

Art does a mock bow with a flourish of his hand which makes you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Your chariot awaits my lady,” he extends a hand to you, waist still tilted in a bow, but his head up and looking at you.

“Lead the way,” you place your hand on top of his again.

“My car is that way,” he says jerking a thumb towards his right as he intertwines his fingers with yours. Its the second time in the day where he’s holding onto your hand but you don’t think too much of it and neither does Art. It feels right, comforting, familiar and like it’s supposed to be - and you go with it.

-

“Sorry about Patrick,” Art says as he fiddles with the paper casing of the straw. You are both sitting in a booth, plates cleared, your drinks left in front of you. Art is leaning back but being across him you can feel his knees knocking into yours. Dinner had gone by way too fast for Art’s liking. There had been both plenty to catch up on, as well as new information to learn and yet - it had felt like no time had passed between you both.

“He’s a bit of an ass isn’t he,” you say as you lean back, a mirror of Art. Your comment elicits a bark of laughter from him.

“Girls don’t usually say that about him.”

“What do they say?”

“Well not say, but they usually fall at his feet or into his bed,”

“No,” it makes you crinkle your nose while you shake your head.

“His girlfriend Tashi,” Art says, fingers still fiddling with the wrapper, “we played tennis for her number, she chose him.” Art said referencing the tennis match between him and Patrick. His sentence is blunt, to the point, and yet manages to be vulnerable at the same time. Art surprises himself as the words slip out from his lips so easily but it feels easy to tell you, safe to let himself be vulnerable, fine to let you view him for who he truly is.

You both sit in silence for a beat or two, the only sound between you both being the rustle of paper in Art’s fingers.

“Well,” you begin, “if she made you play for her number, maybe its for the better you didn’t win.”

Art’s fingers give pause and he looks up at you. His expression is unreadable, but you don’t feel like you’ve said anything wrong - just the obvious.

“I guess you are right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, before raising his head to look at you. There is a small smile on his face that you can’t quite place.

“When have I been wrong Donaldson?” You challenge in jest as you lift a leg under the table to jostle one of his lightly. Art leans forward, managing to capture one of your legs, your calf in the warmth of his palm.

“You really want me to start?” Art questions as you wriggle your leg in attempt to get away but no no avail.

“No.”

“Let’s see, the time we were six and you thought that the way to get strawberry milk was to dump pink food colouring in normal milk.”

“Stop,” you protest, but with a laugh on your lips.

“Or the time we were ten and you were convinced that the park we passed by on the way home from school was haunted and we had to sprint past that stretch of sidewalk for 3 whole months.”

“It was creepy!”

“How could we forget the one time we were thirteen and you thought that the way babies were made wa-”

“Arthur Donaldson,” you protest, managing to wrestle your leg out of his grasp which has grown looser with each anecdote. It allows you to set your foot on the ground, body shooting up to lean across the table, your palm coming to cover Art’s mouth to prevent him from announcing any further recollections from your youth.

You can feel his breath hot against the palm of your hand as his muffled laugher fills the space of your booth.

“Art,” you huff, relinquishing his full name for his nickname again. You move to drop your hand from his face, but Art catches a hold of your wrist. You sit back down, butt hitting the seat again, but with your hand still stretched across the table, wrist still loosely wrapped in one Art Donaldson’s hand. His shoulders are still shaking, now with a silent laughter.

“Art,” you try again.

“I’m sorry, it’s just so funny,” Art exhales, trying to collect himself as best as he can. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed like this, freely and with such reckless abandon over something so innocent.

“Your dedicated court jester, always here to serve,” you mock with a roll of your eyes.

“You’ve been derelict in your duties,” Art says, now calm, but his eyes still twinkling under a mop of strawberry blonde hair. He keeps his tone light but what he really means to say is that it has been too long. You chuckle, not really having an answer for him.

“It’s been a while,” you finally admit, both your hands now resting on the table between you, you wrist now lying upturned in Art’s open palm. You had always been close

“It has, hasn’t it,” it isn’t really a question. Art has missed you - something he hasn’t realised until today. He had let himself be distracted by the complex, focused toxicity that was tennis, Patrick and Tashi, letting himself get sucked into the whirlpool, that he had forgotten to hold on to the things that grounded him.

“Maybe we should change that.”

“We should change that,” Art corrects you and you can feel the tips of your ears burning, and the skin across your cheek bones tingling for some reason.

-

You aren’t quite sure how ended up here, but one thing had lead to another as you both made your way out of the restaurant and back to Art’s car, and the next thing you knew you were heading back to his dorm to watch reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer for some reason.

“How do you not find her hot?” You ask again for the tenth time as you both focus on the screen of Art’s laptop which is perched half on his thigh and half on yours. You are both sitting on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, both of your heads damp from (separate) showers in Art’s ensuite, and you smelling quite like him from having used his toiletries and borrowing a short and shirt set, both of which which were a baggy fit for you.

“I don’t know, I just don’t.”

“You’re rubbish Donaldson,” you snort, nudging your elbow lightly into his ribs with a simultaneous yawn.

“Tired?” Art asks, as you stifle another yawn.

“Yeah,” you accept, seeing little point in trying to hide it. You had after all, played a match today.

“I should really get back to the hotel,” you mumble, the back of your head leaning against the wall beside Art’s bed, eyes closing.

“You could just stay here,” there is a hint of hesitation in his voice because he isn’t sure if you’ll stay.

“Here?”

“My bed’s a double,” Art shrugs, “it would also be quicker for you to get to the matches tomorrow.” You aren’t playing but Art knows you would be expected to show up as a supporter for the series of matches between your two schools that continued tomorrow.

“Are you sure?” You don’t mind, after all - it’s Art, the boy you had known growing up, shared milkshakes and apple slices with after school, but you wanted to be sure he was truly fine with it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Art moves to shit his laptop, lifting himself to bend over the edge of the bed to place the laptop on the floor, “you can take the inside.”

He flops down on the outside of the bed that is further from the wall too easily, his right hand going behind his head. Him moving forces you to move in tandem as you flop down on Art’s left, legs scrambling under the covers which Art has somehow managed to worm his way under in the flurry of movement.

Art reaches a hand over, his arm extending over you in the process to hit the light switch that he has beside his bed. It plunges you both into darkness, the only light the faint glow from the street lamps creeping in from below his curtains, and the glow of his digital clock.

You flip onto your right side, eyes closed, missing the turn of Art’s head as he observes yours features, closed eyes, lashes, nose, lips, finding his gaze lingering a moment too long on your lips.

“Stop staring Art.”

“Am not.”

“I can feel it,” you respond, lips curving into a smirk. It was a habit he had developed from the sleepovers you both had either in his living room or yours when you were both younger. You would close your eyes, just about to doze off, only to hear the faint shifting of a head against a pillow while Art turned to stare at you, his blue-brown eyes boring into you.

“Am not.”

“Go to sleep Art.”

-

“So I guess I’ll see you around,” You are standing just a distance off the side of the bus which is supposed to take you back to campus. The matches for the day had ended, with your school having won by one match.

“Yeah,” Art replies, drawing out his words as he takes you in, he finds himself think that he had very much preferred you in his clothes despite them being oversized and not as well fitted as your own. You had managed to change into a fresh set of school colours before the matches started earlier that morning, having pleaded with your angel of a roommate to help you lug your overnight bag, which you hadn’t even had the chance to unpack the night before, over to the courts before the matches had begun. She had taken one look at you in Art’s tshirt, shorts with his hoodie thrown over, and had given you the widest smirk known to man despite your insistence that nothing had happened.

“I think you are scheduled to come play next month,” you refer to the Stanford men’s team, “I’ll see you then?”

“Or I could see you next week?” Art says almost shyly as he raises a hand to rub the back of his head. Art was a walking oxymoron, easily grabbing your hand, asking you to sleep in his bed, and yet somewhat bashful in the moments in between, “the drive over is an hour, max.”

“I would like that,” your response earns you a mega watt smile, his eyes twinkling at you. You both hear voices calling Art away from the bus, one male, one female - but Art ignores them both.

-

“Yeah and I told her-” your sentence is cut off by a nudge to your shoulder.

“Stanford” you friend explains with slightly too much glee in her voice. She had seen the smile on your face after returning from your away game last weekend, and the way you had been constantly glued to your phone, grin on your face, laughter peppering your days, the name Art Donaldson a constant fixture in your notifications.

Your head swivels up and to your left to spot Art leaning against his black jeep, hands crossed loosely across his chest. He smiles when he sees you, and your face mimics his expression.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” you friend calls out as she pushes you in Art’s direction. You pull a face at her while rolling your eyes, but letting your legs carry you towards Art.

“Are you stalking me Donaldson?” You ask in jest. Art had texted you half an hour earlier, asking which part of campus your last class of the Friday was in and where he should pick you up from.

“Hundred percent,” he says as he opens his arms; you step into his embrace for a brief hug, before he turns to open the car door for you. You unload your bag from your arm, dropping it onto the floor of the passenger’s seat before climbing in. You move to close the door, but Art is in between you and the door, reaching over to click your seatbelt into place.

“Ready?” He asks, and you nod, gazing into bright blue-brown eyes.

-

“Positivism,” Art says simply at your question of what theory of jurisprudence he found himself most inclined towards. You think for a moment, the side of your face propped up with a hand, elbow on the counter of the bar you both are seated at, your body turned towards Art who is likewise, facing you.

“Positivism,” you roll the words around your tongue, “I guess it tracks,” you shrug, before raising a brow slightly, “but how does an engineering undergraduate so much about jurisprudence?”

“I read.”

“On jurisprudence?” You frown nose wrinkling as you reach your hand out to place the back of it against Art’s forehead as if to check if he had a fever, “are you alright?”

“You mean you don’t read engineering daily in between sets?” Art questions you with mock horror as he reaches up to tug your hand down from his forehead. Your hand ends up, yet again, in Art’s, which is resting on his knee.

“Why engineering, and not something with a lighter course load?” The underlying question is clear - Art had every intent of going the pro track post-Stanford, and it wasn’t that he would be making full use of his degree anyway.

“I don’t want the only skill I have to be hitting a ball with a racket,” he shrugs, “it feels good to know I can do something else.”

You hum in bother understanding and agreement as you feel Art’s thumb begin to stroke the back of your hand. It distracts you, his calloused thumb sliding across your skin.

“In another life I’m sure you would have made a darn good engineer Art Donaldson.”

Your words make Art laugh, something he found himself doing a lot with you.

-

“So, this is me,” you point towards the dormitory buildings up in front and Art slows his car to a stop, pulling the gear into park. He kills the engine before hopping out of his seat. Your hand is on the handle of the door, ready to open it for yourself but Art is faster, his hand on the outside lever, pulling the door open for you.

Art offers you a hand as you hop out of the jeep before he shuts the door behind you.

“I had fun tonight,” you find yourself saying, suddenly feeling slightly shy for reasons you cannot fathom.

“Me too,” is what Art says in response, his hands stuck on the pockets of his jeans, heels rocking in a back and forth motion. You see his gaze on you, locking with yours before flickering to your lips. It makes you bite down one on side of your lip, an action which causes Art to gulp, making the Adam’s apple on his throat bob.

“We should do-”

“Can I kiss you?” Art blurts out his question in a burst and you can see his face flush slightly as he asks, a surprising and yet apt contrast to the Art who had no qualms about holding your hand in his. You feel your heart quickening, and with the silence between you both - you almost feel as if you can hear each beat.

“Yes,” you breathe out, a small nod accompanying your response. You see Art’s gaze flicker to your lips again, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this.

Art takes a step forward, pulling his hands out of his pockets. You feel him cupping your face gently, and you tilt your head towards him. Your eyes flutter close and your lips meet.

Art’s lips are softer than you imagined. You feel his hands move, slipping down the sides of your body, circling your waist and pulling you closer. You drop your bag off your shoulder onto the floor as your hands move up, one to cradle the side of his face, and the other reaching behind, fingers weaving into soft curls as you tug him closer towards you. First kisses with someone new had always been awkward for you - teeth, lips, noses, as you each try to figure out the grooves and crannies of each other, but with Art - there was no such thing. It felt as if you both had learnt each other long ago, each in and out, the curve of his neck, and the the planes of your body.

You break the kiss first, pulling away, eyes still closed, feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of you in the best way. Your forehead pressed against Art’s, body held firmly against his.

“I hope you aren’t going to send me packing after that.” Your eyes flutter open at his words.

“You packed an overnight bag didn’t you?”

“I might have,” Art pulls you even closer, his arms wound tight around you.

“Presumptuous much?” You run a hand through the front of his hair, pushing his fringe back.

“Just good at reading the room.”

-

12 years later

The skin across your knuckles are visibly tight, your hands clenched into fists, the only sign of the nerves that have taken over and riddled your body. Your eyes are shielded by dark oversized glasses, but your pupils are darting left and right as the final point of the match plays before you. The stadium is silent, save for the pop of the ball and the grunts from the two players on court. You hear an exceptionally loud grunt, the whizzing of a racket whipping through the air, and then you hear it before it hits you - the roar of the crowd, the thundering claps, and you feel your body freeze as even the announcer goes wild.

“Art Donaldson, ladies and gentleman, our new US Open champion.”

You remain glued to your seat despite the commotion around you - family, Art’s team, cheering, jumping, excited hugs being passed around. Your eyes watch as Art runs towards the center of the net, hand raised as he waves to the crowd around. He shakes his opponents hand, before waving to each section of the stadium in thanks of their support and there he is, jogging towards you. His hair is dripping with sweat, plastered to his head, shirt clinging to his body. He extends a hand to you even before he reaches the sideline and your body reacts from habit, standing, your hand extending back towards him. A warm hand, the back of it still slick from sweat grasps yours, tugging you forward lightly.

“Hi,” is all he says as Art’s lips meet yours. Art enjoys the tennis, but he doesn’t need it - doesn’t need the tennis, the fame, the money, or the trophies - all he needs is you.

You hear the crowd go wild at the display of affection, the announcer’s voice booming over the sound system with something about Art Donaldson and his wife, but it all fades - the commotion, the sound, the people, the tennis, because all you see is Art.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Big Bird and his Cousins

(A/N): Thank you to @mclarengf for telling me about Big Bird getting shrunk and sharing the twitter thread with me

Summary: A small missing information nearly got Max and Lando into a fistfight aka this is my chance to tell more people about Big Birds eight international cousins

Pairings: driver!reader x f1!grid, but especially Max Verstappen and Lando Norris, Checo, Carlos and Zhou got more of a guest appearing

Wordcount: 1.3k

🏎Masterlist🏎

______________________

Most of the drivers have no problem with driving in the rain. But in a downpour straight from the seven pits of hell? That’s something even Max Verstappen says “no” to.

A considerable amount of the grid stays seated in the conference room, where they just got told that qualifying will be delayed by at least several hours. As soon as they were dismissed, (Y/N) sprinted out of the room, uttering something about a small bladder and long meetings and how they clash in the worst way possible.

“Have you seen what they did to Big Bird from Sesame Street? They made him tiny for the past week!” Lando complains loudly to Carlos while scrolling through his twitter feed. But the Spaniard is confused.

“I don’t know who you are talking about, mate.” He thinks for a second. “Oh, do you mean Caponata? They made her small?!” Carlos’ face lights up, remembering the bird fondly. It’s not something you think about every day, isn’t it?

Lando looks at his friend with a befuddled face . “No, you muppet! Big Bird is a yellow bird that is very tall.” Max, who heard the conversation involuntarily, because the Brit speaks passionately loud about this subject, turns towards the other two drivers.

“I don’t know what kind of off brand Sesame Street you two have watched, but the real name of the tall bird is Pino and Pino is pale blue.” His matter-of-fact voice sets something in Lando off. It just doesn’t sit right with him that Max acts almighty and knowledgeable about a topic he read something himself with his own two eyes.

He gets up from his seat, taxing the Dutchman with a belittling up and down look. “If I was you, I would get my eyes checked, because Big Bird is a bright yellow! Watch out for color blindness.” Max also squares up, getting toe to toe with Lando, getting ready to shoot back. “I can show you how good my eyesight is the next time I’ll drive an orange car with the number four off the track.” “It’s papaya!” Lando pulls up the sleeves to his hoodie, getting ready for a fight that goes beyond spoken words.

“No!” Checo intervenes, putting himself between the two drivers. In the meantime the majority of the remaining people in the room put their attention on the, for now verbally, fighting men. “The name of the bird is Abelardo Montoya and the colors are green, red and a bit of pink. Stop arguing about stuff you know nothing about. Also, I’m older. So I'm right.”

His confident statement attracts the arguments from Max and Lando. “You are absolutely wrong!” “Big Bird is not green!” “No, because Pino is a beautiful blue color!” “Shut it, Verstappen, or I’ll show you the way your skin will bruise a beautiful blue!” “Step away, Norris. You are like 12 and build like a stick. You have not the strength to show me anything.”

“Are you sure? Let’s take this outside and I shove a stick up you a-” “What is going on in the house of commence?” (Y/N)’s voice cuts through the noise sharply. The room falls silent for several seconds until everyone tries to explain themselves at the same time.

“Big Bird is yellow!” “No, his name is Pino and he is pale blue!” “No, she is orange and yellow and is called Caponata!” “No, it’s a green bird, you all know nothing!” “Sh, be quiet, Checo!”

(Y/N) sits down on her chair again and waits for them to get finished scrambling to find an excuse to defend their ego. “Did you ask Pierre what Big Bird looks like for him?” She smirks.

Pierre also smiles knowingly, all eyes on him. “We call our Big Bird Toccata and he is white.” Especially Lando tries to defend himself and his Big Bird another time very loudly. But (Y/N) is having none of it. She put her hand over his mouth, muffling his protests while starting an explanation of her own.

“Did you know that Big Bird has eight international cousins? They are part of Sesame Street from other countries all around the world.” While she starts explaining, Lando’s face drops. “While most versions have a yellow bird like the Big Bird Lando references the whole time, they call them different names. In German he is named Bibo, ask Hülkenberg. In the Netherlands, Brazil and France, they got some versions of Big Bird’s cousins. I think in China they changed his name to the literal translation of Big Bird, but he still counts as one of the cousins. They explain it by calling them identical cousins.”

She throws a look to Zhou, who nods in confirmation and adds “His name is Da Niao”. “The cousins also live in Spain, Portugal and Turkey. Did you not know about this? I thought it was common knowledge. It was all over Twitter a couple of years ago. Now I see the threat every now and then again on tiktok with some minecraft gameplay in the background playing.”

Max mulls over the new information. “This explains everything.” Meanwhile Lando is a bit more shocked. “So I nearly got into a fist fight with Max Verstappen, because someone in some writer’s room decided to give Big Bird cousins and never said anything in the show?”

(Y/N) throws him a confused face. “What do you mean you nearly got into a fist fight? Those are muppets from a kids show! How can you pick a fight over muppets in different colors? They are not even real? In what way does this warrant to get physical?”

Well, if you put it like that, it sounds a bit irrational. Maybe silly even. Of course, no one says this outloud, but the faces all around are enough confirmation for the female driver.

“Gosh, that’s childish. But on the topic of Sesame Street: Have you seen the tweets about Big Bird being shrunk? I need justice for Big Bird!” And so a new discussion starts about the sense behind Big Bird being tiny.

A few hours later the track is cleared again after the storm eventually cleared up. Qualifying can finally start.

The interviews after are relaxed in a way no one expected and most of the newer drivers have never experienced before. Maybe it is the collective relief that qualifying is over without any more delays due to the weather or other problems.

“Coming to the last question,” the journalist closes up her post quali interview with (Y/N), “How did you pass the time until today’s session started? Did all the drivers have another Fifa tournament? Or was it Mario Kart this time?”

The female driver laughs a bit about the joke. “Oh no, not this time. I wouldn’t play Fifa with them anyways, I’m too competitive for that and not good enough at this game at the same time. But I’ll keep the Mario Kart idea in my head for the next skyfall rain. But today I was able to educate the boys on some Sesame Street lore, specifically about Big Bird’s eight international cousins.”

The reporter has a bemused face on. “I never heard of them.” “There is a link on the wiki page regarding Big Bird, dedicated to them. It’s amazing and super cute. Look it up!” (Y/N) winks into the camera.

This is the story of how breaking up a close call to a fist fight between two very stubborn drivers led to (Y/N) being a feature on Sesame Street. And how the trend of #justiceforBigBird across many social media platforms became a thing afterwards.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛

Pairing: Exotic Dancer!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader (no mention of gender or ethnicity)

Summary: Hi, you've reached [your name]. I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message after the beep!

w/c: 3.7k

warnings: cheating (on reader), lots of cursing, smoking, heavy drinking, weed smoking, body image issues (I'm sorry), this is a smutty fic (but there’s no smut), dry humping. Please let me know if I missed anything <3

a/n: This is the first fic I've posted in years lmao, I'm a bit rusty, but omfg I enjoyed writing this so much, it's very self-indulgent hehe I hope you love it just as much as I do.

this is not beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own.

Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged🥺

7:51 PM

“Baby please, You know I’m an idiot…she means nothing” Jake whined through the phone. 

As of 5 hours ago, he became your ex but kept on calling you, each call pleading for your forgiveness and saying the same stupid excuse “I felt you pulling away, what was I supp-”

Before you could interrupt him yourself, your best friend and roommate took your phone “Listen closely you little shit, if you don’t stop calling I’ll personally chop off your balls, fry’em up and feed them to your mother in a fucking salad… it’s Wanda by the way” she huffs as she hands you back the phone, “Colorful” you grimace.

Shoving you inside the car, with you and Wanda on the back, Bruce behind the wheel and Tony as co-pilot, “Why do you even answer his calls?” Tony asks while Wanda lights up a Marlboro, and gives you a drag “Because I want to tell him to go fuck himself… I- I just can’t seem to find the right words”, “That seems right” Wanda quips and you roll your eyes, “Don’t worry you’ll find the words when the time’s right” Bruce adds, “Dr. Banner is right, tonight is all about getting shit-faced” Tony adds.

You all clap and turn up the volume to the perfect song “I don’t wanna hear, I don’t wanna know” Wanda sings, the wind on her face, while Bruce shouts “WE LOVE YOU MADONNA”. 

They were right, fuck Jack, tonight you wanted to let go, you weren’t one for parties or clubbing but you couldn’t stay at home feeling sorry for yourself, partying with your friends seemed like the perfect distraction “LET’S FUCKING GO” you shouted at the top of your lungs.

9:05 PM

“The Hush-Hush Hideaway?” you laughed as you finished your first beer after two cherry vodka shots, sounds like a place where 50 year olds would come to have an affair, “Alright, alright before you keep on talking trash, there is more eye to meet” Tony argues, to that Wanda snorts “are you seriously drunk right now? after three piña coladas?”, Bruce laughs “they’re stronger than they look” Tony defends himself as he stands up, signaling you all to head to the dance floor.

You honestly loved the place, the lighting was incredible, the atmosphere was hot pink with hints of dark red and deep purple, the ceiling was decorated with hundreds of disco balls shining down on you, the bar had tables so crystalline and so red, it looked like solidified blood,  each one surrounded by the comfiest leather couches. There was also the dance floor which you were dancing on now, it had the perfect stage for dancers or any kind of show, the whole place had the perfect mix of chic and urban.

10:39 PM

“This round’s on me” Tony shouts over the loud music as he hands you what would probably be your 5th drink, stumbling around as you danced to a song that suddenly became your favorite, as you downed the liquid gold you took Tony’s hand and started giving him a lap dance of some sorts which made everyone laugh along with you. 

And then everything went pitch black, for 5 seconds the music was over, lights were out, for a moment you thought you passed out but then a huge white light shone straight into the middle of the stage, “Girls Gays and Theys!” a deep voice over the microphone started, “is this a gay bar?” Bruce genuinely chimed in, making you giggle.

“Tonight we encourage you to let that wild side of yours out! Please give a warm welcome to The White Wolf” the voice cheered with excitement and the crowd roared and cheered back, “he must be really good looking” you sassed, and in that moment, red ropes descended.

Not a second later a man dressed in a kevlar suit swirled down as if swimming in the red fabric, wrapping himself in a cocoon in the air so the next second he rolled down to the stage, the top of his leathery suit gone, leaving his gorgeous toned abdomen exposed making the crowd go wild. The lights enhanced his beautiful body. “D-does he have glitter on?!” Tony shouted in awe, everyone absolutely going crazy over this tall, brown-haired, thick oh so fucking thick specimen.

On the other hand, you were finding breathing a difficult task, especially because his eyes were trained on yours, maybe it was the several drinks in your system or the empowering song that heightened everything, but his stare was intense, the ice blue of his eyes chilled your spine and for a moment you thought he was going to stop the show, come down and rip your clothes off… yeah you definitely felt tipsy now.

This man knew the power he held, not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, he had autonomy of every nerve and every muscle on his body, your heart and pussy were practically pulsing as you watched him dance. The magic was broken when you felt your phone ring in your pocket, taking it out, you saw it was Jake calling AGAIN, you knew your friends would tell you not to pick up, but part of you wanted to hear him out and scream at him, you didn’t know which one you were going to do.

Leaving the dance floor and heading to the bathrooms where you hoped it’d be quieter, you swipe to the green bubble “Please please forgive me” is the first thing the man says, making you sigh in frustration “S-top stop saying you’re sorry” but it’s like talking to a wall, you’re not even sure he heard you because he just keeps on whining. 

??:??

You don’t know how much time you spent listening to him in the bathroom but eventually, you give up and hang up on him, splashing some fresh water in your neck you exit the room and bump into a rock-hard wall, but then unexpectedly the wall starts talking and you think maybe it’s not a wall.

“it was rude to bail” a grave voice rumbles in your ear through all of the noise, looking up you see it’s the white wolf, making you almost choke on air, but you were quick enough to react and raise an eyebrow in response “sorry?”.

Without even noticing, the man had cornered you into a wall “Don’t apologize, you can make it up to me” he said with a wild smile, “oh he’s good” you thought, then he looked at you as if he read your mind, “you look like someone in desperate need to have some fun… let me give you a hand” he whispered, his confidence made you forget he was a stranger, and oddly enough it felt like you knew him perfectly, the thought of spending your night with him made you shudder.

Taking out what looked like a big fat blunt from one of his pockets, he dragged the little bundle of joy from your exposed thighs, up your arms, slowly passing through your neck, and finally grazing your soft lips, his eyes never once leaving yours, he leaned in and the smell of cedarwood with a touch of french vanilla made your eyes roll.

Man, you’re really not keeping your cool, but he’s too beautiful for you to care, you might as well pucker your lips, but then he backs away, taking your hand and leading you to the backdoor between the kitchens. The sound of music and people dancing start to disappear until it’s muffled, “are we allowed in here?” you laugh as he lights up the joint and takes a big gulp, your heart pounds with excitement, this is exactly what you needed.

Your inner demons whispered that he really wasn’t interested in you, he looked like he was sculptured by frigging Michelangelo, he’d never want to be with someone as big as you, plus you felt sweaty from dancing most of the night, but honestly, it was more about the nerves you felt around him, but just as easy as the negative thoughts came, he batted them away with a single kiss to your cheek, near enough to the corner of your lips “lost you there for a sec” he teased.

As he handed you the joint, you took it with hesitance, “I usually don’t take marihuana from strangers, you got a name or does everyone call you the white wolf?” you teased, carefully eyeing him, realizing that he was still shirtless unconsciously making you bite your lip.

A lazy smile spread on his face “Waddaya mean you don’t know me? Pfft I’m your latest conquest”, it threw you off but he looked so sincere it made the butterflies in your stomach dance, “I’m Bucky” he laughed, he was so at ease with that pretty smile you couldn’t do anything but swoon.

Taking a drag of the blunt you breathe out the smoke through your nose as you offer him your name in return,  not wasting a second he repeats it, slowly, maybe he was high but it seemed as though he enjoyed the sound of your name on his tongue, he savored it, your legs pressed against each other and you had to take another drag so not to seem desperate as you were for him.

He might be a stranger but deep down you felt unbelievable attraction, in less than 10 minutes of knowing him he made you feel powerful, and free, like maybe in a past life or somethin’ he was your soulmate… Pfft, you wanted to crack up at your own thoughts, somehow Bucky knew and started laughing, slowly leaning into you and crashing his lips with yours, it was sloppy but fuck you’d never been kissed like that, it was passionate, you felt wanted, right then and there you were ready and willing to let him swoop you off your feet.

12:59 AM 

Bucky was showing you his best moves, his calloused hands gripped and groped your body as you both swayed your hips against each other perfectly in sync.

He was so smooth, the fogginess of the joint rumbled through your body, each touch, every one of his strokes felt like a wave, you were floating in a sea of music and his scent, nothing was wrong with the world, nothing could harm you because he was right behind you, worshipping you, telling you how he loved the feel of every roll and every curve, you couldn’t help but smile and he couldn’t help but kiss that beautiful smile.

Not long after your friends found you and you introduced them to the dancer who blew their minds, some of his friends joined you, and not long after you were the life of the party, shots and blunts came pouring, and just like you wanted you became one with bucky, you didn’t know where you began or where he ended, pain and misery were a strange and unknown concept tonight.

1:55 AM

Wanda had to drag you away from Bucky to chat with you a bit, she couldn’t hide that grin even if she tried “Dude I don’t even recognize you right now” you laugh with her knowing very well what she means, squeezing her wrist you stop the urge to squeal, “I don’t know how this happened but fuck he’s just so pretty I wanna cry” you both giggle, understanding the Rachel Green reference. 

Turning to see Bucky you caught him already watching you, it looked like he was chatting with his friends but he wouldn’t look away from you, you realized he was waiting for you, and honestly you were eager to return to his embrace and intoxicating scent “Fuck Jack, you have men waiting in line” Wanda practically shouts as she pushes you back to the dance floor.

2:12 AM

After a while your social battery was low and you needed a break, so now you leaned against the wall in the back alley of the bar, a cigarette lit, resting on your fingertips as you recalled the events that brought you here tonight.

You didn’t blame Wanda for reminding you of Jake and what he did, after all, she was just hyping you, but now your mind was plagued, you memorized with detail how you found them, as some sort of self-punishment, why? you didn’t know, after years of therapy, you were still trying to unlearn self-deprecating thoughts that your family and society shoved in your face.

Jake cheating on you with a leggy blonde who was quite literally a Victoria's Secret model was a kick to your stomach, it made you realize that maybe every bad thought you had about yourself was true, and that was terrifying… 

Realizing that the cigarette burned itself out, you stepped on it, but before you could come back inside Bucky opened the door and grinned “There you are, was worried I spooked ya”, to that you chuckled, somehow the laws of social battery didn’t apply to the handsome trapeze dancer “Never”.

Stepping outside and standing next to you, he takes your hand and starts playing with your fingers “What’s got my sweet doll so down?”, you expected the pet name to make you cringe but instead swooned. Lighting another cigarette you take a drag and blow it on his face, and he just bites the smoke, making you giggle, after a beat of silence you show him your heart.

“About… 11 hours ago, my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, cheated on me” you sigh, trying with all your might not to shed a single fucking tear, Jake didn’t deserve them, “Gimme his address” he deadpans, a look so deadly in his eyes, that spark was almost snuffed, but just as quickly his attitude changed, “I’ll kill 'im with my bare hands, I’LL FUCKING KILL ’IM” he shouts with foux determination, making wild animal noises that are making you laugh so hard you can’t breathe “you’re not funny” you say out of breath.

His thumb cleans away a single runaway tear, his touch is so gentle at first you’re not even sure he’s holding you, he’s so close you feel his breath on your cheek and his nose caressing your skin oh so lightly, “you’re dreaming”, you think incredulously. 

In a second his touch becomes rough as he grips your face with both his hands, holding you still so you can’t look anywhere but his eyes, “he’s a fucking moron” he spits out, almost insulted, “and I don’t mean a jerk or plain stupid, I mean he’s missing some fucking brain cells to let go of someone so insanely beautiful as you”.

Your heart’s pounding in your ears, you’re about to explain but he cuts you off “And I don’t even need to know him, to be sure of what I’m telling you right now” he scoffs,  “Hell, I don’t even have to know you to be sure, in the very short time I’ve known you, you’ve been everything” bucky almost can’t believe he’s saying this to you, suddenly the tension is palpable and neither of you can breathe… 

“You’re driving me insane” is the last thing he says before pushing you against the wall, with a grunt he grips your waist and your lips crash with his, in a fight for dominance your tongues swirl, it’s as if Jake or any other man never existed, washed away by the ocean that is Bucky. 

You loved how vocal he was being, he moaned into the kiss as you practically humped him, he bit your swollen lips as a warning to slow down but it only turned you on more. You could feel your hardened nipples rub against his chest, and it drove both of you nuts, with all his strength he pulled away, leaving you dizzy and pulling him for more, he’s never wanted anyone the way he wants you but he would never have sex with someone so drunk, even if that person begged as nicely as you were right now.

He laughs as you start leaving hot open kisses throughout his neck and jaw purring like a cat, “Bucky please” you mewled, asking him for more, his hand flew to grasp your hair in a tight grip, nibbling on your skin as he reached your ear “We aren’t doing anything except kissing the fuck out of each other doll” he whispered.

You made for a grab to his groin but he was able to take your hand and hold it above your head “I want you nice and sober when I get you to cream on my cock”, he groans as you make a final attempt to lure him in, but you know he’s right, so you huff in defeat, a pout on display to make your feelings known, “baby doll what’s wrong? you look flushed” he teases as you gasp in faux offense.

3:45 AM

The bar kicked everyone out but you still had some party left in you and apparently, so did Bucky because he’s already got you piggyback riding him to his car, you said goodbye to your friends assuring them you trusted Bucky, his place was less than 10 minutes away and you’d send them your location. 

Once you got to the car Bucky stopped in his tracks, “we’re drunk and high as hell” he stated, and like a bucket of iced water you realized he was right “Accurate statement” you snort, carefully dropping you on the ground he swiftly turned to face you “so we should… perhaps, maybe take a cab” he goofs around as he steals small kisses form you “or we can walk? your place’s near right?” you reply, everyone was already gone to ask for a ride but he liked the idea of having some alone time with you, so,  he picked you up and placed you on his back “To the Batcave!” he runs as you hold onto him as tight as you could.

4:05 AM

You peacefully walked on the side of the street as cars passed by, one thing that you loved about walking at night was the lack of noise, the night wasn’t completely quiet, you could still hear the cars in the distance, people coming in and out of bars or whatever, the breeze was the perfect temperature and the city lights of New York were shone beautifully.

Hand in hand you walked with your latest conquest as he so eloquently put it, conversation flowing, “I got cheated on once, it fucking sucks” You both laughed at the obvious statement “I thought we were going steady and she got bored” he shrugged, “it was a while ago, but it definitely messed with my head” he whispered as he squeezed your hand, it brought him comfort and you as well. 

“You know what’s fucking hilarious though? I was planning on breaking up with him…ok don’t judge me” you laughed, “but I just stayed with him because it was easier to stay in a mediocre relationship than actually fight for my happiness…plus he had a hot tub” you felt stupid for saying it, but he didn’t judge you, his face remained the same, attentive.

Bucky took your hand and kissed each one of your knuckles “I got a really nice bathtub” he murmured into your skin with a smirk, your heart fluttered to what he implied so you jumped and kissed his cheek, holding onto his arm for dear life, content with how the day turned out.

4:38 AM

After smoking yet another joint together you were now straddling your dancer’s lap on his bathtub “It really is a nice bathtub” You grinned between kisses and he laughed, his hands roaming your soft skin under your clothes, you were heaven on earth he kept thinking, he was about to kiss you again but was interrupted by your phone ringing, which made both of you sigh in frustration.

You knew who it was, Jake had been calling over and over for the last 20 minutes and Bucky had enough of the bastard, “Answer him” he ordered, to which you raised an eyebrow “I- can’t I- seriously?” you say almost shocked “You know what you wanna say to him, so say it” he encouraged with a soft smile.

Without thinking twice you pick up, “Finally! what took you so long to pick up?” Jake barks, you have the phone on speaker so Bucky could listen, and he already hated how the jerk talked to you, making him grip your waist with possessiveness.

“What do you want?” you ask almost uninterested, “Baby please forgive me” he cries as if you could ever believe anything he said to you, “I’m so so fucking sorry, what else do you want me to say?!”, to that you let out an unamused laugh “just stop fucking saying you’re sorry, time to put on your big boy pants and take responsibility” you snark, which oddly, turns on bucky beyond belief.

Like a magnet, his lips start leaving love bites on your neck, making you gulp, “Babe let’s be honest, in a month you’ll be begging me to get back together, we both know you need someone to take care of you, you can’t be alone, you need me” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and then you really were done with his bullshit.

“Listen closely you fucktard, stop saying you’re sorry, stop begging me to forgive you, you were a waste of my time and the only reason I didn’t break up with you sooner was because it was convenient for me to stay with your sorry ass” you bark.

You could keep going but now Bucky was humming against your pulse, finding it incredibly hot how you stood up for yourself, he peppered you with hot open kisses that made your mind even fuzzier than the weed, “And I can take care of myself ass” you hiss in delight, it was meant to be an insult but Bucky was making you feel so good…

“Fucking drop that call”, bucky growled into your neck loud enough to be heard over the phone, then sunk his teeth into your soft skin, making you moan, unintentionally into the phone, before dropping it and gripping Bucky’s hair for support as you rubbed against the bulge on his pants “Fuck I can’t wait to make you mine” he moaned, dreaming of all the possibilities, of everything he wanted to do with and to you.

Despite the chills you felt down your spine, despite feeling exactly the same way, you laugh, “Honey… do you think it’s gonna be that easy?” you coo, drunk in power, you devour his perfect pink lips.

[sunarots]

so high school ━━━ atsumu miya

10. darlin’ ♡

Using the sleeve of your hoodie, you use the small mirror in an attempt to dry your tears from your eyes before Atsumu came back and caught you. Unfortunately for you, the door flies open with an instant complaint. "Can't do shit here. We need to- What's wrong?"

You bite your lip and try to stop more tears from flooding out at the thought, closing the sun visor and relaxing back into the car seat. Even though you may not be used to the doors yet, you couldn't deny that the seats were almost as comfortable as your bed. "Wakatoshi's moving to Poland." You can't stop your voice from breaking halfway through the sentence, a sign that you were very likely to keep crying about it until you would wake with a headache.

"Is he really? Wow, Adlers are going through it." He turns the key in the ignition and looks back to you when he catches you sniffle. "I'm sorry, it was rough when Shoyo left. Can't believe two of yer friends left. Let's go get KFC, yeah? Cheer ya up. I'll pay."

You look up from your lap, laughing through your tears when you catch him attempting to wiggle his eyebrows are you. "Thanks, Atsumu."

"Here, choose whatever music ya like." He passes you his phone, telling you to keep it unlocked before he carefully pulls out of the parking lot and turns to the main road.

You scroll through some of his Spotify playlists, trying your hardest not to laugh at some of the songs he had hidden among the regular ones. You settle for one of the Fall Out Boy songs in the album, and adding loads of random songs to the queue. "I can't believe he's leaving, too," you mumble, turning the music up a bit louder and settling back into the seat.

Atsumu glances over at you, catching the tear running down your cheek. "Aw, y/n, yer still gonna get to see him. He'll be playing volleyball, so ya can see him when he travels. It's not forever."

You know he's right deep down, but you still can't help but feel hurt that your two closest friends for the last two years have up and left so soon together, and so far away. You were happy for them, you really were, but... Wakatoshi was right, you did feel abandoned. Forcing the tears to stay in your eyes, you look back down at Atsumu's phone and start scrolling through his liked songs on Spotify. And, they were certainly something.

It went from Hollywood Undead, to Taylor Swift, to My Chemical Romance, to MARINA. He really did listen to everything.

"Your music taste is... something. You have Corpse Husband and Sabrina Carpenter in the same playlist." You turn his phone to him even though he can't look at it.

He glances over at you and turns into the gas station, turning his focus back onto the road. "Just means I have fun at any club," he defends himself, stopping the car. "Are ya coming in?"

You nod your head, pulling down the mirror and sighing at your red eyes.

"Here, take these." Atsumu pops open the glove compartment of the car, pulling out a sleek, black case. He removes a pair of gold aviator Ray-Bans, putting them over your eyes. "Problem solved. Can ya run ahead and grab some snacks for the apartment? Just anything, yeah?"

You nod your head, picking up your phone and purse from the floor. "See you in there."

You tuck your phone and purse into the pockets of your sweatpants, fixing the sunglasses over your eyes and walking inside. You lap around the different aisles, grabbing multipacks of crisps and some different types of biscuits. You pick up a packet of chilli crisps and scan over the different drink options waiting for Atsumu.

At the sound of girls squealing behind you catches your attention, turning around to see Atsumu being huddled by a group of four girls around your age. You catch a few words here and there, and Atsumu seems to be bathing in their compliments. You shake your head and turn back to the refrigerator, picking up a bottle of white peach Fanta and slowly walking towards the counter, hoping Atsumu would catch up to you before you were served.

Sure enough, he tapa your shoulder and squeezes in beside you in the queue. "Sorry."

"Oh my god, the Miya Atsumu is talking to me. Can you sign my boobs?" you laugh through your words, unable to keep a straight face. "You love being in the spotlight."

"So what if I do? It's nice having people who appreciate ya," he responds, nudging you forward in the queue towards the empty checkout. "Pump three, and all this."

Before you have a chance to reach for your money, Atsumu lifts his card over the reader. You sigh, picking up some of the snacks to carry them back to the car with him.

“What’s that sigh for?”

“I was gonna pay for that.”

Atsumu laughs. “With what pay check?”

Your jaw drops, a laugh escaping before you can trap it. “Wow, low blow.”

You catch the stares of the fangirls lingering on you and Atsumu, fighting your urge to stick out your tongue at them. Instead, you turn your back and focus your attention fully on the car in front of you. Atsumu dumps the snacks in the backseat, leaving you with your drink and crisps.

“White peach Fanta? Yer disgusting. Don’t drink that in my nice car.” He grimaces at the thought, walking around to climb into the driver’s seat.

“What? It’s nice!”

“Nah, yer gross. But those chilli crisps are nice. Can I get some?” He waits for you to nod your head before reaching over, opening the packet and stuffing a few in his mouth before pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the nearest KFC. “Thanks, darlin’.”

You raise an eyebrow, side-eyeing him through his sunglasses. “Why’d you do that?”

He hums. “What?”

“You keep calling me darling.” You sit your drink down beside him, taking a couple crisps yourself.

“I call everyone that. Why, d’ya want me to stop?” Concern washes over his expression, taking a fleeting glass at you to see if you were uncomfortable. “I don’t want to make ya uncomfortable, I can stop calling ya darlin’.”

You think for a second, giving him a small smile and leaning back against the seat. “I was just curious. You can keep calling me it.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. after your best friend reveals he’s moving out of your shared flat, you’re presented with a tough choice: let one of the creeps who are begging you to let them move in with you, or find a cheaper flat in another area of town. a do-over couldn’t have come at a better time for you, but your only option for a place to stay is with someone your best friend knew from high school, and his two teammates.

taglist (open!). @reignsaway @yuminako @thiisisntlovely @diorzs @aboutkiyoomi @spicana @bakingcuriosity @kr1nqu @savemebrazilhinata @dazqa @sereniteav @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @sleezzsister @hermaeusmorax @giocriedpower @sophosphorescent @gigiiiiislife @zazathezaer @rrosiitas @iaminyourfloors @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @sillygooseymood

[kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit]

Male! Apple white x fem! Pond siren Reader

Part 2 soon

Prompt- apple and the reader have a project together.

She/her pronouns

Using [Name] as substitute for (y/n)

Eyes will be gold to give contrast to her or whatever swampy ish look I'm describing.

Slow burn?/He fell first she feel harder

Nickname for reader- (eventually)

[A few of the characters stay female and some are genderbent]

(Could be ooc for Apple White but eh)

Art not mine found on pinterest

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Ever after high is seen in plain view, birds are chirping,the sun is set high and bright by the beautiful blue sky.

There is chatter amongst students and plain old fun as they get into the school for another day of learning.

One of these students that were going into the school was none other than [Name] Song,Daughter of the pond siren, known for her entrancing song and tragic story.

[Name] walks up the stairs, her deep navy blue heels clicking the tile floor, she sways with her dark green short off the shoulder dress, brown leg warmers dress her ankles and drape her heels. Her long (h/c) (h/t) hair is decorated with vines with small lotus flowers that go around her head as a crown.

Her face is stone cold, her golden eyes gave a glint of mischief to the royals parting the way for her, her face immediately soften when she enters and is greeted by her friends Madeline Hatter (or Maddy) and Raven king

"Hey Sugarcube!" Maddie yells waving her arms frantically up and down, Raven smiles waving at [Name] " Morning puddles"

She laughs as she reaches the two "always with the puddles never anything better huh?" She fold her arms over her chest and sigh dramatically

"Hey at least it's original" Raven defends himself elbowing Maddy at her arm; he then looks over to the clock "Let's get a move on guys" he walks down the hallway the girls following suit giggling

The trio walk to class, Raven and Maddy sit together because of a lucky arrangement and [Name] Sat with Kitty which was fine. Kitty is fun to talk to.

"Alright students, today we are going to be starting on a 3 day assignment of groups of two" the class erupted, some in excitement and others in disagreement.

"Settled down,all of you" then proceeds to call the groups of two, and after 15 minutes she called

"[Name] Song & Aspen white, alright now get with your partner"

[Name] looks around her seat and sees Aspen already going up to the seat next to her, an excited glint in his blue eyes as he gets closer, [Name] was surprised how fast he got there with eagerness.

Aspen takes a seat with a big bright smile, "Hello [Name] happy to properly meet you!" He offer his hand [Name] placed her's in his and without warning he bends down to her hand and kisses it softly, his lips were soft a dusty shade pink, they lingered for a second more than he should have he then seemed to snap back to reality his blue eyes looking up at her and gave her a charming smile.

[Name] felt a shiver go up her spine and a flutter on her stomach but pressed it down immediately.

"Meet me properly?" She tilts her head up and smirks locking back to character, Aspen's face turned a bright red and he quickly hides it with his hand "yeah I've heard of you from Raven, but I've never had the chance meet you since you're always on the move it seems haha" he looked to side, avoiding her eyes

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you as well" she said then turned to the teacher who handed out a paper with the project requirements

"Make sure to get everything correctly everyone" the students nodded their heads.

[Name] looked at Aspen who was already looking at her "so who's dorm are we using?"

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~At the end of the school~

After class the two decided that it would be Aspen & Raven's dorm they would work their project in.

[Name] actually felt very out of bounds, pretending to not be interested in whatever the blond prince was saying as they walk through the boys dormitory.

" I think this will be great getting to know you!" He exclaimed making the girl look at him puzzled 'why does he want to get to know me? I'm not that interesting am i?', [Name] grinned mischievously hiding her true doubt "Ooh do you know?" She nudged his arm making him flustered "yeah haha..." he went quiet "I think I'd like to know you personally" he admitted looking at [Name] his blue eyes showed ernesty in his words

It confused her in how much he was willing to show to others just by his eyes unlike her, she'd seen it a few times towards situations revolving Raven with anger and guilt or his royal friends happy and honest but how could he show her that it's not like they've ever interacted until now.

I mean sure [Name] saw him around and talking to Raven a lot which of course made sense, [Name] did sometimes get intrigued so naturally she'd ask Raven about the blond and then he'd tease her about it afterwards..

It's not like she'd want to talk to him or anything she's just curious

"Sure but I won't make it easy, i'm not going to spill my whole story in one go" [Name] stops in her tracks and smirks at the blond "I wouldn't have imagined it" He smiles,[Name] rolls her eyes.

Aspen grabs his key as they get closer to his shared room, places the key to the door unlocking it, he hold the door and motions [Name] to go in first "what a gentleman" she pokes fun at him "of course" he states 'especially for you' he thinks to himself

The two ended up sitting on the ground next to Aspens bed, they used their computers in silence both looking into the information about the subject they were given.

The project they were given (all different for each group) was about wishing on shooting stars and the history of them

"Okay so," Aspen started looking at [Name] "i got the first person in story book records to ever wish upon a star it's categorized in wishing star records volume I" he turns back to his computer, [Name] shuffles to his side getting close shoulder to shoulder and leans towards the screen, the blonds face is turned hot red 'she so close and her perfume is DIVINE' he took a hesitant breath in, he had entirely forgotten to breath while the girl was sitting next to him how stupid of him he internally shaped himself

"Oh I see that's actually really interesting blondie" [Name] looked at him teasing him with the new nickname she gave him "are we gonna split this information between us two or do you want to do this one and I'll do the other one" Aspen thought for a moment "we can split it,it's a lot of work just for me and we'll do the same for what you've found" he tried his best not to sound shaky

"Alright sent me the file, one sec let me get my laptop it'll be easier if I see what your writing so I'm not repeating it" you then come back with your laptop and sit right down, criss-cross thighs in full view your skirt rolling up a bit, your (h/t) (h/) behind you styled to be out of your face for the time being 'she's so gorgeous' the prince thought looking at [Name] with a almost admiring eyes ``do you need something blondie" the girl looked at him back "No no! Sorry that was rude of me" he quickly started typing aggressively trying his best not to look back into her golden eyes

"Pfft- hahaha" [Name] started to laugh "oh my gosh blondie- hahaha" she held onto her stomach "i-i am really sorry I didn't mean to I promise" he started to move his hands defensively "no no *inhale* Phew no it's fine but wow the look on your face right then-""stupid?" She shook her head "Adorable blondie,not stupid" "what" Aspen sat there dumbfounded

"Don't get your ego up but you are adorable" she re adjusted her hair so she could see him better "oh..well if we're complimenting each other, I think you're gorgeous" he regained some confidence and admitted what he thought but in a more tame manner.

[Name] stared into his blue eyes and for a moment she felt a sense of warmth within her heart a spark ignited "thank you..Aspen" she smiled sincerely for the first time since talking to him and Aspen noticed "you're smile is the most beautiful feature of you yet" he confessed tilting his head to the side showing his own smile to her "that's a first,i just don't know why but I have a feeling I need to tell you everything about me,to open up"

The two fell into comfortable silence "I'd love to hear every detail" Aspen took her hand in his and she smiled

___________. ___________

Soon these two souls will fall for the other one who's already there and one who will learn this feeling for the first time in her life

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You better let me cook!

I'm not giving ya'll the full meal yet though, this is just the start

This feels like it'll be like the nefero x reader series but more fluffy!

[lordgrimoire]

The Goonion would Like a Word, Chapter 2

“You have GOT to be kidding me.” Samuel Kincaid hissed as he pressed himself flat to an alleyway wall. Along the wall behind him was a dozen Goons, mostly members of the Red Hood Gang and it’s subsidiaries, meaning they were packing some serious heat. But! Kincaid had spotted a Bat, and all of it’s Birds, staking out the building they were about to raid. He thought for a minute before uttering a ‘fuck it’ and turning to his compatriots. “Gonna get their attention, if they’re looking into it...” The mob behind him uttered agreements, some cussing qiuetly as Kincaid picked up a stone and slung it up at the Bats, hiding in the little shadows there were. He was rewarded with the Big Man himself appearing faster than he should have, staring him down as Samuel straightened up slightly.

“Hood tell you about Miss Jazz?” The Batman nodded, still staring at him, his jaw set in a firm line. “Good, we were just gonna storm the place, still gonna, I think a few of us are willing to get bruised up if we can find out what’s going on.” Batman stared at him for a moment, eyeing him and the two dozen men and women behind him. 

“You have ten minutes, if you can avoid killing do so, but I want to be able to obtain information from their files.” Kincaid nodded and turned, everyone gave signs that they understood, from Old Hannson, grey all over and lugging a mean looking baseball bat as old as he was, to the youngest muscle they had, a man boy really named Charles, though he went by Charlie, still wet behind the ears and sporting a blade as long as his forearm. They all knew the new parameters. When he turned around he saw The Batman clamor back onto the rooftops. 

“Alrighty, LETS DO THIS!” The first thing the GIW Guards heard was his shout, they never saw the full force that came spewing out of several alleyways, as the cameras had been hacked and the gate guards had been knocked out by cast stones.

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Bruce stalked through the GIW Facility, it had been better defended than first assumed but Jason’s Gang had been disturbingly well prepared, if faced with a reinforced door they had blasting charges, if faced with armored opponents they brought forward weapons with longer reach, by the time the Bats and Birds arrived in the facility one of the Red Hood Gang’s cliques had gotten to the core of the Outpost and captured the commanding agents, now they just had to gently fight their way to the center, thankfully the Gangsters were quick and quiet enough that there could be plausible deniability, especially when one of them set off a C4 charge to open a new entry into the outpost through which a majority of the Cliques escaped.

Only one group had stuck around, under the headmanship of Samuel Kincaid.

“We found something, looks to be kicking still, don’t know how to open it and help it out.” Bruce nodded, allowing the short man to guide him through the chaos to a room near the center of the Outpost, which had formerly been tenements. Within the clean, VERY bright room they found a cage, and within it was a haggard looking figure that Bruce was struggling to keep an eye on, his shadow seemed to flicker every now and then. 

“Oh great, here to rip more of me off you jackwads? Wait, who are you?” The cage, with glowing green bars that reminded Bruce more of Kryptonite than anything else, shone a light on the blond teen in the cage. 

“I am Batman, do you mind telling me who you are?” Kincaid had vanished as soon as Bruce had nodded to him, the man likely gathering his people to beat a hasty retreat, they already looked rough from their entry into the building.

“Johnny, friends call me Johnny, I call myself Johnny-Thirteen, Your not a Guy in White are ya? Not with them that is?” Bruce huffed slightly as he began searching the cage, looking for a padlock, or even a scanner. 

“Obviously, how’d you get captured?” Johnny flinched slightly as Bruce found the keypad. 

“I promised a friend I’d check out Gotham, it’s a possible safe spot until a new portal to the ‘Realms opens up, hell there might be a proto portal cooking here, I can feel it. But my friend, his parents kicked it, his sis apparently found some good folks out here so I came to take a look, they actually picked me up in Metropolis, thought I was one of the Supers, which is kinda fucked, they had stuff all set up for “Kryptonian Subjects” Yeash!” Bruce found the lock, it was complicated, and there likely wasn’t a key, so he began trying to lockpick it, with both a digital device and the old method.

“Would you’re friends sister happen to be named Jazz?” The Ghost started slightly, eyes frantically staring at him. “Don’t worry, your friend and his family will be safe here. You have my word on it.” Johnny stared at him for a moment before looking around. 

“Do the Camera’s still work?” 

“No, why?” Bruce looked at the now slightly sheepish ghost.

“Well er, Ghosts, we like our secrets, but we like talking about what our living family is up to, how they’re doing, Your Grandfather, He’s proud of you, your parents weren’t near enough Ectoplasm and didn’t become Ghosts, but Old Man Wayne is proud of you, when he found out I’d be coming around he asked me to “Find the Batman, tell him his Grandfather is proud of the man he’s become, and that hopefully I can visit some day.” Guy’s always  creeped me out a bit, though most folks killed by the Court of Owls have some stuff, wrong, with em.” Bruce was floored, sitting completely still for a moment before resuming his work.

“Thank you for the message, do you have anywhere to stay?” Johnny chuffed as he pulled himself out of his squatting pose, pushing the lid of the cage off after hearing it’s click. 

“Not really, Kitty, my girlfriend, she’s around somewhere, I can feel her, sorta, she’s got my bike, we may just hang out, might cause some havoc via teenage rebellion, it’s our schtick.” Bruce raised a brow at him. “Oh don’t be a dad at me like that! Fine, fine, we will try not to break anything, heck we won’t even do possesions, but there will be chaos!” And with that, Johnny vanished, leaving Bruce confused but happy to have freed the Ghost.

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[Ring Ring, Ring, Ring Ring, Ri-CLICK]

“Hood here, go ahead Kincaid.”

“Hey Boss, we got a new couple of friends from that raid, Bat’s update you?”

“Yeah, I can assume our new Friends are of the Spooky variety?”

“Yessir, Johnny and Kitty, good kids, if distrusting, good reasons to as well. We’ll get em set up, call back when you’re back from your flight, we’ll be comin off our, third maybe fourth raid today by then.” 

“Thank you Kincaid, stay safe out there, these guys don’t follow any rules.”

“Well we’ll just have to chuck ours when they stop following em won’t we? See ya later boss.”

[CLICK]

[Ring Ring Ring, Ring Ring Ring, CLICK]

“Walker Residence, Alicia speaking.”

“Code Wings of Pandora is in effect.”

“Thanks again bub, I’ll tell ‘em.”

“Thank you.”

[CLICK]

[ampheenix]

Marina: an Epilogue

F&H MARINA X LEVI FIC, TAGS: romantic fluff, angst, flashbacks, oneshot

SUMMARY:

“Marina left Prehevil, her ties to it severed by the festival. She would settle down in Valland, in the red lights district of the capital. She would find kindred spirits there. She had a good life, using her occult skills for a living. Though a certain person was always following her…”

Or, what happened to Marina after winning the Terminal festival… along with a glimpse into her memories, and what happened along the way.

Marina had a sneaking feeling her hair had been paler as of late. Her curly locks seemed less silky and smooth, more… subdued, and the bags under her eyes had been growing darker too. 

Every time she came across her reflection in the mirror, it felt like being doused in cold water. No matter how much she powdered her face, no matter how much lipstick she slathered on, she still seemed pale, ghostly and shrouded in a sense of misery.

It wasn’t a good feeling. She’d always been one to take care in her appearance (it started with fear of others realizing her secret, and then she’d soon started finding enjoyment in the process), but as she gazed into the mirror… the fear she could see in her eyes, shaky and brittle… she didn’t like it at all.

In the very least, it wasn’t exactly a shock… after the scarring events of the Termina festival, Marina wouldn’t have been surprised if her hair turned white.

Her hands still started to tremble every time she thought back to just a few weeks ago- sweaty fingers in a white-knuckled grip on the trigger of a trench gun as she would shoot, and shoot, and shoot again with a desperate sense of knowing you’re just an inch from death, clothes drenched in filth that made Marina want to peel off her skin and take it to the laundry-

Marina stopped, nails digging into her fists hard enough to draw blood. She… she a handful of good memories from the festival at least, so it wasn’t all shit (though 99% of it was horrors beyond comprehension).

After all, it was Levi who had taught her how to shoot in the first place, how to defend herself with something aside from a kitchen knife and sanity-sapping spells. A wan smile made its way onto Marina’s face at the bittersweet memories…

At the beginning of the festival, all she’d known about the Eastern Union ex-soldier was that he had hurriedly made his way off the train, in a rather suspicious manner according to Karin (but the journalist had seemed rather biased, at the time).

It was honestly a surprise to find out that they were both the same age, when they met again in the basement of Restaurant Bílý Vůl. Marina was hesitant to approach at first, seeing a young, dishevelled boy in overalls curled up in a ball, and despite all this was rather attractive- even when shaking from withdrawal symptoms.

Marina was questioning her taste within that moment, yet she couldn’t help but extend a hand. And not because she thought him cute, alright- she genuinely wanted to help him out.

Levi… he carried himself with an air of constant paranoia, the deep bruises under his eyes and black marks on his arms a dead-giveaway to his chosen poison. So, when she offered heroin, a momentary ease to his suffering, they became tentative friends.

Levi was rather quiet. All he did at first was constantly scan the area with his gun at the ready, and occasionally glance at her when he thought she wasn’t looking- letting out a small sigh every now and then.

He followed her instructions instantly during battle, with unblinking faith in Marina’s judgment- and with their combined strength, they won every fight they came across.

The disturbing sights of Prehevil’s residents scarred both their minds, and neither of them judged when one found themselves nauseous and losing their lunch after a particularly disgusting foe…. After encounters with things like the fecal hound it was often commonplace.

And if Marina passed him a blue vial and some herbs after a battle, and their fingers touched briefly for a moment, who could blame her for hiding a smile at the pink in his cheeks?

By the end of the first day, when they settled down to rest in the bookshop, Marina couldn’t help but ask about the interaction… and yes, alright, maybe she said it in a rather teasing manner. All-mer forbid a girl flirt in these trying times.

And gods, it was worth it. Marina couldn’t help but let a laugh bubble up at how red Levi’s face turned, but it wasn’t a mean laugh or anything- and Levi could tell, as he buried his face in his hands. He had apologized, stumbling over his words, and she just smiled, shuffling closer…

And then, before she could think about it too much, Marina kissed his cheek. Her lips lingered there for a moment before she drew back, seeing Levi gazing at her complete and utter shock in his eyes, flustered beyond belief.

It was… it was a really nice moment, amidst all the death and gore. Those moments tended to be few and far between, and this had been the sweetest yet.

The next day, Daan had joined them, and he was more blunt and dry in his teasing than was Marina’s style but it was nonetheless effective.

That second night, he had taken a long, slow drag of his cigarette with a small smile, before calling out the stolen glances they were sending eachother- which Marina would vehemently deny (like a lying liar who lies), and Levi would nod along with her with crossed arms.

And the third day… everything went to shit, and Marina found herself at the tower, alone. Her memories are a hazy, fucked up blur from that point onwards.

And all that…

That was in the past now. Marina’s soft smile slowly faded, as she rested her hands on the sink in front of her. After everything that had happened, in the festival…

Gods.

Her grip tightens on the sink.

She had never thought she would win. The first few days after it all ended were spent in a daze, body on autopilot whilst her mind was in overdrive, staggering off that wretched FUCKING train that had brought so much blood and misery.

Winning had never been her intention, she wasn’t the type of person to sell out everyone else and murder them just so she could go free. That was something her father would probably have no qualms doing, but not her.

And all the days after staggering off the train at a random stop in Valland were filled with the sickening weight of guilt and grief, for the friends she hadn’t saved. Marina knew it wasn’t her fault, but… their lost souls still weighed on her.

Marina stared at her reflection in the mirror as she ran a shaky hand through her hair, greasy from neglect.

Tried to pretend she was a normal girl, living a normal life in the red lights district of Valland, who had never seen a town of people scorched by the light of an old god. Tried to pretend that she was just your average occultist who had only the right sorts of secrets, the scandalous ones that make your friends giggle and go “ooh,” and “aah.”

Marina held her piercing gaze on the eyes of the girl in the mirror, a girl who looked tired beyond belief, like she hadn’t truly rested in a long while. And Marina let out a long sigh, like the ones Daan used to do whenever she and Levi did something particularly stupid.

And Marina took a step back from the mirror, planting her hands on her face as she breathed in deeply. In, and out. In, and out…

She’d be okay, as time went by. Marina had to believe that, because what else was there?

When you’re a participant in a festival like that…

Where all you have are the enemies who want you dead, the creepy Bremen soldier who wants to see under your skirt, a doctor who was forced to use his skills to murder instead of heal, and the ex-soldier who you may or may not have been crushing on… that is, before he was viciously slaughtered by a monster right in front of you.

No one walks out of something like that without a few scars.

And… well.

She hadn’t been the only one to walk out, apparently.

A certain someone had followed her to Valland’s capital, though Marina still had no idea who- or what- she was. She, or it, bared an uncanny resemblance to the girl from the festival, the one that was supposed to be dead.

Marina just barely recalled her name… Samarie.

Her face was one of many that showed up in her dreams each night. Greasy black her, sickly pale skin, and swathed in a sense of desperation… the girl who had said she loved her, the girl who had stabbed her father, and the girl who had apparently been a part of the ninth circle (that Marina had only ever heard sick and twisted rumours of).

Marina still struggled to even comprehend her.

And now, a version of Samarie had managed to follow her here, even though the rules of Termina had dictated only one may walk out. So either the black-haired girl managed to break the rules somehow, or she had been replaced by some twisted creature from Prehevil.

Samarie hadn’t been that bad company to be honest, aside from being a tad delusional and creepy. Marina definitely knew which option of the two she preferred, but unfortunately, she also knew which one was more likely- some kind of doppelgänger, no doubt.

Calmer now, she let her hands fall back down by her sides, letting out a deep exhale. Even now, she had a niggling feeling that Samarie was watching her…

Well, could be worse.

She could have jumped down that damn toilet at the beginning of the festival and have rotted there in faeces for the rest of her days, like some idiot. (Shit, imagine if she had done that? She’d never live it down… and she’d never live, period.)

Marina walked out of her cramped bathroom and let herself fall with a “thwump!” on a lumpy couch, courtesy of one of her newly-made acquaintances- she’d met some kindred spirits recently who also studied occultism, and they were nice, she supposed.

All she could do now was wait and see if “Samarie” ever revealed herself, and attempt to scrub her mind of the scarring memories from the festival. She didn’t even want to think about that bastard Per’kele and his twisted games ever again.

And just… hope, that everything would turn out alright.

But she knew one thing- she was never doing rituals in the name of that bastard Rher ever again.

[oldworldwidgets]

TEDDY TIME TEDDY TIME

howdy pardners this is theodore dawson, my courier from new vegas :3 he is very large and very angry yet very soft and very gay and he is so precious to me

here's his playlist!! once again it's chronological so u can listen to his story like a fun yeehaw jukebox musical. i think his is my favorite of all my character playlists

alllll the teddy stuff (appearance, stats, story before the canon events of the game, fun facts) can be found under the cut!!! if you feel so inclined to read The Long Version written like a story where my longwinded ass spends about 7k words talking about themes and character motivations (and some soft gay longing perhaps), it's up on ao3 here.

appearance

41 years old; birthday may 3, 2240

6’6 with broad shoulders, generally built like a securitron.

patches of vitiligo splash across his face, chest, and arms

bennys bullet hit the right side of his face, carving a path from his eye to his ear, where a chunk of his ear is missing

because of this, he's blind in his right eye. the blind eye (a light, milky blue) is always a bit more closed than the seeing one (a dark, warm brown)

dark auburn chin-length hair and a short beard, both peppered with white because of his age and vitiligo. a big chunk of hair behind his ear is white as it grows from the scar.

he wears a horse or cow-skin vest with a great khans patch on the back

signature black cowboy hat, either on the top of his head or tied around his neck so it hangs down his back

gold jewelry - dangly cross earring in his left ear, upside down cross on a leather strap around his neck, big ass belt buckle

bright red shotgun shells on leather belt slung around his waist for his shotgun, dinner dell

stats

SPECIAL: 8, 1, 4, 5, 9, 2, 10

favorite perks: confirmed bachelor, animal friend, ferocious loyalty, intimidating presence

story

his dad was raised in utah and was very strictly mormon. when new jerusalem collapsed, dad moved himself, his wife, and his first son to the mojave and found work on an NCR sharecropper farm.

teddy was born fifth of six kids: four older brothers and one younger sister. he, his sister hannah, and his brother noah all have very visible vitiligo.

the kids were all also raised strictly mormon. his whole childhood, they were very poor. "at least we have each other" poor. his dad blamed it on the NCR, who owned the house and land and animals they ranched. they owned nothing, and the NCR paid them little more than that. teddy was quickly disillusioned with the NCR, then with the three of his brothers who decided to join them. one brother stayed back to inherit the ranch.

turns out, the NCR was paying; dad was just gambling it all away. he was so deeply in debt to all the families on the strip that they all decided to cut their losses and burn his farm to the ground.

that's... that's the story teddy decided to tell hannah, anyway (he wouldnt tell u this but he totally burnt that shit down on purpose). mom, dad, and one of his brothers were lost in the fire. teddy and hannah made it out, waved goodbye, parted ways.

teddy took his horse, old red, and began running jobs for whoever needed them. he never tied himself to one organization aaand his jobs weren't always above the ethical board. really, it was luck of the draw that, on any given day, he was the one defending the caravan instead of stealing from it

when he eventually went searching for his siblings, he found that two of the three brothers that had enlisted, predictably, were killed on duty. noah, though, had absconded almost immediately upon arrival due to a nasty chem habit

he found hannah "working" in front of gomorrah on the stip - her vitiligo made them instantly recognizable to each other - but she pretended not to know him because she was ashamed. he understood and gave up, but not before she hinted that he could find noah at the old mormon fort

he did, in fact, find noah there, medically detoxing under the care of some hot, blonde doctor (bweheheh....). they reconnected and it was..... really nice, even when they talked about how ashamed their dad would be if he could see them. it didnt matter. the family disappointments were the only family survivors.

teddy and arcade quickly grew very fond of each other, with arcade even being the first one to call him "teddy" after he told the doctor his name was theodore. he decided, despite its cutesy nature, to keep it.

after finishing his open jobs, teddy decided to stay with noah at the fort and run jobs for the followers when they needed it. he got reeeal comfy with arcade, and their subtle, playful flirtations eventually became noticeable to others. his brother, angry and sick from chem withdrawal and still fighting his religious upbringing, could not handle finding out that his baby brother was gay. when he did, he angrily shouted slurs and threw bottles at them until he was sedated and returned to bed.

teddy left the fort that night while everyone but the night watchman slept. he struggled to recover from what happened and drifted listlessly for a while... until he heard the news that noah had fled from his "rehab" program in the fort the day after teddy left, overdosed, and died.

the news spurred something in him, and he went looking for a real family and place to call home. after excelling in his initiation trials, he found one with the great khans. for two years, he was their resident rancher, runner, therapist, you name it.

then: 2278. the bitter springs massacre. teddy was away when it happened, and he still hasnt forgiven himself for it.

he spent the next three years drifting - again. hunting NCR. somehow racking up bounties in seemingly every single tribe in the mojave. his infamy, believe it or not, helped him survive: when he came across those who would kill him or turn him in, they seemed to prioritize who got to turn him in and collect the bounty over keeping themselves alive. whoops!

it was exhausting, though. drifting, killing, taking on the wasteland completely alone (except his beloved animals) took a heavy toll on teddy. he'd always been a killer and an outlaw, but he'd always been paid to clear other people's consciences. now, he felt he was only killing people to run from the consequences of his own actions. it was exhausting.

so, when three strangers – one in a loud, black-and-white checkered blazer – tried to knock him out and bind his hands, well… he had no reason not to let them.

*aint that a kick in the head starts blaring*

fun facts

hes not a big chem guy but hes such an alcoholic. in game he keeps at least 10 whiskeys on him at all times but would prefer to drink a sarsaparilla over using a stimpak.

he needs glasses pretty badly for his one seeing eye but he’s too stubborn to wear them

his scars always look a bit irritated because he doesnt take care of himself

he was a big pistol guy before benny shot him, but after he went blind in his aiming eye and started suffering from bouts of dizziness, he became a shotgunner. they require a far-from-perfect style of aiming

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Seven

Father Figure! Lucifer x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Seven: Oblivious Gays

Summary: (Y/N) and their friends go to homecoming.

            “You look fantastic, all of you,” said Lucifer, taking probably hundreds of photos of (Y/N) and their friends all dressed up for homecoming.

            “Thanks, Dad,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            They wore a black binder beneath a sheer top stitched with roses paired with a red suit jacket and black pants. Red heeled combat boots completed the outfit with black designs painted on.

            “So, remember, everyone, have a good time but don’t do anything I’d do,” said Lucifer cheerfully.

            “Birdie keeps us in line,” laughed Em. They wore an olive-green suit, but (Y/N) had attached bronze metal leaves around her neck and lapels.

            “But we’ll keep your advice in mind,” said Leon, nodding. He wore navy pants, a white shirt, and a jacket that extended into a billowing tail like smoke.

            “Still, we’re definitely gonna have a bit of fun,” laughed Marcel, hugging Leon’s arm excitedly. He wore a billowing blue shirt, the same hue as Leon’s coattails, and silver halter-styled jewelry.

            “Don’t give poor (Y/N) a heart attack, they’ve been doing enough,” said Olive, shaking her head at Marcel. She wore a pink dress stitched in an old-fashioned style.

            “Yes, (Y/N) has been very strong in the past few months,” said Lucifer, smiling at (Y/N).

            They shrugged and looked away, embarrassed. “I’m fine.”

            “Fine? You took on an angel. Twice. You’re better than fine, you’re awesome in my eyes,” said Noa, looping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders affectionately. They wore a white jacket and pants with a corset top underneath.

            “2-0!” cheered Olive.

            “I’m not aiming for a third,” said (Y/N), chuckling.

            “Please don’t,” said Em protectively.

            “That wouldn’t be the best idea,” agreed Leon.

            “Hopefully, my brother will retreat for good,” said Lucifer. “But I will handle the problem if he returns.” He smiled. He would defend (Y/N) as fiercely as they had done for him. He clapped. “But for tonight, enjoy yourselves and don’t think about such sour things!”

            “Good idea,” said Noa, clapping Leon and Em on the shoulders. “Come on, sour-pusses, let’s go and party.”

            “Bye, Dad,” said (Y/N), waving as Olive pulled them out.

            “Have a nice night,” said Lucifer, raising a hand in a wave. After everything they’d gone through, they deserved a nice time.

l

            “By the way, (Y/N), your designs turned out amazing,” said Olive, twirling.

            “Yes, your work is always impressive,” said Leon. “But your work for today is better than ever.”

            “I finally had some inspiration,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “We’re glad to have you back,” said Em, nudging them. “What would we do without the creativity and vivacity of our Birdie?”

            “I think you mean ‘sass’ and ‘bull-headedness,’ ” teased Marcel.

            “Ha-ha,” said (Y/N) sarcastically. “Go and dance if you’re going to be mean.”

            “Just telling the truth,” chirped Marcel. He grinned. “But I do want to dance. Leon?” He extended a hand.

            Leon glanced at it and nodded. He rose and took Marcel’s hand. Marcel happily dragged him away to the dance floor as “Murder on the Dancefloor” began to play.

            “Not much of a romantic song,” said Olive.

            “They’ll make do,” said Noa, smiling.

            “They have been spending a lot of time together, recently,” said Em.

            “More than usual,” agreed (Y/N). “I think Marcel kept asking Leon to help him study to flirt.”

            “Not that it worked,” laughed Noa. “Marcel came over to my place and threw himself on my bed to complain that they’d spend the entire day reviewing French conjugation.”

            “Was he trying to learn to flirt in Leon’s native language?” laughed Em.

            “That plan backfired,” said (Y/N), chuckling.

            “Not that anyone here can flirt any better,” said Olive.

            Em turned red, and (Y/N) crossed their arms. Noa cocked their head.

            “Huh?” said all three.

            “Unbelievable,” muttered Olive. She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Come on, you three, no sense in sitting here moping. Let’s have a good time.”

            “That’s what Lucifer would do, though,” joked Noa.

            “Taking his example every once in a while isn’t so bad,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “How do you think they turned out so cool?” said Em. “Only a crazy guy like Lucifer could raise (Y/N).”

            “That was less of a compliment than you thought it was,” laughed (Y/N), but they headed towards the dance floor with Em, Olive, and Noa.

            “Maybe not,” teased Em, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand and dragging them to dance.

            As the music played, the group danced and jumped, singing wildly along with the songs. It was nice to have a free moment with no stress or pressure, just fun and friends. After everything they’d been involved in, it was nice for (Y/N) to have a moment of peace. They were with their closest friends and their crush, swinging around to a great song with a smile on their face. It was fantastic.

            They wished the moment would never end.

l

            “Hey, guys?” called Noa over the music, which had switched to “Dance the Night.”

            “What?” responded Olive.

            “Marcel and Leon aren’t here,” said Noa. “I don’t know when they left.”

            “Let’s go and look for them,” said Em.

            “What if they’re just…having a good time?” said (Y/N).

            Everyone stared at them.

            “Yeah, no, I’m a busybody, let’s go,” said (Y/N).

            Em laughed and led the group into the hall to try to find Marcel and Leon. They peered around, but all they found were some cliques uninterested in dancing hanging out.

            “Oh, hey, guys, we thought you were still dancing,” said Marcel, rounding a corner and seeing them. Leon stood beside him, and they held his hand.

            “We were. We didn’t realize you two had left,” said Olive. “But we shouldn’t have worried.” She grinned.

            Leon coughed and looked away shyly. “We were just having a discussion.”

            “Uh-huh, yeah,” said Noa, smirking.

            “Good for you guys,” said Em, grinning.

            “At least you two won’t be pining after one another again,” said (Y/N).

            “And Marcel doesn’t have to ask for you to teach him French to try to flirt,” joked Noa.

            Leon blinked. “That was an attempt to flirt? I thought he was failing French.”

            Marcel sighed. “You beautiful, oblivious idiot.”

            “I thought you said you liked me?” said Leon.

            “I absolutely do,” said Marcel, squeezing Leon’s hand. “Even if you’re the hardest person to flirt with.”

            “Oblivious gays,” said (Y/N), laughing. Still, that’s one couple down. They glanced at Olive and Noa. Hopefully those two will get a move on. They looked at Em. …I’m still a coward, so nope.

            It seemed (Y/N) was also an oblivious gay idiot who didn’t realize that Em asking them to a dance twice could be interpreted as interest rather than friend being kind.

l

            (Y/N) and Em waved at Noa.

            “Thanks for dropping us off,” said Em.

            “No problem,” said Noa, yawning.

            “Don’t fall asleep, you still have to take me home,” said Olive from the front seat next to them.

            “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get home safely,” said Noa, smiling.

            “Bye,” called (Y/N) as they drove away. They crossed their arms and looked at Em. “Well, this explains why Marcel drove himself.”

            “True, he knew he was making a move on Leon,” said Em, nodding. “So what do you think they’re up to now?”

            “Marcel always talked about seeing the stars, so maybe a park. That would be a cute post-homecoming date,” said (Y/N).

            “They’re going to be insufferably adorable now, aren’t they?” laughed Em as they walked inside.

            “Probably,” agreed (Y/N) in amusement, dodging around the people in Lux. “But who knows, maybe it’ll get Olive and Noa to confess to each other.”

            “They need to get a move on,” said Em. “It’s so obvious that it hurts.” Just like you not noticing my feelings for you.

            “Right? Noa was texting me like crazy yesterday about how they weren’t sure how to confess since Olive is always flitting around saying hi to people and her others friends at school during homecoming and parties where she knows people,” said (Y/N), shaking their head. “Noa isn’t sure how to get that social butterfly alone for a second.”

            “Olive is just as oblivious,” laughed Em. She held their phone. “She already texted me saying that she said she and Noa should go for a late-night drive before heading to bed and put on a gay love song and Noa is just singing along because it’s gay and not noticing Olive.”

            “Let me guess, Olive is just staring at them because they’re that handsome to her?” said (Y/N).

            “Yeah,” said Em, shaking their head and laughing. “Gay panic took over.”

            “I guess we’ll have to get them alone with the right atmosphere,” said (Y/N), stepping into the elevator.

            “What are you, a matchmaker?” said Em, pressing the button for the penthouse.

            “Just someone tired of everyone pining,” said (Y/N). “At least Marcel took charge.” They groaned. “Olive and Noa are at least doing really well, but Dad and Chloe are having trouble again.”

            “Michael’s fault?” said Em.

            “Probably goes back to him, yeah,” huffed (Y/N), crossing their arms.

            “Hey, relax, it’s like you always say, ‘it’ll work out,’ ” said Em, reaching out and touching (Y/N)’s arm.

            “I’m usually bullshitting that stuff,” said (Y/N).

            “And yet you’re always right,” said Em. Her other arm went out and she held (Y/N) firmly by the arms. “Chloe needs time to process being given immunity to Lucifer’s gift from God. Sound like a familiar situation?”

            “…It sounds like her finding out he’s the devil,” admitted (Y/N).

            “Exactly. And that just took time to process,” said Em. “It’s going to be fine.” They squeezed (Y/N)’s arms comfortingly and retracted them as the doors to the penthouse opened.

            “I hope it works out soon,” said (Y/N). “I mean, I know they can’t be together since Lucifer has to return to Hell, but they both deserve to know about the other’s feelings. It’s clear they care about each other.”

            “As clear as our friends liking each other,” agreed Em.

            As clear as me liking you, thought (Y/N) and Em.

            (Y/N) cleared their throat. “Listen, Em, we keep talking about others and their relationships, yeah?”

            “We do,” said Em. “Because they’re idiots who just need to confess and be happy.”

            “Right,” said (Y/N), facing Em completely. “But I think there’s a few more people who need to be honest.”

            “Really?” said Em nervously. Am I about to be called out and rejected?!

            Okay. Okay, you can do this. If you’ve faced the Goddess of all creation, you can do this! “Em, listen, I think you’re really great. Really. You’re my best friend,” said (Y/N).

            “You’re my best friend, too,” said Em. They swallowed. Even if they were going to be just a friend to (Y/N), they deserved to know she cared. “And you are probably the best person I’ve ever met—even when you were a human.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “Yeah. Even when we fought, I always respected you. And that’s why I want to be honest. Emeranne, I—”

            “Hello, you two, did you have a good night?”

            Em and (Y/N) jumped as Lucifer appeared from his room with a wide smile. Em turned red and groaned, turning away. (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed, and their eyebrow twitched.

            Lucifer blinked, clueless to what he had interrupted. “Is everything alright?”

            (Y/N) turned to face him, and the shadows raised around them.

            “U-Uh, (Y/N)?” said Lucifer hesitantly.

            “You’re the most annoying parent I’ve ever met,” said (Y/N), the shadows lashing out around them as they stomped away.

            Lucifer looked at Em. “What did I do?”

            Em just groaned, still flustered, and buried their red face in their hands. So close!

Taglist:

@sammyscreencaps-13

@grippleback-galaxy-galaxy

@scarlettqueen190

@ziro-the-null-god

@sammy-13

@zeros-rot

@ceridwyn3

@technikerin23

@poetoflawed

@slytherinroyalty16

@ilse235

@theurbannoodle

@lookitseddie

[bloodplague]

Hi! I’m new to your blog and I was looking through your posts and everything. I love your head canons for the creepypasta! And you are a very good artist too. I just wanted to ask if you could do a HC about Laughing Jack or Jason the Toymaker. (Like I said I love your artwork! keep up the good work!)

Jason the Toymaker & Laughing Jack Headcanons

Suree!! I'm not a big Jason fan so I might not have many, but I'll try!! Also thank you so much!! <3

Jason the Toymaker:

He has the antisocial personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, PTSD and is super possessive.

His friends are Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer, Bloody Painter and KageKao, mainly.

He's a skilled writer, able to write beautiful texts with little effort.

Jason loves the scent after blowing out candles.

One of his hobbies is fixing broken weapons, always proud of himself once he finished.

Once someone becomes a fond one, they won't ever escape him. He's extremely clingy, possessive and will threaten them if they try to leave.

He doesn't know when he's doing something wrong. Example: After threatening someone he likes because of reasons, and they lash out at him, he'll be super confused, not knowing what he did wrong.

No matter what he does, he will ALWAYS defend his actions.

Doesn't usually torture a lot when killing but still tends to be sadistic.

LOVES listening to someone playing piano while he's working on something, it helps him to not get distracted.

When he's mad, he will punch walls aggressively and rip out his hair, blaming anyone but not himself for whatever made him this mad.

A walking redflag, basically...

Sometimes, Jason and Helen hang out, just talking while Helen draws and Jason works on his little toys.

When Jason gets really mad, he'll start stuttering, not able to handle the rage that keeps building up inside him, so he destroys things around him to show how angry he is.

Laughing Jack:

He laughs like Peter Griffin.

His comfort is gore, basically. When killing, he tries to make it as gory/bloody as possible.

His best friends are Nina, Clockwork, Jill and Pinkamena.

Jack has PTSD and psychosis.

This guy has claustrophobia, to be honest.

His tongue is really long, just like his arms.

When he's mad, he'll be extremely loud mouthed, more than he already is anyway.

Speaking off, he'd do ANYTHING to make his friends laugh, hurting anyone's feelings just to make fond ones smile and giggle, even if the one he's making fun of is having a rage burst or mental break down.

He's overly clingy and can be very sassy.

Biggest ENFP

He loves taking care of Sally and Lazari since they replace what he needed back then: A friend.

Even if he always dresses black and white, he has a small little bow somewhere on his body, usually because of Nina.

Constantly craves candy, chips and chocolate milkshake, giggling while devouring that shit.

Hates Rouge for some unknown reasons, just like Wilson.

Can come off as overly playful and childish, even though he's highly manipulative, easily leading his victims into some trap just to violently torture the living shit out of them.

When anyone tries to hurt his fond ones, he will be extremely aggressive and violent, ready to do whatever it takes to protect the ones close to him. Loosing another person would destroy him.

When he's REALLY close to someone, he'll be really touchy and sometimes even mushy, just trying to get their attention by acting all "adorable", like some starving puppy.

LOVES Scene's and emo's so much, he always points at them with his finger when he sees one like the silly person he is.

He has a really sharp chin.

His whole face turns red when he laughs or gets embarrassed.

[simplegeneral]

Launairk:

Status: Alive

Gender: Male

Race: Red Dragon

Alignment: Lawful Good

Personality Traits:

- Ambitious: Launairk has as much ambition and greedy as any red dragon and he is ready to go above and beyond to reach his goals

- Merciful: He is a merciful dragon and does not believe spilling blood senselessly is the key to achieve any of his goals, for the value of the lesser races' work far outvalues their destruction

- Diplomatic: He is diplomatic and prefers to create deals and partnerships instead of the bloody subjulgation and conquest of the lesser races, such deals cause his reputation to split between a respectable dealer and a disgrace to the chromatic dragonkind.

- Protective: Launairk will fight to death to protect himself, his hoard and subjects and won't allow any danger to come to them in the first place

Background:

Launairk, once a hatchling from a clutch of a red dragoness in the southern mountains of Faerun, would come to see the actions of his kind as malicious and disgusting, thing the young dragon was later outcasted for, harder than his siblings after the fateful day their mother wouldn't take care of them anymore.

The young dragon moved north, to the Spine of the World mountains, where he came in contact of a local fishing village. After firstly cold steps, they warmed to him and vice-versa, Launairk become the defender of the village, as well as settling up his kobold followers in the base of the mountain, where they started mining to add to his hoard, eventually completely stopping his raids to trade caravans.

At this moment, he has big plans for the village, to turn into a trade empire, rich enough to fill his own hoard, and of course, with him at the top of it and a lesser member as the official ruler of it. Aside a few attacks here and there, orcs, goblins and white dragons, his plans are going on motion, his biggest troublemaker, however, is a peculiar copper dragon, as heroic and greedy as himself, Landishura.

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

Landishura:

Status: Alive

Gender: Female

Race: Copper Dragon

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Personality Traits:

- Greedy: Through her unquenchable greed, there's nothing she won't do to gain a very easy and quick coin, which includes the less heroic and noble stuff, of course

- Jokester: As a proud copper dragon, she is a jokester and loves to make jokes, puns and pranks over whoever she meets. Long ago, of course, those harmless funnies become something far darker and chaotic, to not laugh or enjoy her jokes brings death

- Nosy: Under her human disguise, there's very little Landishura can't uncover about anyone and everyone, these information she holds dearly just in case she needs to perform a less than overdramatic presentation of one's wrong doings

- Impulsive: Due to her rather hot-tempered nature, Landishura always jump to opportunities, regardless of how ready she is to deal with the situation, and will do anything to gain her precious treasures to add to the hoard

Background:

Landishura once begun as your typical copper dragon, she flew around and joked and pranked over traders and curious individuals around her, and was overall a joyful and sociable dragon to have around. Her slow descent into madness and evil begun one day a party of adventurers raided her lair and tried to steal her treasure; While they were defeated, Landishura grew overzealous of her treasure and the desire to expand and protect it.

Most of all, she realized the relationships she nurtured over the years mattered little, a quick coin could turn even the most loyal of friends into enemies. And so she desired to apply such logic to herself, the desire of increasing her wealth so she could buy everyone as her friends would make her obsessed with it. She would later perform many tasks, missions and adventures in name of royal houses and towns in order to gain her hard earned wealth.

All her effort however, would be in vain once her lair was discovered by a red dragon, whom she could barely scratch the scales in the fight, forced to abandon all her hoard to it, she become crazy mad and removed all barriers in order to create her new hoard. Her flight made her follow the caravans to the north, into a remote populated place, where she could make her new hoard very far from preying eyes.

Until the moment she found Launairk, the both of them would clash a few times, Landishura believing his town's project had opportunities for herself, at the same time, her more proud and heroic sense trying to befriend the villagers and free them from what she thought to be the beginning of tyranny.

[the-clones-deserve-the-best]

Got an idea to do a little rewrite of episode 6 but with Yord instead of Osha thanks to a post by @junocornkiwi

This is also being posted (and modified) on Archive.

I only wanted to post a small part, but the last one I tried posting felt like three whole chapters instead of one

___

All Yord remembered was him. Him being in his head. That only added more stress to the fact that he plowed through his friends like they were training dummies. He tried to save his comrade but realized he only delayed her fate.

After his leg was cut by the red saber, Yord could only lay helpless as the masked stranger impaled her and pulled another Jedi into his saber with her before decapitating both of them.

Then he remembered being with Jecki as they escorted Osha back to the ship to get her away from danger and warn the council of what happened here. After Ithia Paan's death was sensed by the trio through the force, Osha desperately wanted to go back for Sol.

Yord volunteered to go alone. Osha was safer with Jecki than him. They were closer. She never once assumed Osha's guilt.

"When you get back to the temple, find Master Plo Koon. He's the master who completed my training. He will have the patience to complete your training. It's the best way we can protect you, Verosha is to make sure you can defend yourself."

He looked Jecki in the eyes before he left. They always bickered and made fun of each other. They were siblings. They also had an undying loyalty to each other. He knew Jecki didn't want him to go, but she put her emotions aside.

"May the force be with you." She finally said before guiding Osha towards the ship.

When he got back, he saw Ithia Paan laying dead not far from Him. Her neck was snapped. There was no sign of a saber wound. It really unsettled him. A jedi, especially one as skilled as Ithia Paan, killed without a weapon.

Besides that, he only remembered saving Mae from him and seeing his actual face before everything went black.

He sprung awake in a mysterious cave. His arm had been bandaged, and his wound healed. He was shirtless as he usually was when he slept.

Yord looked across the cave and saw his robes. He got up to approach them. They were not only clean. They had been ironed and neatly folded, placed above a towel to keep them from getting stained by the rock they were set on.

He went to put them back on when he saw another pair of clothes. Civilian clothes from what it seemed. He unconsciousnessly opted for them. Black Hakama pants with a loose white sleevless shirt. The fabric felt smooth against his skin. The boots blended into his pants. His feet never felt warmer.

He bent over to pick up a collection of throwing knives. Like Mae had. He examined them before seeing a figure out of the corner of his eyes. He reverse gripped one of them, holding it up.

It was him. He saw Yord but ignored him, knowing he'd follow. Which Yord did. He sensed Yord's tension. He knew Yord wouldn't attack from behind like he did earlier. That was to save Mae and Sol. Qimir had no hostages. He was going about his day on his private ocean planet like he didn't shish kebab two jedi and snap another's neck to prove a point to Mae

Yord observed Qimir closely. He watched as Qimir just stood at the edge of the ocean. Stared off into the distance before removing his robes. He was naked, and Yord felt a flush in his face. His heart trembled, and his breath got deeper. Once he recollected himself, he slowly approached. His attention turned to Qimir's lightsaber.

Through the force, he could hear the battle that took place hours earlier. The sound of the blade cutting through some of the most highly skilled Jedi like they were defeneless younglings.

He bent down to put up the saber. It was very well crafted, much lighter than it looked. It fascinated him.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Qimir called out. Yord immediately got defensive. He ignited the blade, staring Qimir down. "You can feel your old power returning, can't you?"

"Don't come any closer!" Yord yelled out. "I won't hesitate."

"If you're not going to join me, I'd like to put my clothes back on." Qimir responded. He fully submerged himself. Yord felt the urge to use the force to keep him there and drown him. The feeling made him smile a bit. "I know you're considering it."

Yord snapped back to reality. His eyes met Qimir's. He remembered that the saber was active. He could have stuck Qimir down.

"You're wondering if it's okay to strike me down." Qimir started. He stared into Yord's eyes. "In the heat of battle, it's justified. A few hours later? It's vengeance."

Yord got distracted by Qimirs other saber. He snapped back into focus. He didn't mean to stare but it caught his eye. He turned his head to block it from his vision.

"Did you kill Sol?" Yord asked. Qimir just stared at him with disappointment.

"No." He answered

"Did you kill Jecki?" He asked with more concern in his eyes.

"No." Qimir answered. I saw her and Osha get on the ship for Coruscant."

A flash of relief filled Yord's eyes for his little sister. Little Jecki, while always appearing composed, has a violent side to her when she is in a fight. She could probably have defeated Qimir if she had complete control over her emotions.

"Weird you asked about him first." Qimir interupted. "Considering his role in what happened to us."

"I don't know you!" Yord yelled. "You killed my friends!"

"I only killed those who threatened my existence." Qimir responded. He slowly put his pants on, watching Yord's eyes glaze his chest. He walked calmly past Yord. He expected Yord to follow, which he did. It pleased Qimir to have an old friend with him again.

"Where'd you get that scar?" Yord asked.

"How do you think?" Qimir asked.

"How am I supposed to know? I wasn't there!" Yord snapped

"Not physically. You felt it through our conmection. Although we were systems apart. You felt my pain. You've got the same scar on your back. They just took your memories and convinced you it was a birth mark."

"Who?" He asked

"The jedi." Qimir responded

"The Jedi wouldn't do that to me!" Yord snapped. Qimir didn't respond. Just looked him in the eyes and smirked. "What's so funny?"

"That you believe that. I find it so cute that you believe that." Qimir replied. "That the Jedi wouldn't do whatever possible to keep themselves in the positive light. Even to you."

"I don't believe you!" Yord replied.

"Then don't. The longer you're here, the faster the effects will wear off. You picked my clothes over your robes. It's already starting."

"You cleaned my robes? And steamed them?" Yord asked innocently.

"Just how you always liked it." Qimir smiled. Despite the mass murder of his friends a few hours before, Qimir's smile and warmth felt genuine. Yord couldn't help but be curious about this bond they once had.

Yord followed Qimir back into his cave. Qimir started making dinner. He gave him a cup of cold water, also just how he liked it. He smelled something familiar. Something he hadn't had in a while. It was an old favorite that he hadn't had in a while.

"Are you trying to seduce me and get my clothes off?" Yord asked.

"Only if that's what you want." Qimir smirked. "Right now my objective is to remind you of our dyad."

Dyad? Yord thought.

"We were an unstoppable dyad in the force. We could see through each other's eyes, hear what the other can hear even from light years away. Our power was great and we could have brought the Jedi in a better path to being more compassionate." Qimir started.

"Through our dyad, I could sense that you made knight again two years ago, you took a young Zygerrian girl named Tasi Lowa as your first padawan. You went out of your way to make her feel like she actually belongs."

Yord tensed up at the idea of Qimir knowing about Tasi. He thought of the worst.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't hurt Tasi." Qimir started. "I'd help train her so she would be a powerful warrior. More powerful than both of us. She could be strong enough to take over her planet and start fixing their wrong doings."

"Don't mention Tasi!" Yord got defensive. "Leave her out of this."

"You're so defensive." Qimir observed. He turned his attention to their dinner. "You see her like a little sister. A daughter, maybe?"

"Maybe. Jecki is more of a little sister to me. I guess Tasi is.."

"You always wanted to be a father, Yord." Qimir's face lit up at the memory. "You were always protective of me when we would go on missions. I still believe that you'd be an amazing father if ever given the chance."

Yord sat there with a confused look on his face. Why can't he remember any of this? If Qimir is telling the truth, why can't he remember it. If Qimir was lying, why else would he have kept him alive when he could have easily killed him like they were enemies. He didn't. He just knocked him unconsciousness then took him to his private retreat and healed him. Gave him fresh clothes and, from the smell, is making an old favorite of his for dinner.

"Cortosis." Qimir changed the subject. "Good for sensory deprivation and against lightsabers."

"Is that why you were headbutting lightsabers like a mad man?" Yord laughed. He was quite amused by Qimir's antics. He had to admit he respected that cockiness.

"Yes. It also fills your enemies with fear and confusion." Qimir replied, handing Yord a bowl of soup. "Here, remember this? We ate this a lot as padawans."

Yord took a bite and felt a burst of nostalgia. Suddenly, he had a flashback of Plo Koon bringing them food after a successful mission. It was like being a little family. Master Plo and Sol taking them out to lunch with the extra crdits they snuck or saved from the last misson.

Yord smiled, thinking of the times. Master Plo was always patient with him when he was a padawan. Anytime Yord felt frustrated with his progress, Plo Koon took him a side and just let him vent his frustration. It helped him clear his mind so he could focus better when Master Plo went over the lesson again with him.

"Give it a shot." Qimir interupted. Handing his helmet to Yord. "It'll help you unlock more memories. Your memories are yours and should always have been."

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[krishgupt]

Ash Betrayed (Part - 2)

“What are you doing here?” Ash asked in a tone of Confusion and Anger.

This reaction was justified thou, for the one standing in front of, soaked wet in rain, was the one, the only, Team Rocket’s James.

James was missing his bright White shirt with the Big Red ‘R.’ His blackish grey undershirt was soaked wet due to the rain. And his head and eyes were staring the ground, not daring to look up.

Looking at him, Ash felt something weird. He felt that James was ashamed of himself for some reason.

Ash, not knowing what else to do, called out Lucario. Seeing James, Lucario immediately took attacking position, not willing to give his trainer more stress!

James, looking at Lucario, took a step back.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come,” James thought to himself

“Lucario wait,” Ash said.

“//But Master! //” Lucario protested.

“No need to get aggressive, just look at him via Aura Vision please,” Ash requested and Lucario immediately complied. Ash held Lucario’s paw, turning his vision into Aura vision.

Ash turned to James with his Aura Vision and the Moment he looked at him, the Anger vanished. He let go of Lucario’s paw and called him back.

“Get in James, the storm is growing stronger,” Ash said in a forgiving tone.

“W-Wait what?” James asked, confused why Ash anger suddenly vanished.

“Aura powers, very confusing Brother,” Ash said with a smile.

“I-I-I,” James couldn’t complete the sentence as he lowers his head.

“I know, well, I don���t know everything but I think I know enough to trust you,” Ash said, patting his hand James’ shoulder as a sign of solidarity.

“Come in,” Ash said as James entered the house, albeit with a lot of regret and shame.  

“Mom! Another plate of serving is required,” Ash said as he entered the living room with James.

The Moment everyone saw James, everyone except Delia pulled out their Pokeballs.

“What the Hell he is doing here!” Misty said pulling out her Pokeball as James took a step back in fear.

“//WHAT THE HELL THIS #%$%@ %#^^# ^#@^ %#^&#$& ^#^&*$@% %#^&# THIEF DOING HERE!!!!!!!!!!//” Pikachu shouted as he took attacking position.

“Guys calm down! James is innocent,” Ash defended James.

“How could you know!” Paul asked.

“The same way I found out about those guys, Lucario’s Aura Vision allows me to see someone’s Aura, and James’ Aura,” Ash turned to a very ashamed of himself James.

“James’ Aura is Chronic Violet, which represents Guilt and shame. I don’t know whether James was part of this entire BS or not, but I know he is deep guilt and wishes to Apologize. And James,” Ash looks at James.

“I accept your apologize,” Ash said with a Smile as James started to tear up. Seeing James crying, other relaxed a bit. While Misty, Paul and Gladion still had residue doubts, they were willing to swallow it for Ash.

“Now everyone, take seat, I am about to serve the Food with others,” Delia said in a motherly tone as everyone, including James, took seat. Delia served James first, even before Ash, much to the dislike of Misty, Paul and Gladion but they digressed.

“I-I-I-I am thankful,” James said.

“Don’t be, you are Ash’s friend and thus like a Son to me,” Delia said as James lower his head, trying to hide his tear. Delia’s statement led to some grunts by some the guests but every digressed the topic for later.

“Let’s see what is news is going on,” Paul said as he switched on the TV and put a New Channel.

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“Welcome back to your Favourite News Channel, Kanto Times! And the breaking News from Pallet Forest ladies and gentlemen! Breaking News from Pallet Forest! Two renounced and infamous members of Team Rocket, Jessie Murrow, daughter of Most Infamous Team Rocket Member, possible late Miyamoto, and the infamous talking Meowth, have been caught in Kanto Forests. An Anonymous caller informed the Police that these two were in the Pallet Forests. When the Police reach the site, they found these two members of Team Rocket tied to a tree. Both of them claim that the anonymous caller was the third member of this infamous trio named James Morgan, who had betrayed them, tied them to the tree and then fled the scene after calling the Police. More information after this break,” The reporter says as the screen cut to a Johto tourism ad.

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“What the fuc-” Gary said before getting interrupted by Delia

“Language Gary,” Delia said.

“Sorry,” Gary said.

“Wait wait wait! You betrayed Jessie and Meowth? Why?” Misty asked.

“Everyone, calm down, James, are you comfortable in telling explaining,” Ash said looking at a tensed James. James sighed and started speaking.

“So, We recently got all our pokemons back from the Team’s Headquarter, so decide to ambush you to steal pikachu……………...but…………………...after seeing the whole commotion, we decided to retreat…………………… the whole thing………………………... I don’t know it felt wrong. I know we have tricked you guys multiple times, but…………………... this betrayal seem…………………… just extremely messed up and wrong, even for our standards……………… or should I my standards………………… Jessie and Meowth were mostly indifferent. When I asked them didn’t they felt this was absolutely wrong? They said ‘If Boss thought it was fine, it was fine,’…………………... I just couldn’t accept this one……………………... I immediately decided to leave Team Rocket and correct my wrongs…………………... I knew Jessie and Meowth would not support it……………………. So I decide to start correcting my wrongs from them. I gave one last chance to join me in my journey to redemption, I told them we were good cooks, we could start a hotel, but they thought I was mad………………… sadly, I ordered my pokemons to battle them…………………... After I defeated them, I tied them to the tree, called Officer Jenny and came here…………………... to apologize,” James confessed as he took a long breath.

What followed James’ confession was a long line silence as everyone took their time to process everything. Finally, Misty broke the silence.

“Guys, pardon me for being sceptical, but how can we trust even a single word from his mouth,” Misty asked.

“We can,” Ash defended.

“If he was lying or there were Ulterior motives, his Aura would have been a different colour, but it was chronic violet,” Ash stated.

“Is this Aura thing 100%?” Misty asked.

“From what have been able to understand, Aura is essence of every living thing…………………………. There is are few things which get 100% as that,” Ash stated.

This was followed by another long line of silence. This was also broken, this time by Dawn.

“So, you broke up with Jessie?” Dawn asked as James gave her a confused look.

“W-W-Wh? Excuse me what?” James asked in a confused tone. Others also gave Dawn a confused looked except Ash who didn’t understand anything.

“What do you mean by Broke up?” James continued.

“I am sorry what is going on?” Ash asked.

“I-I thought you and Jessie were-” Dawn said before being interrupted by James.

“W-WHAT!!! I mean no! Me and her, never! We both have widely different romantic tastes!” James said in an annoyed tone.

“Oh…………. sorry for assuming,” Dawn said with a shrug.

“H-How! That girl was ready to throw me into the hellhole which is my Jessebelle!” James stated in a confused tone.

“*Sighs as he looks out to see the storm gone* Anyways, I must leave now,” James as he completed his food and stood up.

“You can stay longer if you want,” Delia said in a motherly tone.

“No mam, I have to get someone, and then leave for Sinnoh,” James said with a smile.

“Growlithe?” Ash asked.

“He has been with my parents long enough,” James stated.

“Everyone, I once again apologize for everything I have ever done to you all!” James says with a bow.

“I promise I will make it up to y’all one day!” James said. While Misty, Brock, Paul and Gladion remained a bit sceptical, they all gave James a proper farewell.

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

While Giovanni had rarely planned freeing some of his grunts, who were betrayed by another one of his grunt, from jail, but that is exactly what he did.

“What exactly happened Jessie, Meowth?” Giovanni asked the two in a scary voice.

“Sir! Arceus know what happened James he suddenly decided to betrayed us and-” Jessie and Meowth were saying before being interrupted by Matori.

“Sir, they are wasting precious time,” Matori said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“You-” Jessie said before being interrupted by Giovanni.

“SILENCE!!!!!!!!!!” Giovanni shouted.

“Both of, silence! Jessie Meowth, as of know *writes something on a piece of paper and gives it Jessie* Take two tickets to Kalos from the reception, visit this firm, it is one of our front organisations. Work their till this matter cools down, they, if you want, can rejoin the gang as a grunt,” Giovanni said.

“Understood sir!” Jessie said with a salute.

“What about me?” Meowth asked.

“You will go with Jessie, any issues?” Giovanni asked.

“No Boss!” Meowth said in a scared voice as he and Jessie left.

“Ahh! This incident will keep us in public eye for so long!” Giovanni said with a facepalmed.

“The fact that you still ensure their safety even after they failed,” Matori said.

“They work for Matori, they have put their trust in me, it is my duty to keep it on,” Giovanni told her with a weak smile, making Matori extremely blushed.

“Of course sir,” Matori said as she hides her blushes with a file.

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

“Everyone fine?” Ash asked as he and Delia served Dessert to everyone.

“Just……………… a lot of things are there to process you know,” Brock said.

“Same,” Misty said.

“Yeah,” Paul said as he looked at the clock and stood up.

“Ok Ash, I will have my leave,” Paul said.

“Even I have to leave,” Gladion said.

“Same,” Alain added.

“What! W-We have to have leave?” Lillie asked, clearly not ready to leave.

“Only me Lillie, don’t worry, you can say,” Gladion said as Lillie lower her head to hide her blush.

“Come on guys! Why so soon!” Ash said. He didn’t want to see his true friends leave.

“I am sorry Ash, duty calls,” Gladion called.

“Same here, my dad want me to be home for harvest season,” Paul said.

“*Sighs* Very well, Take care you guys,” Ash said as he shook hands with Paul, Alain and Gladion, who leave immediately after.

“*Sighs* Anyways, anyone else has to leave?” Ash asked.

“Me actually,” Tracy said as he stood up. He and Ash hugged and Tracy left afterwards.

“Anyone else?” Ash asked.

“My, Kiawe and Lana flight is day after tomorrow so we are here,” Mallow said with a smile.

“Happy to hear that,” Ash said with a weak smile.

“Me and Bonnie’s is next week,” Clemont said as Ash looked at Gary.

“I literally live next-door Ash,” Gary said as Ash turned to Brock and Misty.

“Oh we are staying for a long time,” Misty said, making herself comfortable, making Ash laugh.

“And you guys?” Ash said as he looked at Serena, Dawn and Lillie.

Cliffhanger! Boom!

Previous part: Ash Betrayed (Part - 1) – @krishgupt on Tumblr

Next Part: Ash Betrayed (Part - 3) – @krishgupt on Tumblr

[maybeijustwanttobeme]

Chapter 2: At the Sound of their Roar

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Female!Reader

Warning: swearing and arranged marriage.

Summary: What happened when a dragon and a lion fall in love.

Notes: Italics is in the past. Aegon still not have engage in non consensual activities (we believe in Dyana). English is not my first language.

The flags of the Lannister houses waved proudly as they reached the Red Keep. The princes Aegon and Aemond saw the small army following the lioness arrive. 

-She has always liked to make great entries.- Aegon said looking out of his mother’s bedroom window. 

-She likes to ride a horse. I don’t see how that’s a big entrance.- Aemond replied, as he looked at Aegon in disgust at the way he played with the fruit. 

-Do you think she comes in red?- despite Aegon’s mocking tone, the eldest of the brothers was curious. The Lannister girls' tradition was to wear pink until their father felt they were old enough to seek a betrothal. 

When they were old enough, they wore the characteristic red of their family. A very visual way of representing that she was a woman. 

-I don’t know. Jason wants to wait. He still thinks she is young. 

-Mother was already married, and with child at that age. Even our older half-sister was already looking for a husband. 

-I can’t imagine her being married.- Prince Aemond was uncomfortable with the idea of Y/N's marriage. The idea that she would never live with him again. Despite her seasons at Casterly Rock, she always came back to him. Knowing that another man would be the one to receive her sweet smile and laughter. Another man would get all her attention and be the one to take care of her cubs. 

-Then you should marry her.

-I’m going to marry... 

-Don’t say your whore’s name.- he interrupted. - Even I am not stupid enough to think I can marry a bastard. Fuck her, let her have your bastards, but no one would object to you marrying Y/N. 

-Why do you defend her so much. Do you like her? - since some years Aegon stopped bothering her and ignoring her, and started to be her defender. Aegon had never tried anything with her, but Aemond knew his brother’s activities. 

-No, she’s beautiful, but I respect her too much to even think of her as a woman.

-Why? I’m not sure you respect our mother. 

-It’s different. Maybe someday I’ll tell you the story.- he pours himself some wine. 

-Aegon is too early.- he tried to take his cup.  

-Go get her, and if she comes in red don't be a fucking coward and ask her to marry you.- he left with the cup of wine and left the young prince thinking. 

Aemond knew that he couldn't marry the woman he loved. Y/N would be the perfect choice to get married, but he loved another woman. He would not make her suffer what his mother has suffered so many years from being the shadow of the woman his father loved. They both deserved love. He knew he couldn’t marry the woman he loved, but Y/N still had a chance to find a loving marriage. 

***

Y/N with grace and beauty unmount her white horse. Helaena ran to greet her friend. 

-My dear Y/N, you are finally at home.- the Princess gave her a warm hug. 

-My sweet Helaena. How has everything been? 

-We should have tea together.- with that statement, the lioness knew there was new and important news. 

-My princess, I think the tea will have to be by tomorrow. My niece and I have many to talk about. - Tyland interrupted the conversation. 

-I’m sure I can have tea with the princess and with you, dear uncle.- they walked to the lioness's room. 

-Do you have time for three conversations?- Aemond caught up with them downstairs. Y/N and Tyland made the proper bow to the Prince. 

-Looks like I’m gonna have a busy day. 

They both smiled for different reasons. Y/N was happy to see his friend, and Aemond was thrilled to see that pale pink dress that fit her so well.

Helaena saw her brother’s smile and Y/N. They need their time. 

-I think we’ll have to wait for Lord Lannister.- she turned to him.- I need help looking for my mother.- Tyland understood the message and accompanied the Princess. 

-Helaena has given me to understanding that there are news.- Y/N started the conversation when they were alone. 

-You’ve been away almost eight moons. It'll take some days to catch up with every new and gossip. 

-I heard you’ve been negotiating in the Riverlands and the Vale.  

-You were well informed, Lady Lannister. 

-Let us walk in the gardens.- Aemond offered his arm, and the lioness took it with pleasure. 

Aemond told him about the journeys he had. As were the castles and the lords of each of the houses. Some rumours had not yet reached the court. 

-You have something to tell me.- she interrupted. The lioness saw how the Prince was tense and nervous. He wanted to avoid a subject, but it was consuming him.  

-How? - Aemond asked surprised by the ability of Y/N to read him. 

-You’re anxious. You play with your fingers. 

-It’s impossible to hide anything from you. I have heard that the negotiations in Highgarden with the Tyrells and the Hightowers have been a success thanks to you. You were the golden piece. 

-I’m part of the pride.- she said proudly. The Realm learned that the lioness was not only to be admired but also had claws and fangs to be feared. 

-You are the pride. 

-What thoughts are consuming you?

-My father.- they sat in the garden watching the sea. 

-How is the health of the King?

-He lost an eye. His illness consumed it. I thought I would feel some kind of satisfaction. 

-What happened? - the lioness gently held his hand to support him as he told the story.

The Queen told their children his father was losing an eye and that the family should support him as their children, and give him confidence and love. Helaena and Alicent sat next to him to tell him the stories he loved deeply. Aemond was sitting far away but always with him. Even Aegon was there for a while. When Helaena and Alicent went to rest, the young dragon promised them that he would stay with his father. When he sat by his bed, Aemond thought the pain would finally make him apologize or say something, at least about that night, but it wasn’t what he expected. 

***

The King complained that the effect of the milk of the poppy was beginning to fade. He began to wake up and Prince Aemond took his hand. 

-Father.

-Water.- the King asked his son. Aemond helped him to drink the water slowly. 

-Aemond, my boy. 

-I’m here. Your family is with you.- Aemond held his thin hand. He felt no strength from his father. He did not know him as a strong and healthy man, but he remembered his hands making his model of Old Valyria. 

-Rhaenyra? - asked the confused King. 

-She’s not here, Father. She’s still in Dragonstone with her family. We’ve sent her letters and we’ve had no response.- although the Prince tried to make his half-sister look bad in front of his father, he realized he was only telling the truth. It was they who took care of him. 

-My sweet girl must be busy. Don’t bother her with my illness anymore. 

-Sure, Your Grace. I’ll tell my mother not to send any more letters. - the King didn’t notice the irony in his son’s voice. 

-Now we’re more alike.- Visery tried to joke with him.- Although you have Targaryen traits, you have a certain resemblance to Otto. I think you inherited more from your grandfather than from your father. Do you still serve wine? - after his attack on Driftmark, his grandfather had invited him to be a cupbearer, and now he sat next to him to continue learning the work of Hand of the King. It had become clear to Otto that at least one of his grandchildren needed to learn how to run a kingdom. Aemond that night showed him that he had the determination. 

-No father. I sit next to my grandfather to learn. 

-It’s good you learn from him. I think I remember that you were learning to use the sword; now that you can’t use it, you better learn politics.- after Driftmark, his father had stopped watching them train. Aegon and Aemond concluded that he never saw them but his bastard grandchildren. 

-That is my intention. 

-Anyway, four younger kids beat you in a fight. Otto must have taught you not to start fights you can’t win, but you must teach your children that lesson. 

-You had to teach me that. You are my father. - Aemond let go of his hand and stood up from his chair. 

-I’ve been sick, boy. - Visery’s kind tone turned hostile.

-You defended them sick. - Aemond breathed and controlled their emotions as usual.- I'll fetch the Maester. Over the years, he has been perfecting an ointment so that you do not suffer what I, father. 

-Aemond!- the King tried to stop his son but failed. 

-I wish I had taken your father’s eye as yours were taken away. Rhaynera and his bastard will hear us roar. - the lioness took her free hand to cupped Aemond's cheek. 

-They will know how dangerous a dragon and a lion’s roar are. - Aemond knew he would burn cities for his lioness. She had given him a new eye and a new way of looking at life. Even though not being together, she would always have a dragon fighting beside her. 

-There’s something else you want to tell me. - the lioness was sure that his father wasn't what consumed the dragon’s thoughts. 

-My mother wants to know if you’re going to be at the Maiden’s Day ceremony this year. This year will be a grand event because Helaena will go to light her candle. She's older than you, but the finest suitors will come. 

-My Prince, the Lord Hand is calling you urgently.- one of the Hand's guards interrupted them. 

-When you want to tell me what’s really going on, you know where to find me.- she told him before he left. 

-Bring tea, fruit and cheese to my chambers. I will be with Princess Helaena.- Y/N ordered from one of her handmaiden ladies who were nearby. 

***

-Lord Hand. Lord Lannister.- Aemond greet when he arrived at the Tower of the Hand. 

-According to what my brother and nephew sent me, Y/N did excellent diplomatic work in seeking an alliance with the Tyrells. The only areas we need to secure are the Riverlands and the Vale. 

-Rhaenyra’s mother is of the House Arryn of the Eyrie. The Vale will not support our cause. I was more successful in the Riverlands, but we may encounter problems in the future. Lord Grover Tully would be in our favour, but his grandson Elmo did not agree with him. It may be a short alliance.- Aemond explained. 

-A wedding with the Tully- suggested Otto. 

-A Hightower? A Targaryen? - Tyland replied. 

-He has no daughters Grover.- Aemond reminded them. 

-A Lannister? - Aemond and Tyland went into a defensive mode with Otto's suggestion.

-Tyrell would be a better marriage option for Y/N.- Tyland said. 

-According to Y/N, the Tyrells will be with the Hightowers.- Otto knew that one of their golden piece was Y/N. They would have to seek the most advantageous marriage for her. 

-I can’t speak for my brother about Y/N’s betrothal. 

-What do you think, Aemond? - his grandfather asked.

-Have you thought of a Prince of Dorne? - Aemond did not think about the most advantageous alliance, but about the safest marriage for Y/N where she could live away from the incoming war, even if it meant stopping seeing her.

-The dornishmen are not going to participate. - Tyland said. Exactly, the Prince thought. 

-But if we have Y/N in Dorne she can force their hands to support us. If anyone can mobilize the dornishmen it would be Y/N.- the Hand calculated.

-I’ll talk to my brother. It’s time for Y/N to wear red.- Tyland called one of the guards. - Go get my niece. 

***

-Helaena, the dress is beautiful. - said Y/N looking at the princess’s blue dress. 

-It had to be a special dress. My betrothal with Aegon will be announced. 

-Oh! Everything will be fine. We both know Aegon, but it can always be worse.- Aegon was Aegon, but she knew a worse man than him. 

-I’ve thought about it a lot, and my life isn’t going to change much. I’m going to stay here near my mother, my grandfather, Aemond and for a while you. I’ll just have to breed his babies. 

-Realistically, that’s true. 

-Where do you think you might end up? - the lioness had thought a lot that her marriage was only political. If she could, she would marry near Casterly Rock or Kingslanding. 

-The Vale or the Riverlands is where alliances are needed. As long as I don’t end up in Stormlands, I’ll be fine. I don’t think a Baratheon and a Lannister can coexist. Their anger and our pride sound like a combination that can only bring disaster.- she had already rationalized almost every option. 

-They must be angry all day because it never stops raining.- Helaena said sincerely, making them both laugh. 

The Lannister guards interrupted. 

-Lady Lannister, your uncle, and the Hand of the King request your presence. 

-I will see you at dinnertime. My mother wants to see you.- Helaena said as she got up, and the handmaiden ladies took the dress with her. 

***

Upon reaching the Tower of the Hand, the three men and she made the corresponding greetings before starting with what mattered to them. 

-I’m told the negotiations have been a complete success for an alliance between the Lannisters, Hightower and the Tyrells. 

-The rumours are true, grandfather. Even Harrenhal heard of the new negotiations. Besides calling her the golden beauty, now, they also say she has a golden tongue.

-Thank you, my Prince. We have reached a commercial agreement with the Tyrells, so we do not have to marry anyone to a house that is a natural ally.- she said as she approached to explain with the maps.- Also, it will put the Hightower house above the Tyrells. Products will trade off in the ports of Oldtown and Lannisport. It is faster and safer for products to cross by sea than land. Driftmark used to take care of that, but with the war of Steptones someone has to cover it, and Lannisport can trade by sea and land. The River Road and Goldroad lead everywhere. The Tyrells had no choice because their Ocean Road only connects with Lannisport, and Roseroad only connects to Kingslanding. The Tyrells will rely on the Lannisters and the Hightowers to move their crops. 

-How did you agree to depend on these two families? A marriage would have worked better for them without compromising the Hightowers to gain even more power. - Tyland asked surprised at how a family as powerful as the Tyrells had sold out. 

-Lord Martyn Tyrell has kept a low profile because he has been ill for many years. His wife, Elinor Hightower, will be regent as there is little expectation for Martyn, and her son Lyonel is an infant.- Aemond explained.  

-It wasn't difficult to convince Elinor, but Martyn was worried that one of his bannermen would be much more powerful than them. But when they saw the possibility of obtaining more gold and a more concrete alliance with the Lannisters, the rose gave up his pride. Oldtown’s gonna have to protect the infant heir and his mother; we can afford that. They need protection and gold. - the lioness finished the explanation. 

-Thank you very much for this alliance, Y/N. The Kingdom thanks you, and we will make up for it.- Otto said as the lioness left the room. 

-It’ll have to be Elmo Tully.- Tyland said by looking at the map. 

-Not necessarily. Riverrun is very close to Westerlands, and the advantage that would give us in the territory is minimal The Trident is where we need to control and to control it, we need Harrenhal and we have it. Marrying Y/N to Elmo Tully may not bring us any real benefit. - Aemond knew history tends to repeat and that most battles took place in the Riverlands. Y/N would be sent to a very likely death. Aemond would not risk Y/N's life.

-Elmo Tully is a suitable option. - Otto was curious about how much his grandson was disgust by the mere option of Elmo Tully. 

-I'll talk to my brother personally. - assured Tyland.- Elmo Tully is a good choice and can give us control of The Trident. 

-Elmo Tully will be with Rhaenyra. We would be wasting the option that the Martells can support us.- Aemond almost growls. The dragon’s blood was starting to warm up, and Tyland might burn.- We can marry Bethany Hightower. The Tully house is not rich. With the new trade gains, we can raise the dowry.- Aemond tried to reason with both. 

-I’ll talk to my brother. - Tyland left.

The tension between Aemond and Otto grew. The whole conversation felt like a betrayal to Y/N. Aemond shouldn't be discussing her betrothal without her knowledge. 

-Why do you defend with fire that Y/N does not marry Elmo?

-We can defeat the Tully. Jason and Y/N should know... 

-If you want to marry her...-Otto interrupted. 

-No.- he interrupted back sharply. 

-You’re not marrying that whore.- his grandfather warned him. 

*** 

After a long argument with his grandfather. Aemond went to Y/N’s room, the guards announced him, and he found her about to eat a lemon cake that she liked so much. 

-Aemond! - she left the cake on the table with papers. 

-You shouldn’t be eating lemon cakes before dinner. You’re going to ruin your appetite. - he stole one of her cakes. 

-If you want more, we can ask for more.- she wiped her hands with a napkin. 

-I’m sure you only ate fruit all day. - he scolded her. 

-And cheese. - she laughed. 

-You need to eat more than that. 

-Don’t worry... - Aemond interrupted. 

-I will always worry about you. I will always take care of you as you have for me. - Aemond felt guilty for not telling her about his affair in Harrenhal and fixing something as important as her betrothal. 

-My sweet Aemond.- she took his hand as she had done in the afternoon. 

-What are you doing with all these maps? - he changed the subject by seeing several maps on her table. 

-With the North and the Vale, they have a great advantage; and they have more dragons. I’m looking for something that might bring us an advantage, but I think I’m too tired of the trip to think. - she confessed to him as he looked at the maps and she sat on the bed. 

-Driftmark, without Corlys and his wars, they are vulnerable. I heard in the small council that they have emptied their coffers, and without the trade, everything will get worse. - Aemond should not give her that information, but together, they had always thought better. 

-You are a genius! A Lannister controlling Driftmark.- she was excited about that information. He saw her mind start thinking about different scenarios. 

- A Lannister? 

-Yes, my father and brothers will not give money to a territory we can not control like Harrenhal.- after the fire in Harrenhal, the Lannisters gave money to Larry Strong to rebuild and to have control of Harrenhal and the favour of Larry Strong, who could be strange, but dangerous. 

-Which Lannister? 

-It can be Tymond with one of the daughters of Laena or...- Y/N kept silent. The mere thought made her burn in anger. 

-You? - Aemond would burn Driftmarke before she was married to one of the bastards. 

-No, because it would be Lucerys, and I would take his two eyes before he laid a hand on me.- the lioness’s eyes were as if she was going to hunt.- Vaemond has children? 

-Yes, two Daeron and Daemion.

-They can be a marriage option for me. You should bring that option to the table - Y/N knew they had run her out of the room because they were seeing the best betrothal for her. 

-I...- Aemond tried to explain. 

-I know you’ve talked about it. I know my uncle will talk with my father and he’ll come with a red dress. I can suggest and make alliances, but I don’t think I’ll have much of a voice in my future husband. I trust you to support my decision. 

-I promise you. - Aemond approached her. 

I had to tell her everything. She deserves to hear it from me, not from Aegon, Aemond thought. 

-I have something to tell you. In my travels, I fell in love.- making it longer would be harder.  

-Oh! Aemond! That’s great news. Who is it? - The lioness’s heart stopped, but she managed to fake a smile. She didn’t understand why it hurt so much. From childhood, she felt more than friendship for him; but as they grew up, she knew it could not be anything of him because their families were already allies, so she gradually took him out of her heart, but apparently the dragon's ashes were still warm.

-Her name is Alys.- Y/N interrupted 

-Alys? You can’t be in love with Alys Waxley! she’s only twelve!

-No, it’s not Alys Waxley. It’s Alys Rivers.- he immediately interrupted the sermon that came from the lioness. 

Rivers a bastard. A bastard. 

-My dear Y/N! - The Queen interrupted the conversation. 

-Your Grace- they both bowed. 

-An apologies for barely coming to see you, but I’ve had a lot of business to attend to. - the Queen was happy to see Y/N and came to give her a big hug. 

-You don’t have to apologize, Your Grace.

-Aemond, my boy, I expected to see you until dinner. - she said as she hugged his son. 

-I won’t be at dinner. I have unfinished business, but Lady Lannister has only eaten fruit, cheese and lemon cakes. She needs to eat better than that at dinner, mother - Alicent knew where her son would go. Her gaze was clear to both that the Queen was not happy. 

-You’ve always had sweet tooth. You’ll eat something better. - the Queen smiled and would have to talk again with her son about his activities in the city. 

-Your Grace, Lady Lannister.- Aemond left the room. 

-You have to tell me all about your trip. - Y/N smiled and started telling her even though her mind was just repeating the name: Alys Rivers. 

The irony with which the Gods played could even make the most serious knight laugh. 

[jessy-the-martian-girl]

Fantasy-ish AU for the Original RE4? Easy 😇 I thought this snippet would take the canon course (with Luis dying), but have you ever tried arguing with the angry manticore? Especially when she's pretty determined to save that one Spaniard "by any means necessary". Btw, did you know that tears of Manticore can cure even fatal wounds? But only when given voluntarily. Otherwise tears will turn into poison. And this thing even has a soundtrack! From another game I love, but still. The first track is the final boss fight from the Double Dragon 2 for NES (it feels right: chasing after an evil sorcerer and kicking his ass). The second one is the first part of the ending (sad one) And the third is that one: "That night an angel descended from the heavens and returned Marian to the Double Dragons alive and well" And just imagine Luis giving that big kitty ear scratches (as soon as Jess learns how to shift into her other form at will) 🤭🥹🥰

This takes place in the Castle (Original RE4, 2005), right at the moment where Saddler impales Luis.

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

- Leon, Jess, I've got it! - a familiar voice called after them from the door to that castle hall.

Kennedy and the dark-haired girl in black-and-red jacket turned to the sound, and Jessy almost rushed to hug Luis, but she stopped dead in her track, seeing how smile on Serra's face turned to a look of confusion and then to a grimace of pain.

Bloodstains painted his white shirt red, and then the shirt was pierced to reveal a Plaga tentacle emerging from his chest.

Luis's grip weakened and he dropped the Master Plaga sample just for it to be immediately caught by Saddler. Surprisingly enough, the Spaniard was still clutching the pills to slow down the development of the parasites that were growing in his new friends' bodies. He didn't let go of that small bottle even when Saddler rose the tendril that impaled Luis higher, leaving him hanging there like a pinned butterfly.

That bigoted lord was saying something, most likely mocking them and his renegade researcher, Leon was shouting back at him angrily, and Jessy couldn't hear them over the haze that enveloped her mind, too dumbfounded by the suddenness of what has just happened.

Then through that haze came an almost inhuman shriek, and Jessy slowly realized that it's her who is screaming. She felt a blazingly hot surge of pain searing through her body, and another one, and then her world shattered into pieces...

Only to be rearranged anew.

Leon flinched involuntarily when a dark winged shadow swooped past him with a low growl. The shadow turned out to be a strange big winged cat with a scorpion tail, and she charged at Saddler, turning his mockery into outraged yelp.

The Plaga tentacle was bitten in two, making Luis fall to the stone floor with a pained cry.

Kennedy rushed to the side of his fallen friend, trying to cover the nasty wound on his chest and frantically looking around for his another companion. His brain plainly refused to acknowledge the fact of the appearance of the mythical manticore - yup, that very black winged cat with a scorpion tail.

Saddler regained his composure just enough to forcibly fling the black body to the side and used that chance to beat a hasty retreat. He was not prepared for the real fight at the moment, but the cat couldn't care less and charged after the enemy with loud intimidating howls. She was trying to get at him with her claws or her tail, that turned out to be a poisonous sting.

In the depth of the part of her consciousness that remained human, she knew that her poison would do some damage even for such Plaga-Human hybrid. Yet her wounded soul demanded to do more, to make that sorry excuse for a human feel more of the pain she was in - and make him feel it right now. In the heat of the chase she even missed a few strikes from another chitinous tendril as that lord still tried defending himself.

When Saddler finally made it to the secret passage he used to gain advantage of Luis, he blocked the entrance, slamming the door almost in the face of the mythical creature. And all the manticore was left with was to express her opinion on him vocally and by imitating the way domestic cats usually cover their waste. Then she hurried back, limping a bit, to where her hearts, human and cat's alike, demanded her to be.

Luis was still lying where he fell, unmoving and all color drained from his features. The shifter-cat plopped down next to his body, resting her muzzle on his chest. She ignored the obviously stunned blond sitting right there. He was of no real interest to her, neither gastronomical, nor emotional. All that mattered was her dark-haired man...

And the mythical cat tried to wake him up, starting with a gentle head-to-chin bump, proceeding with a face wash and a light touch of her paw on his cheek. She even tried to nibble on Serra's fingers that were limply rested over the open wound on his chest. All to no effect, and the manticore yowled in despair, all the fight suddenly gone from her as she leaned on the still unmoving body, crying. Large tears were falling one by one and soaking the remnants of the bloodstained shirt.

An unsure yet gentle touch on her back didn't register with her mind at first - but deep down she knew that it was a sign of sympathy from that blond guy. His confident and kind "Name's Leon" emerged from her human memory and that broke the spell. Another surge of pain shot through the cat's body and the next moment she was back in her human form as a dark-haired girl in slightly torn clothes, desperately clinging to the Luis's vest and crying her heart out.

(initial idea was to leave the story hanging here, but, as I've said it already, arguing with the angry manticore is not a smart decision)

Leon was considerate enough to excuse himself, saying that he has got to get Ashley and that they would absolutely come back for Jessica on their way out. The brunette was grateful for that as she felt uncomfortable crying in front of other people since she was twelve. And right now she simply couldn't hold those tears back...

Exhaustion soon won her over and now Jessy felt as if she didn't have strength left even for a single sob. She was just lying there, shaken and frantically trying to put her world back together.

Then a hand was softly laid on her back and there came a hoarse whisper:

- What's the salty rain about, cariño?

The girl stiffened, not really trusting her senses, and she had to make an effort to look up at the slightly smiling Spaniard. Then her gaze lowered to the place where there had to be a fatal wound. Now there were only a few bloodstains and a fresh scar. Jessica stared in disbelief for some seconds and then hugged the man impulsively, with her eyes squeezed shut and with her ear on his chest - listening closely to his steady heartbeat.

- You are alive, - she breathed out almost inaudibly, as if she was afraid that her voice would shatter this frail miracle and threw her back to the world where Luis was no more.

- I am, - the Spaniard nodded in agreement and propped himself on one elbow, carefully holding the girl still clinging to him. - Even if I can't quite understand just how exactly yet.

- I don't get it either, but I don't really care, - her hazel eyes, reddened and puffy from all the crying, suddenly flashed with a mix of certainty and relief. - As long as you stay this way.

Luis cautiously tried to get up, and was surprised by the absence of any pain and how his body obeyed him perfectly - it was not usual, especially for someone who remembered how he was dying, for real.

He helped his señorita turista to her feet and gently tugged her towards the nearest castle couch in sight, saying that sitting and lying on the cold stone floor is definitely not a healthy way to pass time. Jessy only smiled at such solicitude.

She didn't forget to take some wet wipes from her backpack on their way and used some to clean the remaining blood off Serra's chest. The girl also used a few to freshen up and eliminate the traces of her sorrow, at least partially. Then Luis took the wipes from her and helped the brunette to get rid of some bloodstains on her face that she missed.

His touch was gentle and caring and it was only natural that this care quickly escalated into hot and passionate kissing.

And that was what Leon and Ashley saw when they returned to the hall to get Jessy.

Ashley gasped in shock as Leon has already told her about the Saddler's successful attack, and the couple broke the kiss, trying to catch their breath and smiling at each other.

- Relax, amigos, - Serra grinned at the other duo, still holding his señorita in a hug, with no signs of intention to let her go. - Rumors of my death had been mildly exaggerated.