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adultswim2021 · 2 years ago

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Robot Chicken: Star Wars Episode II | November 16, 2008 - 11:30PM | Special

Time for more re-re comedy for gay nerds. Hey--HEY! That wasn’t very nice. Don’t say stuff like that! Okay. I am sorry. I forgive you. Thanks.

Robot Chicken Star Wars! It’s one of my least favorite things. I ain’t never seen this stuff, and I wish I didn’t decide I had to watch it for a blog that no one reads. I wonder if I will do an exhaustive breakdown of each sketch? Um… HOW ABOUT NO. This shit sucks and just because it’s segmented doesn’t mean I have to be! Segmented, I mean.

Okay, so here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna rank my top three and bottom three sketches. This is going to be very hard, because I don’t like any of them, really. And, because I don’t like any of them, really, I will likely just be picking stuff borderline at random. Also, I skipped over some real short ones for consideration cuz who cares. Here, both lists are worst to best.

BOTTOM THREE (WORST TO LEAST-WORST)

Luke's Lack of Perspective. This is the one where Leia scolds Luke for being sad about Obi-wan dying because her whole planet was vaporized. The premise is lame, and also they cast the real Carrie Fisher, who has old lady voice and sounds nothing like her younger self. You can tell they pitched her up a little to try and make up for it. It’s just distracting, and the sketch isn’t even worth recasting.

AT-AT Drag Race. I couldn’t even really make much sense of this one. There’s a weird edit in it that I remember thinking implied that it was a dream? Which it wasn’t, obviously, it just was edited awkwardly and the joke is just “wouldn’t it be funny if guys raced AT-ATs?" and who gives a fuck. I did like the visual of the AT-AT clicking it’s heels, though.

Going Out Like a Punk. This is the one where Uhh. I forgot his name, no really. I almost typed “Cowboy Bebop.” The bounty hunter guy that everyone loves just because he has a cool name that I forget what it even is. Bop-Bop Peranu, I think it is. Anyway, he’s in the Sarlac pit (I remembered that no prob) and talking about how he didn’t go out like a chump. This one seems like it’s aimed squarely at annoying dorks who think they’re clever for making the same observation. I watch television to get away from shitheads like this! Cartoons, mostly, but still!

[EVERY OTHER SKETCH IS TIED FOR THE MIDDLE]

TOP THREE (WORST TO FIRST)

Palpatine's Trip. Depicting Palpatine's annoying travels to the Deathstar, paralleling the annoyances of regular Earthly air travel. He gets annoyed by the chair placement in the throne room, and as indignities mount he says, to some one, “here, watch me tempt fate. (mock exasperation) could this day get any worse? (casually) I think I’m safe, because I said that ironically.” The punchline is he gets tossed by Vader, like at the end of Star Wars: The Last Crusade. I just really like the tempting fate/irony joke!

Anakin's Happy Place. Decent premise depicting Anakin slaying children at the end of Episode III. It's the darkest scene in all of Star Wars, and I was fine with what they did with it here. The joke at the end is a little dumb, but it’s fine. It’s Robot Chicken.

Mouse Droid. My favorite, because I could imagine making a fan-edit of the original Star Wars with zero changes except you add the insert shots of the little mouse guy driving the droid. I like when mice drive stuff. That's basically the only reason I liked this.

This has an “extended” version available, but I just watched the version on HBOMax. This is probably worse than the first special, but I don’t want to think about it too long. All of these sketches are dumb as shit and for dorks, which I DEFINITELY am not one of. Go to hell!

EPHEMERA CORNER

Clerks: The Animated Series (November 14, 2008 - 11:00PM)

This could very easily be a whole goddamn thing. It will probably be longer than other EPHEMERA CORNERs, but I’ll still try to be concise. Clerks the Animated Series was an animated spin-off of Clerks, the scrappy, vulgar, independent comedy from Kevin Smith. It’s cult success lead to him inexplicably having a career, including two direct movie sequels to clerks. This cartoon only lasted six episodes, two of which aired on ABC. They came out on DVD shortly after, with a racist audio commentary track for every episode.

I literally taped the Super Bowl because a website reported that the Clerks Cartoon was going to get a commercial during it. I diligently taped the two episodes that did air. ABC decided to air the fourth episode, which was a parody of courtroom dramas (and had a very funny non-sequitur ending allegedly completed by the Korean animators without any input from the American writers). After that they decided to air the second episode, which heavily referenced the first episode. It’s main concept was that it was a clip show, and Dante and Randal spent a significant portion of the episode flashing back only to the first episode, which hadn’t actually aired.

The show was a fairly typical animated comedy of it’s time. The vulgarity was tamped down in favor of absurdist gags and cultural references. Mostly, it worked. There were some really funny ideas, and the commentary tracks had some really fun tidbits about planned episodes that never happened. Honestly, if I weren’t already privy to the doomed nature of the show, or we lived in the alternate dimension where this was allowed to continue for multiple seasons, I would probably aspire to write for this thing. With a few exceptions, the humor was even more on my wavelength than Kevin Smith’s movies.

Weirdly, I don’t think I ever actually watched this show on Adult Swim. I remembered it as a Comedy Central acquisition. When Adult Swim first aired, I really admired the fact that one could watch Fox’s Sunday Night cartoon line-up, switch to Adult Swim, and then when Adult Swim was over you could switch to Comedy Central and watch reruns of South Park, Duckman, and this. It was a real special time to have cable. Hot damn.

I really do wish this lasted longer. Deserved at least half the success of Family Guy. In my ideal world, this show takes off and Kevin Smith stops making movies. He only revisits the "canon" View Askewinverse in occasional comic book mini-series. You ever read his comics? His writing style comes off better in those, I think.

PLEDGE: The currently-ignored Adult Swim 2022 blog will return on some kind of non-daily schedule. I’ll finish out Baby Blues, and then do this. Happy, KON??

MAIL BAG

Time for some mail. Good lord.

you gotten the adult swim 2021 group dm all riled up about xtacles. are you gonna do anything to fan these flames???

I dropped some bombs Hulk style, and things seem to be under control. You are right, they were out of line and it pissed me off!

dino and scott are excellent as mr burns would say. i forgive anything in their problematic past as long as they become the banner, ta ta for now

Despite the fact that one of them was nice to me once, and the other one made out with my friend (which is arguably also nice), I simply can’t. I like racist stuff, so I’m keeping the Minor Guys or whatever that show was called. Bye!

cahpo

so far it seems the only shows you like are space ghost, assy mcgee, and xtacles. i guess venture bros and morel orel made you cry, if that's a good thing. Anyway, just a like observation from this looky loo. Bye!

It is sorta fucked up that a TV show can make people cry. Should be illegal. But, hey, look out for the end of the year when I rerank all the Adult Swim shows. BYE!

and we say bye bye now

Bye bye!

Goodbye.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #robot chicken

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

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Scream Therapy

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x gender neutral!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: extremely vague allusions to mental illness, metaphors about wounds, angst with a relieving ending, let me know if i’ve missed something

AO3 mirror

So you know those tiktoks where people go out into the woods and scream? Just like expel all the shit that’s been holding them down into an open field and let the earth reclaim all their dark, restless energy? Reveal the burdens that have been creaking in their joints and trapped in the prison of their ribs for the trees to swallow?

I’ve been thinking about that and Shigaraki a lot.

Like the rest of the league too, but mostly Shigs.

Just imagine:

It’s late, it always is when shit is going down at the hideout. The League of Villains is practically nocturnal at this point. Shigaraki’s mind is a loud place—lot’s of rabid, train tearing down the track lines of thought that clatter and roar and gush toxic coal smoke.

So as annoyed as he makes himself out to be, he doesn’t actually mind the din of the bar all that much. Twice and Toga chattering in the corner, random bits of too loud laughter and the clink of Kurogiri polishing glasses as he tells off Dabi for the umpteenth time about smoking inside—hell, even Compress rambling about the health benefits of high quality wine to nobody in particular is somewhat...comforting?

That’s not quite the right word, but their noise settles around him a bit like a thick quilt and dampens the rampage inside his head for a while.

He thinks about a lot of things.

Some good, most bad, all obsessive. He’ll get stuck in these loops sometimes, small questions evolve into bigger, more complicated webs, and suddenly it’s been four hours and he’s done nothing but stare at the same spot on the wall just left of his desktop monitor.

Sleep is a terrifying venture for much the same reason. Once he gets caught in that cycling it’s so hard to break out, and that’s when he’ll stumble down the stairs and sequester himself away at the end of the bar.

There he will sit and listen to the incessant white noise of his team—which is frustrating too but infinitely better than whatever anxiety coated sludge his brain will come up with if left to its own devices, so he bears it.

And then there’s you.

Who you are isn’t entirely important.

Maybe you’re just another member of the League, dedicated to helping your boss spread villainy across the city. Maybe you’re a morally ambiguous civilian who just stumbled in much like a stray cat into a depressed college student’s apartment and simply never left.

Whatever the circumstances, where you came from doesn’t matter.

To him, your contributions to the din are just another layer of insulation against the storm. He couldn’t really care less what you do, or where you go when you weren’t there. As long as your voice could offer a different type of grating against his ears than the silent throbbing of his head when he is alone, then your presence is justified.

Shigaraki only takes notice of you when you leave, when your voice is no longer adding to the uproar drowning out whatever new thought spiral he was trying to claw his way out of.

It’s very late then. That odd, in between time when it’s closer to the sunrise than to it’s setting but somehow also the darkest portion of the night. Of course, it’s never totally dark—not with all the light pollution laying an ever present, glowing haze across the horizon—but it’s as close as it gets out here to pitch black.

He catches the tail end of your coat, a glimpse of your shoe soles as you slip up the stairs and climb the wrought iron ladder that leads to the roof. Shigaraki often catches himself wondering how you figured out exactly how to avoid each board that creaked. He thinks sometimes it’s because you like going unnoticed, that too much attention makes you feel just as shaky as he gets when he’s been inside his head too long. Or possibly you just don’t want to wake anyone up in the rare moments that some League members are actually asleep.

Regardless, he watches you go and feels strangely...compelled to follow and because he rarely feels compelled to do anything unless it’s furthering the downfall of hero society, he does.

He takes an unsteady step, then another until the brisk, cusp-of-summer air is washing over him. It bites through his thin black top and the worn holes in his jeans, but the sting feel likes something.

And since he almost always feels nothing at all, it’s good.

You’re stood a few feet from the edge of the building, where the ledge has begun to crumble away from age and poor maintenance. The wind is strong enough that it makes your limp arms sway by your sides. Shigaraki is so thin now, he’s almost afraid for a moment it might blow him away. He’s found himself feeling so insubstantial as of late, it’s shocking when his feet don’t lift off from the roof entirely. He crosses the distance towards you slowly.

If you hear him approaching, you don’t show it.

Normally he wouldn’t start a conversation of his own volition but he did follow you up here and the silence is getting a bit deafening, even with the breeze.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

It’s simple, but it’s all he can think to say. Funny, with how many words that run through his head, he can never find the right ones when he wants them.

You turn then, and your face is...well it’s a face. He tends not to look at people’s faces much—doesn’t want to see their expressions when they look at him, but from what he can tell you aren’t upset that he’s here at least.

“I love the city at night.”

That’s all you offer in response and he knows somehow that you’ll keep talking even if he doesn’t answer. That you know how much he hates the quiet but can’t ever fill it himself.

“When you’re up high enough, you can pretend the streetlights are stars,” you divulge, as if it’s some sort of great, long kept secret.

Maybe it is.

Maybe you have a lot of secrets. You seem to him like the type of person who would. Who keeps life changing truths tucked under your tongue to drop suddenly over convenience store dinners and cheap beer.

He thinks that maybe he’d like to know them.

“It’s always so alive during the day, the streets I mean,” you continue, eyes trained out on the buildings below, tracing constellations from block to block. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s rotting too like….”

You trail off and don’t finish the thought, but you don’t have to. He knows what you mean: like the city is a wound that’s festering. That all the people and the heroes that corral them like cattle are just an infection waiting to spread.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, because he hasn’t been able to come up with anything else.

Your gaze flits over his face this time, and Shigaraki almost misses the small smile that plays at your lips. He’s close enough now that you could touch him, and you almost do, shoulders just inches away from brushing. But you don’t close the gap.

You touch the others, a lot actually, though he gets the sense you’re the type to ask first. And with his mind running on overdrive every waking second, he gets overstimulated easily. He should probably be thankful you aren’t as familiar with him. That you bother to notice the distance he keeps even when he rarely pays you any mind.

Maybe you’re thankful for that too.

“You know, scream therapy is a very effective and cheap alternative to professional intervention,” you say matter of factly in response.

He waits for you to continue and you do.

“There’s no one out this late but heroes on patrols and they won’t come to help us, so this is a perfect opportunity to give it a try.”

He can feel his brow knitting together and you raise your hand for a second as if to smooth your thumb over the wrinkled skin. Shigaraki doesn’t move, but watches your fingers pause in mid motion and drop back down.

There’s a strange charge in the air between you—a spark he distantly wishes would ignite if only so he could stop churning in his gut.

“How do you do it?”

He’s never asked so many questions of anyone in his life. But he finds he truly wants to know.

And you’re the one that can show him.

You breathe deeply beside him, letting your eyes drift shut and taking a step towards the ledge. With hands balled into righteous little fists, you bend a bit at the waist and you...scream.

Shigaraki isn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but for some reason it wasn’t that.

He’s heard shouts before, cries for help or out of fear, but nothing like this. The sound seems to bubble up from some deep, dank pit inside you and bursts forth from your mouth like a geyser spewing boiling water from the earth. It’s long and low and loudloudloud. It isn’t a sound he could ever imagine you making, but it rumbles in his chest as if it’s his own.

Just watching has a weight lifting from his shoulders.

You keep going even when he knows you should have run out of air. But you aren’t really making the noise, you’re just letting it escape. He’s not sure how he knows that but he does.

Your voice cracks and snaps and rages forth and you scream in a way he feels in his very bones. The garbled, awful sound is so clearly understandable despite the wind that carries it away.

It says: I am free and young and can feel none of it.

And then it’s words. Words that tumble from you in a torrent.

About your family, about what’s been done to you, what you’ve done to yourself.

About the lies and the injustice of it all.

You’re heaving by the end, deflated as though all the screams had left behind an empty space—an abscess drained and ready to heal over or fill back up.

“It’s your turn.”

Shigaraki stares at you, silhouetted by the dull, silver glow of the city and panting. You both look at each other for a moment, reveling in the odd connection that sometimes forms between strangers who know far too much about each other.

He doesn’t think he could top that, but the energy you’ve created is invigorating and he’s determined to ride the wave while he has it.

Taking a step, he joins you by the ledge again, and you back up as if allowing him into the spotlight. The wind will swallow whatever he says, it will eat the words like a starving behemoth and he finds himself ready to feed the beast.

He has to dig deep, scratch at old sores to make them bleed again, tear at scabs so he can let the contaminating thoughts leak out. Once he feels like he’s breached far enough, Shigaraki takes a breath.

And he screams.

His body doubles over with the strength of it, foot slamming down onto the roofing and four fingers fisted in the hem of his shirt.

It hurts coming out, rips at his vocal chords and has his throat raw to bleeding after just the first few seconds but he pushes past it.

He wonders if this is what a runner's high feels like, when you’ve pushed beyond the side stitches and knee aches and your blood finally rushes with all those elusive feel good chemicals he never has enough of.

Whatever it is, the feeling is addicting.

Shigaraki is dimly aware of you in his peripheral, encouraging the tsunami thoughts in his head to be thrust out into the uncaring arms of the city skyline.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have to search for the words. They simply come. All his frustrations, some he wasn’t even conscious of, spill fresh and steaming like blood. Physically, his body remains but somewhere in the depths of his mind he is younger and hurt and alone and trying desperately to scream.

“I destroy everything I touch!” he roars at the apathetic, grey sidewalk below.

After the last word leaves him, he feels the same weightlessness he’d seen in the sag of your shoulders. The same snapping of the coil slack in his spine.

And suddenly, with this glorious, awful sense of revelation, Shigaraki realizes that everything in his head has gone quiet.

He’s over taken by a silence that requires no filling, a peace that he’d imagined only existed at the bottom of abandoned wells, far away from any chubby child’s hands that may toss foolish wishes down them.

He thinks about kissing you then.

And he knows now that this thought has always been there, but it was drowned like a subway rat in the aftermath of the hurricane brewing in his brainstem. He has always noticed you no matter how hard you try to blend into the background. Your voice has always been a bit better at shutting out the unending, worthless choir in his head.

He wouldn’t have followed anyone else up here—not Dabi, not Spinner, not Compress or even Kurogiri.

He can see that now. In this new enlightened state, everything is so much clearer. Though he is quickly thrust back into the present, into his body once again, as another kind of soft weight settles on his shoulders. Your coat is skin warmed and smells like you and everything he’s ever loved in his own screwy little way. He realizes then that you’ve been trying to talk to him this whole time.

“Shigs,” you call again and tuck the coat tighter around his shoulders, “you were shaking.”

Shigaraki nods, feeling relief from the cold he hadn’t quite been aware of till now. He’s not sure if you’ve ever addressed him so informally before, but he decides he likes the nickname.

It feels a bit like a gift.

“Better, yeah?”

He’s not really sure if it’s better, but it is different and it’s been impossibly long since anything has been different, so he thinks it must be good.

“Yes,” he says.

It’s a general yes, both to your question and to you, whatever that might mean. He doesn’t say anything more because he’s done enough talking and you nod like you understand.

Neither of you moves to leave the roof, but you do inch closer to him this time, closing the gap and tucking him into your side. Your arm is slung gently across his shoulders and he finds the weight of it relieving.

That seems like it shouldn’t make since but it does—a paradox of sorts, weight being a comfort.

Then the sun begins to rise and it’s as if he’s seeing you in a new light.

Your profile outlined by the stark daybreak rays, so horribly strong despite the scream he knows is forming again under the surface.

And Shigaraki wonders if you see him that way too.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #gender nuetral reader #slight manga spoilers #bee.writes

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theyscreamjade · 5 years ago

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can you make some headcanons about how bakugo,denki, dabi, and shinso would react to a seemingly super intimidating s/o who looks mean but is actually rlly chaotic and funny once u get to know them? thank u 🖤🖤

Never Judge By Looks

I INSTANTLY RELATE TO THIS SO MUCH! A lot of people look at me and think I’m mean but I’m the nicest person you could ever meet. So, being the strange little coffee bean that I am, I'm rather funny. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Cursing, Crackhead Energy, and lastly..a sliver of smut.

_________________________

Katsuki Bakugo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* When he spotted you, everyone was completely intimidated by you. I mean everyone, including Mina and you know that’s something.

* So, who broke the barrier and asked you a random question?

* Tsu’s bold-self, she walked over and simply asked where did you get your shoes from because she took notice of the limited edition brand you were wearing.

* How do you respond?

* Doing an epic fucking pose and giving a show dropping thank you as she stares in complete confusion as Mina screeches as loud as she can. That boils a friendship THAT SHOULDVE FUCKING HAPPENED!

* As much as he hates to admit it, he loves how random and chaotic you are. He loves how you can make even him laugh at how you are.

* It keeps a smile on his face though he doesn’t want to have it often. To him, it adds spice to the relationship you two have.

* He loves that every time he comes home, you’re doing the most random of shit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki walked into the home, groaning as he walked towards the hallway, before freezing. He paused and turned towards the open door in his office as he flickered the lights on.

You slowly turned to face him with the cat in your lap as you smirked. “Welcome...To my evil lair.” You said while smirking as he stared at you in pure disarray.

“SINCE WHEN IN THE FUCK DOD WE GET A FUCKING CAT?!” He yelled as you smiled.

“I adopted one..and a dog..” you replied. “But the Pomeranian doesn’t seem to like his new feline friend, Mr. Snuggles.” You added, kissing the kitten as it meowed.

Katsuki sighed and held his nose. “Where is it?” he asked as he started looking around for an animal.

“I’m looking at him.”

_________________________

Denki Kaminari

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* This is a match made in fucking heaven.

* He didn’t even care how intimidating you were, when you pulled out your phone case and he spotted something even he likes.

* He’s zapping to you and that’s that.

* You guys are called ‘The Chaotic Duo’. Mina, Ochako, Momo, and even Toru and Tsu loves you and how random you can be.

* You two together can make a simple trip to the store a ride to remember.

* The last adventure you two had, ended in you two being kicked out because he decided to charge all the fucking appliances in the Walmart technology.

* THAT WAS A BAD IDEA FROM THE BEGINNING.

* Let's just say..he fried the power..and even the backup generator they had.

* Best night ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Babe! Have you seen m-“ Denki stopped his sentence as he saw you, standing at the entrance of the hallway? You were dressed perfectly in an Ash costume. You held up a poké-ball and tossed it at him.

The ball slapped him against the chest as he looked at it while it sat on the floor. “Pikachu! I choose you!” You said as he looked at you with a dorky smile on his face.

“Pika Pika!” He responded, running towards you while you squealed, bursting into a fit of laughter as he tackled you to the ground.

_________________________

Hitoshi Shinsou

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* (I’ve been dying to use this man for the longest.)

* I see Shinso as a vibe guy, he’s extremely observant, unlike others. He doesn't go by personality but by how you are as a person, what type of energy you present. Though you wore a straight face, he knew that wasn’t the case.

* So, he already knows how weird you were though everyone else was still trying to find out more about you.

* He broke the ice himself and simply sat beside you, starting a simple conversation that became an awesome one. No one will know how a simple conversationwent from what’s your favorite color to how cats you owned and the werid shit they did at night.

* When you two started dating, everyone was shocked because after finally seeing the real you, they would’ve never expected him to be happy with a soul like you.

* He laughs at your jokes, might even do a few things with you, but he'd have to brainwash a few people so you guys can get off clean.

* He genuinely loves everything about that chaotic side to you to a T. You make his darkest nightmares to a beautiful dream.

* Your jokes make his day every single time, ignoring every comment that the world brings into him. You’re there to make it better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kitten? Kitten? Where are you?” Shinso asked, looking around the empty apartment which was strange because you were babysitting Eri.

He walked around in confusion before he heard a giggle, making him pause. He looked up before walking out to the roof of the apartment building.

Eri and you sat side by side in a giant beanbag, holding your hands over when portable fire pit. “Let’s gather around the Campfire and sing our campfore song. Our C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G song, and if you don’t think we can sing it faster then you’re wrong, but it’ll help if you just sing along!” You and Eri sung together before breaking out into a loud sing-a-long with her.

Hitoshi couldn’t help but laugh softly, watching you with her before he walked over to you two. When he sat down, you snatched her up and screamed.

“AHH, IT’S A SEA BEAR!”

————————————————————————

Touya Todoroki (Dabi.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* Another man who already knew you before anyone else.

* Dabi’s very observant, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that. He doesn’t watch you like a hawk but when you joined the LOV.

* You made Shigaraki laugh, that’s a fucking miracle in itself.

* Toga, Twice and others loved you, especially Twice. You made both sides of him laugh until tears rolled down his cheeks.

* When you two are together, it’s more of a cat and mouse relationship. He follows and watches you, he may join you during your random or weird moments but it’s not his type of thing.

* You and Toga, on the other hand, are amazing. You two do the craziest of things, like Harley and Poison Ivy.

* You’re his star in the dark sky in his heart and he loves you for that. You shine so brightly, it blinds him sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the hell happened?” He asked, looking at you and Toga confused. Shigaraki looked just as confused as him. “And what the fuck are you wearing?” Shigaraki asked.

You were dressed in a sexy mouse costume and Toga was wearing a cat costume to match. “You told us to get into that party right?” You asked, looking at them.

You reached into your mouse ears and pulled out the papers, Shigaraki needed. He hesitated to take them but he pulled them away. “The...the party’s attire was formal..” Shigaraki spoke up, looking at you two confused as you took the mouse ears off your head.

“Yeah, but we would’ve been seen if we just wore formal attire. They had kids in there and a little brat gave me the papers I needed in exchange for Toga chasing me out of the party.” You said, smirking. Shigaraki snickered softly as Dabi smirked.

“When will it be my turn to chase you?”

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coollyinterferes · 4 years ago

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Character Interview || Repost, don't Reblog

NAME : Robert Edward Orville Speedwagon

NICKNAME : Boss, aniki, “bastard!”/"that son of a bitch!” (usually from rival gang members, so the insult varies sometimes lol), Rob (used by a few friends), derivatives of his last name −Speebs, Speeds, Speeb, Speedy, etc− but these he will only accept them from certain people, otherwise he will do his best not to cringe on the spot or will do it inwardly. Uncle Speedy and etc later on (as in once George and the rest of the children come into his life, more specifically~).

AGE : 25 in the main verse (may vary depending on the verse)

SPECIES : Human/Stand user in the main/time-travel verse | Vampire in the vamp!verse | Werefox in the monster!verse

—— Personal! ♡

MORALITY : lawful / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true .

RELIGION : Non-practising catholic (was raised as Catholic, like most other Victorians, believes in God, but that’s pretty much about it)

SINS : greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath .

VIRTUES : chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice.

KNOWN LANGUAGES : English is his first language. Conversational Spanish, Italian, French, Portuguese, German and some more. Some conversational Mandarin Chinese as well (this one thanks to Li −canonly known as Kenpo, his Ogre Street friend−) and bits of Irish (this one thanks to Tattoo, his other Ogre Street friend). He can read and understand some Japanese (kana and some okurigana/kanji) but can’t really speak or write it. Same case for some other languages that he can also recognize and more or less understand bits of them but can’t really speak them. As you probably guessed, he’s learned most of these through his many journeys around the world.

SECRETS : All of the stuff in regards to the stone mask and all the events and incidents that came out from that (it was stated that the only ones who know everything about it from start to end are Jonathan and Speedwagon, the others who might know a great deal of it would be Straizo and Master Tonpety). He also tries to keep a low profile in regards to his homosexuality whenever he’s out of the slums to save himself some trouble due to the stigma at the time and the potential legal consequences, going only for the gay codes of the time (long hair, cleanly shaven face, colorful accessories, etc) so I guess that could count? Other than that, and in the verses that it applies, his stand mayhaps?? That’s what allows him to leap through timelines in the time travel verses (it possesses other abilities and skills but, since Robert doesn’t even know about his stand’s existence yet, he hasn’t trained with it and thus he doesn’t know about any of it’s abilities, not even about the time travel oof).

—— Physical! ♡

BUILD : scrawny / bony / slender / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / pudgy / average .

HEIGHT : 5’11”, close to the 6’ mark (181 cms)

SCARS / BIRTHMARKS : The most recognizable one is the scar marring the left side of his face (going from the top of his nose to his jaw), but he has plenty more scattered all over his body, some more visible than others, some larger than others. Most of them come from fights and his general criminal lifestyle, some of them even come from some of the torture sessions he’s endured as part of that (so it isn’t surprising that they were either caused by knives, gunshots, burns, shards of glass and etc). Most of his scars are located on his chest and arms, some more on his hands/wrists and fingers (hands/wrists and fingers mainly from when he was learning to use his buzzsaw hat), though he has a few more on his legs/thighs, lower abdomen, and a couple more on his back. In the main verse (usually set in the late stages of PB), he will have a few more from the events in PB −burn scars on his hands from the fire at the Joestar mansion, one on his shoulder from the attack he received from Jack the Ripper, an ice burn across his abdomen from thawing Zeppeli’s arm, and a couple more and not so visible ones on his arms from minor injuries (cuts) he got while fighting and fending off zombies−. Most of the “PB scars” aren’t too visible thanks to Jonathan (he used his hamon to heal Speedwagon’s injuries shortly after).

ABILITIES / POWERS : He’s able to tell an evil person from a good one by their smell alone. He’s a resilient man and quite a strong one, too (stronger than the average guy, as he was shown killing zombies using his brute force only and a sledgehammer). He's good at hand to hand combat, he’s also good at using knives and guns, and at wrecking shit with a sledgehammer. I also hc that he's capable of creating veeeeeery small amounts of hamon (this as a result of Zepp's "accidental" slip) if he really puts his mind into it. Due to his current limitations with it, his hamon can’t be used for fighting, but it does enhance his healing process, making it slightly faster than that of an average human (with some proper training, chances are he might be able to do more with it, tho). His stand, in the verses where he has it, can perform time travel, which happens at random at first (he gradually gains control on his stand once he learns about it and starts training with it). Due to stands being a reflection of sorts of their user and their fighting spirit, and as an extension of Robert’s own hamon healing abilities, his stand also possesses healing abilities that can be used both on himself and on others, though this requires some training prior, as the healing relies entirely on Speedwagon’s own life force and can be fatal for him if used carelessly at first (once properly trained, it won’t represent a real danger for him to use). Much like Robert himself, his stand is also capable of packing some punches and causing serious damage on it’s opponent despite his stand being more of a “support” stand rather than a fully combat based one.

RESTRICTIONS : He's mostly a regular human in the main verse, so he’s at a great disadvantage against stronger supernatural beings such as vampires and pillarmen, for example. As stated above, the amounts of hamon he can currently create are small and, thus are difficult −almost impossible− to use for combat (again, this can change if he gets some proper training). His lack of knowledge on his stand’s existence can also count as a restriction for the time being, as he doesn’t know about it or it’s abilities and, thus, can’t use it at his will for now (it operates mostly in an “unconscious” level at first, usually after getting triggered). He also tends to wear his heart in his sleeve when it comes to the few people he truly holds dear and considers special to him, so that can be used against him if he’s not careful enough.

—— Likes / Scents! ♡

FOOD : He isn’t really picky with food since he grew up in absolute poverty and sometimes went for days without a single bite of food or eating stale (sometimes even moldy) food so like… he’s cool with pretty much anything nowadays. He’s also an adventurous man, so he’s always open to trying new and even “exotic” stuff. Other than that, pastries are one of his top fave things ever (creamy ones mainly but not exclusively).

DRINK : Tea −citrusy/fresh types mainly like lemongrass, same with berry teas−. He doesn’t mind sweeter teas but, since he usually has them with the pastries, he prefers something more “sour” to balance things out. He also likes coffee, liking it strong, kind of sweet, and hot (just how he likes his men lol). As for alcoholic drinks, he’s all for beer and gin. He also enjoys some of the sweeter ‘posh’ wines Jonathan normally has at his home.

PIZZA TOPPING : As far as I know, pizza toppings weren’t as creative and “crazy” in the 19th century as they have been over the last few decades, so he’s only used to more ‘traditional’ stuff like variants of Pizza Margherita, for example. However, in the time travel verses/modern!AUs he will definitely try all kinds of pizza toppings (yes, this includes pineapple pizza as well as entirely sweet pizza toppings and so on) and actually likes some of them.

COLOUR : Purple (shades like those of his waistcoats i.e.), pink, greeeeeeenvert, black.

MUSIC GENRE : More than a genre itself, he enjoys and appreciates music that can make him feel something. Toss some pub songs there for obvious reasons lol.

BOOK GENRE : General fiction mostly. He also enjoys reading some romance novels every now and then whenever he gets the chance to get his hands on a gay romance one, either featuring two males or two females (he doesn’t find the appeal in “traditional” ones for a variety of reasons).

MOVIE GENRE : Non-applicable in the main verse. Time travel verses −if he even gets the chance to watch a movie− and even in a modern!AU, his go to genres would probs be similar to his book genres, lol, just add some comedy there but like, not the ‘cheapest’ and cringey kind of comedy.

SEASON : Autumn and Winter (harsh winters are a pain in the ass in Ogre Street, but he can handle them fairly well overall)

CURSE WORD : Fuck / Shit / Bloody and variants of it (like Bloody Hell) / Arsehole / Wanker / Damnit / Bollocks, Ballocks and all of it’s variants / Bastard / Motherfucker / Zounderkite (victorian for “idiot” but with even harsher and ruder connotations than just using “idiot” lol) / Beardsplitter (one of the victorian words for “penis” xd). There are plenty, plenty, more but those are the ones I can think of rn. He comes from the darkest pits of the slums after all, so yeah... Lots of cussing can be expected.

SCENT ( S ) : Sweet and masculine musky scent, mainly, with an occasional subtle note of gunpowder and/or tobacco depending on whatever tf he’s been doing. Maybe a vague note of blood if he just got out of a fight. Some vague vanilla too but that one only around the time when he lands a temporary job in a bakery in London.

—— Fun Facts! ♡

BOTTOM OR TOP : Top leaning verse. He only bottoms occasionally for serious/long term boyfriends that he genuinely trusts, partly due to how being a bottom was (wrongly) perceived as being submissive by most people, and how dangerous being seen as such can be in a place like Ogre Street if the word gets out (not to mention that there’s been people there who have given him shit just for being gay), and partly because he also prefers to top and likes it better, lol.

SINGS IN THE SHOWER : Yeah. He started doing it as a child as a way to keep his mind distracted from how cold as fuck the water he’d wash himself with was (he usually bathed in rivers or washed himself with buckets of water some maid forgot outside of a household and that he managed to steal). He’s become a lot more used to cold baths over the years so a distraction is not necessary anymore, however, he still sings or hums sometimes whenever he has a song stuck in his head or if he’s particularly happy about something (this continues later on in life as well,even after cold baths are no longer part of his life, so it’s a habit that he never actually leaves).

LIKES PUNS : He loves them! Lame ones, good ones, cheesy ones, silly ones, witty ones, dirty/vulgar ones, etc. Heck, even dad jokes can be found in his repertoire! Chances are that, if you come to him with a pun or joke, he will give you one or two (maybe even more) in return.

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Tagged by: @le-princesse-chevalier (( thank you so much for the tag!!! ♡♡ ))

Tagging: @historias-multorum @jojoingjoseph @gazelessmenagerie @usfv @featherchan @kindersturm @iiguess @storiedocs @quirofiliac @rotrioted @breatheflcra @emcraldsxchcrrics @arrhythmiiia @mechahero @voltagecrow @promiseled @joesrparchive (tagged your main but the tag applies to any and all of your muses that you might want to fill this for >:D) @rzrbite @mistymiddiana (if you’re up for it) & also tagging anyone and everyone who wants to give this a shot! Just take it and say i tagged you~ Multis and peeps with 2+ muses, feel free to do this for as many of your muses as you wish!

#;dash games #;canon #[and also]#;headcanon #[ cause there be bits of both O: ]#;scrapbook (( speedwagon - headcanons ))#;basics #[didn't tag personals since the game doesn't apply]#[but please let me know if you have ocs or smth and i will gladly tag you guys!]#[also didn't tag peeps who are on hiatus as not to clog their notifs ;v;]#;long post

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irkimatsu · 4 years ago

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Okay, after way too much delay - it's my Eurovision 2021 Final Ranking! This took me a while for a lot of factors - took extra hours at work to make sure I could get time off this week, some recent family events... and most relevantly, the fact that this year is so damn good that no matter what, I knew someone was going to get ripped off by ending up somewhere in the bottom half. Just know that being toward the bottom of the list doesn't necessarily mean I dislike it, especially this year - it just means I like other things more. This year is going to be an absolute bloodbath. I am both excited and terrified.

Try not to take my ranking too seriously, by the way - I'm an American who unironically listens to stuff like Scooch and Dolly Style. I'm not exactly a seasoned music critic. I just know what sort of music makes the happiness center of my brain light up, what the hell is music theory

Ranking made with the sorter at http://esc.gerbear.com/sorter2021.htm, then slightly adjusted when it put some songs concerningly low on the list. Okay, so I cheated a little

Firstly, in the interest in completion - if Belarus didn't get disqualified, they'd be in the big fat 40 rank, with a big bold "Hate" right above. Fuck that song. I've only listened to it once and am so glad I have no obligation to acknowledge it any further. Those fucking lyrics. Mother of Christ. Fuck you guys.

I also offer my condolences to Armenia for their having to bow out this year. I'm sure whatever you guys sent, it couldn't have possibly been worse than "Chains On You".

Now, for the songs that actually matter:

Indifferent:

39 – Spain - “Voy a quedarme” by Blas Cantó: Welp, already I’m gonna get shot. I can’t remember how this song sounds at all. I know it’s tender and genuine and sweet and everything… I just… kinda don’t care. Nothing to say. I liked his entry last year even more, and even that was pretty damn dull. Just not destined to be a Blas Cantó fan, I guess!

38 - North Macedonia – “Here I Stand” by Vasil: I’m with most other rankings I’ve seen; what the hell is this? I at least kinda remember it, which is more than I can say for poor Spain, but oh my god it’s so boring. I really liked “You” last year! What the hell happened, Vasil?

37 – Albania - “Karma” by Anxhela Peristeri: Another “oops” from me, huh. It’s another one I immediately forget about the instant it ends. I at least don’t remember it boring the crap out of me, hence it placing higher than Spain and Macedonia, but I still can’t say anything nice about it – or anything at all, really – so I’ll leave it this low. I acknowledge that I’m in the minority, I won’t protest if it qualifies, but personally, it’s not my pick.

36 – Georgia – “You” by Tornike Kipiani: Give him points for passion, I suppose! At least I’m not laughing at him like I was last year. On the other hand, less ridiculous also means more boring. Points for earnestness, but this is just another song that goes right over my head.

35 – Portugal – “Love Is On My Side” by The Black Mamba: An English song from Portugal? That’s new. Too bad it hasn’t rescued the song from the darkest depths of Boring. I will confess that I spice it up a little by associating it with Homura from Osomatsu-san, thus rescuing it from the deepest pits of my ranking list… but it’s still stuck down here. Portugal and I have never gotten along well Eurovision-wise. I’ve come to accept that.

34 – Slovenia – “Amen” by Ana Soklič: I’m gonna call this a song that I respect more than I like. She’s got a great voice, I can’t deny that… but when I’m ranking this purely based on what I’d go out of my way to listen to, this one falls flat. I warned you at the beginning that I have no taste! I’m not normally into straightforward ballads, the religious connotations are lost on me… this isn’t the song for me.

33 – Austria – “Amen” by Vincent Bueno: Back to back “Amen”s! Tip for getting me to like your Eurovision entry, apparently, is “don’t call your song Amen”. It’s a ballad, earnest and trying but overall not my type of music. I’m running out of ways to say that. Breakup song, a tad bitter, we’ve all heard this sort of song so many times before. It doesn’t stand out, and I think it’d be a waste of a spot in the final.

At least, I thought this was a breakup song when I first wrote this, but apparently it’s about the death of a loved one…? I would say that makes me hate the bitterness, but… given how I’m handling a death in my own family right now… god, I don’t know. I just can’t handle this song, not at any time but especially not now. It doesn’t even provide catharsis like a song later on in the list. It stays this low regardless of its meaning, I just don’t like it, I’m sorry, moving on.

…” 'Cause it all feels like you didn't even try to save us, all this time wasted on a lie”… ugh, my personal problems…

32 – Switzerland – “Tout l'Univers” by Gjon’s Tears: Another one I respect more than I like, and another opinion I’m gonna get my ass beaten for, I’m sure. I respect the artistry, but this is so far removed from anything I’d ever listen to on purpose. It might have landed even lower if I wasn’t afraid of pissing people off. I’ll understand if it wins, but I’ll also be hoping for most anything else.

31 – Russia – “Russian Woman” by Manizha: I don’t get it. Sometimes it’s pleasant enough to listen to, but overall I don’t get it. It’s unique, I’ll give it that! I understand why it won its national final, and why so many people enjoy it! But for me, it doesn’t quite cross that line between “interesting” and “enjoyable”. I'm not Russian - this isn't for me, and it wasn't supposed to be. Though I will confess that there may be some bias at play here. God, I miss Little Big…

Okay:

30 – Estonia – “The Lucky One” by Uku Suviste: The voice is okay, the music is okay, I like how the bitterness is handled here more than in Austria’s… but this is still as high as I can go on this one. It’s serviceable, but this year has so much better to offer.

29 – Sweden – “Voices” by Tusse: Sweden really does like sending the same song over and over again, huh? I don’t hate it, but it does strike me as a lesser “Too Late For Love”, sound wise. Sweden almost never takes risks, and it’s causing me to look over them more and more with every year. I respect it too much to put it in the “Indifferent” category, but given how the rest of my ranking played out, this the best I can do for it. (But again, do not trust the opinions of someone who teethed on cheesy Europop and fondly remembers when Sweden was flooded with the stuff…)

28 – Belgium – “The Wrong Place” by Hooverphonic: Once again, Hooverphonic help Belgium fill the role of Eurovision’s “Most Likely To Appear In A Bond Movie” song. It’s fine. It’s a song! I don’t know what else to say about it! It does its job well enough, it’s just not really a job I care for that much.

27 – Ireland – “Maps” by Lesley Roy: It’s cute enough! A cute little radio tune. It’s no “Story Of My Life”, though. If “22” couldn’t qualify then this probably won’t, either, and I can’t say I’ll miss it all that much. Still pleasant enough when it comes up on the shuffle.

26 – Bulgaria – “Growing Up Is Getting Old” by Victoria: I admit it, this ranks as high as it does because of anime and that’s basically it. If I was still doing plain category sortings this would have landed straight in “Biased”. My favorite anime is about a bunch of 20-somethings learning that growing up sucks and trying as hard as possible to avoid it, and I first heard this song around the same time that I watched that show’s relatively melancholy season finale, so it ended up sticking with me on that note. Don’t have much to say about it musically, just that it makes me picture sextuplets crying and that’s one of my hobbies, so I’ll grant it an “Okay”. (It may also worth noting that if I heard this song before 2019, in the state my life was in before then it would have probably left me too inconsolable to listen to it more than once. Growing up is growing old indeed!

…it’s also worth noting that after I wrote this blurb, a major event happened that really enforced that growing up is getting old, so I listened to this quite a bit for a few days, among some other non-Eurovision songs. I’m probably gonna have an emotional breakdown on Thursday when this one starts. So, um, look out for that, guess. Between this one and Austria’s, I swear to god…)

25 – Italy – “Zitti e buoni” by Måneskin: I’ve been trying to get this one to rank higher, I really have, but its inability to crack the top 20 just says a lot about how damn good this year is. It sounds great, it’s very well done, and I wouldn’t hate to see it win! It’s earned its popularity. Everything holding it back in my own personal ranking is just that, personal – I do lose something when I can’t sing along or understand the lyrics, and there’s another rock song this year that I like way better. Still wishing you guys the best!

24 – Netherlands – “Birth Of A New Age” by Jeangu Macrooy: This song has a great style that I respect a lot. The message, the vibe – even if it’s not a culture I’m a part of, I feel and appreciate the hell out of it, and I really hope it does well. I don’t understand why so many people seem to think it’s not interesting! It may not be the sort of thing I’d go out of my way to listen to, but I’m glad it’s here. Catch me singing out “Yu no man broko mi” on Saturday! It’s been a while since I’ve given a shit about a host country’s entry, so I’m really glad for this one.

23 – Romania - “Amnesia” by Roxen: I’ll admit something else unpopular – I hated “Alcohol You” last year. Didn’t see what the big deal was at all. It sounded okay, I guess, but the lyrics were so pretentious and awful, and I’ve never liked the topic of “I love you even though you have no redeeming qualities whatsoever and you make me feel like shit”. But it seems like in that year, Roxen has discovered that self-love is important, actually, and it’s not worth it spending your time on some shitbag who consistently disappoints you. I appreciate it for that alone. Character growth! Plus, I feel the whole thing of “forgetting how to love yourself because everyone around you sucks”. It’s not the perfect song, not by a long shot, but it has a nice melody, and Roxen has a nice voice. It’s good to hear her using that voice on something I don’t find obnoxious.

22 – Norway – “Fallen Angel” by TIX: Okay, I’ll admit it, this is one where I watched the live video the first time I heard the song, and I was too busy laughing at his outfit to take the song seriously. Jesus Christ, dude, what the hell. Well, that’s Eurovision for you, and the more I listened to it, the more I admitted to myself that I’m a sucker for “I love you but letting you go for your own good, not sure what I ever offered you in the first place” type songs. Knowing the song is inspired by his own disability and self-loathing really twists that knife, to the point where I feel bad that I almost threw this at an anime character. I know I’m usually cold on songs that try to evoke emotions about the singer’s personal problems – Germany 2018, and this year’s Austrian entry – but this one really works for me. Only reason it’s in “Okay” tier is because of its competition – it’d rank way higher in a weaker year.

21 – France – “Voila” by Barbara Pravi: I like a good waltz, I guess! It’s a unique number, and the French language sounds nice, especially with the music. It’s yet another example of how this year is filled with so many interesting entries that I appreciate the hell out of. God bless this diverse year! (Or maybe everything just sounds so good to me because last year’s cancellation left me in withdrawal.) I expect a really nice performance for this one – this song isn’t one you can perform while just standing there, especially not during that speedup toward the end.

20 – Australia – “Technicolour” by Montaigne: That song that sounds like it’s about stripping if you don’t know that she’s saying cloaks. (Guilty as charged.) It’s catchy and fun, and I really love it when it first starts… but unfortunately, it does wear out its welcome toward the end of things. It’s a good party song, just a little repetitive. I still like it just fine, and wouldn’t mind seeing her in the final this year! Hope the performance is colorful and sparkly, it’d suit the song well

Like:

19 – Germany – “I Don’t Feel Hate” by Jendrik: I know stereotyping is bad but I was not remotely surprised to find out that Jendrik is gay. This song is pure gay sass, and god, I love every minute of it. I fully expect it to fall on its ass – this wouldn’t make it to the final if it wasn’t an automatic qualifier – but I’ll have a grand old time watching it! The sarcastic lyrics, the cheerful little ukulele, the middle finger costume… this song is a delight. Only thing that I think really brings it down is that weird spoken bit that interrupts the song. That’s so annoying, brings me right out of it. And I did purposely rank it below songs that aren’t complete shitposts. But thank you for your existence, Jendrik, your contribution to Eurovision is much appreciated.

18 – Israel – “Set Me Free” by Eden Alene: I said it this year and I’ll say it again this year, Eden Alene is a goddess of a woman. Absolutely gorgeous. Appreciation for pretty women aside, it’s a fun party song in a sea of fun party songs! I really do like it, I like her voice, but there’s so much else this year that drowns it out – not much stands out here compared to later entries on the list. Still a good song, though.

…and I do not expect for an instant that this is going to make it to the final. …my personal ranking is based on how the song sounds, okay? Just the song. Just the song. Nothing else. Just the song. Anyway…

17 – United Kingdom – “Embers” by James Newman: What’s this? A UK entry I don’t find bland as off-white paint? That doesn’t happen often! I didn’t like his entry last year, romantic ballad bla bla bla whee, but I’m always down for a good party song. It’s a little generic and radio friendly, sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s not fun as hell to sing along with!

16 – Greece – “Last Dance” by Stefania: I really liked last year’s “Supergirl”, but figured it didn’t have too much of a chance because it struck me as being a little too teen poppy to be taken entirely seriously. It seems like Greece thought so, too, because they’ve ramped it up with this year’s entry. They’re not playing around anymore, sending a grand, powerful song that, like “Embers”, is fun as hell to belt. This is another one I’m really looking forward to the live performance for – the music video is gorgeous, and I hope they capture that same majesty on stage!

15 – Moldova – “Sugar” by Natalia Gordienko: Oh, Moldova, I’m so glad you guys decided to be completely batshit again this year. I’ve missed your nonsense so much. Dancing ice cream cones. Cake men. This video is glorious. And the song goes well with the insanity! A catchy dance tune that can only be improved with downright insane staging. Please let the dancing ice cream cones be on stage, I’m begging you

14 – Latvia – “The Moon Is Rising” by Samanta Tina: A unique electronica number backed with a powerful as hell voice. I can see where all the wubbing would get on people’s nerves, but personally, I love it! I love the voice, I love the attitude, Samanta just oozes confidence, and if she doesn’t make it to the final it’s not gonna be because she didn’t give it her goddamn all.

13 – Poland – “The Ride” by RAFAL: Why is this one so unpopular? You people don’t know how to have fun. Yeah, yeah, last year’s “Empires” was a powerful song… but I like my club nonsense much more, so I’m favoring this one. Yet another song that gets me pumped – this whole Contest is gonna leave me with a smile on my face, there’s so much good party music

12 – Azerbaijan – “Mata Hari” by Efendi: Yeah, they’re basically just sending “Cleopatra” again, but “Cleopatra” was so goddamn good that I can’t even blame them for it. This song needed a chance to compete, and I’m glad it’s getting it again this year. I like it so much that I can even forgive the line about being a “godless”. Oh, Europop, don’t you ever change.

11 – Cyprus – “El Diablo” by Elena Tsagrinou: Huh, I didn’t know Cyprus had perfected their Lady Gaga cloning technology. Neat. More seriously, the early 2010’s club vibe of this song is exactly my jam, enough that I can forgive the “I’m in love with a horrible person” theme. (I think I forgive that theme a lot more from catchy party songs than heartfelt ballads I’m actually supposed to feel for.) Hell, I even like the creepy chanting! Sure, it’s a little cheesy, but cheese is always a good ingredient when used in moderation.

(How many songs are we going to get this year, not just in Eurovision, about wanting to fuck devils? I mean, not that I don’t get it… mmm, Akuma Ichimatsu… um. Anyway.)

10 – Czech Republic – “Omaga” by Benny Cristo: And here we enter the top ten of a strong year, where I’d love to see any of them win! Benny, what is with that title. Why. Ah well, like I said earlier, I do like moderate amounts of cheese, and this song is more than fun enough to have earned itself a ridiculous lyric or two. It’s unique, I’ll give it that! The song is just so bouncy and fun that I manage to ignore how pushy the singer is. Another one I expect big things from the staging for.

9 – Lithuania – “Discoteque” by The Roop: Ignoring the current events that surely inspired the song, I do love the more generic “party song for introverts” read on it – if only you knew how many one-person dance parties I’d had in my own house. This song speaks to me deeply. I can’t even begin to call it a joke song; I think it’s doing exactly what it set out to do, and it’s doing it oh so well. God, those synths. Totally okay with dancing alone!

8 – Iceland – “10 Years” by Daði og Gagnamagnið: I want Daði Freyr to adopt me. I don’t even care that he’s younger than me. He’s just such an earnest, fun guy, and I love his 8-bit aesthetic! And come on, he submitted a song about how much he loves his wife! If I ever stop loving this song it’s because my heart shriveled and died. Love isn’t dead, it’s just in chiptune now. I will throw things if this doesn’t make it into the final, do you all have no souls, this is too damn cute

7 – Serbia – “Loco Loco” by Hurricane: Another group I am so excited to see return, because I adored “Hasta La Vista”. I don’t know if I like this one quite as much, but it’s still catchy as hell! I love trying to sing along with it despite not knowing a word of Serbian.

6 – Croatia – “Tick-Tock” by Albina: Another catchy-ass club song! What more can I say? I love how much of this stuff we got this year. I will absolutely be screaming “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go!” Oh god that was cheesy… I’ve been working on this ranking for too long. Don’t know what else to say about this one, just that I adore it. Just barely missed the top 5.

Love:

5 – Malta – “Je Me Casse” by Destiny: This girl’s got pipes– not surprised to hear she won the Junior contest before! I get major “Toy” vibes from this song, and you all know just how much I adored that one. Aaa, those horns! Expecting big things from you, Destiny! We may have our winner!

4 – San Marino – “Adrenalina” by Senhit – As much of a soft spot I had for last year’s “Freaky”, I don’t think it was gonna make it into the final, unless Senhit had the blessing of the same angels who were looking out for Serhat in 2019. This one, though? San Marino tasted the final two years ago and they are never giving it up again! This song goes hard! Love the song, love the video’s aesthetic, I even kinda like Flo Rida’s rap, even though I’m still baffled by the idea that I have been regularly listening to a song featuring Flo Rida on purpose. I don’t know what he’s doing here but I’m glad he is. Please, please make it to the final, San Marino! You clearly want the hell out of it this year! Favorite club song in a year of amazing club songs.

3 – Finland – “Dark Side” by Blind Channel: After spending about five seconds disappointed that Finland wouldn’t be sending Pandora this year, I gave this song a shot, and was not expecting what it gave me. I feel like an angsty middle schooler again, and it is bliss. This is everything Hatari wanted to be, but unlike Hatari who just confused me, I absolutely love the hell out of this song. …some of those lyrics, though. “27 Club, headshot, we don’t wanna grow up”? Yikes. But as dark and questionable as it might be, I can’t help but get pumped when I hear it. Definitely my favorite rock song of the year – sorry, Italy!

2 – Denmark – “Øve os på hinanden” by Fyr & Flamme: I love you, 1983. I don’t care how dated it is when my entire soul consists of a disco ball. The song’s so damn cute! This is the one member of my top 5 that I’m most terrified of losing – I know it’s not popular, with everyone calling it dated, but my top 5 always has that dated song that I love the hell out of becauseit sounds so classic. The translated lyrics are adorable, too. Even if you guys flame out in the semi, you’ll live on in the disco in my heart.

Favorite:

1 – Ukraine – “Shum” by Go_A: Holy fucking shit. There’s something about the blending of traditional and electronic that gets me hyped – see KEiiNO – and this one does not disappoint. The last minute of this is the best minute of Eurovision this year, and god, the buildup! I don’t even know Ukrainian but I am trying my damnedest to get the lyrics down, phonetically, at least. You know that “dancing goths” meme video? That’s me whenever this song comes on, especially during that speed up. Love the hell out of it. Could Ukraine be on its way to another victory already? I sure hope so, because this song fucking rules. Definitely checking out the rest of the discography someday, if all of their songs are in this folktronica style then they’ve gotta be a treat to listen to. Go Ukraine!

Ideal Qualifiers (favorite of each semi in bold):

Semi 1

Australia

Azerbaijan

Croatia

Cyprus

Israel

Lithuania

Malta

Norway

Romania

Ukraine Semi 2:

Czech Republic

Denmark

Finland

Greece

Iceland

Latvia

Moldova

Poland

San Marino

Serbia

This is definitely not what's going to happen - there is no universe where Switzerland and Sweden don't make it - but it'll be interesting to compare the reality to my hopes.

Let's go, Eurovision 2021

#irk blubbers about nothing #irk talks eurovision 2021

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whoreforenemiestolovers · 4 years ago

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Unmated | chapter 2

An Elriel Fanfiction

I’ll be posting chapters on here along with wattpad but I would really appreciate it if you guys read it on wattpad and supported me on there :) feel free to leave any comments and suggestions. https://www.wattpad.com/story/261093606-unmated

Azriel’s POV

A breath away from Elain’s face, all Azriel could smell was Jasmine and Honey. He breathed in her scent like it was the only thing he wanted to smell for the rest of his life. Her kiss was an aphrodisiac, and he was already addicted.

Azriel dreams of Elain every night. He dreams of what it would feel like to be blessed with a kiss by her, but nothing he had ever dreamt lived up to the feeling of his lips on hers. It only lasted a second but he could have sworn time stopped.

Azriel

Rhysand’s voice was in his head. Azriel pulled away from Elain, “we can’t do this.” He saw her face change. It hurt him to see this ray of sunshine in front of him dim. He leaned back down to whisper in her ear, “even if I so desperately want to.”

Azriel pulled back to walk away. “Goodnight, Elain.” Her name was like a song on his lips that he never wanted to stop singing.

Azriel drifted up the stairs with his shadows keeping close, heading to Rhysand’s office. He was still reeling from the kiss.

“Shut the door Azriel,” Rhysand was mad and Azriel knew why, but for some reason, he didn’t care. Azriel shut the door and Rhysand started, “what the hell is wrong with you.” He didn’t know if it was a question or not. “Stay away from Elain. You have no right. She has a mate.”

“Yea, a mate that she despises. A mate that doesn’t deserve her,” Azriel paused with a look of sadness, “Elain deserves so much more.” Azriel had never uttered these words even if he thought them every waking moment.

“And you think you deserve her?”

“What if the Cauldron was wrong? What is the coincidence of her two sisters being the mates of my two brothers?” Azriel paused, “no, I don’t think I deserve her, but I want to work every day to be what she needs, what she wants. She is light and I am darkness. One cannot exist without the other as I cannot exist without her. I have been ignoring my feelings for too long. I cannot stand the sight of her with Lucien. I cannot stand being in her presence without being with her. Her happiness is contagious and her smile can light up even the darkest room. The first time she showed me her garden, the smile on her face made me forget every bad thing going on in our lives at that time. When the Cauldron took her, I felt like I was dying. I didn’t know what I would have done if I never got to see her smile again. So I was the first to volunteer to get her back from Hybern’s camp. I didn’t care if I died as long as she lived. When she looks at me I feel as though my heart is stopping. When she speaks, her voice sounds like a symphony. I know it’s wrong to want her but I can’t not want her. She is everything I’ve been looking for in my 500 years of life. And it hurts.”

Rhysand was staring at Azriel, slack-jawed. “You will start a war, Azriel. She is Lucien’s mate, he will challenge you to a blood duel.”

“And I would win.”

“And once you kill Lucien, Beron will declare war. They might not be close but Lucien is still his son. Not only Autumn Court, but Spring Court and a war with Vassa and Jurian.”

Azriel’s siphons flared, “you don’t have room to talk, Rhysand. You took Feyre on her wedding day to a different High Lord. Tamlin let Hybern attack us from his borders to get her back. War happened and thousands of people died so you can’t say shit about starting wars for love.” Azriel saw the blow land. He didn’t regret it.

“You are to stay away from her.” Rhysand looked down at his papers, “you can fuck anyone in this city except for her. If you don’t leave her alone you will regret it.” Azriel had never hated Rhysand more than in this moment. “Get out of my office.”

~~~

Azriel flew back to the House of Wind. He had been staying there to avoid being around Elain. He likes the silence it offers. He also doesn’t like being in the River Manor when Lucien is there. He aims for the training pit to help clear his mind but he noticed someone was already there. Gwyn.

He didn’t know what she was doing training at 2 am on Winter Solstice but it was cold. She needs to go inside, he thought. “What are you doing out here this late,” he asked as he landed, “it’s cold. You should go in.”

Gwyn looked at him like she was contemplating it. “I want to cut the ribbon.” He walked closer to her to get a better look at the ribbon.

“Show me how you’re doing it.” She went to slice the ribbon again, not succeeding in cutting it. “Again,” he ordered.

“You’re rotating your hand when it meets the ribbon, here let me show you.” He took the sword from her hand, “this is what you’re doing. You need to keep the blade straight, like it’s an extension of your arm.” He demonstrated, cutting the ribbon in one strike.

Gwyn took the sword back, trying to cut the ribbon as he had, focusing on keeping her arm straight. “Cassian is always focused on Nesta to notice small things like this.”

Azriel chuckled, “you’re not wrong.”

“Why do they call you the shadowsinger? Do you sing?”

“They don’t call me the shadowsinger, I am a shadowsinger.” He was surprised. No one had ever asked him that.

“Do you sing though?” Azriel was confused why she was so interested.

He didn’t feel like explaining so all he responded with was, “yes.” She looked as if she was going to try to get more out of him so he asked, “did the priestesses celebrate Winter Solstice?”

“Yes, we have a service. It was nice.” She smiled a warm smile, “how was the party?”

A small smile overtook Azriels lips as he looked down, “it was really nice.” Even though Rhysand scolded him and told him to stay away from Elain, nothing would take away the happiness from the kiss they shared. Gwyn pushed further, “you seem unusually happy. What happened?” He looked up at her, his smile dropping.

He contemplated leaving her on the roof but perhaps she could give him advice. “Uh—well there is someone…” Azriel trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but if you do, I am here to listen.”

Azriel pursed his lips into a line then opened his mouth to speak, “It’s Elain.” Gwyn’s jaw dropped and then her face was overtaken by a smile.

“Shadows and sunshine. Who would’ve thought,” she snickered, “I think that’s adorable and I think you deserve to be happy.” Azriel met her eyes with a look of appreciation.

“Rhysand doesn’t feel the same as you do.” his siphons flared. “He told me to stay away from her because she has a mate even though she hasn’t accepted the mating bond and despises Lucien.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes, “then Rhysand is a fucking idiot.” Azriels eyes widened at the foul language. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually talk like that but it isn’t Rhysands place to tell you whether or not you can be around someone you have feelings for, especially if they have feelings for you. Does she?” She paused, “have feelings for you, I mean?”

Azriel took a deep breath, thinking about it. “I mean, we kissed. Which has to mean something. Elain isn’t the type of person to just kiss something without having feelings for them.” Azriel looked down, “I’m sorry, I don’t need to be burdening you with this. I don’t usually talk to people about this stuff, I’m just… frustrated.”

“Is that why you came to the training pit? To blow off some steam?”

“It is. But now I’m just tired.” Azriel shook his head, “you should get some sleep. Thank you for listening to me.” Azriel gave Gwyn a warm smile.

She returned his smile, “that’s what friends are for.”

They both headed inside, Gwyn to wherever the priestesses sleep, and Azriel to his room.

He dreamt of Elain’s kiss that night.

#acosf #acotar #a court of silver flames #elriel #elain and azriel #Sarah j. maas #throne of glass #wattpad #fanfiction #fantasy

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superfanficnatural · 5 years ago

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The Cold Of Heart

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: (I really do not want to spoil) You decide to tell Dean how you really feel.

A/N: Ok so I found this and completely forgot about it so I’m just going to post it lol. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: I’m not spoiling but angst, negative thoughts. Don’t worry, no triggers or anything like that.

Gif is not mine

Six years. You had been hunting with the Winchesters for the past six years, falling in love with one of them almost instantly. At first, you wanted to make sure that it was real, not just infatuation, so you waited. Expecting it to go away, you were surprised to find out that your love kept running deeper and deeper, finding new reasons every single day to love that goofy green eyed hunter. Once you knew you were in love with him, you waited, praying that he would feel the same. Everyday, you dropped subtle hints, hoping that he would pick up on them or at least show some kind of attraction to you. After all this time, he didn’t say or do anything, so you decided enough was enough, you were going to confess your feelings for him.

Walking into the library, you saw Dean sitting down on one of the chairs, propping his feet up on the table. You smiled and walked up to him, “Hey, Dean. Where’s Sam?” you asked.

“He’s out, said he had to go shopping for something,” he grunted, looking up at you.

You went over and sat down at a chair across the table from him, taking a deep breath, “Hey, I uh, have something to tell you,” you warily admitted.

“What’s up Y/N?”

“I- at first when I- um... I think-” you were a stuttering mess, already having a blush on your face.

“Y/N, take a deep breath for me,” he chuckled, putting his feet down and resting his elbows on his legs, giving you his attention.

You took in another deep breath and exhaled slowly, “For the longest time, I waited,” you started, “I waited for you to give me a sign, anything that showed that you felt the same way,” you started.

“Y/N...”

“Don’t, please, let me say this,” you shakily cut him off.

“Ever since I first met you, I had this undeniable attraction to you. At first I thought to myself, he’s just attractive, it’s all just physical attraction,” you began, “But after a while, getting to know you, I found myself falling deeper and deeper. The way your eyes shine when you have a genuine smile on your face, the caring and protective side of you for those you love. I couldn’t help but fall for you,” you breathed, a smile threatening to grow on your face.

“You never gave me any kind of indication that you felt the same way even after all of the hints that I dropped, I don’t know if you ever even really saw them but I decided that enough was enough and that I should just flat out tell you,” you took a deep breath, “I’m in love with you, Dean Winchester,” you picked up your gaze and looked at him. He seemed like he was having an internal struggle and his face had lost all color.

The silence was deafening and you didn’t know if you could take it any longer. After a few moments, he steeled his face and responded.

“Y/N, I’m sorry but...”

No no no no please, don’t

“I don’t feel the same way.”

You couldn’t breathe, a lump in your throat closing off your air, your eyes wide and mouth agape. You felt like you were being sucked into a bottomless pit of despair, becoming disoriented you couldn’t feel your arms or legs. You thought that he was just hiding it because he was scared, that he didn’t want to ruin what you guys had. Your heart was broken, and there was nothing that you could do to fix it.

There’s nothing else he can say that could break me further than this

“You’re like a little sister to me.”

A tear fell down your eye, followed by another, and another. There was this pain in your chest that hurt more than any stab wound, any gunshot. It felt like it was piercing your heart, bleeding it of its life. You couldn’t be here anymore, seeing Dean’s steeled face with no emotion, you couldn’t handle it. You got up and ran, ran as fast as you could to your room, your legs feeling like ghost limbs. You shut the door and sat down on your bed, bawling your eyes out.

He didn’t take the hints because he never liked you. Why would you ever think that he would like someone like you? You aren’t even his type, eat too much greasy food, love handles for miles, you’re disgusting.

The voice in your head was driving you insane, it voiced everything that you were afraid to admit, all of your insecurities.

You never deserved someone like Dean, you don’t deserve happiness, only suffering.

“Shut up,” you growled. “That’s not true,” you muttered, not believing it but hoping if you said it, it would become believable.

Even you don’t think that, you’re pathetic, they only asked you to join them so they wouldn’t feel bad if you died on a hunt by yourself. God knows you can’t hunt to save your own ass.

You couldn’t stop the voices, they were overbearing, bringing all of your deepest darkest thoughts up to the surface. You couldn’t sit still, pacing around your room with tears streaming down your face. Bringing your hands up to your head, you tried to get rid of the voices but they weren’t letting up.

You can’t get rid of us, for we are your inner thoughts, the ones you tried to push down. If only you had understood that you were worthless, this wouldn’t have been happening.

I can’t do this anymore, you started packing all of your stuff up with haste, throwing your clothes into your duffel. You grabbed the keys to your car and snuck out of your room, Dean wasn’t anywhere in sight so you took your opportunity and ran to the garage, getting in your car and hightailing it out of there. You were on the road for about ten minutes before you started crying again, flashes from your conversation coming back to you.

You’re like a little sister to me

I don’t feel the same way

You felt like you were suffocating, unable to draw breath. Your heart still had that piercing pain, as clear as ever. The tears were coming at full force, blinding you so you couldn’t see the bright lights rapidly approaching your car.

Dean’s POV

Shit, I knew that conversation was going to come sooner or later. I had noticed every single hint that Y/N had dropped, but I made sure that I didn’t give her an inch. She could never find out.

After our conversation, she ran back to her room, tears falling down her face. I felt terrible, I had to force myself to stay in my seat so I wouldn’t go and comfort her, knowing she wouldn’t want anything from me. I went back to my room and could hear her crying through the wall separating us. There was a huge pain inside of my chest that no matter how hard I tried to push down it just wouldn’t go away. I felt like a complete asshat but this was for the best, I can’t do that.

After about half an hour, I decided to go talk to her, wanting to see if I could make her feel better. Walking into her room, my heart dropped. It was clean, she had packed up all of her stuff.

Fuck, no no no

I ran to the garage and saw that she had taken her car. I rushed back into my room and took out the tracker that could trace her car.

Why isn’t she moving?

I didn’t have time to dwell on that, I got my jacket and keys and ran to baby, getting in and pulling out of the garage, baby’s wheels skidding on the floor from my speed. Checking the tracker, she was about three miles ahead of me. After a few minutes, I saw bright blue and red lights lighting up the forest and my vision.

I drove until I saw it, her car totaled, smashed into some other person's car. I got out of baby and overheard the officer say, “The witness in the other car said that she seemed to have tears in her eyes so she couldn’t see the road.”

I rushed up to the car and saw her. Body limp, flown out of the car from the windshield, cuts all over her face and body. The officer tried to stop me but I pushed him off of me and rushed to her.

“Y/N? Y/N can you hear me? No no no no, don’t leave me, I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me,” I choked out, tears streaming down my eyes. I couldn’t breath, her normally bright and beautiful face now colorless, her eyes that once had fire in them, lifeless.

It’s all my fault.

She’s gone and it’s my fault

I let out an ear piercing scream, the pain in my chest too much to handle. My soul felt like it was being ripped out of my body, punishment for not telling the truth.

If only I hadn’t pushed her away, we would be safe and back at the bunker

I succumbed to the thoughts in my head, it really was my fault. She’s dead because of me, just like everyone else.

Two Weeks Later

“Dean, can I come in?” Sam asked, knocking on Y/N’s old bedroom door. There was no answer so he walked in, recoiling and holding his nose with his hand. The stench of alcohol everywhere.

“Dean, what the fuck? What are you doing?”

“Fuck off Sammy, leave me alone,” he muttered, drunk off of his ass.

“Look, Y/N’s death hurt both of us, but she’s gone Dean! She’s gone, and drinking yourself into a stupor isn’t going to bring her back!”

“Get the fuck out, before I kill you,” he snarled.

Sam took a step back, the venom in his voice scaring even him. He left the room and slammed the door, angry that Dean wasn't letting him help.

Dean took another sip of the bottle, emptying it. He was disgusted with himself, not caring if he died or not, knowing that it was his fault Y/N died, he felt like he deserved it. Hell, he wanted it. He had no purpose left in life, without Y/N, everything was dark. She was the light in his world, the light that woke him up in the morning, the light that made him want to fight to become a better person, and he was the one who snuffed it out. He threw the bottle against the wall, roaring out in anger, the tears steady streaming down his face. He picked up a shirt next to him, the only one that Y/N didn’t pack and brought it to his face, deeply inhaling her scent, bringing another wave of tears to the surface.

If only I was strong enough to tell her, to tell her that I loved her.

Y/N POV

You woke up in a bright room, completely alone, in what seemed like a white box.

“Hello? Is this the new and improved version of hell?” you yelled out.

After a few moments, a door appeared and a man walked in. Fairly short, blue eyes and a beard, he seemed harmless.

“You don’t look like a demon,” you remarked.

He chuckled, “No, I’m not a demon, but who I am doesn’t matter, what does matter, is that it isn’t your time yet.”

“What do you mean ‘not my time yet’?”

He walked over to you, standing a few feet away from you, he smiled softly, his eyes glowing white, then everything went blank.

Forevers Tag List: @magssteenkamp @shadowsinger11 @donnaintx

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags: @akshi8278

Female Reader Tags: @punof-agun @emoryhemsworth

#reader #dean #dean fanfiction #dean imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester #dw #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #angst #new writers on tumblr #oneshot #dean winchester x reader

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thejudgingtrash · 5 years ago

Note

Virgin Percy and chad Annabeth omg

Here you go, love! :D Also kids feel free to stay away. It’s sfw/nothing explicit is going on, everyone is an adult but obviously there are small references about sex.

Let me swing that cliched trope, anon! :D also thank you again Torie @percyheartsannabeth ^^

Red Solo Cup (WC: 2.4k)

It didn’t come as a surprise to Percy that Annabeth rushed past him into his apartment and threw herself onto the sofa. She basically was at home at the Jackson’s and a more than welcome guest. “What happened?” Percy asked.

“Broke off with Ethan,” the blonde shrugged and grabbed his cherry coke. Another boyfriend that the college freshman dumped, another nonchalant reaction from his 19-year-old friend. Percy had learned early on not to ask Annabeth why her relationships didn’t work out. His best friend would rage into a monologue for hours and talk about every little detail. Every single one.

From the small size of a penis, to the number of warts her ex’s grandma had. Every detail. Percy had been burned more than once before.

“Well another one bites the dust,” the young woman said and turned her favorite show on. Percy had to admit. He was jealous. Whereas Annabeth was living her fullest and free as a bird with relationships and flings, he didn’t. Instead of hanging out with new friends, he stayed in and babysat his sister. His interactions were mostly limited to group chats. The Dominican rarely got out. Percy didn’t know whether it was social anxiety speaking or just an extreme case of introversion.

He looked okay, passable. According to some of Annabeth’s girlfriends he was cute and looked exotic, although he didn’t like that word. Having light eyes and a deep complexion shouldn’t count as looking exotic. Percy wasn’t built like his cousin Charles Beckendorf and he also didn’t have the charm of Annabeth’s ex Luke Castellan. Or the coolness of Annabeth’s latest fallen boyfriend Ethan Nakamura. But he was passable. More than fine. Not a huge slob, a great listener, an amazing cook and a great friend. So how come he never had a real relationship. How come that he never had been kissed, that he still remained a virgin to that day? Was his quietness that off putting? Percy just hoped that he wouldn’t join the crazy ranks of 40-year-old incels spewing their bullshit online and potentially harming people. He just wanted to find his soulmate he could cover in his baking goods.

“What’s going on?” asked Annabeth who was confused at his silence. Percy was usually way more talkative and would fight for the remote control because he hated watching her dramas.

“I don’t know. I’d really like to meet someone to talk to,” he confessed and didn’t dare to look her in the eyes.

“Huh? What do you mean? We’re talking right now.” She took another sip from his drink.

Percy rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I’d like to have a relationship. Explore crushes and love and all of that.”

Annabeth was surprised. She didn’t know that being single annoyed him that much. “Oh please. Relationships are overrated. Trust me.”

“It’s not just that. I haven’t got any experience.” Percy was a terrible flirter. Sweaty palms, accelerated heartbeat, and stuttering. Middle school and high school had been hell. “I haven’t even kissed someone and I’m nearly twenty!”

“So what? You’re making a deal out of this. It’s so weird and just not like you. That literally doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of life. Don’t force it. When you’re ready, you’re ready.” His friend shrugged. “Also, if I remember correctly, we have kissed before.”

A sloppy wet kiss that Percy buried deep into the darkest pits of his mind.

“Come on, Annabeth.” Percy rolled his eyes. He almost would have been offended if he hadn’t been so tired. “That was in ninth grade and part of truth or dare.”

Annabeth crossed her arms. “I still think that counts!” she disagreed.

Percy just sunk into the sofa and sighed. “Alright. How many people have I kissed that haven’t been you?”

Annabeth remained quiet. Percy had a point. He really didn’t go out to meet new people. Meet new friends or acquaintances. Meet someone who he could see as a date. The blonde felt uneasy and licked her lips. Her gaze rested on the young man next to her who had a sour expression on her face and continued watching Grey’s Anatomy against his wishes.

“Okay, Mr. I’d like a relationship. There’s a party next week at Reyna’s,” Annabeth started and caught his attention.

“You want to have some experiences? That’ll be the place to be and see what you’ve got. You’re in?”

Percy had to admit. He felt uneasy and nervous. But then he sealed his fate and nodded.

“Okay, let’s go to bed, I’m tired.” Annabeth and he sleeping in the same bed was a habit they had ever since they were nine and it never stopped.

The week passed. Seminars and classes had been attended and assignments were half way done. Friday evening was the time where everyone was finally letting loose. Percy was getting ready in his room.

Annabeth’s advice was a text she had sent an hour earlier which only said don’t show up naked, wear something comfortable. Not particularly helpful. He settled for a white dress shirt and dark jeans. Perhaps too much, perhaps too little. He wasn’t a party person so he wouldn’t know. It wasn’t much until he saw Annabeth in front of Reyna’s house where people were already drinking and laughing in front of it. She was speaking to a little group of people and seemingly cracked a joke as they began to laugh.

“Percy!” She waved him over. She looked good in her jeans and the dark crop top. Lose golden curls that rested on her shoulders. The group dissolved and entered the house.

Annabeth examined him. “You look good,” she smiled.

“Likewise.”

Annabeth’s mouth was agape. Then she laughed. “You really need a lesson in flirting. Let me be your teacher.” He’d rather not. Annabeth in hunting mode was something you only wanted to witness once.

As soon as they stepped into the house, they were greeted by clouds of weed, sweat and cheap alcohol. A brunette shadow walked up to them.

“Perseus! You made it!” Reyna hugged him and he stiffly hugged her back. Yes, he was that bad with people. Even people he had known for years.

“Hi Reyna,” he laughed. Reyna raised an eyebrow and looked at Annabeth. The native Puerto Rican thought that Percy would bounce like he always did.

“Reyna!” Thalia, Reyna’s girlfriend called for her.

“Okay, see you guys around.” Reyna excused herself.

Annabeth turned to Percy. “Alright. Let’s scout and watch out for some prey for you.”

“You’re making it sound like you’re Bear Grylls ready to fight for some survival shit.” Percy was weirded out. Party Annabeth was scary.

Annabeth laughed and slapped his shoulder. “That’s basically the spirit.”

He followed her into the living room which was full of drunkards shouting and grinding over the worst DJ Khaled remix that he has ever heard. Before Annabeth could talk about the plans she had in her mind for Percy, the fates had other intentions for them.

“Oh hey! Annabeth, right?” Some blond schmuck approached them. He looked like a trust fund baby that has never heard the word no in his life before.

“Octavian! Oh my god, it’s been a while!” They hugged and Percy felt incredibly awkward. Being the third wheel was not fun.

“Who’s that?” Octavian eyes the tall young man behind her.

“Oh, that’s just Percy, don’t mind him.” Ouch. That hurt.

“I’m going to get myself something to drink. You two have fun,” Percy decided. Annabeth waved and promptly forgot about him.

Percy fought his way to the kitchen. He had forgotten how rude drunk and high people could be, especially when they loved to block paths. As he entered the kitchen, he ran into someone. A young woman with auburn hair and a frown on her face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He asked and helped her stand up right.

“Oh yeah. I’m just tired of this place. Why did I agree to come to this party?” she sighed and was glad that the cute stranger wasn’t part of the annoying drunk crowd.

“I feel you. I hate this,” he sighed. They both shared a smile and a laugh.

“Why did we agree to this?” she giggled.

“I guess we like to torture ourselves,” Percy chuckled. She was nice. Found an instant liking to her. “Percy,” he introduced himself.

“Call me Calypso,” she smiled. An instant connection had been made.

“Want to drink something? Non-alcoholic that is?” Percy proposed and hoped that his voice didn’t crack.

“Gladly,” she left and took his hand.

It dawned Annabeth slowly. She had forgotten something. Didn’t she come to this party with an intention? Not just drinking and dancing. But something else. The college student had been talking to Octavian, danced with him, talked a bit with his friends and now they were alone again. It was abundantly clear that he was interested in a short fling.

“Oh fuck,” she remembered what she had forgotten. Or more who she had forgotten. Percy. Where was he?

“Huh?” Octavian asked.

“I’ve got to check in on a friend, don’t move, I’ll be right back,” the blonde smiled and winked.

“Oh, alright.” Octavian said. He was trapped in Annabeth’s web. Just the way she liked it.

Annabeth looked out for Percy. She had seen her friends Piper, Clarisse, Hazel and Reyna again but none of them had seen him. Annabeth checked her phone. Apart from Instagram stories that had been shared frantically, no new messages. Percy was the type to text her immediately should he leave. Hell, he would have told her in person.

She reentered the living room with a frown on her face. Her gray eyes scanned the area and actually found his messy black haircut on the dancefloor fairly easy. Percy and dancing. A smile slipped onto Annabeth’s face. Then it dropped. Percy wasn’t working it in the middle of the room alone. He had his hands around the waist of a curvy small brunette. Percy had gotten his wish. The entire purpose of this operation was to meet someone new. And the way he threw his head back to laugh proved that he fairly enjoyed himself.

Annabeth felt a thing and that one thing only: boiling rage. Her feet acted immediately. She marched to the dancefloor and pushed everyone aside that had been in her way until she got to Percy and the mysterious girl at his side.

“Percy! There you are!” Annabeth said and threw herself onto him in a hug and broke his embrace with the stranger. Then she grabbed him and pulled him out of the crowd. Confused, the mystery girl followed them.

Percy was perplexed and looked down at Annabeth, who was behaving very oddly. That was not the usual chill Annabeth he knew. Percy looked to Calypso and saw the hurt in her eyes. Oh no, she must think we’re together, he thought.

“Uh, Calypso this is Annabeth, a friend of mine,” Percy explained and saw how the brunette visibly relaxed.

“Best friend you meant to say,” Annabeth corrected and stole his red solo cup. She had to admit that being reduced to a friend hurt her way too much. Her smile cracked at the taste of soda instead of a delicious liquor. She had forgotten that Percy was a non-drinker in the heat of the moment. She needed something that would wash her annoyance away. Annabeth shook hands with that Calypso girl.

“Calypso, like the dance?” she asked with a slightly condescending tone.

“Uh yeah, exactly. Like the dance.” Calypso said and raised an eyebrow as Annabeth got a hold of Percy’s arm.

Percy looked back to Annabeth and gently tried to pry her off. Her grip only tightened, and her fingernails dug into his skin.

“And what is this supposed to be?” Calypso asked and pointed at Annabeth who claimed Percy’s complete right side. She sounded annoyed.

“Nothing,” Annabeth innocently smiled. The cold harsh look in her eyes said something else.

“Um, Annabeth, weren’t you talking with that Octavian guy? Or what was his name?” Percy’s discomfort was clear, and Annabeth ignored the hint.

“Oh yes, but I’d rather spend my time with you!” she grinned and didn’t let go of him.

“Sorry girlie but it’s clear that you’re ruining our moment.” Calypso’s hand waved between her and Percy.

“What moment? Am I not allowed to hang out with my best friend?” The irritation in Annabeth’s voice rose. Percy and Calypso looked at her in shock.

“If he’s your best friend, then I’m pretty sure that you’ll see enough of him? Just leave.” Calypso rolled her eyes.

“What if I don’t want to?” Annabeth innocently pouted and tilted her head. “Percy’s always there for me which is what I want right now. Sorry Calypso. We’re having a moment right now.”

Calypso’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Annabeth enjoyed seeing her frustration rise up.

“Alright, listen Annabeth normally I wouldn’t say this but you-” Calypso’s eyes widened. Annabeth had turned Percy’s head to herself and pressed a kiss onto his lips.

Percy’s eyes widened before they automatically shut down. Annabeth was an excellent kisser and her soft lips felt like a dream. Percy had to admit that he enjoyed the kiss. He enjoyed it way too much. Then he broke it off. Shock was written on his face and his eyes wandered from the all too pleased Annabeth to a speechless and hurt Calypso.

“I can’t believe it.” Calypso shook her head, turned around and left.

Annabeth smiled a victorious grin. Then she looked up to Percy and saw him for the first time. Not as a friend, but as a handsome guy that she happened to know all too well. His sea green eyes scanned her face and his lips were slightly parted.

“Annabeth, what in the fuck was that-” Annabeth cut him off with yet another kiss that she deepened. This time Percy didn’t break the kiss off. He held her tight and touched her warm back. He felt her grinning between the kisses.

“Come with me.” Annabeth said. She didn’t give him a choice. She took his hand and dragged him out of the building. Party be damned, they could celebrate at home amongst other activities. Alone.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” Percy asked.

“Oh,” she said and turned around to look him in the eyes. “I’m just making sure that no one else is bothering you.”

The End

Tbh, I don’t mind me some hot girl Annabeth... Thanks again for the suggestion, anon!

All Cookout Fics

Cute/Cursed Cookout Writing Prompts

#pjo #percy jackson #mel's little cookout #percabeth #annabeth chase #percabeth fanfiction #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the olympians #mel writes

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xellshun · 5 years ago

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Feeding The Beast

I stand firm when supporting one of my favorite quotes: Evil is never born, it is created. All things were once good in the beginning, even Satan.

With the developement of my disorder and my descent into becoming a sociopath came many dark traits that I’ve used countless times to calm my urges and impulses. Most of them are fairly common among those with ASPD. But one quality has always stood above all the others.

My desire to victimize as many women as possible.

This post will focus on this trait rather than HOW it came to be but I will share a little bit of my past just to give you a general idea of it’s origins.

Over the course of the last 7 years I went through 3 very traumatic relationships. But before I did, I was a very kind hearted, ambitious, compassionate person with a huge dream of some day finding the love of my life, building a family, and living out the same fairy tale ending that my parents and their parents had before them. I had this perfect image of how my love life would work out and I based it off of what I watched my family build as I grew up. I grew up with a very close, caring, and loving family. So going into adulthood that’s just how I thought things were supposed to be.

I didn’t realize how fucking wrong I truly was and I was no where near prepared for the 7 year long nightmare I was about to go through...

The first of the three stages was when I lost my first true love - the mother of my beloved son. Not only did I loose her along with all my hopes and dreams of having that fairy tale ending. But I lost her while she was still pregnant with my son... So along with the initial pain, my first experience of pregnancy and my introduction to being a father were stripped from me and left me in a state of mind that pushed me into making my FIRST step down the dark I would eventually get lost in. She was what I would eventually call “The First Heartache”

The second stage happened with my next serious girlfriend. She would not only be my second love but would also end up being the girl who would eventually become extremely abusive. Physically, emotionally, mentally - she tortured me. She ultimately become what I called “The Abuser”

At this point, my disorder was born and rapidly growing. Coupled with emotional distress and a newly developed addiction to drugs and alcohol, my next relationship would only escalate the problems. She was a drinker, a drug user, and eventually a cheater. Her betrayal lead me down a path filled with an unending urge to stay intoxicated to cure the pain. And even though I should have left both her and the last girl, I didn’t. I was constantly trying to fill the void in my heart left by the first girl. But this third girl was no better than the last. She eventually became what I called “The Drunk Cheater”

By this point, my son was 5 years old. My relationship with him and my family was greatly damaged. I had come off my ADHD medication, struggled to stay employed, struggled with money, wrecked and totaled my vehicle, got into trouble with the law, did time in jail, struggled on and off with addiction to both drugs and alcohol, lost many of my friends... And above all else...

I lost myself...

And I forgot the feeling of remorse... Of empathy... And love...

The person I became and am now is the total opposite of who and what I was 7 years ago. Me then and me now wouldn’t even recognize each other if they met...

And thus, the sociopath was born... And within the dark pit of inhumane emotions, impulses, and urges.. The strongest one was my unending thirst for revenge...

And with that, the player mentality became supreme. And with it every aspect of my life would shift, change, and become centered around an unending cycle of chasing women. It started out as me just having fun and enjoying the single life and eventually evolved to what I do now.

So what do I do? For starters, I supress the monster underneath, I go out and I hunt women. I will often create several dating profiles, all of which with the same pictures, the same information about myself, and it has quickly turned into a game of seeing how many women I can sleep with in the shortest amount of time.

People would probably tell me “You sound like every other typical asshole player.” And it’s partially true, but in my mind I am a hunter. But I don’t hunt with the goal to kill (or hurt these women). I hunt with the goal of capturing and retaining them. I go out with my sociopathic mask, looking friendly, nice, and emotional. I play the part of a good honest man who just wants to settle down. For each individual girl I would learn her, everything about her, I would research her and read her like a book. I would figure out exactly what she wants and needs in a partner and I’d become that to the best of my ability. Once they are lured in I deceieve and manipulate every situation. Slowly and pateintly I shift the mood and create a large amount of sexual tension. I never come off as the creep, I never make them uncomfortable, and I always wait for THEM to make the first move. Why? Because it makes me feel powerful. And when we finally reach the point of having sex the sexual side of my sociopathic tendencies comes out. You see, I don’t care about finishing. It’s not what I look forward to and I don’t need to finish to be happy. The only thing that matters is HER pleasure. In those moments of intercourse I do everything in my physical ability to fuck them in every way they fantasize about. The porn star comes out and my one and only goal is to fuck them to the point where they are physically sore and trembling from orgasms. I want them to have issues walking the next day, I want to rearange their insides, and turn their intestines into soup. It almost never fails and this newly found dark skill has increased my body count from a pathetic 5 (my son’s mom) to a body count of 52 as of this last weekend.

But do I stop there and leave them in the dust? Hell no! I keep them around, I drag them around, and am constantly looking for new targets daily. I keep them around for many reasons - sex, money, drugs, alcohol, transportation, parties, new friends... And some times I’ll keep them around and create friendships with them so I always have someone to talk to or hang out with.

This way I am never bored and can always feed whatever hunger comes into my darkened heart...

I have done so many messed up things. Slept with more than one girl in a single day, slept with a new girl every day of the week, fucked a girl and then fucked her best friend. I’ve made women cheat on their boyfriends and then turned around and hung out with their boyfriends. I’ve made wives cheat on their poor unknowing husbands. Some would find out and their wives would leave them for me. Others would simply ask me to never mention it. Do I respect their wishes? Of course! Like I said. I never purposely treat any of these women poorly. I do this so that I can retain my image as a good and normal man. But more often than not, it’s the sex that makes them come back. I can’t tell you how many girls I’ve dicked down. I’ve been with all kinds of girls. Blondes, redheads, burnettes, thick girls, thin girls, small boobs, huge boobs, some who could be porn stars, some who were covered in tattoos and peircings, some were cam girls, some were strippers, some were partiers, drinkers, some were moms, some were church girls, some were younger, some were older... I think the only type of girl I have yet to be with is an Asian... Gunna have to change that...

I’ve been all over the place too. I can’t go to ANY surrounding town from where I live without knowing a girl I’ve fucked there. It’s hard enough when I’m out running errands too, can’t go fucking anywhere without the chance of seeing one of my victims.

All in all, it’s the thrill of the chase, it’s the thrill of knowing what lurks beneath the mask while they remain clueless, it’s the feeling of being so cold and heartless yet have the ability to bring them so many emotions I can’t feel, it’s about giving them the best sex of their lives, it’s about the satisfaction of leashing them along like pets, it’s about POWER and CONTROL. The two fucking things I had so little of when this all started during those 3 toxic and traumatizing relationships.

And in the deepest, darkest corners of my sick mind... In these many moments of deception and manipulation... I trick myself into believing that these poor girls I victimize are my exes.. In an attempt to feel some type or form of revenge to dowse the neverending burning fires of PURE HATRED that have turned my entire world into a place of devastation that is now just as dark as my heart...

For me, women as a whole, are my newly developed drug addiction. When I see them, I don’t see people, I see prey that I can use for whatever benefit I see fit. And if those benefits run out I simply take them to the slaughter house and use them one last time. Rejection doesn’t faze me either. If a single sheep manages to escape my fenced in prison it doesn’t bother me, the herde always consists of between 10-20 women at all times. It’s as easy as a simple hunting trip, which I honestly enjoy. After all, it’s always good to get out every once in a while.

This is what my life has turned into. A never ending sickening cycle of trying to fill in the void within my heart that they left behind those years ago. But in the end that ONE thing that can fill this whole is the one thing I avoid the most - Love...

Yes, my therapist knows about all of this. It’s great because my therapist is a female so it’s nice to be able to share my stories and brag to a girl who’s job is to help me. She probably thinks I’m a fucking piece of shit and I don’t blame her. But she’s a professional and has to help people like me.

We’ve discussed goals throughout therapy on ways for me to relearn the feelings of empathy, remorse, love, and so on... It’s one of many goals and this is the one I have the most trouble with... Part of me wants to change and go back to being normal. But the other part of me wants to keep doing what I do best because it’s just so much damn fun.

So will this part of me ever change? I think so. I hope so. The only other times I went from being a total man whore to a faithful loving man was every time a girl would come into my life who was strong enough to snap me out of dark ways... So far it’s only happened twice. My body count is at 52 and going up more quickly than ever. I’ve spoken to thousands of women, met hundreds, recieved thousands of numbers, thousands of X rated pictures and videos of these women, I’ve had sex thousands of times, and it’s getting to the point where these women just seem to blur together...

There’s little hope of finding a girl strong enough to pull me from the darkness this time. And honestly, I’m okay with it. I am at a point where the darkness is comforting and feels like home...

So this time around.. Not only does she need to be strong enough to pull me out... She needs to be brave enough to venture into a world of total darkness...

#sociopath #aspd #psychopath

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plantvenuss · 5 years ago

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Avenging what we lost- [ Steve Rogers x Black! reader ] - 3

[A/N - To be added to the taglist just ask! 🍒💕! the summary may be the same for a few chapters or it might change!]

For previous chapters: Part one, and here for Part two

WARNINGS : None

Summary: Following the release of the readers hospitalization, the reader tries to find out why and who was behind what happened on the 21st of September, 2013. But will they you after the right person? and what happens when it becomes harder than you thought it would be?

1 year ago....

February, 8th 2013.

“You gonna be okay?” Melina, the woman who had been your caretaker for less than a year asked, rubbing your back as the yellow taxi parallel parked in front of you.

The streets were busy, the sound of honking, buzzing cars filled your ears. You breathed in the scent of DC and savored it, the smell of fresh air and soft winter breeze hitting a spot you’d never thought you’d feel again.

Everything felt new, your mind felt fresh- it felt like it somehow expanded and you were open to more knowledge that you could’ve never reached before. You named it the “post-accident high.” because you thought that everyone who had experienced such severe “accidents.” felt this way. That the trauma was so severe that it shook the core of the soul. And the body not knowing how to react to such drastic changes, made changes of its own to adapt: renewing the mind

You nodded as the driver loaded your things in the trunk. ”Although I don’t really remember some things.” you commented jokingly, which made the both of you giggle.

You turned to her, the necklace she had given you on your birthday swinging with the movement of your body. You gave her a soft smile and placed your hand on top of her forearm.

“Are you?” You asked back, becoming serious, and she gave you a stunned look, her eyebrows furrowing, eyes looking around as if you had been talking to someone else before she gave an answer.

She opened her mouth but stopped, wrapping her arms around herself as the whisk cold air blew again. She smiled a sad smile, watching the cars drive by as she continued to stand there with her arms wrapped around herself.

She nodded after a while of silence, like she was appreciating the scene in front of her- the kind of nod you give when you’re satisfied with everything.

“Yeah. I am.”

Finally, she turned and placed her hand on top of yours and exhaled, a short breath enough for it to make the air that escaped her lips turn to fog and dissolve into the air.

You placed your hands on top of hers, the feeling that this moment would only last a short second sitting in the pit of the both of your stomachs.

Although you were not brave enough to admit it, you were going to miss parts you could remember about her. You were going to miss how she put up with your bullshit all of the time, how she would always come in with a brighter smile even after you yelled at her and told her to fuck off countless times. You never meant for all of that, the yelling, the cursing the temper tantrums, it was just that she reminded you so much of your brother, Marcus.

So well put together, so patient and tolerant with all of your shit, you were almost starting to believe that Marcus’ soul was put into the the body of this woman to taunt you.

And you couldn’t help but get angry. It wasn’t his fault, none of what happened that day was anybody’s fault but your own, and you had come to terms with that not too long ago. But you couldn’t dismiss the anger you felt. How could he just leave you here all alone like this? with scars etched all over your body, it disgusted you. You were supposed to protect each other, you were supposed to protect him.

But your pride was too high to admit that to her, how much she reminded you of your brother, even with all of the 3rd degree burns that were patched up and hidden away so the rest of the world couldn’t see you, or hear your stories.

“How about this.” You began, the idea of letting her go so soon breaking your heart. Not now, not when you had such a connection with her.

Slipping your hand away from hers you turned, the taxi driver impatiently seated in his car, waiting for you to say your goodbyes.

“how about we grab a coffee one of these days?” you asked, gulping, waiting to be disappointed.

She smiled brighter, her smile almost bringing the sun out, she nodded and you limped toward the taxi with her help, you said your goodbye’s and the taxi sped off, merging into the Washington traffic. But when you turned to look around, even after sitting in a queue of red lights and honking cars, she was still there, waiting.

June 20th, 2014.

Today....

“Any updates on the missing files?” Steve asked as he crouched over Natasha’s desk, she shook her head, no, as she continued to type at an impeccable speed, her eyes managing to keep up with whatever her fingers were feeding the computer with.

“I’m trying to hack their feed, trying to see if anyone was in that file room before you.”

Steve nodded, fixing his posture and standing up right, grabbing one of the files he took from the base off of Natasha’s desk, skimming through it.

“Good. Let me know if you find anything.” turning on his heels Natasha’s words stopped him from moving any further, “I’m in.” she said, and Steve turned around faster than he’s ever done before.

“Whoever this is,” Natasha spoke after a while of static buzzed through the computers speakers. “meddled with the feed, so I can’t identify the face. Only the times they were in and out.”

Steve huffed, dropping the file back on top of the neat stack of files, Natasha turned towards him with her lips pressed tightly, the feeling of failure seeping into her veins.

“We need to talk.”

He peered over his shoulder and scoffed as the door clicked behind Steve, kicking his feet off of his desk he stood, in one swift motion, his back still turned on Steve.

Steve took this as a sign to move forward, he placed his shield on the couch that was placed in the center of the room and moved his way towards Fury’s desk, he took Fury’s silence as a notion to speak but he chose to remain silent.

“What is it, Rogers?” He asked, his dominant voice bouncing off of the walls. Steve exhaled through his nose, his stubbornness getting the best of him, he swayed on his feet before his eyes flicked up to meet the back of Fury’s head.

“We have missing files and you don’t seem to care.” He croaked out, Fury’s body suddenly turned to this accusation, almost like he jumped at the idea to argue.

“Did I say I didn’t care?” He bounced back, finally meeting Steve’s eyes for the first time since he stepped into the room.

“You’re not exactly acting like you do.” Steve sassed back, if there was ever a time to be sassy, the time was now. Those files were important to S.H.I.E.L.D and now that they’ve been stolen, without any possible trace, the existence of S.H.I.E.L.D is at stake.

“So you’ve come to my office, to tell me how I should and shouldn’t give a damn?”

“No-” Steve pursed his lips into a tight line and tucked his two thumbs into the hilt of his uniform. He turned his head towards fury, his blue eyes boring a sense of urgency behind them, he knows he could catch whoever took the files, hell he wanted to catch whoever did this, all he wanted was for Fury to feel the same.

“All I’m asking is for you to help, send some agents, send a tech team- just send someone. It’s just me and Romanoff down there, and as much as I’d like to believe we can get it done on our own this time,” Steve raised his shoulders and Fury gave him a look of understanding and defeat after a moment.

It marked hour 3 when the loading bar successfully chimed, your head shot up from your desk and you rubbed your cold hands together. Wasting no time your hands moved towards the mouse and you began navigating what you could get your hands on.

“Come on, gimme something.” You urged on, your leg jittering up and down in anticipation. It took you months of planning to get your hands on these things, and you were hoping all of your good work was not put in for nothing.

Just when your hope was beginning to crack you came across a double file, which of course had its sets of passwords because it was S.H.I.E.L.D, but you had no problem getting past those, when you did your hands froze.

You pressed harder against the mouse, the beds of your fingers crushing the material under it, you grit your teeth, your heart beating faster than ever as you read the file over and over again just to make sure you were reading it correctly.

‘S.H.I.E.L.D INITIATIVE, PROJECT SEP 21ST-13 D.C’

‘There must’ve been some kind of file error, surely this couldn’t have been under the hands of S.H.I.E.L.D?’ you thought as you continued to hover the mouse over the file, your fingers shaking with anticipation. You shouldn’t feel this excited about knowing who was behind the attack against your family, but you can’t help it, you’ve finally been able to pin a face to this, after months. And that face was S.H.I.E.L.D.S.

Pulling yourself together you opened the file and the screen glitched for a second, the darkest black you’ve ever seen over-taking your screen as the sound of the computer increased to a piercing shriek, but it was over quicker then you could react. The screen lit up again, and your computer was bombarded with notes, weapon blueprints and potential “attack” dates, all written in some sort of code that you’d never come across before.

You did everything you could, tried to figure out the coding, tried to figure out any hidden features the weapons had, hell you even tried to figure out who triggered the launch for the bomb to go off in the first place, but after around half an hour, the file shut down and re-set its password.

You had figured out, a short while after you had failed to retrieve any useful information that would bring you to a lead, that whoever coded this file must have been the expert among experts, because they were able to hide the fact that after a specific time, you were locked out of each file, depending on the files importance.

Deciding to wrap it up for a day you pinned the hard-drive to your desktop when something caught your eye. This file stood out the most, instead of a mini folder as the image for the file itself it was a small, square bar with extremely small green coding against it, you thought nothing of it, deciding that it was probably a file about getting through HYDRA’S computer system, you decided to leave it alone, until your eyes came across the files name.

‘PROJEKT: [Y / N] [L / N] - 29203 SERUM # 5′

Turns out the night was going to be longer than you thought.

#steve rogers x black!reader #x black reader #avengers x black!reader #captain america x black! reader #captain america #black widow #nick fury #chapter 3 #Chris Evans

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chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 35

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @ocfairygodmother

“Did you consider it? Even for a split second?”

He can’t get those words out of his head; playing on a continuous loop. Eating away at him and burrowing into every inch of his already fractured and troubled mind. It’s the insinuation behind them that hurts more than anything; the fact she’d even think that he’d be capable of something like that, as if it somehow made a difference that they’d only known one another for five days. She wasn’t a stranger; they’d been sharing a bed, exploring each other's bodies and both enjoying and pleasing one another as much as possible. They’d been each other’s confessionals as well; sharing those deep, dark and -and sometimes shameful- secrets that they’d kept buried for years and never told a single living soul. It was the first time he’d felt THAT comfortable with someone; able to easily and effortlessly let his guard down and show her the different sides to him. Not just the hardened mercenary covered in scars and tattoos; the one with a drinking problem and an addiction to pain meds, weighed down by a lifetime of baggage. He’d found himself smiling and laughing again; genuine, not the forced smiles and laugh that he’d perfect over the past thirty-five years of his life.

By the middle of the third day he’d realize that maybe it was more than just two lonely and broken people drawn to each other through similar painful circumstances and a job they used as an escape from their shitty realities. He liked having her around. Not just in those early morning hours when he’d wake up to that soft, warm body next to him in bed. But when he’d look at her from across the room as she sat at the table by the window; both feet up on her seat and knees tucked tightly to her chest, headphones on and eyes narrowed in concentration as she worked on her laptop. Or when he’d come back to the room after grabbing food at the market and she’d greet him with that brilliant, beautiful smile that made her eyes sparkle. He just liked her being there; hearing her voice and seeing her face and breathing in the soft, sweet scent that lingered in her hair. Most importantly, he didn’t feel judged; she didn’t look at him with disgust or pity. She understood his job and the brutality and violence that came with it; she knew what he was capable of and the lives he’s taken over the years. None of that had bothered her. She ‘got it’. In a way no one else ever had.

It had been his side to see if there was more to it...more to THEM. Suddenly feeling as if there was actually something to forward to after Dhaka; something...someone...who could keep him going even during the most difficult and darkest of days. Sure, the sex was good. It was incredible, in fact. But to find someone that understood your life and didn’t hold it against you or judge you for your past mistakes and horrible decisions? That was even better. They’d take some of the money from the Dhaka job and travel; wherever they felt like going or wherever they just ended up. And she’d spent time in Australia; willing to travel to The Kimberley and stay in that rundown little shack. And he’d head to Colorado; looking forward to seeing the mountains and just spending time with her. Seeing just...if anything...actually existed between them.

Only things hadn’t gone according to plan. Everything went to shit, and their entire existences changed. The path becoming much more difficult to tread than either of them could have possibly imagined.

She’d always trusted him. Right from the start. Without question or reservation. And she’d always told him that he made her feel safe. Protected. During both those early days and the seven years that followed. She’d confused that she’d never felt that way before; not even with the other men that had been in her life. Always relying on herself; her own wits and her own skills and her fierce independence. She hadn’t realized how much she’d actually wanted that; the feeling of security and, being able to trust someone to that extent, going to bed at night not only knowing that someone would do anything to protect her, but that they were more than capable of doing it. That steadfast faith and confidence in him sometimes the only things that kept him going; knowing that she trusted him and loved him THAT much. Even on the days when he hated himself and wondered if she -and even his kids when they came along- would be much better off without him and his bullshit dragging them down. She would tell him how ridiculous it was to think that way. That she couldn’t imagine her life without him. That she didn’t just want him there, she NEEDED him there. No matter how hard he made things on her, no matter how difficult he could be to love. It was the one constant that kept him alive sometimes; knowing that -beyond a shadow of a doubt- she truly felt that way.

So to hear her ask that -if he’d ever considered giving her up to Asif- had torn him apart inside. He can’t remember anything hurting that much; cutting straight to his core. No physical pain -not even the wounds he’d sustained in Dhaka- inflicting that much damage and agony. It killed him inside; wondering if he’d ever given her a reason to think he’d do something like that. That she doubted he would have done anything -even back then- to keep her safe. Alive. There’d never been a moment where it had seemed like a good idea, her life in exchange for his freedom. For money. And it makes him physical ill knowing she’d ever looked at him that way. That maybe she STILL does.

He forces himself to get his shit together; head down and sunglasses over his as he takes the path to the back of the kids’ school. Leaves and twigs and gravel snapping and popping beneath the soles of his flip flops. It’s not often that they pick the kids up; normally the last Friday of the month was the usual. A routine that they’d gotten into; grabbing the three oldest and driving into one of the other towns on the coast and spending time on their beaches and then going out to dinner. Returning after long after sunset and having to carry exhausted yet happy children into the house and upstairs to bed. Even in the later stages of the pregnancy with Addie they’d tried to hold onto that habit; family time away from the house and the chaos that sometimes ran amok within those four walls. Little moments and memories that their kids would hopefully hold onto it and look back on forty years down the road.

Going home had been the smartest thing he’d ever done. Not just for himself, but for them. Things calmer and less stressful. The arguing less frequent and much less intense. Before if had been constant; lingering frustration and hostility that lingered under the surface and would build up to the point of exploding. Since leaving Colorado things have improved. Tremendously.

Until she’d asked if he’d ever give her up a drug lord, that is.

****

The other parents are too chatty. Too nosy. The moms don’t hide the fact they’re checking him out; huddling together in little groups, nudging each other with their elbows, the sly little smiles that tug at the corners of their mouths, the whispers that follow. It’s flattering yet annoying as hell at the same time. The dads are another story; they stare and talk but try and hide it. The women will actually approach. The men will stay their distance. They don’t see the muscles and the tattoos and the scars the same way the ladies too; they see them as intimidating. Threatening, even. A guy with six inches and sixty pounds -if not more- on them, wandering into their ‘territory’ and taking all the attention away. He’s pretty sure his ‘resting asshole face’ -as Esme calls it- doesn’t help; he doesn’t want to be bothered and he doesn’t try to hide the fact. Maybe the guys see it as arrogance; him appearing overly confident and all the women taking notice. Suddenly they’re interested in the dad in the jeans and the ratty t-shirt and not on the ones with starchy golf shirts and the ironed pleats in their khakis. He sticks out like a sore thumb and likes it that way. He’s somewhat of a mystery to them; showing up out of the blue six months old with those haunted eyes and the stern face and all the battle wounds that bear evidence of a story to tell. One they’ll never be privy to but will always speculate about.

He plays it for all it’s worth. In his own subtle way. The longer he gives off the intimidating vibe, the longer people stay away from him. He’s not there to make friends. He has enough of those. He prefers his privacy; not allowing anyone outside of his immediate family -and a trusted few- past the walls he’s built up. It’s all way too fucking complicated; his past, what he did for a living, what he’s getting back into. And letting people in means letting them know ALL of that. And that’s something he wants to avoid. At all costs.

“Your Tyler’s dad.”

At first it doesn’t even register that someone is actually speaking to him. Lost in his own little world as she leans against the brick wall the door the kids will come out; one hand shoved in his pocket, the older holding his phone. Attention focused solely on the text messages that his wife has sent since he left the house. Apologetic. Remorseful. The regret obvious in every word she’s typed. He’s not angry; not at her. It’s hurt. Genuine hurt that sits in the pit of his stomach and makes his chest ache. Maybe Gaspar HAD been right; maybe she is his ultimate weakness. And he sends his own text back. Telling her that he loves her and they’ll talk later. TALK. Not fight. Then turns his attention to the man now standing beside him. A few inches shorter; slim, with tousled and unruly salt and pepper hair and dark skin. Aboriginal; he can see the dark and intricate tribal tattoos that travel up both arms and stop at the sides of his neck.

Tyler grins. “Before I lay claim to him, it depends what he’s done.”

“He’s friends with my boy. Ezekiel. He’s one of the few kids that are. He’s got some issues. My boy. He’s not like everyone else. And the people around here...between you and me...they don’t like anyone that looks different. Or acts different. They’re…”

“Judgmental pricks?” Tyler finishes for him.

The other man laughs. “I’m glad one of us has the stones to say it out loud. “

“My wife always tells me I’m imagining it. That it’s all in my head.”

“Mine says the same. Now I can go home and tell her that I’m not making it up and someone else feels the same way. Your boy, he’s a good kid. He’s got a huge heart inside of him. I’ve heard the stories. The way other parents talk. Saying he’s a troublemaker and has behavior issues and all that shit. He’s just a kid, you know? He’s got a lot of feelings and emotions going in there. He always sticks up for my boy. Always. Never backs down no matter how big the other kids are or how many of them come at him.”

“He’s fearless. And stubborn as hell.”

“Well, I for one appreciate it. Kids like mine...like my Zeke...they have a hard enough life without assholes making it worse. So when kids like yours come around, parents like me take notice. And we wish there were more like him and parents who would raise them like you and your wife are. World would be a better place for Zeke if kids were brought up like that. I just wanted to say thanks. For raising such a good kid.”

Tyler doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good at accepting compliments; ‘thank you’ always seems so self-serving and fake. And it’s better to say nothing than come across as either socially awkward or a complete prick. So he gives an appreciative smile instead; and the other dad returns the gesture with a smile of his own and a friendly pat on the shoulder before wandering off the stand on his own. He sees the way the other parents look at the man; the color of his skin and the wild hair and the tribal tattoos. Australia has a long and sordid history of treating their aboriginals like shit, and even in this day and age the ignorance and racism continue. And he shoves his phone into his pocket and heads over, sidling up beside the other dad, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What grade is your kid in?” he asks. It sounds lame, but you have to start somewhere.

“He’s in special education. He has cerebral palsy. From a stroke at birth. He can speak, but he’s in a chair permanently. Has seizures and some other problems.”

“That’s gotta be rough.” He doesn’t want to say ‘sorry’; that will come across as pity. Give the impression that he thinks something is wrong and shameful with having a kid with issues. It is what it is. And every child, with disabilities or not, deserves respect. Not pity. At least in his eyes.

“Thanks for not saying ‘I’m sorry’. I hate when people say that. What’s there to be sorry for? He’s a beautiful kid. He’s happy. He loves and is loved. I wish we could all see the world through his eyes. He doesn’t judge or hate. He just loves. You have other kids, yeah?”

“Four other ones. Two boys, two girls. Millie’s the oldest. She’s going to be six in a week and a bit. Addie’s the baby; not even a month yet. The one before her, Declan, the doctors thought maybe there was something going on with him. They saw some things when my wife was pregnant with him; at the twenty-week ultrasound. Chromosome issues.”

“Downs?”

Tyler nods. “They wanted us to let them do more testing. To find out for sure. So we could ‘discuss the options’. They actually said that. There were no other options. Not to us. We didn’t need to know. We were going to have him regardless. Didn’t matter one way or the other. It was our kid.”

“And everything came out okay?”

“Well, he’s a ginger and can be a little asshole sometimes, but yeah…” he grins. “...it turned out to be nothing. Like I said, we wouldn’t have cared. It’s our kid, right? Obviously they’re meant to be here. Regardless if there’s something going on or not.”

“Shame some people don’t think like we do. They see kids like them as a burden. Say they’re never going to be ‘contributing members of society’.”

“Yeah, well people like that can go fuck themselves.”

The other man laughs, then holds out a hand. “I’m Anatjari. Everyone just calls me Andy.”

“Tyler,” he shakes the hand that’s offered. “Anatjari. That’s from Pintupi, right?”

“Not many people know that.”

“A mate of mine, his mum comes from the tribe. He speaks a little bit of it. Enough to get by, I guess. Your wife aboriginal too?”

“As white as the driven snot.” Andy laughs. “She was an exchange teacher. From New York City. We met and she never went back. Your wife from here?”

“Colorado.”

“From the mountains and the snow to this? That’s culture shock. How’d a guy from here meet a girl from there?”

“Work. We got contracted out to the same job.”

“Zeke says your boy told him that you used to fight bad people.”

Tyler gives a small laugh. “I guess that’s kind of true. The field I was in, sometimes I HAD to do that. I’d get sent places to sort out other peoples’ messes. Private security, I guess you could call it.

“Well you’re definitely made for that kind of shit. Doesn’t it bother you? That?” Andy nods in the direction of the group of moms huddled together, staring and whispering.

“A little. They’re harmless though. My wife would kill them if they ever tried anything. She’s small but she’s tough. Definitely puts the fear of God into me sometimes. As much as it embarrasses me to admit that.”

“Your secret is safe with me. It’s the same at my house. You know…” he scuffs the toe of his runner against the concrete. “...you didn’t have to do this. Come over and talk to me. I’m used to being the black sheep.”

“I know. And I didn’t do it because I felt I needed to. I wanted to. I don’t make friends easily either. The wife says I give off bad vibe. That I scare people. Something about the look on my face and my size. Makes me intimidating, apparently.

“I don’t know,” Andy shrugs. “You seem pretty harmless to me.”

Tyler chuckles. “I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me that.”

He’s been called many things over the years. Brutal. Violent. Aggressive. Even merciless and savage.

But never THAT.

****

“Daddy!” Millie is the first to greet him, sandals already in her hands as she races toward him in her bare feet; ponytail swinging wildly from side to side. And he scoops her up as she throws herself at his legs, pressing a kiss to her cheek and then settling them on his hip. “I missed you!”

“I was only gone one day.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still missed you. Look…” she gives a wide smile and points to the gap in her bottom teeth. “It finally fell out! At lunch. I went to eat my apple and it just popped out!”

“Didn’t swallow it, did you? Don’t want a whole bunch of teeth growing in your tummy.”

“That’s not what would happen!” she says, and then giggles when he tickles her stomach. “I put it in my pocket. So I can put it under my pillow tonight. I was worried you wouldn’t be there. That maybe you had to stay away longer.”

“I said I’d be here and I’m here. Have a good day? Punch anyone in the face?”

“Nope. No one tried to dull my sparkle today. It was an awesome day,” she enthuses, as he sets her on the ground. “Hi Zeke’s daddy,” she chirps to the man standing beside him.

“You already know each other?” Tyler asks.

“Everyone knows Zeke’s daddy. He’s awesome. He comes sometimes and teaches us art and tells us really cool stories about his people. And Zeke is awesome too. He’s so cute and so sweet and gives the best hugs.”

Andy gives a sheepish smile. “I think he might have a bit of a crush on her.”

“He’s so cute!” Millie gushes. “He’s coming to my birthday party. He loves to swim, right Zeke’s daddy?”

“He does,” Andy confirms. “And he’s very excited. He’s never been invited to a birthday party before.”

“Other kids are such dicks,” she declares. “Mommy and daddy said that we’re all the same and we should love each other no matter what we look like or what we can or can’t do. That’s the stuff that makes us different and unique and not boring. No one wants to be boring.”

“You are definitely NOT boring,” Tyler tells her, as he fixes her hair clips and tightens her ponytail. “No one can ever say that about you, that’s for sure.”

“That’s Zeke right there!” She excitedly announces, and points to where her brothers are coming across the school yard; one on either side of their friend as he’s being pushed in his wheelchair by a one on one aide.

At first it makes Tyler feel sad; a hint of pity that nearly brings tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat. Pissed off at a fucked up world that would do something like that to an innocent kid. But he notices the brilliant smile and the look of pure adoration and love in his eyes as he looks at one boy, and then the other. The way the twins hold his hands and laugh and talk to him as if he’s just like any other kid on the playground.

“Daddy!” Tanner breaks away first, tossing himself into his father’s waiting arms. “You’re here! I know you’d be here. I missed you!”

“I missed you too, mate.” He lays a hand on the side of Tanner’s head and presses a kiss to his temple. “I said I’d be here. I wasn’t going to let you guys down. I’ll never do that. Not anymore.”

“Hi daddy!” TJ greets. “This is Zeke. He’s my best friend. Other than Tanner. Zeke, this is my dad. Remember how I told you that used to beat up bad guys? He’s crazy big and crazy strong but I promise he’s not mean. Not unless you’re a bad guy. And you are definitely not a bad guy.”

Tyler gives an uncomfortable laugh. “Okay, no one needs to hear that. About me beating up bad guys. You ready to go? We gotta go and get something for mommy. A surprise.”

Millie frowns. “Did you do something wrong?”

“I can’t buy your mom something just because? Maybe I just love and want to buy her things. Ever thought of that?”

His daughter scoffs. “That’s not how you work.”

“Well maybe I’m changing how I work. Don’t be such a smart ass.”

“You helped make me. I’m half you. Where do you think I get it from? Blame yourself.”

Tyler smirks, then turns to Andy. “Almost six going on sixteen. I’m dreading actual teenage years with this one. You guys wanna come with? We’re just going into town. Grab some ice cream. You’re more than welcome to tag along.”

“Yes! Please?! Millie grabs a hold of the other man’s arm. “Please Zeke’s daddy? It’ll be fun. And Zeke will love hanging out with us outside of school.”

“I warn you,” Tyler says, as he slings their three backpacks over his shoulders. “They’re a little feral. I blame my wife. Just don’t tell her I said that. She has a different take on who made them that way.”

“Ice cream sounds good,” he enthuses. “Be nice to have another dad to talk to. One that isn’t...I don't know…”

“A total prick?”

“That’s pretty much what I had in mind.”

“Wait until you get to know me, mate. I’m not as harmless as I seem.”

****

“Daddy made a friend!” Millie announces two hours later, as she bursts onto the back patio, already clad in one of her many bathing suits and a Strawberry Shortcake towel hanging off her head. And she stands beside the chair her mother sides on as she nurses the baby, pressing a kiss to Esme’s lips in greeting.

“A friend, huh?” She gives Tyler a wink as he lingers in the doorway, waiting for the twins to rush past him before stepping outside. And they each give her a kiss before rushing off with their sister; racing towards where Ovi sits with Declan in the surf. “An imaginary one or…?”

He smirks. “Now I know where your daughter gets being a smart ass from.”

“It’s definitely not from me,” she says, and he stands behind her chair, giving the nape of her neck a gentle squeeze before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “So real? Fake? Who’s this friend?”

“A real one. And he’s not a friend. Just some guy that started talking to me while I was waiting for the kids.”

“You know it’s okay to have friends, right? Not everyone is out to get you, Tyler. Don’t you think it would be nice to have someone to talk to you?”

“I have you talk to you.”

“Who do you talk to when you’re pissed off and you need to vent about me?”

“Myself mainly,” he says, grimacing as he lowers himself into the chair across from her.

“Because THAT’S totally healthy.”

“You don’t piss me off enough to make me bitch to other people about you.”

She arches a brow. “Not even today?”

“We’re not going to talk about this right now, are we? I really do not want to talk about this.”

“When is there a better time?”

“I dunno. When the kids go to bed. When we actually can pay attention to what the other one is saying. And I don’t want to fight. I’m just putting that out there now. We’re supposed to be working on getting past shit like that; fighting all the time. And I thought we were doing pretty good.”

“We have been. Things have a lot better since we moved here. In New Zealand, for that matter. We’re more relaxed and less stressed and we don’t have people sticking their noses in our business all the time. One fight is not the end of the world. We used to fight about everything. Even stupid, small shit.”

“Yeah…” he stretches his right leg out, attempting to ignore the pain in the knees as he places his foot in her lap. “...I don’t miss those days.”

“I don’t know. The making up was always fun,” she teases, and he grins. “I think Declan’s here because of a fight, actually. Millie might be too, but we can’t say for sure which of the five days it happened on. If it was the first day…”

“That wasn’t a fight.”

“Bullshit it wasn’t.”

“That was you not listening to a goddamn word I say and doing what you want.”

“Okay for the record, I didn’t listen because I thought your rules your stupid and no man was going to tell me what to do no matter how hot he was. Second, that was a fight. You were doing all the yelling, but that was definitely a fight.”

“You and I remember that day very differently.”

“I think you have selective memory. Because you were pissed, and you were losing your shit. Which makes it a fight.”

“Isn’t a fight two sided?”

“You grabbed me by the throat.”

“You liked it.”

She smirks. “Okay, I’ll give you that. But that was definitely a fight and it’s very likely that that’s when Millie was conceived. And if it was, then your swimmers are very lucky and very determined. That’s all I’m going to say.”

“I am telling you. Super sperm. I know you don’t believe me, but I think that’s proof right there. First day, first time. Boom. Got shit done.”

“You are so romantic,” she chides.

“There was nothing romantic about those five days.”

“No,” she laughs. “There wasn’t. But it was hot though. Crazy hot.”

He nods in agreement, then leans his head back against his chair; eyes closed, hands clasped and resting on his stomach.

“I didn’t mean it,” she says, as moves Addie up onto her chest, one hand on the back of her head, the other rubbing her back. “I especially I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I wasn’t trying to make it sound like you would do something like that. I...”

“Stop, okay? Not right now. Later.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just...”

“Baby...” he cracks his eyes open and gives her a tight-lipped smile. “...not now, okay? Please.”

“Okay,” she agrees with a sigh, and then looks out towards the water; watching as the three oldest kids take turns on who gets to be the one Ovi hurls into the water. “Chloe left,” she announces.

“What? When?”

“This morning. I guess they got into a big fight last night. About the job. She’s mad that he cut ties with Nik. I guess she was getting really tight with her.”

“Oh, for fuck sakes. That’s what pissed her off? How old is she again?”

“I told her that Nik is not the person you want to get close to. That she’ll fuck you over the first chance she gets. She spent seven years trying to do it to me. Ovi tried explaining how things are better this way; you running the business and him working for you. I don’t think she realizes just what that world is like. She’s got some romanticized view of it. Like it’s some exciting, amazing life where the good guys always win and survive. I told her that I’ve seen a lot of good people die. G, Saju. Just for starters.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“And you. Well, almost you.”

“I wasn’t a good person. Not then. I don’t even know if I am now.”

She frowns. “Don’t do that, okay? You’re not the horrible person you think you are. You made some shitty decision and you had to do some bad things. To BAD people. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t deserve to be.”

“I’m here because YOU thought I deserved to be”

“I didn’t think it. I knew it. You didn’t die that day because you weren’t meant to die. If you were supposed to be dead, you would be. And you can’t convince me otherwise.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I’m glad you did what you had to do to save me. Even though I know it fucked you up.”

“Seeing you like that is what fucked me up. Not doing what I did. And can we not talk about this?” Tears well in her eyes. “I hate talking about this. About Dhaka. Because it brings it all back and I just can’t deal with that. I thought by now I’d be over it and I could talk about it and think about it. But I can’t. I just can’t.”

Pushing his chair away from the table, he stands; limping as he walks around to where she sits, slightly wincing as he crouches down alongside of her. “Look at me...” he gently orders, one hand on her knees, the other reaching up and settling on the back of her neck. “...look at me.”

She obliges.

“I am right here.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because sometimes I’m not so sure. It’s like we’re right back there. Going through everything all over again. Like we never left.”

“I’m just having a hard time,” she admits. “Things are happening so fast and with the business. I didn’t expect things to happen THIS quickly. I thought we had some time to breathe before you actually got back into it. At least a couples. A month, even. It’s been two days.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not even starting anything until after Millie’s birthday. We talked about this. You were okay with it.”

“I AM okay with it. I’m the one who told you to go back. I just didn’t think it would happen so fast. I mean Addie’s not even a month old. She’s still tiny. She’s still new. And now I’ve got crates and bags of weapons and ammo and all kinds of other shit in my garage. And there’s people calling all the time wanting you help them right away.”

“Baby...calm down...I’m not going anywhere for at least a couple of weeks. I told you that.”

“I’m just worried. And I’m scared. I’ve got a new baby and four other kids, and I don’t want to do this alone. I CAN’T do this alone.”

“Esme, everything’s going to be okay. This isn't like all the other times when I went back. Everything’s different now. You don’t need to worry so much. It’s all different. I’m different.”

“I just want you to be careful. I just want you to be safe and come home and...”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he stresses. “Not for a while. Maybe not ever.” He pushes his fingers through her hair and places his lips against her forehead. “It’s going be okay. There’s nothing for you to worry about, I promise. Alright? Just calm down. Just calm down and trust me.”

“I do. You know I do. It’s other people I don’t trust.”

“I’ve got a lot of good people coming on board. Believe me when I say you can trust them. And you know, something really good happened today. At the school.”

“With your new friend?”

“If that’s what you want to call him. He was talking to me about our kid. TJ. How he always sticks up for his boy. His little guy’s in a wheelchair and has some issues and...”

“You met Andy. Zeke’s dad.”

“How do you know...”

“Him and his wife used to volunteer at the school on the days I did. That guy is crazy talented. You should see his art. He’s known all over the world, apparently. All aboriginal stuff. Did you meet Zeke too?”

Tyler nods.

“He’s the cutest little guy. And he gives the best hugs.”

“Your daughter said the same thing. Kid must be a player. What’s up with him hugging all the women in my life?”

“It makes me realize how lucky we are,” she says. “We have five beautiful, amazing, healthy kids. And I know it wouldn’t have a difference if there’d been something wrong with Declan. It didn’t matter to you. And I wouldn’t have wanted to go through that with anyone else. But we’re lucky. So lucky.”

“Yeah, we are. And we must be something right if TJ is like that. It means we haven’t fucked them up as bad I thought. At least not yet.”

“You do a pretty good job. I’ll give you that.”

“We do a good job,” he corrects. “I didn’t make those kids alone. And last time I checked, I didn’t give birth to them, so...”

“Makes the thought of a sixth one not seem so daunting after all.”

He grins. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that so soon.”

“I’m just putting it out there. We’ll see how we feel six months from now.”

“I was going to give it a year, but okay...”

She leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. “I love you and I’m sorry for what I said. I know you said not to talk about it right now, but I can’t help it. I never meant it that way and I don’t even know why I asked you that in the first place. I just...”

“It’s okay,” he assures her, kissing her temple before drawing her head down to his shoulder.

“It’s not okay. That was shitty thing to ask you. I don’t know why I did. Because I don’t think that way about you. I never have. I was just shocked, I guess. I wasn’t expecting you tell me that. I mean, I’m glad you did because you shouldn’t have held onto that for so long and...”

“Baby...” he rubs her back comfortingly. “...you’re rambling. Take it easy.”

“I’m just so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that.”

“I know.”

“I’m sure I’m the crappiest wife on the planet.”

“You’re far from it. Trust me.”

She pulls away to look at him, smiling through the tears. “You’re so biased.”

“Maybe a bit. But that doesn’t make it less true. And I didn’t tell you because I wanted to protect you. I didn’t think you need to know about it. What good is going to do? Now that you heard all that. Now that you know what Asif wanted and what he was going to do. Nothing good is going to come of it.”

“I just deal with it, I guess. Same way I’ve been dealing Dhaka shit for seven years.”

“Not very well?”

She frowns.

“I’m just saying.”

“Tell me this is going to go away. That one day I’m going to think about it and talk about it without feeling like I’m going crazy. That one day I’m going to wake up and it won’t bother me anymore.”

“You will. One day.”

“I hope so. Because I don’t know how much more of it I can take. How much longer I can go with it bothering me like this.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Tyler promises, then presses a kiss to her forehead and once more draws her head down against him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

It sounds good. Even to his own ears. But he can’t stop that feeling of dread that forms in the pit of his stomach. There are so many unknowns; answers he needs but can’t seem to find. No matter how hard he tries.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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whitherliliesbloom · 5 years ago

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Illya leads the charge!

Selection: "Oh.. so it begins.."

The Warrior of Light as her wild card job. Asking someone who is typically more comfortable with healing to lead the charge would typically be a bad idea, but someone.. or something within her gives her the strength she requires to brandish her guillotine with ease. Perhaps it is only fitting then, that the hero seeking to bring darkness shall clad herself in the shadows.

Illya’s WHM info here (x)

Weapons: Seeing Horde Guillotine / Antiquated Deathbringer

Passives: Illya as a Dark Knight has three passives. "Eclipse mastery" allows her to switch between two stances, Penumbra and Umbra, the effects of which are elaborated below. "Echo's whisper" gives a passive attack up buff. “Champion of the Dark” gives her a further boost attack boost against ‘light’ type enemies (sin eaters, lightwardens etc).

AI behavior:

Illya will always start in her Penumbra stance or 'Original' state. Penumbra gives her a defense boost and a buff that increases the HP gained from any healing magic cast on her. In her original state, she is a semi-aggressive tank, preferring to focus more on defense and and keeping aggro. She cycles between cool downs religiously, and uses the blackest night when expecting a tank buster. She is quick to chase down any adds if they go after other party members, and will use the blackest night on any party member who are low on HP and are at risk of dying.

Again, as she never runs out of MP, Bloodweapon is replaced with Dark Cure, a skill with a healing potency similar to Cure II that she can use on either herself or an ally.

The main gimmick of Illya as a Dark Knight is her Stress Meter, a meter that fills up as she takes damage. Damage absorbed by shields still counts as damage taken.When an ally dies, her stress meter fills by 20% automatically. When her stress meter reaches 100%, she automatically switches to Umbra stance, summoning her 'dark self'. Visual queues include a black aura that surrounds her for the rest of Umbra stance's duration, and her violet eyes change to red. Her voice lines are completely different, and her voice also takes on a more mature, deeper tone. Umbra stance switches out the buffs given by Penumbra stance to a massive attack and critical rate up buff and lasts 30 seconds while in combat. While in Umbra stance, she becomes extremely aggressive, focusing on attacking and using any available damaging oGCDs over using defensive CDs. Dark Cure is converted into an ability called Dark Mangle, an AOE ability that places a DoT on every enemy in a radius around her and does some damage.

Once 30 seconds of Umbra stance in combat has run out, she switches back to her Penumbra Stance and gains a debuff called "Emotional Exhaustion" that prevents her from switching to Umbra stance for 3 minutes, even if the stress meter is filled. Dying and reviving causes her to be reset back to her Penumbra state and still gain the Emotional Exhaustion debuff. If the entire party wipes, her stress meter will be filled automatically, and Emotional Exhaustion will wear off upon entering combat.

Illya in both stances uses every oGCD like Delirium, Abyssal Drain and Carve and Split upon coming off CD. Living Shadow functions the same for Illya as it does in game. However, while in Umbra stance, if a living shadow is summoned, it will take on the form of Illya instead of Fray.

She will never use LB unless she is the only one left alive.

Battle Lines (Penumbra): "Begone!" - randomly while attacking "Don't hurt him / her!" - when chasing after a mob that has aggro'd on an ally "Y-you hit harder than I expected." - after a tankbuster "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry!! I promised that I would protect you!" when an ally dies Illya can sometimes be heard breathing heavily or panting when she reaches 80% on her stress meter "Ugh! No! I can’t... hold on anymore.." - upon reaching 100% on stress meter. "Gods..it happened again, didn't it..?" - After switching back to Penumbra stance from Umbra stance

Battle Lines (Umbra): "From the darkest abyss." - Upon Umbra stance activation "I have you!" - performing a gap closer "Die already!" - randomly while attacking "Come back 'ere!" - when chasing after a mob that has aggro'd an ally "That all you got?!" - after a tankbuster "So time's up.." - when switching back to Penumbra stance

Death (Penumbra): "I failed everyone again..." "So this is where I fall.."

Death (Umbra): "S-shit.." "Curse you..."

Revived (Umbra stance will end automatically upon death, so she only has lines for being revived in penumbra stance): "I don't deserve such kindness." "Thank you.."

LB (Penumbra): "I have to stay strong.." - LB 1 or 2 "Lend me your strength just this once.. Peer into the dark!" - Performing Dark Force

LB (Umbra): "Don’t touch her!" - LB 1 or 2 "I'll be sendin' you to the pits of hell where you belong!" - Performing Dark Force

Victory (Penumbra): “I’ll sweep the area and make sure the coast is clear.. Everyone wait here, okay?” “Good work, everyone!”

Victory (Umbra): “What a nuisance.”

Others:

Illya's normal idle behavior is the same as when she's a white mage, except instead of checking her bag's inventory, she begins examining her weapon and polishing it. She is even less talkative in this form, even towards Alphinaud, though she still does talk to him more than anybody else. She also does not make as many comments about flowers, mostly because she’s so focused on leading the charge and has less room to spare being distracted.

While in Umbra form, any poses or emotes Illya does will switch from a female lalafell base to male hyur. Umbra stance Illya will make zero attempt to respond to or chatter with anybody, though she does have some rare dialogue lines with the scions sometimes. NPC dialogues will also change when Illya is in Umbra stance. Alphinaud in particular seems resentful and at times even antagonistic towards Illya in Umbra stance. This changes depending on dungeon, though. Dungeons taking place at the start of ShB will have Alphinaud treating Illya in Umbra stance coldly, but he slowly begins to speak to her in a normal tone towards the end of ShB, eventually trying to treat Umbra stance Illya normally as he would the original in post-ShB. While idle, she will cross her arms and lean her weight on one leg.

Again, trust template is by @locke-rinannis

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #illya skawi #ffxiv trust #trust info #mine #me: i want everyone to think illya as a whm is cool #also me: makes her whm info super boring while giving her drk info a unique and cool mechanic #now i feel kinda self conscious that her white mage profile isn't unique enough #at least not as unique as her drk #then again shb is all about the drk #so maybe it's fitting her drk is more unique mechanics wise #I maaay still revisit her whm info to add stuff though uhuhu

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i-got-these-words · 6 years ago

Note

If you’re still taking requests, could you do a flirty phone convo ft. HT and MGS?? You write so good though sooo you can do whatever you like!!! I know I’ll love it!! *hugsss*

I’m sorry, anon. I don’t know what happened…

A/N: This is a work of fiction that I pulled out of my ass. In its entirety. Procedures, regulation and jargon included. There is, however, a glossary of terms at the end of this post that tries to make sense of things.

I love hearing your thoughts, so leave me a comment! ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The pit was swathed in layers of slumber, the overhead lights set low as the night approached its darkest hour.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected during the third shift, but this was not it. The silence was unsettling, bordering on sinister.

The soft click of keys. The steady hum of computer fans. The stop-and-start stutter of a colleague snoring in a darkened corner.

Soon after he’d punched in, he’d dealt with two PIs and a neighbourly disturbance. But fuck all since. And the stillness was making his skin crawl.

It was nearing three am, though, and he was due a break. He was about to swivel round in the high-back chair to clear it with his dispatch supervisor when his phone monitor lit up. The emergency line.

Adjusting his headset, he picked up the call and immediately turned his attention to the mapping system on the central screen as it tried to triangulate the caller’s location.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?” Guan Shan said into the mouthpiece, frowning slightly when the mapping system sputtered its failure to ping the cellular device.

A rupture of ragged breathing abraded his right ear.

“Nine-one-one,” he repeated, wondering what the statistics were on perverts prank-calling emergency services.

A throaty moan adjourned the breathless rasping, sounding wet and wounded.

“What is the location of your emergency?” Guan Shan tried again, more urgent this time.

What the fuck?

Two weeks post training and initiation, Guan Shan’s most exciting call yet had been a GTA that had lasted all of ten minutes – casualties: nil. Although a desk job was not the endgame, moonlighting as a 911 operator whilst he studied for the EMT license exam would help cushion the blow the paramedic training fees were going to deliver to his malnourished bank account.

Running the ATL on the mapping system again, Guan Shan quickly scanned the screen to his left. The list of incoming calls to the county’s PSAP were sparse, a Code Red notably absent.

Just as he inhaled, readying himself to reiterate his opening line, a clamorous clatter rang in his ear, followed by a series of sibilant curses.

“Hello?” The voice at the other of the line, smooth as silk and husky like cigarette smoke, was distinctly male.

Guan Shan ignored the way the fine hairs at his nape prickled. “Sir, what is your emergency?”

“Well, I’m not sure how much of an emergency a man at death’s door constitutes.” All facts and no filler. “He’s fucked.” The words were enunciated on a knife’s edge. And sent a chill to the hollow of Guan Shan’s spine.

But Guan Shan had shed blood, sweat and snot over the Emergency Management and Communications modules and there was no fucking way this dickhead was going to throw him off.

“What is your location?” Fingers flying over his primary keyboard, Guan Shan pulled up the live rota on unengaged EMT vehicles. Due to recent cutbacks, there were plenty of ambulances but not enough crew. “Sir?”

A withering exhale. “You’ll have to track the phone. Somewhere in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where.”

Guan Shan ground his teeth, suppressing a sour retort – partly irked by the man’s unhelpful response and deliberate disregard, and partly irked by how erotic he sounded with said disregard. In particular, the way he said ‘fuck’ with the faint, fluid hint of a high-bred accent made Guan Shan’s ears heat up.

“What can you see around you? Any landmarks?” Guan Shan asked as he launched the medical emergencies algorithm, the rapid click-click-click of the plastic keys matching the speed of his heart, beat for beat. He’d never managed a critically-unstable casualty outside of a simulation before.

“Desert. Dirt. A beat-up truck.” Pause. “A bleeding man on his last breath.”

“Can you apply pressure to the wound?”

A soft sound in Guan Shan’s ear suggested a smirk. “Depends. Which would you rather: death by exsanguination or asphyxiation?”

The shit? “Ex-excuse me?”

The man lowered his voice to a tortured pitch and Guan Shan tensed in his seat. “There’s a gaping, toothless grin where his neck used to.”

Fucking-A.

Trepidation torched Guan Shan’s nerves as sawdust filled his mouth. “Who did that to him?” Was the perpetrator on the premises? Was the RP in danger? Or did Guan Shan have a homicidal psycho on the line?

A moment passed, the only sound in Guan Shan’s ear the slow, even breaths of a man who wasn’t used to being questioned.

“How green are you, rookie? There’s only me and this shithead for miles in every direction.”

“Tell me.” Guan Shan hissed. Tell me what you did, you arrogant prick. And then tell me where you are so I can unleash a squad on your ass.

“I slit his throat,” the raw edge to the voice was savage.

“Why –” Guan Shan clamped his mouth shut before the rest of that sentence escaped. Fuck almighty. With brisk taps, he alerted EMS and the sheriff’s office of the Code Red: Assault in Progress.

He needed a location.

“What is this, couple’s therapy?” The man sneered. “Why does anyone kill?”

Guan Shan’s gaze flickered back to the central monitor; the mapping system was still struggling to pick up a cell signal.

“Duty,” the man started, tongue rolling tenderly over the ‘t’ like a lover. “Derangement. Or self-defence.”

Derangement. Without a fucking doubt.

“Where the hell are you?” Guan Shan whispered, more to himself, fists clenching briefly over his keyboard before he resumed typing again.

“I thought you were tracking the phone?” The almost-stammer in the man’s voice was so slight Guan Shan nearly missed it.

What was that? Fear? Exhaustion?

“I’m trying.” Guan Shan insisted, sending an SOS message to his dispatch supervisor. “But accuracy relies on a number of factors: the model of the phone, signal strength –”

“Figures,” the man interrupted. “It’s a burner. Production lines probably dried up last century. He doesn’t have anything else on him.”

“What about your own phone?”

“He took all my shit. Dumped it en route.”

Growing more confused, Guan Shan pressed his lips together and back-pedalled to triage. “Are you hurt?”

A throaty chuckle. “I’m not dead or dying. And that’s all that really matters, right?”

Mother of fuck. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this dickhead.

Guan Shan startled as a hand landed on his shoulder – it was his supervisor. Muting the line, Guan Shan indicated the spazzing mapping system. “I can’t get coordinates.”

With a grim look, his supervisor took in the electronic log, the Code Red alert, and said, “I’ll work location from my pod. You stay on intel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Guan Shan acknowledged the order with a dip of his head and unmuted the call. “Help me out here. I can’t dispatch a unit to fuck-knows-where,” he muttered into his mouthpiece, a cold bead of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. “How’s the other guy doing?”

“Still twitching.” The words were choppy, the inflection flat. “Listen.” The man heaved a deep sigh, sounding tired and battle-torn. “I haven’t had anything to drink in the last twenty or so hours. And nothing to eat for longer than that. I haven’t slept since fuck knows when. I used the last of my reserves to take this shithead out.” An audible swallow. “I’m tired. And dehydrated. And furious as all fuck. But when his buddy realises something’s up, he’s gonna hightail it to this godforsaken dry land and fuck me up.” An amused chortle tickled Guan Shan’s ear. “And all I got is a rusty switchblade and shitty night vision. Plenty of fucks to give, but not enough juice to fuel ’em.”

Guan Shan’s mouth went from dry to arid.

No way.

No fuckin–

“Who are you?” Guan Shan asked, sounding much calmer than he felt, fingers poised over the keys that would spell the RP’s name out.

The man didn’t need to say it; Guan Shan already knew. Should have known the minute the man had spoken. Not because his face had been on every news station in the country for the last three days. Nor because of his high-profile status. ‘Plenty of fucks to give…’ But because of one rainy night with no cab in sight, an exclusive bar that begrudgingly provided shelter, and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue that kept on tipping.‘ … but not enough juice to fuel ’em.’

A night that should have been forgettable, but wasn’t. Touches that should have remained anonymous, but hadn’t. Masks of sultry indifference that should have stayed in place, but had slipped, slipped, slipped.

Two years on, and every rainstorm was sweet torment on Guan Shan’s senses; a reminder of a night that shouldn’t have happened, of a risk he shouldn’t have taken.

“He Tian,” came the haggard reply. “My father is the state prosecutor.”

Grabbing his radio gear, Guan Shan hit the transmission button and barked, “This is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five, Delta Havana, do you copy? Over.”

A sizzle of static burst through the radio’s speaker. “Delta Havana receiving. Over.”

“The twelve-nine on the Code Red is a twelve-one. Over.”

“Repeat dispatch. Over.”

“The Code Red is a twelve-one. I repeat, the Code Red –” Guan Shan dropped the radio-speak “– is the Chief Prosecutor’s son. Immediate threat to life. Over.”

“Ten-four. Do we have a location? Over.”

Fuck. “In progress. Over.”

“Ten-four. Standing by. Over.”

He Tian laughed a little, but the sound was a dry and ragged thing. “That was… kinda hot, rookie.”

“Look, we’re gonna find you.” Sifting through the notes he had taken so far, Guan Shan said, “You mentioned a truck.”

“Yeah,” He Tian replied wryly. “But I can’t drive stick.”

Had the circumstances been different, Guan Shan might have rolled his eyes. “The suspect picked this specific location. It isn’t random. He would have needed to find his way back. Is there a navigation system in the vehicle?”

He Tian hummed in agreement. “Yeah, okay. I’ll check.” There was a rustle of movement, punctuated by a pained grunt.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Shit. He was hurt. Running only on adrenaline, it wouldn’t be long before He Tian crashed.

“Take it easy,” Guan Shan instructed. “And stay on the line. How many accomplices does the suspect have?”

“I only ever saw one other guy. He wanted to give my dad another day to cough up the ransom. But this shithead here said he was done babysitting.” An obnoxious creak of unoiled hinges screeched into Guan Shan’s ear. “Brought me here to put a bullet in my head.”

As Guan Shan fed the information electronically to the police coordinator, he added the relevant codes to indicate armed perps and firearms at the scene.

“Fuck yeah, rookie. Good call.” He Tian chuckled. “There’s a marked map here. And a Gatorade.”

With He Tian relaying the approximate longitude and latitude over the phone, Guan Shan was able to zero in on a location on the mapping system. He picked up his radio phone.

“Delta Havana, this is Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five. Over.”

“Go ahead, Oscar. Over.”

“We need to mobilise a chopper. Over.”

“Ten-four. What are the coordinates? Over.”

Once he’d rattled them off, Guan Shan sent an urgent message to his dispatch supervisor to authorise his request for air support; it was the quickest and safest way to reach that far in the desert this time of the night.

The mapping system refreshed itself and a green dot appeared on the screen, zinging its way to the red dot in the ass crack of fuck-knows-where. ETA seven minutes.

“He Tian,” Guan Shan began, “there’s a helicopter on its way.”

But He Tian appeared distracted. “Uh-huh.”

“I still need you to stay on the line til –” A deafening bang blasted through the headset. “Fuck! What was that? He Tian?” Right ear ringing, Guan Shan checked that the call hadn’t dropped. “He Tian?”

Fuckfuckfuck.

He slammed down the transmitter button on his radio. “Oscar Paris Two-Five-Five to Echo Gold, do you copy? Over.”

“Echo Gold receiving. Over.”

“Shots fired.” Fffuuuckk. “I repeat, shots fired.”

“Ten-four. We’re still in the air. Do you still have comms with the RP? Over.”

Guan Shan worked the muscles in his jaw. “Negative,” he whispered.

Fucking shit.

The helicopter was still three minutes out. And that was assuming they’d find the right location straight away. And a suitable place to land.

Running tremulous hands through his hair, Guan Shan stopped himself from wreaking havoc on the curved desk and the console before him.

So close, he thought. We were so fucking close.

A soft murmur in his ear had Guan Shan stilling. “He Tian?”

Another pained grunt. Oh sweet fuck.

“Sorry,” He Tian said, his voice like smoked honey. “I dropped the phone. I told you I couldn’t fucking drive stick. I think… I think the engine backfired.”

Guan Shan laughed despite himself. Fully aware that the audio was being recorded, and the transcript may be used in evidence, he let out a low growl, laden with chocked emotion. “You owe me another Johnnie Walker, you dickhead.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glossary ~

PI: Public Intoxication

GTA: Grand-theft auto

EMT: Emergency Medical Technician

RP: Reporting person

ATL: Attempt to locate

PSAP: Public-safety answering point; a call centre dedicated to handling the emergency telephone number(s) for police, firefighting, and ambulance services.

EMS: Emergency Medical Service

12-9: Assault in progress

12-1: Kidnapping

10-4: Understood

ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

Comms: Communication

#19 days #19 days fic #tianshan #mo guan shan #he tian #19 days fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #911 au #ask-box

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