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starlightments · 5 years

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Perfect Fit

written by starlightment

In honor of today being Julance’s “Garrison Trio” day, I thought it’d be appropriate to finally post the fic I wrote for @cosmicdustzine! Featuring everyone’s favorite underdog flight crew :’)

Lance stares miserably into his bedroom mirror. Tilts his head to one side. Then the other. Blinks. Shuffles his feet, and wiggles his fingers. Blinks again.

His reflection, naturally, does the same.

It’s too small, he decides at once, and he’s right. The crisp, perfectly starched cuffs of his brand new Galaxy Garrison uniform barely reach the middle of his wrists. Lance supposes this is what he deserves for waiting up until the final deadline to place his size order. And for that unforeseen growth spurt over the summer, stretching him out at least an extra three inches.

Great, Lance thinks again, tugging at those godforsaken sleeves. He’s too big for his uniform, and too big for this bedroom, with its rocket ship bedsheets, and mason jar full of seashells, and the sleek mahogany acoustic his dad just got him for his fourteenth birthday. It’s a young boy’s room — not a cadet’s.

And yet, here he stands, wide-eyed and garishly orange. The program starts in a month. Textbooks have been purchased, and dorm assignments have been given out, and Lance still feels like this is some big fluke. Like a glitch in the system. Like he doesn’t fit.

But he has to fit.

When his grip unfurls, the fabric of his sleeves spring back up his wrists. Useless. He twitches, and pouts, and squirms, and just keeps staring until he realizes some time has passed, and he hears Rachel banging on his door, yelling at him to come down for dinner.

His reflection, naturally, does the same.

* * * * * *

On the very first day of classes, Lance gets lost on his way to Aviation 101, and wonders, darkly, if this is the Garrison’s sick, watered-down version of hazing. Weed out the weaklings who can’t even navigate these convoluted halls, let alone entire solar systems.

He curses at himself, vehemently, schedule sheet wrinkled in his sweaty clutches, all the way to the North Wing.

The lecture has already begun by the time Lance finally stumbles through the door, breathless and mortified beyond belief. He slips into the back row all by himself because it’s not like he has any friends he can cozy up to just yet. So far, the only person Lance has had the so-called pleasure of meeting is his roommate — a smug-looking kid named James, who actually had the audacity to laugh when he caught Lance pinning posters of star constellations and the Cuban flag over his bed — and it’s not like Lance would’ve wanted to sit by that guy, anyway.

“McClain,” his instructor — a gruff and notorious hard-ass by the name of Iverson — shouts from the front of the room.

Desks creak and chairs squeak as every single head swivels around to gawk in Lance’s direction. He slithers down in his seat, pretends not to notice how their eyes burn straight through his skin.

“Y-Yes, sir,” he whimpers.

“McClain,” Iverson says again, narrowing his beady eyes. “As in Veronica. Correct?”

Lance swallows around something thick and bitter inside his throat, and manages to get out another feeble, “Yes, sir.”

“She was in my class for her first year, too. One of our brightest minds,” the man goes on. “Hardworking. Responsible. Diligent.”

“Yes, sir,” repeats Lance, just a pathetic shiver of sound.

“It’s a shame that not all good traits run in the family.”

From somewhere near the front row, someone snorts out loud, and Lance feels every muscle, every bone inside his body shrivel up into nothing. He bites down on his lip until he tastes blood, balls up his fists until his nails dig into skin, and holds his breath until he can’t feel the sting of emotion pricking the corners of his eyes anymore.

Then the class resumes, just like that, and Lance feels left behind, tugging roughly at his sleeves.

* * * * * *

Stupid, Lance’s mind chants in a rabid frenzy as he bursts into the second-floor men’s restroom. Stupid, stupid, stupid —

With his big, clunky, perfectly-regulation boots squelching against the tiled floor, he all but throws himself into one of the empty stalls, slamming the door shut so that it rattles on its flimsy hinges. He sits down on the toilet lid, face buried into his trembling hands, and he thinks, resoundingly — god, this is low. This is the lowest of the low. Pathetic. Disgraceful. And so, so stupid.

Stupid for the knot in his throat, and the tears streaking hot trails down his cheeks. Stupid for the ache in his chest that throbs like the swollen tides of home. Stupid for thinking he could find his place here, amongst a school of brilliant minds and skilled prodigies, who look at Lance as if they can smell the inferiority on him like a billow of smoke. Stupid for hiding behind a uniform that isn’t made for him. Stupid for wanting to call his mother, and tell her he’s sorry because he needs to come home, and he needs to keep his dreams out of the stars, and he’s scared that he’ll never, ever make her proud.

A sob writhes its way past Lance’s lips, quivering and quiet, but he clamps down on it, hard, knowing that if he starts he might not be able to stop. So, sniffling, his fingers grapple at the toilet paper dispenser, pulling at nothing but a bare cardboard roll because — of course. Naturally. He’s seconds away from resorting to his sleeve as a tissue when he feels something soft and timid nudging at his ankle.

Lance resists the embarrassing urge to jump or gasp in surprise, and, instead, glances down to find —

A hand.

All plump, brown skin with fingernails that look like they’ve maybe been nibbled on. It’s reaching out from the next stall over, offering a wad of crumpled up toilet paper.

Lance stares at it, dumbfounded.

“Not to be an eavesdropper here, but, uh… just in case you need some —”

“Um, thanks,” says Lance, snatching the handful of toilet paper, and — damn, could he sound more wrecked right now? It has to be painfully obvious that he’s locked himself away in here to bawl his eyes out, like a loser. And this guy is just too polite to point it out. Part of Lance is grateful for it, but most of him is just downright humiliated.

The hand disappears, and Lance dabs silently at his eyes and nose before clearing his throat, and trying again: “Sorry, man. I didn’t think — I thought I was alone in here.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the guy tells him a bit breezily. “I wasn’t even gonna say anything — just kinda let you, y’know, do your thing. But I would’ve felt pretty bad leaving you hanging, so.”

“Thanks,” Lance repeats.

“Sure, dude. Anytime.”

Silence. Lance counts his breaths until they start coming out even, and his neighbor must be able to hear it, all ragged and strangled, because suddenly he’s piping up again.

“So, uh — bad day?” he wonders tentatively.

Lance hiccups around some sad excuse for a scoff. “The worst. Iverson basically ripped me a new one in front of the whole class.”

“I accidentally hit my engineering partner in the head with a wrench, and then puked all over my instructor’s shoes.”

“Wow,” Lance croaks. “You win.”

They both chuckle weakly, and Lance feels something loosen slightly in his chest.

“Yeah, could’ve just been first day jitters,” the guy goes on, “or it could’ve been that mystery meat casserole from the cafeteria. Man, I would kill for some of my mom’s home-cooking.”

“Aw, man, don’t even remind me,” groans Lance. “Now all I can think about are garlic knots.”

“Ooh, or burritos.”

“Mac and cheese —”

“—And pizza!” they end up exclaiming at the same time, which promptly spurs them into a bout of unbridled laughter. Lance’s cheeks rise and brighten beneath the tear stains.

“My name’s Hunk, by the way,” the guy says eventually.

“Lance,” he replies with a wet, happy sniffle. “Y’know, we should just order a pizza sometime. It definitely won’t beat the stuff from home, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

Hunk sighs longingly. “I’m down for anything that’s not grey and swimming in lumpy gravy.”

And Lance can’t quite explain it, but he feels something settle — in the air, in his mind. And he feels, for the first time all day, like maybe things won’t be so awful, after all.

* * * * * *

The next time Iverson screams in his face, Lance takes it like a champ.

Well. Kind of.

“I hope I don’t need to remind you,” the man sneers, nostrils flared, jaw clenched, “that the only reason you’re here is that the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue and flunked out.”

Lance shivers down to the bone, hairline dappling with sweat, legs going numb beneath him, but he does not break — and, right now, he considers that a win. He remembers all the times he could’ve — and did — and then allows himself a fleeting swell of pride at how far he’s come. He stands here now, slightly older, taller, newly steeled. Still clawing and searching for something to hold fast to. Something that fits.

The next squadron of cadets file into the simulator, and Lance, Hunk, and Pidge are shuffled to the back of the line again. Their pace is heavy and slow with shame. And, in Pidge’s case, rage. Every muscle inside her tiny body seizes up, standing on edge like an electric jolt. Lance, perhaps unwisely, reaches for her elbow.

“So that was pretty wack, huh —”

She jerks away, sharply and at once. “What’s pretty wack is that they actually let an idiot like you sit in the pilot’s chair.”

“Hey, look, we’re supposed to be a team here,” Lance argues. “If we go down, we go down together, got it? So don’t shove all the blame on me just ‘cause you couldn’t handle my skills!”

“Well, those supposed skills of yours are the reason why we crashed!”

“Guys, guys, c’mon,” Hunk pleads, stepping between them. “Can’t we just agree it was kind of a group effort fail? I mean, this is exactly what Iverson is talking about. If we can’t learn to work together, then there’s no hope for us.”

Arms crossed, and lips pouting, Lance heaves a weighty sigh, and admits, “Hunk’s right. This calls for some emergency bonding time. I’m talkin’ drinks, ladies, a night out on the town — the works. How about we —”

“Whatever you’re planning, count me out.”

Pidge turns, and starts stomping toward the exit with Lance on the pursuit.

“Dude, get a grip,” he calls out to her. “After a day like today? What you need is some fun. A night to loosen up with your pals —”

“I’m not here to make friends!” is what she flings out, whirling around to pin him with a glare that pierces like a bullet. And Lance feels it, stopping dead in his tracks, stunned from the stinging whiplash of it all. Then, her voice lowers, slipping past her gritted teeth: “Especially not with some arrogant prick like you.”

She storms off, and Lance — older, taller, newly steeled — still does not break.

But, damn, if it doesn’t hurt.

* * * * * *

The stars look different out here.

But, then again, drifting out into the endless abyss of deep space is a very far cry from standing on Cuba’s silken shores, with the dark sky hanging overhead, spreading its glitter over the ocean’s rolling surface. There were some nights, Lance recalls, when the sky was so clear, he swore he could reach out and touch those shivering bits of starlight until he could feel them burning his fingertips. Every twinkling light, so close and intimate.

Now, he sits in the center of the Castle’s control room, with his legs outstretched and his neck craned back, staring at the swirling cosmos just beyond the glass barrier that surrounds him. Here, he’s never been closer to the stars. Or farther from home.

Behind him, the door whooshes open. His eyes drift lazily over his shoulder, then back again. Pidge lingers in the doorway. “Hey,” says Lance.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” she asks.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs, eyes tracing foreign patterns across the sky, “so I thought I’d do some stargazing — but none of these constellations are making any sense to me. Guess we really are in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

A pause. Just the quiet hum of the crystal that gleams down from the ceiling, and then:

“Shouldn’t you be resting, too?”

Pidge straightens, looking a bit caught. “Oh, I’m just — couldn’t sleep either. But I didn’t think I’d run into anyone else at this hour,” and there’s a smirk in her voice — just a subtle one — as she adds, “Least of all the guy who never stops complaining about needing beauty sleep. Whatever that means.”

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t expect you to understand what it’s like to be as beautiful as me,” sniffs Lance, and maybe it would’ve been a more effective retort if he weren’t donning his robe and blue lion slippers at present. But still — he stands by his quip.

Chuckling, the sound of Pidge’s footsteps pad closer and closer until she’s lowering herself next to Lance, knees tucked into her chest.

“Man, it never ends, does it?” It’s just a whisper, just a breathless afterthought that he mutters into the pause of their words, as if he weren’t speaking to anyone in particular but himself. “It’s kinda freaky, right? Like, putting everything in perspective. The galaxy’s this big honkin’ thing… and we’re supposed to defend it? Couple weeks ago my biggest responsibility was getting my homework done in time, and now it’s like —”

“Everything’s changed?” guesses Pidge, the corner of her mouth twitching upward, almost ruefully. “But just think about it. I mean, you’re way more help out here than you are back home doing homework and stuff.”

A haunting cavern of his mind wonders: but am I, really?

And, oh, Lance hates how quickly these unsolicited negativities gather inside his head, smothering his thoughts like a dense fog. If he could shake himself free of them, he would, but there’s something about sitting here — beneath a vast skyscape of planets and moons and sparkling nebula — that makes him feel exponentially smaller than he ever thought possible. Just a flicker of life, tragically outshined by every star in the galaxy. For the briefest of moments, he idly wonders if Pidge ever feels the same way, but — no. Of course not. Not someone with an invaluable brain like hers.

So Lance swallows it all down, through the dryness of his throat, and mumbles a faint, “Sometimes I think they picked the wrong guy, y’know?”

“They didn’t.” Her response is immediate, and takes Lance by surprise. He tears his gaze away from the sky, and stares at Pidge in the half-light, eyes blown wide. “And you proved that the other day when you helped take down Sendak, when you saved Coran —”

Her words spark flames along his skin — tiny pricks of memory that converge and bloom around his shoulder blades, where a starburst scar now mars his flesh. The brand of a newly fledged soldier. Something even hours in a healing pod couldn’t take away from him.

“You put your life on the line for us, Lance,” she tells him firmly. “You could’ve died. You could’ve —”

All at once, she turns away, pressing her face into her knees.

Lance blinks, speaks soft. “Pidge?”

“Just —” she grumbles, sounding muffled and choked up. And when she eventually glances up again, it’s to furrow her brow, and shove at Lance’s shoulder until he nearly topples over. “—just be more careful next time, you big dummy, okay?”

Lance takes one look at her glossy-eyed gaze, and laughs, deep from his stomach. His arm flops around her tiny frame, pulling her into his side, and she goes willingly, clinging to the soft fabric of his robe, nestling against him.

“Aw, squirt,” he coos, while the universe glows above their heads, “you do care.”

* * * * * *

Somehow, he finds himself on a beach.

Which instantly strikes him as odd because, last he remembers, they were all lifting that crazy robeast straight into the stratosphere, and then nosediving right back down to Earth, bracing for impact, but — okay. Beach. Lance can roll with that.

Below him, the sand is rich and butter-soft between his toes. Behind him, waves lick the edge of the shoreline in a gentle, rolling rhythm. And all around him, thick summer heat clings to his skin, swarming him all at once.

And there, right before him, is home.

His home.

That small, idyllic cottage by the water hasn’t aged a single day, it seems. The same wispy white curtains frame every window. His abuela’s antique rocking chair still sits out on the wooden deck. His mother’s laundry still hangs out to dry on the clothes line, fluttering in the crisp ocean breeze. He can still hear the giggles of his nieces and nephews, and see the same tree branch he fell out of and broke his wrist when he was eight. It’s like he never even left. It’s like —

Lance takes a slow stride forward, and then the entire house goes up in flames.

Burning. Raging. Destroying.

“No,” Lance tries to say, but no sound comes out. He watches in sheer, debilitating panic as the roof collapses, crumbles, caves in on everything he’s ever known. The smell of smog fills his lungs, chokes him until his throat is raw and there’s blood on his tongue. Another silent scream rips out of his chest as he starts to run, but the sand is suddenly sinking below him, swallowing him whole, dragging him under, under, under —

Then Lance wakes up.

He sits up with a gasp on his lips, and a shudder in his heart. The stark white bedsheets are wrinkled in his iron grasp, the thin fabric of his hospital attire sticking to his spine, slightly damp with perspiration. Eyes darting back and forth in the darkness, Lance can feel his breath returning to him at last. He’s still here. They really did it. Earth is safe. Everyone is safe. It was only a nightmare.

It takes his mind a delayed second to catch up to reality, and, in that time, the lights flicker on. Lance squints, startled, as something small, fast, and wiggly scurries onto his bed, and then starts panting in his face, licking his cheeks.

“Bae Bae!” Lance laughs, squirming and writhing happily against the bull terrier’s show of affection.

“Well, look who’s finally awake!”

That’s when something else small, fast, and wiggly leaps onto Lance’s bed, but this something is decidedly Pidge-shaped. As Bae Bae scampers around by his feet, Pidge throws her arms around Lance, and he responds with a quiet ‘oof’.

“Jeez, give a guy some warning before you koala attack him outta nowhere,” grunts Lance.

Pidge only squeezes harder. “Nope.”

“See, Pidge? Told you the smell of pizza would wake him up.”

Then, from the doorway, Hunk comes marching through with a grin on his face, and about three pizza boxes stacked in his arms. Bae Bae rushes to greet him first, jumping and yipping around his legs.

“Hunk, my hero,” cries Lance, pressing his palms together, and throwing his gaze to the ceiling. “My savior! The greatest paladin of them all!”

“The pineapple one’s all yours, buddy,” says Hunk.

“Gross,” snorts Pidge.

It takes them no time at all to devour all three of those pizzas, even sparing a few slices of pepperoni for Bae Bae to enjoy. It’s with Hunk on the edge of his bed, and Pidge curled up to his right, and melted cheese on his fingertips that Lance finally feels at peace. It’s with a brimming heart, and a satisfying warmth in his gut, and a smile splitting his face in two that Lance thinks — this.

This, he thinks again with profound momentousness.

This fits.

#star writes #lance mcclain #pidge gunderson #hunk garrett #garrison trio

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jollyreginaldrancher · 5 years

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Subtle changes that would have saved certain shitty story arcs in Pretty Little Liars

Not gonna lie, this show isn’t great and shittiness is true to its form, and while the A reveals are -at the very least- memorable, there was a lot of crap writing in between that just ruined certain hold-over storylines that were supposed to pretty much be filler until the next big thing. Here’s some subtle changes that would have vastly improved some of those storylines.

1. Talia: Talia swooped in when Emily was extremely vulnerable after the dissolution of her longest running, and most serious relationship. She had the potential to help poor Emily but instead just left her more damaged. And honestly we have seen enough of Emily getting screwed, especially in the romantic department (not that way though) and getting kicked when she was down was the last thing she needed.

How this should’ve gone: Emily needed an Obi Wan, not an Ezra. In a brief span she lost swimming, Paige and Stanford. She was directionless and had no ambition. Talia (or maybe one of the moms. Ideally her own) should have taken her under her wing and helped her find a new passion. Through her tutelage, Emily should have finished her college arc and gotten into her dream school in California and for the first time in this goddamn show, had a relationship with a female character that didn’t eventually devolve into a romance.

2. Hanna returning to Caleb after he came back from Ravenswood. It was cringy and fanservicey and just horrible regression on Hanna’s part. She had a great guy (Travis) who didn’t deserve to just get tossed like that, and as a slap in the face, insta-replaced by her ex, who just ditched her and left town for a while and moved on with his soulmate or whatever the heck, and just aloofly enabled her rebellious streak when he came back.

What should’ve happened: Her identity crisis should’ve ended with her realizing she was regressing to the ideals Alison instilled in her in order to control her, (ie that self worth was tied to how much people wanted you and needing to have a boyfriend and be wanted in order to feel validated) and that being near her was messing with her head so she should have cut ties with her, in the interest of self care, even if it meant cutting ties with the other girls as well. and she should’ve picked Lucas and Mona over Alison and low-key sided with them in the fifth season’s MonAlison war.

3. Spoby: What should have happened with them is a slow burn romance that was cut short in the third season with the reveal that he was on the A team. Spencer is cautious and finds it extremely hard to trust people so she shouldn’t have jumped into a relationship with him so quickly, especially considering she spent half of season one accusing him of murder. There’s no way she would get so deep with him in like, half a season alone, let alone have that on and off relationship and yet act like they were together all along in season three. It was just a mess. What should have happened is a really slow burn with them not really coming together until season three, just before the betrayal, in order to make it sting that much more.

And ultimately, she should’ve been left jaded by his betrayal and not been so quick to trust him or anyone else, and take him back. She’s Spencer, for god’s sake, not Aria! As it stands, all he did was sook a bit in order to win her back. Dude should have grovelled for a chance with her and ultimately worked up a tentative friendship with her by the end of the show, by being consistently loyal. Show should have left off in an optimistic ‘maybe they will get back together, maybe not’ manner and not straight up "yeah, I know my twin raped him but we’re banging again and I think we might be back together”.

4. Ezria. Just Ezria. There is no way that should have lasted after HIS betrayal. Not even sorry. He should have followed them to NY, got shot, and while trying to help him, the girls should have found a notepad, pen, and a voice recorder on his person. Livid, Aria should have written a message telling him never to contact her again, and not to even think about writing that book on them, otherwise she’ll go to the police and accuse him of rape, and then crushed his recording device, and starting out a dark!Aria arc. Cut to Ezra reading the message in a hospital room and angrily chucking it across the room before a familiar figure approaches (A) and draws his attention.

5. There should have been more focus on mental health, especially after critical meltdown points for the characters. Instead of just “Yup, went to the doctor and I’m fine now” they should have delved deeper into these traumas. Emily KILLED a person. Spencer blacked out in the woods out of grief. Paige was clearly suicidal! Mona’s mental state is so vague and someone should have diagnosed Alison with narcissism at the very least, years ago. The dollhouse should essentially have been followed up by at least half a season where they’re desperately trying to recover but failing because they’re rushing or just not dealing with what’s wrong up there. Radley should have played a more prominent role then, and maybe some or all girls should have been moved there for their own protection from that point on.

6. Alex Drake should not have been Spencer’s twin. At the very least it should’ve been Alison’s twin. Maybe passed it off as Spencer after extensive surgery OR by utilising those damn masks that have been showing up since about season three or four for no goddamn reason.

7. Alison trying to whitewash her story and play the victim, and Sara Harvey trying to do the same should’ve sent alarm bells shooting off in Emily’s head. She honestly should not have trusted her, and especially after all the crap she pulled, she should NOT have trusted Alison. It should have been a clue that she was A all along because her having feelings for Emily was just never on the table and they did not do the groundwork to set up an Emishit endgame at all. Alison wasn’t a love interest and she wasn’t a liar and she wasn’t a relative or a friend either so the only reason to show her as much as they did was if she was A herself, so they HAD to go that way OR kill her off. That’s literally the only way to rule her out at this point because of how they handled her in general.

8. Ezra should have come back as a villain who’s mad he didn’t get to finish his story, and not stayed on as Aria’s romantic interest indefinitely. That was ridiculous. He should’ve teamed up and provided surveilance and become obsessed with Aria and the girls and finding ways to cross them and ultimately he should have been killed off in an ironic way that involves a lot of cameras or something along those lines.

9. There were too many creeps and too many cops and too many creepy cops in Rosewood and honestly Garrett was just pretty superfluous. And the whole ‘Spencer should not make assumptions and jump the gun all the time’ message they tried to send with Ian being killed off didn’t really stick because of his involvement in the NAT club so I think instead someone else should have been responsible for those tapes like Jason perhaps, or Garret, and Ian’s name should’ve been cleared when he died, because it rings differently when an innocent man dies because of a misunderstanding than when a creep does. A lot of people tried to justify it with “yeah but he kissed Spencer” and maybe if he had an excuse like that he was blackmailed or threatened by Alison then his death would have been more dramatic. Jason for example, kept showing up but being a red herring and being generally irrelevant for the most part and this would have tied him in a bit better. It could have been a revenge thing or a ‘expose the town’s evil’ thing. He was an angry, disenfranchised young man who had substance abuse issues. It’s less of a stretch honestly for him to try to do a project where he tries to name and shame people around town for looking down on him for being a stoner, especially his sister. And he had those creepy ass pictures of Aria which hint at him stalking her, which he tried to explain away as Alison’s doing. It could be that he took them as well as the video of the girls changing, because he had the hots for her and just didn’t have the guts to tell her because she was younger and his sister’s friend.

10. Nate St Germain. Killing Maya off was bad enough but hinting at it being tied to the rest of the mystery through “Maya knew” and then coping out of it was just terrible. Maya should’ve just taken the greyhound out of town after waiting for Emily, and leaving her a ‘goodbye’ note that subtly revealed she was being stalked but didn’t leave enough information to find her or her stalker, and Nate should’ve come to town pretending he’s her cousin, and looking for her BEFORE her ‘death’. In fact her death should’ve alltogether been avoided, with Emily eventually managing to get in touch with her and finding out she’s hiding in that lighthouse and bringing Paige and Nate with her to find her and bring her home, but being led there by A in a failed attempt to get her away from him in order to warn her, by pretending to be Maya and that she wants to talk to her alone. Her recklessness should’ve caused Paige to get stabbed defending her and Nate being taken out by a cop while Maya thanked her and Paige and apologised for getting them involved, and explained that her family was moving back home and she was going with them, and her and Emily cutting things off but remaining friends, while Emily realises what a champ Paige is and how low her self esteem that she would take a knife for her, and forcing her to promise to never do anything like that again. Paige and Emily should have been trying their best at being friends at this point and working overtime to deny their chemistry, and with this scene where Maya and Emily finally end things for good, should have given Emily the closure she needed and finally enabled her to be honest and open with Paige and start something new again with her.

More will probably follow.

#mine #pll #pretty little liars #ideas #changes

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nicksilveirart · 5 years

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(SING!) Story Not Told, chapter 7 – Set It All Free while I do it My Way

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Click to read chapter 7:

Okay, she had promised him she’d write a punk song for the following day. Okay, he was a tad bit too enthusiastic about her voice. Okay, it felt good to be appreciated. But Ash was regretting her promise as she laid down at the couch in her house. What was she thinking? A song, written in one day? Lance took months to write his’! They weren’t masterpieces? Correct. But they weren’t trash. She was tired, and had thought of at least 10 different melodies, but all of them sounded wrong. Guitar on hand, she tried playing a punk version of Freedom is a voice, only to find out the cheesy lyrics sounded like a war cry when turned punk. “Half tone lower?” No avail. She wrapped her jacket around her waist, and grabbed her guitar case and a notepad. “Maybe changing the environment a little.” She locked the door, and took a bus to the other side of town. She walked through parks and stores at the sidewalk, to find a nice place for writing under a tree. She played a few melodies she had in mind. Those who went past her either smiled or frowned, but she couldn’t care less. “You put me through a rollercoast-“ “Ash!” She nearly jumped at the sound. She knew that voice. She missed that voice. “Adam?!” A smaller, and younger looking porcupine jumped at her. “Adam! What are you doing out here?” “Candy!” He said, as he shoved some goodies into his mouth. “Want some?” Ash shook her head. “I missed you, where have you been?” Ash was distressed, looking from left to right nonstop. “Are mom and dad with you?” “No, but I am.” Ash jumped at the voice, who chuckled. “You’re welcome. Your folks asked me to take him home.” “Tara!” Ash said, hugging the otter close. “It’s been forever!” “Tell me about it! Just because you ran away from home, doesn’t mean you had to run away from your friends too.” “Ah, shush.” The other girl laughed. Ash kneeled down to her brother’s height, and hugged him close. “My, you’ve grown!” He giggled, and held two fingers high. “Two inches.” “And he’s been telling everyone about it, too.” Tara finished. “I’m a big boy, people should know!” Both teens laughed, as Tara took a seat near Ash. “You got the time?” “Relax, wouldn’t have brought him over if we couldn’t spend some time.” Ash sighed out in relief, falling backwards in the grass. “Good.” “A composer now, hm?” She said, chuckling lightly. “Trying. I got into a singing competition, the judge wants me to write a song.” She laid her guitar down as her brother cuddled close to her. “Is it the competition I saw on the news, that’ll pay-?” “$100 grand? That’s the one.” “Starting a career with an original? Now that’s something!” She laughed. “I don’t know if I’m going to win, Tara.” Tara merely shrugged. “I think you will.” “Why? I never wrote a punk song before.” “Well… The judge asked you to do it.” She winked. Ash raised her brow. “He did that to make me feel better.” “Why’d he do that?” “Because he’s a sweetheart.” “Ohh, you using your magic on him uh?” She nudged her friend. “I'm not!” Ash sighed. “I broke up with Lance.” “Who?” Tara said, scratching her head. “Long story. We’ve been dating for almost two years, the other day I caught him cheating, we broke up, that’s it. I went to Mr- Buster, because I had no one else to turn to, he said Lance was a jerk, was holding me back, and I was better off without him, said he had been cheated upon and knew what it was like, some of the contestants also said he wasn’t worth my time.” She swallowed hard. “So I decided to listen to their advice, and didn’t take Lance back when he offered. He called me while I was with Buster, and I got upset over the things he said, so he said he wanted me to write a song.” “You’ve been using your ma-gic!” Tara singsonged. “Anyways, he gave you a chance to show your originals right? That’s great!” “It would be if I had an original that was upbeat.” “Sing the one you have!” “He said he wanted something new! With beat, and loudness, ‘perfect soundtrack for a heartbreak’, his words!” “Listen sister… You remember I consider you my sister, right?” Ash nodded. Tara then turned to grab the guitar, and played some chords. “Good. Now... It might seem crazy what I’m about to sa-ay…” “Oh my god Tara, don’t go there!” She cracked up laughing, soon being joined by her friend. “You didn’t even let me finish!” She said, pretending annoyance. “But listen. Okay, he was trying to make you feel better. But you think he’d risk the reputation of his theatre to put you up? That place hasn’t had a show worth watching in years! My mom used to take me there when I was a kid, and oh my god, the plays were terrible! The one event held there that I liked was one from Moon himself, it was called ‘Improv Comedy’, something like that. It was a monologue about family, the theatre was already discredited by everyone. It was a great show, and it was presented to ten people! Ten people Ash! That’s how low the place went… But I started going regularly to the shows, and I’m saying, he is a great screenwriter. I would know. He wouldn’t risk one of his competitors putting up a bad song just to make you feel appreciated. You know what I think? I think he may be seeing something there that you haven’t seen yet.” Ash opened a soda can. “You think he wants me to write a script for a play?” “No, I think he considers you a good songwriter.” “Tara, the one original I have sucks!” “Not to him, he wants you to write more!” She turned to her friend. “Listen… You played your original to him, right? He likes it. AND he writes like Orson Whales! He’s a good writer! If a good writer asks you to write something, I think he likes your writing skills.” Ash froze in thought. “Same thing, I’m a movie director, right? And this one time, no previous warning, Steven Seagull dropped by to watch the recording. And after we wrapped up, he looked at me and said he couldn’t wait to see my movies.” She grabbed her friend’s shoulders. “Steven Seagull! He’s like the top of top directors of all times, and he liked my directing skills! That’s like… Uh… That’s like… Quick, rocker name!” “What?” “Tell me the name of a rocker!” “Uh… Steven Tiger!” “Steven Tiger! That was Steven Tiger walking up to you and says ‘Ash, I like your songs, and I want you to compose more.’” She crashed both her hands down her friend’s shoulders. “BOOM! THAT JUST HAPPENED!” “Ow! Stop it, people are staring!” “Let them stare! Eyes were made to see!” She said, gradually speaking louder. She turned to the park’s goers. “Hey! Take a picture, it last longer!” “Stop it!” Ash practically jumped on the otter. “You’re putting up a scene!” “Ash! A good screenwriter asked you to write a song! He saw something there!” “He’s not a songwriter!” “Writer nonetheless! Maybe he never wrote a song, but he knows good writing when he sees it! Since when do you think so low of your own skills?! The Ash I knew believed she could do anything at all because she always had what it took! You can't write a song? A mere song? What happened to you?! Someone believes in you. I believe in you. While you look at your work and say it is terrible because it isn't perfect, you're not gonna go anywhere! Perfection doesn't exist, Ash. The one thing between you and your song is your head. It is holding you back! Set it free from its cuffs, and write the goddamn song!” Ash was frozen in place. Tara handed her the guitar, smiling. “So, let’s?” She took it.

Buster had no idea where the show house was, and his phone’s GPS system was even more lost than him. He could swear he had heard the mechanical voice sigh once or twice, but he carried on. He was going to find Lance, and he was going to have a word with him. Coming to a halt, he sighed in relief as he saw a Hawaiian-styled joint at the alley. The place looked shady, but calm. Was he going in there? Yes, yes he was. Going right past the entrance, he found the backstage door, where he was greeted by a familiar female koala. “Entrance is over there, sire.” “Laura?” “That's me, do we know each other? What’s your name?” “Buster. Buster Moon.” She froze in place. “May I come in? My godson is presenting tonight and I want to wish him good luck.” “Buster, I’m…” “I don’t care. May I come in?” She opened the door. “See you around, Laura.” If Buster wasn’t already too mad for his liking, now he was pissed off. His cheating girlfriend just had to work here. He couldn’t get Ash out of his mind. He was mad at Lance for cheating on her, and he was mad at himself for believing Laura’d change. He went to the wings, and talked to a dorky beaver. “Hey there! You happen to know where I can find Lance? He’s a porcupine, guitarist…” The beaver pointed to a separate room. “Thanks. You rock!” Buster ran to said room, halting at its entrance. He heard muffled singing from inside. Damn, his voice makes me want to kick his ass. He took a deep breath, and opened the door. “Hey what do ya want, we’re rehea- Buster Moon, my champ!” He gave him a yellow smile. “Man, I knew you’d come here for advice, but I didn’t expect it’d be this soon.” “Can you please pretend you’re civilized for a second, Lance? Thank you. I want you to stop harassing Ash.” “Harassing?” He shrugged. “What are you talking about there, Moon?” “The call you made her earlier today is what.” “Aww, can’t a fuzzy wuzzy teddy bear put up with another guy calling his girlfriend ‘babes’?” He laughed. “I can’t believe Ash asked you to come here!” Buster’s blood was boiling inside his veins. “For one, if you make fun of me I am going to fix your buck teeth with my hands. For two, Ash doesn’t like you calling her ‘babes’, or even calling her, for all matters. For three, she didn’t ask a thing, I’m here on my own. And for the billionth time, she is not my girlfriend.” The female porcupine laughed at his face. Lance merely chuckled, as he took her hand and kissed it. “Yeah right, I believe you. You confront her boyfriend over the things he says, you threaten him, by the way, you being in no condition to back up your threat…” That’s what you think, smart ass. “You came all the way over here, to tell me to stop calling her?” He laughed in disbelief, as he fixed Buster’s suit slightly. “Partner, you are the definition of a jealous boyfriend.” Buster grabbed both his hands, and pushed him into a couch. The female stopped laughing. Buster went right past her, standing tall over Lance. “One, you are her ex. Two, this is your last warning. If you go near Ash again for anything that’s not apologizing, I’m going to make you regret coming out of the uterus. You got that?” “Whoa!” He sat straight, facing the koala. “Didn’t knew you liked playing tough, Moon.” “I don’t like it, I found it necessary. One last time. Do you understand it?” Lance nodded. Buster started walking to the door. “She has the hots for older guys, you know.” Buster froze in his tracks. Lance stood up, and started walking to him. “Me?” He chuckled. “I’m 24, Buster. 22 when we started dating. Wow, twenty-two when I first saw that form…” Suck it up, Buster commanded himself. “Sleeping cuddling close to her, after a good night of sex… She was fresh off the oven those days, too. So pure and innocent… An escapee looking for someone who loved her, and made her feel older. Lucky me. You know how virgin girls are…” Lance put both his hands at Buster’s shoulders, gently patting them. This is his game, Buster thought. “If she hasn’t hit on you by now, don’t worry, because she will soon.” He hugged the koala, and patted his back. “You might as well enjoy, like she does.” He finished, walking back. Father, forgive. Turning around, he sent his fist crashing down the porcupine’s face, earning a startled scream from the female. Not satisfied with sending the younger male tumbling to the ground, Buster proceeded to kick him. “You piece of a-! Look at me, look at my face!” He picked the rocker off of the ground, and threw him at a chair. There was blood on his shirt. “You are a poor excuse to an animal! You mark my words, Lance, next time I hear you talk about a girl like that, or if I find out you are out there playing girls, I am going to come back. You don’t want me to come back!” That’s it. He had vented out. Shoving Lance to the ground once again, he went for the door as the female porcupine went to her boyfriend’s aid. “Oh. And have a nice debut, Lance. Ma’am.” Bowing his head, he shut the door behind him.

#story not told #sing #sing movie #sing 2016 #sing2016 #sing bustash #bustash #oc #sing fanfic #sing fanfiction #sing buster #sing ash #sing oc #ash #buster #buster x ash #ash x buster

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space-dugong · 6 years

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I think I just made something beautiful

Consider this: a high school au where Thor is a modern prince of Asgard (Norway but renamed) attending the richest school in the country.

Peter Quill is the one guy who got in on by cheating. Thor instantly feels a connection, because no one else has had the balls to be a dick to their prince before.

Peter has his hands full by trying to shift his cheating skills into maximum overdrive to survive the semester, and just wants this guy to leave, title be damned.

The warriors 3 are from rich families who are pushing them into getting into the prince’s inner circle, but they’re kinda guilty about it so they at least try to be his friend. Loki’s already running the country from primary school.

Sif got there because she’s an Olympic athlete, and Gamora is the rival athlete who can lift weights like a champ. Valkryie is also a runner, but she is pretty much permanently in detention because she openly drinks vodka on school grounds.

Rocket and Groot are the ‘weird’ kids who hang out in the abandoned wing, seemingly a lost cause, except for the fact that they are the smartest people there and nobody knows it.

Mantis is the Japanese exchange student that everyone adores and Drax got in out of pure dumb luck, but he refuses to walk out because he wants to be educated to support his wife and kids (just to be clear if you are -seemingly-smart enough you don’t have to pay to attend, idk, because I’m pretty sure that Drax doesn’t have that kinda cash laying around. Of course, if you don’t make the test, you can buy your way in too).

The Guardians probably unite due to their mutual loserdom and isolation from their peers. Because they’re closeted nerds, they play a Galaxy space MMO every friday night, and thus have an unbreakable bond of friendship.

Heimdall is the principal, and he can see everything that’s happening through the security cameras. He can’t decide whether he wants to quit or see how far their bullshit goes.

You guys can take it from here. Fanfic gods, make it happen.

#and if that didn't convince you: norwegian accents galore #thorquill #thunderlord #gamora x sif #gamora x valkryie #sif x valkryie #either one would work #or maybe all 3 #you choose #guardians of the galaxy #high school au #marvel #wow i feel so ambitious

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shirtlesssammy · 6 years

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13x18: Bring ‘em Back Alive

Then:

Ketch rescues Gabriel from the evil clutches of Colonel Asmodeus, and Cas is MIA.

Now:

Dean and Ketch make it through the rift and into the AU. Dean isn’t so sure about where they are, and instead of listening to Ketch’s insolent lip, he tells him to take a hike. Ketch asks to help find Jack, and wistfully, Mary. He did have a soft spot for her --and doesn’t seem to mind she put a bullet through his forehead (and according to Dean, would do so again in a heartbeat.)

As they wander, they notice angels and their human captives on a bridge. The angels quickly dispatch two of the humans, when the angel commander stops the final execution. Dean sees the captive before we do and utters, “no.”

CHARLIE!!!!

I’ve got my fingers in my ears over the discourse that this isn’t our Charlie and the showrunners are so proud of themselves for making things right. I get it. I really do ---but I’m just too happy to have any version of her on my screen again that I’m just going to play in this sandbox. (And I’m still 1000% pissed over how they killed her in the first place.)

Also, is the commander AU!Cas?

Anyway, AU!Charlie appears to be a higher-up in the resistance. She knows where Jack and Mary are. The angels flap off with their hostage before Dean can get to her.

Back at the bunker, Cas is back from parts unknown and EXTRA salty his husband is in the AU alone. (Sam: He’s with Ketch!) (Us: lol.)

Sam insists that they need to focus on Gabriel, not Dean. (Lol, “In love with humanity” Castiel is totally on board with this idea.)

Gabriel is a tortured soul. He is a huddled, non-verbal mess. Sam tries helping by recalling some probable triggering moments for Gabriel and then tries to entice him with his grace. No takers.

In heaven, Anael is done with Lucifer’s bullshit. He’s busy playing card games, waiting for angels to worship him. Dumah shows up and conducts a little family therapy. (Because they’re siblings, right? Aren’t angels seen as siblings to each other? Like, stop you gross writers.)

Lucifer asks about how the search for Jack is going. Dumah admits that they don’t have enough angels to find him. Luci refused to hear that, and she aquieces. Anael and Dumah exchange a look. BRB, Imma just making my heaven campaign signs: Anael+Dumah 2018!

In the throne room, Asmodeus is pissed that Ketch got the better of him and stole the archangel. And then he mentions that they’re connected, they’re “blood brothers.” So, Asmodeus can sense Gabriel’s presence because he’s taken his grace? Interesting. Is it the grace injections --or just any type of grace influence?

Dean is on a mission, and while Ketch recommends stealth, Dean dismisses him. Dean is hellbent on finding Charlie. Ketch sees right through this duty of Dean’s to see the personal mission underneath. Yeah, Dean is usually right but he can act recklessly when his emotions are compromised. He has A LOT of guilt about his Charlie.

The snowy AU world is so pretty. I’m sure it wasn’t fun to work in, but I bet production was over the moon with the snowy setting giving everything an even grayer and more apocalyptic feeling.

Dean trundles ahead, and gets shot for his impulsiveness. Ketch, and all his MOL stealth training takes down Dean’s assailant long enough for Dean to recover. They ask the man where he was going to take Dean.

It seems that there is a POW camp about 5 hours away.

Cas enters Gabriel’s room, only to find it covered in Enochian letters.

Gabe wrote out his story since his “death” in season 5. He escaped, yadda, yadda, yadda, Asmodeus captured and tortured him.

Lucifer is all cleaned up and ready to play God. He hones in on an exorcism, and heaven forbid demon #4332 is mistaken for Satan! He intervenes, shoos the demon away, and gets no love from the priests, so he smokes them. Oops.

On their walk, Dean clues Ketch in on angel killing bullets, and Ketch clues Dean in on his festering bullet wound slowly killing him. Luckily, Ketch recognizes the poison the bullet was covered in, and sets to making an antidote.

Cas tries jumpstarting Gabe into feeling better, to no avail.

And in the most pre-episode controversial scene of the night, Sam sits down with Gabriel and tries to make him understand what’s at stake.

There’s a real parallel to these two wayward brothers. They both wanted out. But Sam recognized that his family needed him. There’s no getting out of this mess. He tries making it clear to Gabriel that his family needs him to step up and help. (He also says, “I need you.” and lo, Twitter was aflame. I’ll admit to being salty for diminishing those famous words until I read @tinkdw post about Dean and the need for him to use clearer words. I felt much better!) (Also, I just feel so BAD for Sam. Like, I know he’s driven to find purpose in his crazy, stupid life --don’t we all? But, he wants out so bad. Give him balance and a partner to normalize his world a little! Blerg.)

Gabe activates what little grace he has, and Asmodeus locates him. (So much for all that fucking warding, Men of Letters!)

Dean and Ketch are still on the move. Ketch insists that Dean rest and Dean...pushes onward until he collapses. As he tends to do.

Been there, buddy.

Ketch tries to tease out the Charlie issue and suggests heading back to the bunker to rest and try again later. (Which is a very sound suggestion if we weren’t all weeping CHARLIE over here.) Dean explains just how important Charlie is to us - I mean...him - and the weight of his guilt over her death. We get a flashback to Charlie lying dead in the bathtub which...thanks, show. We needed that reminder. Ketch claims to understand how Dean feels. I'm still having trouble believing that Ketch feels much of anything? If he's headed on a redemption arc then I guess I'll accept it but otherwise I just don't trust him. Like, at ALL. (Boris: Remember when Ketch killed Eileen? I do. All the damn time.)

Aesthetic break:

Charlie, meanwhile, is being interrogated in some old shack. They ask her for the location of the resistance base and she spits back, “Bite me!” Fuck yeah, that's our girl <3

Back with Team Free Gabe, Gabriel sips his archangel juice like a good boy and seems slightly more sane. Suddenly Asmodeus calls Sam and smears his smarminess all over the scene. He gives Sam ten minutes to hand over Gabriel.

Upstairs, Lucifer rants about the whole world order. Humans. Demons. Angels. He's going to devote himself to finding Jack, use his powers to remake the world, and...BOOM happy ending achieved. Anael tells him to stop bitching and make good on his promises. For example, give angels their wings back. Lucifer admits that's impossible. Wherps. Anael tells him, essentially, to go fuck himself and splits in short order.

Dean and Ketch find the camp just in time to see prisoners lined up for execution. The angels tie Charlie to the post first, pronounce their sentence and...

Dean and Ketch make their move. They race into the compound, guns a-blazin', and take out most of the angels in short order. The commander flaps away while Dean unties Charlie and whisks her out of the camp. (By the way, I am 100% on board with the Commander-is-AU-Cas meta.)

Jump back to Gabriel. (SO many jumps in this episode.) The bunker's warning lights blaze and sigils gleam on the walls. Asmodeus has begun his assault on the bunker. Cas and Sam check it out and get surprised by a cadre of demons. They take the demons out quickly, only to have Asmodeus flick them across the room with a flip of his pinky. Two other demons drag in a battered Gabriel and present him to a smug and threatening Asmodeus. Ew. It's looking dire for our heroes when Gabe's eyes begin to glow. Suddenly he insta-heals himself and drags out his wings for a dominance display. Asmodeus tries to fry him but Gabriel kentucky-fries him instead, sending him up in flames. Phew! Done and done, right?

Back in the AU, Charlie asks about our Charlie. Like Ketch, she tries to tease out why Dean's so invested in her well being. Were they...a thing? Nope. Charlie was into chicks. AU!Charlie softens. She can get on board with that. (Aw, Charlie) Anyway, Charlie tells Dean that Jack and his mom were last seen around Dayton, Ohio. And she also doesn't believe Dean’s wacky story about alternate universes...until she sees the glowing rift hanging out in the middle of the road.

In the bunker, Cas tries to convince Gabe to join their fight against AU!Michael's possible incursion. “You cannot turn your back on your father's creation,” Cas insists but Gabe tells them...like father, like son. He flaps outta there.

The rift starts to sputter. It's time to head back home. Ketch tells Dean to go back without him and he'll go save Mary and Jack. (Urgh I really, really do not trust him. He gets himself over to the AU so casually...so easily. With Dean gone, there won't be anyone to keep a wary eye on him. What's he up to? I seriously can't believe he's just...out to save people.) Anyway, I got distracted by my deep distrust of Ketch. Um...also Charlie isn't going back to Dean’s world.

Dean is us, guys. Dean is US. It makes sense that Charlie is staying and fighting for/with her friends. But like Dean, we really want her back any way we can get her. (Me: plugs my ears and ignores people who tell me Felicia Day is super busy with her baby and The Magicians and probably a billion other things. Mumbles line about “anyone can come back on Supernatural.”)

This does give us some very good Dean pain which, I'm almost ashamed to say, makes me very happy. Dean gets back to the bunker, shakes off Sam's and Cas's concern, and asks after Gabe. They tell him that Gabe's gone...and so is the rest of his grace. Dean takes it very, very well.

“Every time we get close, it always falls apart,” Dean says, despairing. And so we get their next mission: find Gabriel.

Son of a Quotes!

Champ, when the resistance crushes you, I’m gonna be there to shred your feathers and grind them into dust.

I just got spin cycled through space and time.

Sam, I don't think he's gonna open up and let the choo choo in.

Charlie was like family. She was a sister to me.

You might as well go back to the cage.

It's been...uh...what's the opposite of fun? ...That.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 13x18 #bring 'em back alive #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #gabriel #lucifer #anael #asmodeus #charlie bradbury #supernatural season 13

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janethepegasus · 6 years

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BMC Miraculous Ladybug AU RP Thing: PMD Marathon

An RP thing me and @pika-ace did related to BMC Miraculous Ladybug AU where the main seven have a game marathon with the PMD series.

(Jeremy gets a Mudkip, Michael gets a Torchic, Eric gets a Pikachu, Jordan gets a Turtwig, Lin gets a Riolu, Post gets a Oshawott, and Joe gets a Piplup)

Jeremy: Okay, this might sound a BIT crazy, but.....let’s play the whole PMD series!

Michael: Whoa, really?! All of them???

Jeremy: Yeah all of them!

Michael: Are we gonna play them all in the row?

Jeremy: Well...I was thinking that we all play the games, like I would have Red Rescue Team, Michael would have Blue Rescue Team, etc etc

Michael: Ooooh gotcha

(Jeremy lays out a few DS and 3DS plus the PMD games on the table)

Jeremy: Alright, pick your poison, guys!

Michael: I'm going for Blue Rescue Team!

Jeremy: In that case, I'll take Red; it's been a while since I've played this one

Post: Hmmm..... *looks at the games* Umm.....that one? *points to Gates to Infinity*

Eric: Explorers of Time sounds interesting...

Jordan: I'll try Explorers of Darkness!

Lin: I'll take Explorers of Sky, that one sounds neat Joe: I suppose that leaves me with Super Mystery Dungeon

Jeremy: Oooooh, you have NO idea what's gonna hit ya Joe >:3c

(They all sit down and start playing)

Jordan: Wait, we gotta do a Personality Test first?

Joe: Huh. I don't have to. Jeremy: Yeah, they changed it

Post: I get to choose mine :/

Post: And AFTER I took a quiz...that seems pointless Michael: It's because so many people re-take the quizzes in the old ones if they didn't get the pokemon they wanted

Lin: Eh, i'll just wing with whoever i get :/ Eric: ......Is Pikachu playable in this game?

Jeremy: Hell yeah, he's playable in ALL the games

Eric: O_O *restarts the game after he gotten a Totodile*

Jeremy: Yeah, I had a feeling XD

Jordan: My peach just LOVES that little electric mouse! X3c

(They all pick their pokemon and their partners)

Jeremy: Now we can start the game!

Lin: Alright, let's do this!

(They start their games)

Jeremy: Ah, this takes me back...

Michael: Me too!

Jordan: Aww, Eric's a little scaredy cat in this game X3 Eric: Same goes for you in MY game, mister >:(

Post: I fell out of the sky O_O

Joe: I'm certainly glad I ran into this Nuzleaf to help me...

Lin: ......I'm still confused how and why i ended up on the beach.

Michael: All will be explained soon >:3c

Lin: Hopefully.

(They keep playing)

(A few minutes later...) Lin: Woah woah woah, why am I getting visions??? O_O

Eric: Forget the visions, a child just walked off with an outlaw!!

Jordan: Yeah! Who knows what the hell that bastard's gonna do to that kid?!

Joe: I"m in school...I didn't expect to be a child in this

Post: Gurdurr better build me that house! >:(

Jeremy: Woo! Mt Steel here we come!

Michael: Hell yeah! >:D

(A little while later...)

Eric: ......So we're stuck with a Bidoof for the whole trip? -_-

Jordan: I like him, he's a hard worker, I appreciate spirit like that

Lin: Yeah, and from that little Special Episode about him, i can agree!

Post: Why is Virizion so mean?? :(

Michael: Hey at least we're gonna save Metapod before Gangar and his pals do it!

Jeremy: I almost forgot about Metapod; poor thing

Michael: Yeah...

Joe: I must say, I'm enjoying these little excursions with my fellow students

Joe: But my poor partner...having to deal with such bullying...

Michael: Don't worry, you'll get 'em back

(A little while later...)

Eric: Who the hell does this Grovyle think he is?!

Jordan: Yeah! What the hell?! >:(

Lin: Yeah, why the HELL do wanna stop all time??? (Jeremy and Michael subtly exchange a look)

Joe: This Ampharos fellow seems....pleasant.

Post: Espeon and Umbreon are cute together, I like them :)

Jeremy: Yeah! Going up to Mt. Thunder! >:3

Michael: Woo!! We're coming Shiftry! (Later still...)

Jordan: Woah wait, we're in the future now?! 0_0

Lin: What the fuck Dusknoir?!

Eric: Yeah what the hell?! >:( Joe: Oh, more continents? Interesting...

Post: Oh my god, what's wrong with everyone?? Why can't they breathe?! No! Guys!

Jeremy: Oh boy, going up to Great Canyon...

Michael: It's about to get real...

(Later still...)

(After the you're grovyle's partner reveal) Eric: O_O Jordan: O_O Lin: O_O .......WHAT THE FUCK?!

Jordan: We were Grovyle's partner?!

Eric: Wha...but...we...HOW?! (Jeremy and Michael revel in the shock)

(Lin just stares at the screen, dumbfounded)

Post: WHA?! MUNNA WHY?! Joe: What?! NO! Nuzleaf, I-I TRUSTED YOU!!!!

Jeremy: Aaaaand the town wants to kill me

Michael: Fucking Gengar...never forgive

(Later still...) Lin: Oh! Another Special Episode! :D (Lin starts playing the special episode)

Eric: I never thought I'd be so happy to see the sun again...

Jordan: Me too...

Joe: I...how do you GO here by being turned to stone???

Michael: Don't mind me, just passing through Lapis Cave like a champ -w-

Jeremy: On to Mount Blaze!

Michael: Hell yeah! And it's gonna be easy for you Jere! X3c

Post: I gotta save my partner...I gotta save my partner!!!!

(Later still...)

Jeremy: Whew! That outlaw mission flew by! Almost time for Groudon!

Michael: Hell yeah! >:3

Joe: Oh thank god we're back! Espurr you poor poor thing...being left behind

Lin: Welp, done with that special episode! Now back to the game! *starts playing the main game*

Jordan: Alright, let's find that Hidden Land!

Lin: Wait, you guys are at Hidden Land?! I'm still at Chapter 17!

Eric: No, we're teaming up with the guild to look for it, we just told them what happened in the future

Lin: Oh, kinda misheard that XD

Post: Okay...Hydreigon's dead...but we're okay....

(Later still...)

Jeremy: Fuck you, Groudon!!

Michael: Yeah, fuck you! >:(

Lin: Oh COME ON!! Leave us alone Dusknoir!!

Jordan: Yeah, we just wanna save the world! >:(

Eric: What the hell is wrong with this guy!?

Lin: Just leave us be and restore all of time and space goddamn it! >:(

Post: KELDEO'S ALIVE!!!!

(Joe twitches in anger as he's having a hard time with a dungeon)

Joe: Even evolved this is trying my patience...!

Post: Uhh.....are you gonna be okay dad?

Joe: *tightly* I'll....be...fine....!

Post: Ooookay..... (Later still...)

Jeremy: C'mon Rayquayza, kill the giant comet!!

Michael: Yeah save the world!

Eric: Alright...I'm going to disappear...but we have to stop Dialga!

Jordan: Yeah, let's give it all we got against that guy! Lin: Yeah!

Post: You're going down Bittercold!! >:(

(Joe still twitches in anger as he's having a hard time with a dungeon)

Joe: I am getting back to that ball of darkness and beating it!!

(After several tries with a dungeon, getting angrier with every single lost, when he lost again, he took a shaky deep breath) Joe: .....Will you excuse me *leaves and goes into a nearby room*

Jeremy: Yeah...that game is hard as sin

(A few seconds later, they hear Joe screaming at the top of his lungs in anger)

Michael: Yep, that's about how I expected it to go

(They could hear him screaming and possibly punching something. And then after a few minutes, they heard a loud noise from the room and a few seconds later, Joe walks out of the room, breathing heavily)

Post: ......You okay Dad? O_O

Joe: ....I am.....now.....it's just....this game.....this damn game.....tested my patience for far too long.....

Jeremy: Yeah; we think that because Gates to Infinity is super easy, they upped the difficulty for that one. It's annoying as fuck -_-

Joe: I suppose so..... *sits down* .....and also.....please don't mind when you see.....a hole in the wall if you go to that room....

Michael: Dude! O_O

Jeremy: Holy crap Joe! O_O

Eric: Uh, let's just...finish the games

Lin: Yeah... (Later still..)

(They all manage to get to the goodbye scenes at the same time)

Post: Wha, i'm disappearing?!

Eric: Oh god...Jordan I'm so sorry... Jordan: Shit...Eric...I shoulda told you...

(Both Eric and Jordan start tearing up)

Lin: Nooooooo, god why?!

Joe: Wait, you're leaving?! Wha-why?!

Post: Nooooo! I don't wanna go!! I wanna stay!! Jeremy: God...it still hurts... :'(

Michael: Yeah... :'(

(Everyone cries for a bit as the credits roll)

(Eric and Jordan were crying the most out of everyone, not helped by the fact they nicknamed their partners after each other)

Michael: *whispers* Uh, they know they didn't actually lose each other...right?

Jeremy: *whispers* That's the power of the feels dude, they pretty much made it worse by nicknaming their partners after each other.

Jeremy: *to Eric and Jordan* Don't worry guys, it gets better, just watch!

Jordan: What the hell do you mean...?

Michael: Like he said, just watch, the game's not done yet

Eric: If you say so...

(They watch as the credits end and their characters return)

Jordan: *gasp* I’m back! :D

Eric: Oh thank god!! Jordan, I'm back! :D

Lin: Yay I’m back! :D

Jeremy: See? It's all good!

Michael: Yep!

Post: I'm gonna make myself come back! >:( Joe: I'm gonna get my partner back! >:(

Jeremy: Oh yeah, forgot about the post-game side quest for those games :/

Michael: They'll make it

Jeremy: Yeah

(A little while later) Post: YES!! I'm back!! Joe: Oh, my partner, I've missed you!!

Jeremy: See? They made it!

Lin: Well, that was a fun ride!

Joe: Indeed, inspite of some.... *glares at the game* issues along the way...

Eric: Yes, that was fun...and quite emotional

Jordan: Hell yeah it was.

Post: I hope they make more Michael: They BETTER make more!

Jeremy: Yeah! LOTS more!

#bmc miraculous ladybug au #bmc au #jeremy heere #squip #michael mell #Jordan Ellis #lin manuel miranda #post the Squip #joe iconis #pokemon mystery dungeon

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luckylagerlegacy · 7 years

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Action Bronson “BLUE CHIPS 7000″ Album Commentary

Action Bronson has been putting on for chubby white guys who hate Michael Jordan for the better part of a decade now, I guess that's why I've always had a special place in my heart for his music. The Queens, New York born Crook-turned-Cook-turned-Rapper-turned-TV personality has an uncommon bag of references and a flair for showmanship that is highly polarizing; you're either gonna be a big fan of a guy who talks French cuisine and Italian handbags on almost every track, or you're gonna sleep on him on your way to defending XXXtentacion in yet another online argument. His listening audience has been waiting for this project since the psychedelic, experimental Mr. Wonderful dropped back in March of 2015. Let's dive right in and see what Bronson and his bevy of hit making, sampling expert producers have for us:

1) Wolf Pack:

This track opens with an audio clip of Action Bronson having a conversation with (who I am assuming is) his very, very stoned mother in a car. It's a jarring way to start an album; you can hear a dog whimper and another woman laugh from somewhere inside the car, it's strange- but then, a musical jumpcut puts us in the passenger seat of a 74' Coup De Ville on our way to collect some money we're owed while Bronson shouts "PUERTO RICAN AIRFORCE ONES AT THE WEDDING" which is the perfect opening to this album. This beat is perfect, Bronson rides the pocket expertly, only stepping out of the sweet spot to say inflammatory shit like "YOU SMOKE LITTLE BLUNTS LIKE KEVIN HART'S ARMS" or "I SHOT DOPE BEFORE I WROTE THIS - SNORT DOPE AND DO AEROBICS BY THE OCEAN" it's an excellent leadoff.

4/5

2) La Luna:

Of course this is going to be an album full of skits, Bronson loves that type of theatre. The conceit of this track is Action's homie calling "La Luna Luxury car rentals" and being put on hold, and that hold music just happens to be the funkiest beat of all time- so Action raps over it from across the room until the beat fades all the way in. From there it's the average Bronson song. A lot of really cool, quotable bars that evoke 80's coke dream vibes.

3/5

3) Chairman's Intent:

Right back to it, this beat sounds like the score to a 70's blacksploitation flick and Action is even more swaggering than usual in his delivery and lyrics. Halfway through the track the beat cuts out, and a beautiful string section hints at the song ending... right before the beat slams back on and Action shouts "TWO PUMPS FROM THE INHALER GOT ME FEELING LIKE LAWRENCE TAYLOR" and all of the sudden I am in a silk bathrobe dancing around my living room like a fucking fool. Don't listen to this song unless you're trying to build the courage to do an armed robbery or else you're gonna derail your whole life by accident. This is home invasion music. It's a musical Tarantino flick, but like, less N Words dropped.

4/5

4) Hot Pepper (feat. Mayhem Lauren and Jah Tiger):

Thank god we get to hear from Mayhem Laurenovich on this album. This duo is one of the best tag teams in all of rap music, together here rapping over a hook provided by Jamaica's own Jah Tiger (first seen on an episode of "Fuck That's Delicious".) Bronson's verse is a lot of fun (saying shit like "I'M QUALIFIED TO SPEAK FOR MY ATTORNIES, ADRESS THE JURY IN A SHAQ JERSEY"), buy Mayhem steals the show on the song. He comes in, off beat as hell and overpowers the whole shit. He's flexing about some amazing shit here, "YOU THE TYPE TO COMPLIMENT A ROLLIE AT THE URINAL - I'M THE TYPE TO RESEARCH CONTINENTS AND THEN EXPLORE A FEW" that's fucking hilarious.

4/5

5) Bonzai:

This track is fucking amazing. This is the exact Action Bronson I first became a fan of- more measured both in production and in his lyrics here. "DADDY BACK WITH HIS LONG WHITE CADDILLAC, NOW IT'S TIME TO TAKE A NAPPY-NAP" your favourite could never sound like a king pin while saying "Nappy-Nap" b I guarantee it. The more conversational, less action movie star Bronson is a welcome surprise on this album that has so far been an audio reimagining of every movie that his namesake Charles Bronson ever starred in. The crackhead audio at the end is also pretty, pretty good.

5/5

6) Let It Rain:

This song starts with the sounds of a chick moaning (weird) and a really crazy Merengue instrumental serving as the beat (fire). I'm about to don my dance shoes and show you turkeys how to box step like a 5 time ballroom champ. Once you get past the super awkward audio of the woman cumming the song is actually pretty sick, as soon as I'm rich enough to steal a boat I will be piloting it out into a quiet, sunny bay and listening to this while I search the entire cabin for the liquor cabinet before accidentally capsizing the vessel. The last bar on the track is Action exclaiming "THESE DUDES TRASH LIKE MICHAEL JORDAN JEANS" which means a whole lot to me.

4/5

7) My Right Lung:

This track opens with the silkiest jazz you've ever heard, but it's got this bite to it that makes you think Gil Scott Heron is about to hop into the breach and tell us that white people are the devil, before this Albanian Devil leans in with- "I'D GIVE MY RIGHT LUNG IF I COULD DUNK A BASKETBALL ONE TIME" -Fuck okay Bronson, me too. This might be my favorite track on this whole album. I demand to know who this sample is- if it is a sample at all. I'm impressed with how much he lets the beat breathe on this, it creates an atmosphere that makes his last, more frenetic verse pay off a ton harder. "FUCK A CRITIC, I'LL HAVE MY LIL SPANISH HOMIE HIT YOU WITH THE CIVIC - SPEND A MOTHERFUCKER SPINNIN"

5/5

8) TANK (featuring Big Body Bes):

This beat is fucking crazy. The flip on the sample is insane. Bronson is spitting really fun, carefree shit here like "SOMEHOW WE GOT JEEPS IN JAIL, TELL THE JUDGE IT'S ALL GOOD, GO HEAD AND KEEP THAT BAIL" and "DADDY SWERVE THE COUP WITH CONVICTION, GUNS UNDER THE PILLOW LIKE MY TOOTH MISSING, EVERYBODY KNOW IT'S ME CUS THE ROOF MISSING." Then Big Body Bes steps in and screams the dumbest, coolest sounding shit ever like only he is capable of. "ONLY GOD COULD BENCH US - YOU WAS IN THE DAYROOM DOING SPLITS - I TOLD YOU STOP BLOCKING THE TV - I'M TRYING TO WATCH MAURY - AND HANG THAT FUCKING PHONE UP" Holy fuck I'm 5 years old again watching WWE for the first time.

5/5

9) Let Me Breathe:

Harry Fraud and Action Bronson should get married n make music together every damn day. They are a power couple, and have maybe never made a bad song together? This was the leadoff single from this album, and also probably my least favourite song on it- but it's still very good. It's a little cute for my likes, but I say that as I nod my head in a top-to-bottom Ralph Lauren outfit that I didn't have on before this song started playing.

3/5

10) 9-24-7000 (feat Rick Ross):

This shit is crazy. It opens with Action comparing himself with Sting, and moves on to a whole myriad of blowjobs, fast cars and fine dining - before he dives off the back of a boat and let's Rick Ross take a turn on the mic. NOW, i should preface this off the bat- Rick Ross could not have written this verse- it's too good. Same shit happened with his verse on Devil In A New Dress.. Anything too impressive coming out of Ross' corner, I just assume it was 8 struggle rappers turned ghost writers and a whole lot of coffee in some shitty office building near Burbank- ANYWAY- This verse is good as hell, it makes the song slap in the way only Rick Ross lending a verse can. I want some goddamn lemon pepper wings now. You can hear J. Cole's woke rant at the end of this track too, which is sad but fun.

5/5

11) The Choreographer:

I'll take the time to say it now- if not the best album of the year - this has so far been the most fun to listen to. I have been transported to a lot of foreign locales and into the back seat of a lot of vintage luxury automobiles just by throwing in headphones and pressing play on this shit. A standing ovation can be heard at the top of this track, and it's honestly really deserved. I want to roller-skate with a single mother to this shit, not even in a roller rink either. He's out here doing his best Dru Hill impression (literally) on this track. Give it up to Bronson. This shit is great.

4.5/5

12) Chop Chop Chop:

Back to the psychedelia that made so many cameos on Action Bronson's last project. A smoky choir backs up drugged out guitar riffs and shaky drums behind Bronson's "THE WHEELS ON THE RANGE GO CHOP CHOP" chorus, and the standout bar on this shit, "THE BLUNT LASTS LONGER THAN A WHOLE BADHU CONCERT" that's hilarious. For all the work he put in on the first half of this album, these last few tracks just feel like a victory lap.

3.5/5

13) Durag vs. Headband (feat Big Body Bes):

Victory lap complete. This whole album went fucking hammers, and this song is the perfect button on it. He's just stunting on us, it's fantastic. "I'M IN THE CLUB WITH A CONDOM ON - ALL UNDERARMOR ON" then Bes' chorus, and him fucking everything up again with more angry spouting off that simultaneously makes me giggle like a kid and want to commit felonies. This shit is good as hell.

4/5

OVERALL SCORE: 8.3/10

This album is everything I want from a Bronson project. It's got dope beats, ridiculous lyrics, + attitude and brevity in equal parts. The best track, IMO, has got to be "TANK".

#Action Bronson #Blue Chips 7000 #Big Body Bes

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geekade · 7 years

Text

Zwia Reviews: Spider-Man Homecoming a.k.a. Oh Thank God

SPOILER FREE until I say Spoiler Alert

You know what I cannot stand? People on my news feed complaining about “ANOTHER Spider-Man movie.” “We’ve already had five Spider-Man movies. Why do we need ANOTHER???” You want to know why? You REALLY want to know why??? Because Spider-Man is THE Marvel hero, and frankly he has not been done justice in his own movie yet. You think Iron Man is awesome? You think Captain America is cool? Before the MCU NO ONE gave a damn about any of these characters. These were the character Marvel COULDN’T even sell the rights to when they needed the money in the 90’s. But Spider-Man, he’s Marvel’s best. He’s their big gun (popularity and story-wise. Power level he… he’s pretty outclassed) And this movie is important because he… well… he finally came home and showed just what a company that knows what they are doing can do with a GOOD character. That is not to say the Sam Raimi Spider-Man movies aren’t amazing, because they are. (Well the first two) and that’s not to say the Amazing Spider-Man movies aren’t… uh… lets not talk about those rushed cash grabs. What I’m saying is, Tom Holland’s portrayal of Spider-Man is the best and most accurate portrayal of the character we have ever had, and it is about gosh darn time Marvel finally had an “A” List character in their Cinematic Universe. So, BEST SPIDER-MAN MOVIE EVER… right? …right? uh… Kinda??? Before I go further, let me make this clear. Go see this movie. It’s a great and entertaining time. If you know nothing about Spider-Man (shame on you) you’ll still enjoy the movie whether it be it’s strong humor, it’s action, it’s likable characters, its drama. There will be something for you. And if you DO know Spider-Man, you will enjoy all the references and clever nods. OMG so many references. Not even just talking about referring to all the MCU stuff. There is just… SO MUCH ELSE. But BEST SPIDER-MAN MOVIE EVER????? Well, Spider-Man 1 and 2… I think are better actual movies. They have very clear messages and structure. They are creatively done. They pushed boundaries for their time. They balance dramatic moments and humorous moments and action beats and are unafraid to take chances and go all out… and frankly, they are lightning in a bottle experiences. They are just really incredible movies. (Even if the acting is kinda… meh) So, objectively, I’d say Homecoming isn’t on paper a better movie. But it IS the best Spider-Man character piece we’ve ever gotten.

If you want me to tell you who Spider-Man as a character is, this is what I’d show you. It may lack some of his more depressing struggles and turmoil… but everything else, is just pure Spider-Man. If anything, Homecoming doesn’t really feel like a movie. It’s more of a really long TV episode. It’s not some Epic Spider-Man set piece. It’s more of a glimpse at one of his small adventures, which works out really well. So lets talk about it. The story follows Peter after Civil War when he is struggling to impress Tony Stark and prove he’s superhero material. Most of his actions reflect this one track mindset and basically he gets himself into trouble because of it. It isn’t really the whole “Great Power/Great Responsibility” motivation that we’re used to, but it does the trick and pretty accurately shows Peter’s struggle to balance the real world with his super heroing, so I dig it. Also real quick, love this one subtle moment in the gym early in the movie. Peter is doing sit ups like a champ, coach tells him he’s doing good work, and Peter subtly starts to look like he’s struggling. It’s quick and simple and easy to overlook, but I loved it. It’s a VERY Peter thing to do. God shit like this make me really feel like these guys totally understand the character. And they KEPT doing stuff like this. Just damn. Stark himself is barely in the movie, but he’s pretty great when he is. This of course should be no surprise. Downey Jr. was pretty much born for this role.

Keaton’s Vulture has very clear motivation and is pretty darn interesting because of it. He basically plays up the current climate of people against the 1% that’s hitting the nation… and it’s just great. I have small issues with some changes they’ve done with his character, but overall its a great take and I’m happy they chose to delve more into his character than setting up Peter… a story we already know way too much of. And pretty much everyone else ever has their own little moments to shine. Everyone is pretty well-defined, you understand who every person is for the most part. It’s just all good things. The plot itself is pretty weak. Spider-Man wants to prove himself, keeps hunting down these arms dealer guys, keeps screwing things up. Rinse. Repeat. Enjoy the ride. But we’re not really in the movie for anything super major plot wise. It’s a character piece. And it delivers. And then it adds some fun action and jokes as well. Hell, if you just give me a montage of Spider-Man doing random acts of heroics around NYC I’d be happy. What? We get that in the first ten minutes??? HELL YEAH! And that’s really all I can say without getting into some Spoiler territory. It’s a special movie because it’s finally Spider-Man being the lovable screwup kid he’s supposed to be. BUT it doesn’t really do anything super crazy beyond that. Still, I’d say you need to see it. NOW FOR SPOILERS where I get into the fun stuff. Firstly OMG some of the references. For starters, DAMAGE CONTROL. OMG. For those that don’t know Damage Control is a company in the Marvel Universe that basically go around cleaning up the messes from superhero fights. They had their own comic and everything and it’s hilarious. I have been waiting for Damage Control to be name dropped for SO DAMN LONG and I am pumped that they went all out with it. Next, Donald Glover as Prowler… mentioning his nephew??? Uh… you mean Miles Morales???? Damn right that’s what they meant. That’s amazing. (No this reboot should not have been Miles. YES we all want a Miles movie, but not yet. Let Peter have his time. Half of Miles’s stories are all about him trying to step in Peter’s boots anyway. Y’all gotta build up to that people.) Okay, have I given enough space before I talk about the REALLY big stuff yet? Good. FUCKING VULTURE father reveal thing. You seriously gonna do that movie? Vulture’s kid is Peter’s friend??? Seriously??? You’re gonna pull a damn Green Goblin here??? You literally gonna steal almost beat for beat the Thanksgiving meal scene from Spider-Man 1???? Fine. You did it well. But here’s my problem. What happens when we bring Green Goblin into the MCU? You just gonna do the same thing over again??? Or is Vulture gonna be the new Goblin now…? Just… Damnit. I don’t hate it and I appreciate that you made a shocking moment that totally fits the themes of Spider-Man balancing his responsibilities over his personal desires. And I LOVE that Peter didn’t even flinch with his decision. He just ran off and was like, nope. This is what I gotta do. But DAMN. Uh… okay, I probably have more to say… uhh… Iron Spider reference, neat. Captain America stuff was amazing. Fuck yeah Scorpion. OH, the building falling on Peter and he struggling to get up? Literally one of the MOST FAMOUS SPIDER-MAN MOMENTS EVER. I don’t think it did the moment particular justice, but I do think it was done well enough and it was certainly awesome to see it done on the big screen.

Finally, the final battle… eh, kinda anticlimactic. The fight on the plane was cool, but once they hit the beach… Vulture just punches him a couple times, gets distracted, and blows himself up??? Really???? Oh, and little issues: 1. How did the boat get cut PERFECTLY in half? 2. If Peter knocked the wings off the plane to create a vacuum… how did Vulture get back in his wings to fight Peter outside the plane? Meh whatever, GO SEE THE MOVIE! OR GO SEE THE MOVIE AGAIN!!!! Buy it on Bluray. Tell your friends to see it. I NEED MORE!!!!!!

#Movies #articles #Comics

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dracomysunshinechild · 7 years

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It has officially been one month since Dralentine’s day! I am super, super excited to reveal to @pottergerms who their secret Dralentine was!! I am so, so, so happy to see that you enjoyed it!! Thank you for all of your kind words and for sharing my work with your lovely followers. Dralentine’s Day was so much fun and I am already looking forward to next year!

Thank you to @dralentines-day for being such a champ! @ourloveislegendrarry @julietsemophase ;)

Summary:

Harry’s friends are desperate to help find him a date for Valentine’s Day. Considering his growing list of one-night stands, Harry finds himself desperate enough to give almost anyone a shot. When a potential date goes awry, there is only one snake sneaky enough to wrap himself around a love-lost Boy-Who-Lived.

The music was loud.

“Alright there, mate?!”

Sweat dripped down slick skin.

“Do you want another drink?”

There were so many thrumming bodies surging around them it was hard to see where one male ended and another began.

“I said do you want another drink!”

And, much to Harry Potter’s displeasure, his friends had dragged him out with one specific goal in mind.

“What about that guy, Harry?”

To find him a date for Valentine’s Day.

Harry swung his gaze in the direction that Hermione was pointing and felt his mouth twist into a grimace. He shook his head rather adamantly at her, only slightly put-out when she pouted.

“Come on, Harry, you’re not even trying!” Ron said accusingly. “Don’t make me have Charlie drag you over to some random guy—you know I will!”

He groaned. Charlie had acquired a personal interest in making sure Harry was… well looked after… come Valentine’s Day. The bloody tenacious red-head was so damned determined to hook Harry up that he’d willingly left his dragons for an entire week in order to be the ultimate wing-man.

“It’s what you do for an adopted brother,” Charlie had said with a smirk. “You’re the only one left without a partner.”

“You’re still single too, you know.”

“Yeah but I’m not looking.” Charlie’s smirk had grown wider. “Perks of being ace, my friend. Besides, you’re getting on in years, you know?”

“I’m only twenty-five!”

And now they were here, two days before the fourteenth of February, in a popular wizarding gay club and rifling through every single male who just happened to be present.

“Is there anyone here that is catching your eye?” Hermione asked, swirling her drink absentmindedly.

“Not really,” Harry replied honestly.

“Well… why don’t you join Charlie on the dance floor?”

Harry gave her a bland look. “Mione, you know I don’t dance.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Two words, Hermione, Yule Ball,” Ron remarked with a cheeky grin. “Harry has no coordination whatsoever—aside from quidditch that is.”

“Exactly,” Harry agreed, nodding. “With little-to-no coordination I’m obviously terrible at sex; it’s probably the reason I keep having so many flings.”

“Probably just a flail of limbs.”

“No rhythm to speak of.”

“Sloppy kisser too, no doubt.”

“Not to mention my atrocious memory when it comes to remembering names.”

“Maybe you should start making them wear nametags?”

“Why not number them while I’m at it.”

Harry and Ron guffawed with laughter much to Hermione’s displeasure.

“Honestly, Harry, it’s no wonder you can’t find a date if you’re not even going to be serious about this!”

Smiling patiently, Harry downed a mouthful of his obscenely fruity cocktail Charlie had insisted on getting him. “Mione, we’re in the one place where finding a ‘Mr Right’ is far and few between. Guys come here for anonymous sex and one-night stands. I should know, I’m practically a veteran.”

“You won’t know until you try,” the female replied persistently. “Ooh, looks like Charlie may have found someone.”

Harry swung his head around. Truth enough Charlie Weasley, with his arm slung comfortably around the shoulders of a young male with chestnut coloured hair, was crossing the dance floor towards them and gesturing madly at their table. The brunet couldn’t help but brace himself warily.

“Harry,” Charlie beamed, “meet Eli.”

“Wow,” Eli breathed, eyes wide as they flicked up to his forehead. “Harry Potter!”

Harry groaned inwardly. Another starry-eyed fan…

Charlie seemed to miss the unimpressed look on Harry’s face because he was quick to push the young man he’d brought over closer to him, smiling charmingly. To Harry’s utter horror, Eli sidled nice and close to his side, staring up at him with astonished blue eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you, Harry,” Eli said earnestly.

A smug smile had appeared on Charlie’s face. “You know…” he began innocently enough, “it’s a tad loud in here, hardly the place to really get to know one another…”

Eli immediately brightened.

“Why don’t the two of you head off somewhere quieter? Like the Black Stump? You like that place don’t you, Harry?”

The Black Stump was one of Harry’s favourite wizarding bars. It wasn’t like the club—not at all. It was small, intimate, and best of all, quiet. He frequented it at least once a week, enjoying a drink or two with a friend to help him wind down from the stresses of work and his, typically, inconsistently erratic love life.

“Oh, can we, Harry?” Eli begged, biting his lip endearingly. “I’d love to get to know you.”

Hermione and Ron were both nodding vigorously behind Eli’s back, staring at Harry with identical threatening expressions. Harry suppressed a sigh. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a go…

“Yeah, alright,” he said finally, offering a small smile. He felt a little better about the situation with the prospect of going to the Black Stump, it didn’t seem as daunting if they went to place he was happy and familiar with.

“I’ll go grab my cloak!” Eli said excitedly. “I’ll meet you at the entrance?”

“Sure.”

The young man bounded away from a grin, leaving Harry to three impudent smirks.

“Don’t even,” he interjected quickly, pointing at each of them in turn. “This means nothing. I promised you I’d give it a go and I am.”

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione replied, her smirk morphing into a gentle smile. “I hope, for your sake, that everything works out.”

Charlie winked at him. “And if it doesn’t, no harm done. We’ll simply… have to try again.”

Harry snorted. “You’re never allowed to set me up with someone ever again.”

The red-head chuckled, eyeing him with deviously. “We’ll see.”

A quick side-along apparition later found Harry and Eli in the shadows of an alleyway a few doors down from the bar. Despite the unknown aspects surrounding his newfound date, Harry was glad to be out of the club. As much fun as it had been back in the day when he hadn’t cared much, he couldn’t help but feel detached from the thrumming atmosphere he had, once upon a time, thrust himself into.

Everything the club represented was so artificial; so impersonal. A constant flow of anonymous sex.

And Harry was so tired.

He was tired of the flings, of the one-night stands that did nothing but further his desire for something more. He wanted to wake up to the same face every morning, share a sleepy kiss, make a ridiculous mess in the kitchen as they attempted pancakes. Hell, Harry would even settle for a cheesy date full of beach walks and photo-booth pictures if it meant that the guy he was with didn’t become just another face in the crowd.

Maybe Eli could be that guy.

The young man was currently vibrating with excitement as they stepped down the snow-covered pavement. His blue eyes were often on Harry’s face, staring at him in wonder as if he really couldn’t believe Harry-Fucking-Potter was taking him on an impromptu date.

I’m sure he’ll calm down once we get talking… Harry thought, trying desperately to make light of the situation. He reached out for the door and pushed it open, a wondrous warmth greeting them as they stepped inside the Black Stump. Almost instantly, Harry could feel the tension draining out of his muscles; the familiar scent of fine spirits and cedar wood drew him in with a welcoming embrace. The two of them removed their cloaks and Harry did his customary sweep of the patrons inside.

And did a double-take. Despite the shadows that cloaked the room in a welcoming allure of mystery, it certainly did not hide the unique shine of platinum hair that instantly captured Harry’s attention.

Draco Malfoy.

The male was reclining elegantly in one of the booths, long legs crossed at the knee, with a pleasant smile directed to the female sitting opposite him. Pansy Parkinson.

Harry found himself staring—he couldn’t help it. Malfoy looked ridiculously alluring, dressed as he was in black pressed pants, navy button up shirt with his sleeves rolled to the elbow, and a black waist coat with a dark-grey tie.

Fucking hell…

It wasn’t uncommon for he and Malfoy to bump into one another during day-to-day life. After Harry had spoken on Malfoy and his mother’s behalf during the trials after the war, the two of them had decided on a tentative truce and parted ways. Ever since, whenever they were within social distance, pleasantries were exchanged and simple, meticulous conversations were sometimes had. Nothing more had happened between them, despite how much Harry secretly wished it would.

The bastard was gorgeous after all.

Swallowing a sigh, Harry forced his gaze away from the delectable blond and gestured for Eli to follow him. He did not lead Eli to his usual spot but instead acquired two stools near the bar, thinking that perhaps if the night was a bust, he could get stinking drunk instead. As they draped their cloaks over the back of their stools, he signalled the bartender who practically sped to take his order and Harry turned to his… date.

God, even in his mind the word sounded cumbersome.

“What would you like to drink, Eli?”

“Whatever you’re drinking, Harry,” he replied immediately.

A faint frown appeared on Harry’s brow. “Firewhiskey?”

Eli drew his bottom lip into his mouth but nodded anyway, eager to please.

“Er—alright then.” Harry turned back to the bartender with whom he shared a similar look and lifted two fingers.

“Two firewhiskeys it is then,” the dark man replied, flicking his wrist elegantly. Two tumblers landed on the wooden benchtop and skidded to a halt before them. A healthy amount of firewhiskey was poured into each.

“Thank you, Khari.” Harry placed an abundance of coins into the bartender’s hand and took their drinks, passing one to Eli.

“Enjoy your evening, Mr Potter,” Khari said with a gentle smile.

Eli gaped.

“I bet you get recognised everywhere,” he exclaimed in an almost-whisper.

Harry uttered a noncommittal noise. “I suppose.”

“I want you to tell me everything about you, Harry, about everything that happened,” Eli begged earnestly. “I’ve read it all, of course, but I want to hear you say it.”

Harry stifled a groan and downed a mouthful of his firewhiskey. “I’d rather not,” he replied, keeping his tone as light as he could make it. “Why don’t you tell me about you?”

“Oh, my life is boring,” Eli remarked. He had yet to even look down at his drink let alone take a sip. He insisted on holding it tightly within his palms. “Not like yours I bet.”

“My life isn’t as glamorous as the Daily Prophet makes it out to be, you know.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

I bet you do… Harry thought tiredly. They’d only been here for ten minutes and Eli was already doing his head in with the hero worship. I’m beginning to feel that this was a mistake…

Perhaps, if he indulged Eli a little, it would make him more comfortable to speak with Harry on a more personal level? It was either that or call an end to their date which, as much as Harry was keen on that idea, having Malfoy witness the entire ordeal made it less appealing. He risked a quick glance in the blond’s direction as Eli stared in disdain at his drink, stiffing at the contents tentatively. Malfoy was alone for time being, taking a sip from a clear goblet that looked to hold red wine. Harry wondered where Parkinson had gone—probably the bathroom or something.

What I wouldn’t give to walk over there right now and ravish Malfoy to a point that he forgets his own name…

“What was You-Know-Who like?”

Harry’s head snapped around, green eyes filled with surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You-Know-Who, Harry,” Eli pressed. “What was he like? Fearsome of course, but to have such power—”

“Voldemort was a ruthless, murdering tyrant,” Harry grunted sharply, ignoring Eli’s wince. “I’d rather not spend our time talking about him.”

“Alright, sorry, yeah that was a bit dense of me,” the young man said quickly. “Can I ask you about other stuff?”

“Depends on the stuff.”

Harry was happy to answer the less intrusive questions Eli flung his way as it kept the young man amused and the situation less awkward. Time was ticking by slowly, but at least it was ticking by. Harry had ordered and downed two more firewhiskeys in the time Eli slowly sipped his to completion, declining another when Harry offered.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Eli said. “I actually have something… else in mind.”

“Oh?” Harry hummed, turning his head to catch Khari’s eye, “what were you after?” He froze when he felt a heated palm press firmly on his jean-clad thigh and he turned his head back, not enjoying the fervent look Eli was now giving him.

“You.”

For an easy fuck, there was no one better. Harry knew this. And it was painfully obvious that Eli did too. But that was not what this evening was supposed to be about. Harry didn’t want another fling—especially with someone as hero-obsessed as his date was turning out to be.

“No, Eli,” Harry murmured. “Unfortunately, I don’t find myself much in the mood.”

A playful leer appeared on the young man’s face. His hand began to move unabashedly up his thigh. Harry’s fingers were instantly around his wrist, tight and restrictive.

“I said no.”

Eli man pouted. “I just want to make you feel good, Harry,” he purred. “You deserve it, you know… after everything you did for us…”

Harry was beginning to feel sick. “That’s not what I want, Eli,” he bit out. “And if this is all that this is, then I want you to leave.”

“All of what?” Eli asked innocently, tilting his head to the side in, what he probably thought, was an attractive manner. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good, Harry?”

He still hadn’t removed his hand from Harry’s thigh.

“No, I don’t think I do, actually,” the brunet replied. He pushed away at the wrist he was holding and Eli finally took the hint, withdrawing his hand.

But the young man was not to be deterred as it turned out.

“Go on, Harry,” he urged, inching bit by bit off his stool. His knees brushed against Harry’s. “What does it matter? I can be another notch in your belt and you’d know I’d make it good. I’ve seen you taking other guys home and you have no idea how much I wanted to be them, how much I’d love to be beneath you, the Great Harry Potter—”

“That’s enough,” Harry snapped, his control finally shattering. “I tried to be nice, Eli, but you’ve pushed me too far. We’re done with this, alright? Now just go.”

Eli blinked. “But—”

“I do believe he told you to run along, darling,” a smooth voice interrupted, “and I recommend that you do so… while you still retain whatever dignity you have left.”

Eli was turning a petulant frown towards whoever it was that had spoken, when his face dramatically paled. He slipped off the stool immediately.

“There’s a good boy,” the voice crooned.

Harry could practically hear the derisive sneer that he knew was currently on Malfoy’s face. He watched, relieved, as Eli conceded surrender and snatched his cloak from the back of the chair. With a final sulky glare, Eli turned away and left the bar.

“I don’t even want to know the look you were giving him to almost make the poor boy wet his pants, Malfoy.”

The blond male chuckled indulgently as he slid himself gracefully into the recently vacated stool, offering a Harry a mischievous smirk.

“What, no thank you? No grovelling at my well-polished shoes? I’m wounded, Potter.”

“Well, after that remark, certainly not.”

“You ungrateful sod.”

“Arrogant ass.”

“You could, at the very least, offer to buy me a drink, Potter.”

Harry, actually more than happy to do so, suddenly found himself frowning as his head quirked to look to the side. “Aren’t you here with Parkinson?” he asked.

“Pansy left an hour ago,” Malfoy said, silver eyes glinting impishly. “I’ve been enjoying the show ever since.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised,” he replied, signalling Khari. “What are you drinking?”

“Anything you’re not.”

Harry was slightly amazed by the relieved smile he felt quirking his lips. “Noticed that, did you?”

“Potter, the entire bar noticed.”

“Don’t know what he was expecting to happen by pretending to enjoy the same drink I do.”

“Manipulation tactic, Potter. A poor one but a tactic nonetheless. I’ll have my usual, Khari.”

“Same for me, thank you, Khari.”

While their drinks were prepared, Malfoy slid back off the stool, staring at Harry expectantly.

“Come join me in the booth, Potter, I’m afraid my arse cannot take such hard wood. Well, at least not in this form.”

Harry almost choked, staring up at the ex-Slytherin in open astonishment who simply smirked and turned, returning to the booth and allowing Harry ample time to ogle his backside.

“There we are, Mr Potter.”

Harry swung back around, smiling sheepishly. “Thank you, Khari,” he said, paying the man.

“It is my pleasure, Mr Potter,” Khari responded. “And if it is not to bold of me, I daresay your new date is much more… appropriate.”

“Oh, he’s not—that is—we went to school together is all,” Harry babbled. His cheeks started to warm and Khari smile indulgently.

“Of course, Mr Potter.”

Flinging his cloak over his arm, Harry grabbed his glass and Malfoy’s goblet and turned away from the bar, his eyes quickly landing on blond hair; a beacon in the shadows. He handed over the wine and dropped his cloak into the spare chair opposite the booth before joining Malfoy on the soft, red velvet cushion with a grateful sigh. Definitely better than those hardwood stools.

“So a tactic, hmm?” Harry inquired, eyeing the blond over the rim of his whiskey tumbler.

“A weak one habitually utilised by desperate fools,” Malfoy replied, smiling blandly. “Used to establish a connection and to lower your guard. I’m surprised it didn’t work…”

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” Harry replied good-naturedly. “Although, I would be rather remiss to not question your own experiences seeing as you know that tactic so well.”

Malfoy tossed his head back and laughed. Harry stared at the graceful curve of his neck, suddenly ravenous to be able to taste the soft, pale skin.

“I had almost forgotten how fun you can be, Potter,” Malfoy commented, eyes shining with mirth. “You must be so pleased to have bumped into me this evening.” He sipped at his wine, his face the most relaxed Harry had ever seen it. “Tell me, Potter, why on earth were you out tonight with that imbecile in the first place?”

Harry groaned into his firewhiskey. “Forced to.”

“Forced to?”

“Friends wanted to find me someone for Valentine’s Day. They picked him.”

Malfoy snorted. “I think you need to procure new friends.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

The chemistry between them was oh so different from the chemistry he had experienced with Eli. Although, if Harry was honest with himself, there had never actually been chemistry with Eli in the first place. But this. Fuck, whatever this was, Harry absolutely thrived on it. It was familiar, antagonising, challenging, enjoyable, frustrating—

And perfect.

There was no way Harry was leaving tonight without at least seeing if this could go somewhere.

When Harry next checked his watch he was shocked to see it was already past midnight. He and Malfoy had been talking for four hours. Sitting across from him, Malfoy was arching his back off the back of the booth, stretching as he released a disgustingly attractive sigh.

Harry’s cock twitched.

“I suppose we best call it a night then, Potter,” Malfoy announced. “I am rather impressed we survived an evening without killing one another. We should do this again.”

Just ask him you idiot. Do it! Stop being such a coward—

Taking the chance, Harry blurted out his question.

“Do you have plans for Monday night?”

Malfoy quirked his blond head to the side slightly in thought. Then he smiled.

“Why, Potter, asking me out for Valentine’s Day?”

“Obviously, otherwise I would not have said Monday.”

“You do realise how ghastly going to a restaurant will be that evening, don’t you?”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe you’d like to come to my place and I’ll cook us something.”

Malfoy’s sleek eyebrows rose in mild surprise. “You cook?”

“Erm—yes?” Harry replied. “Why, you don’t?”

“Not usually, no,” Malfoy admitted easily. “House elves, Potter.”

“Oh.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, gazing at the blond. “So… would you like to?”

“I suppose I may be swayed to join you for dinner, Potter, seeing as you asked so nicely.” Malfoy’s tone was teasing, a refreshing change to the usual controlled civil tone he was used to hearing during their brief conversations. “Is there anything you would like for me to bring?”

“Uh, hmm, well I’m pretty useless when it comes to choosing wine,” Harry said, gesturing to Malfoy’s empty goblet. “Unless you’re happy with beer?”

Malfoy’s nose crinkled. “Beer does not suit my palate,” the ex-Slytherin said haughtily. “If you message me detailing what you intend to cook I shall provide a suitable wine.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned, his heart thumping happily.

Something straight forward and simple was what Harry had decided on for dinner. As promised, he’d sent Malfoy an owl that very morning, depicting the three-course meal Harry was planning: caprese salad as an entrée, beef tortellini with Harry’s personalised Napoli sauce for the main, and of course, treacle tart for dessert.

Harry had spent most of the day in a jubilant haze as he prepared the food and cleaned the apartment. It wasn’t until he was stepping out of the shower and considering what to wear did he begin to feel the first flutter of nerves.

Malfoy was coming over for dinner. Malfoy was coming over for dinner. On Valentine’s Day. For a date.

He smiled giddily at his slightly blurry reflection. Hell, even if nothing actually happened tonight at least Harry could be sure to plant the seed of interest. Malfoy may not even think of him in that way. Yet. Hopefully. Ugh!

Get it together you idiot…

Harry popped in his contact lenses, ruffled his hair to help it dry faster, and stepped into his bedroom where, thankfully, he had already lain out his clothing for the evening on the bed. Black button up, blue jeans, and black shoes. Simple but effective.

He neatened his facial hair, somewhat tamed his wildly curling mop, and slapped on some cologne. Checking his watch, his heart thumped as he realised that Malfoy would be arriving in twenty minutes. He left the bedroom, ducked into the kitchen to make sure the table was set properly and the food was ready, and then quickly did a final sweep of the lounge room.

With three minutes to spare, Harry looked around with a faint smile.

Then his fireplace roared and the smile fell, his lips pressed together nervously, watching as Malfoy’s tall, graceful frame exited the hearth in a flash of green flames.

“Right on time,” Harry said, forcing a welcoming smile on his face.

“Yes, well, I prefer to not keep people waiting,” Malfoy replied, gazing around the lounge room in speculation. His silver eyes snapped back to Harry’s face, a single eyebrow raised. “No rose bouquet, Potter? I’m heartbroken.”

A cheeky smirk tugged at Harry’s lips. “Hmm, I would have taken you to be more of an oriental lily kind of man.”

Draco blinked. “…that is rather astute of you, Potter.”

Harry gaped. “No way.”

“Tell anyone and you’re a dead man,” Malfoy sneered, thrusting the two bottles of wine he held into Harry’s arms and moving past him.

Harry grinned. He allowed Malfoy to his own devices as he dropped the bottles off onto the dinner table, stopping briefly for one last check on the food. When he returned to the lounge room, his eyes landed on Malfoy’s blond head, which was bent at an odd angle. In fact, his entire figure was bent over, and it took Harry a moment to realise what Malfoy was looking at.

“I see you’ve met my albino Burmese python.”

A soft sigh fell from the blond’s lips. “And who is this gorgeous creature?” Malfoy murmured, gazing longingly in the large terrarium Harry had set up along the wall.

“Peaches.”

Malfoy turned to stare at him scrutinisingly. Harry winced.

“Teddy named him.”

“Oh.”

“He refused to answer to anything else,” Harry continued, joining Malfoy beside the tank. “Isn’t that right, Peaches? You were quite pleased when Teddy named you.”

“It was an admirable name from Master’s little ward,” Peaches hissed back, tongue flickering. “Who is your shiny friend, Master?”

“Draco Malfoy, an old friend from school. He has come to join me for dinner.”

Peaches turned his handsome head in Malfoy’s direction. Draco practically crooned.

“And here I thought the whole Slytherin thing was a gambit,” Harry sniggered.

“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy replied, “and allow me to appreciate such a glorious specimen.”

“I promise you can hold him after dinner if you’re a good boy.”

The blond, still enraptured by the serpent, simply hummed in agreement. Harry laughed softly and tugged gently on Malfoy’s arm.

“Come on, you ponce, there will be plenty of time to look at snakes later.”

“Oh, indeed?” The smirk was back in Malfoy’s voice as he followed Harry into the kitchen. “What sort of snakes were you thinking of, Potter?”

Dinner was, surprisingly, a really nice affair. Malfoy even complimented Harry on his culinary skills. They had kept the conversation relatively tame, sticking to topics they both shared a mutual interest in, with the occasional jest or jab at the others expense. Just for old times.

By the time they had settled on the couch in Harry’s living room with the second bottle of wine, Harry was sure he was head over heels for the damn, utterly beautiful but horribly irritating, man.

“Indulge me, Potter,” Malfoy queried, “why were your friends so desperate to hook you up for Valentine’s?”

Harry exhaled. “Because I asked them to,” he admitted. The wine had loosened his tongue enough that he did not feel embarrassed about confessing. “I was getting sick and tired of the constant stream of bedwarmers. Anonymous sex is all well and good but it’s not something I wish to continue.”

“Muggle or wizard?”

“Most of the time they’re muggle,” Harry replied. “They don’t know who I am—it’s just easier. I’ve had a few flings with some wizards and while it’s nice to not have to hide my magic, it’s really fucking sad when you can tell they’re getting off purely because they’re buggering the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Malfoy snorted, a delightful smirk curling at his lips. “Haven’t considered using a glamour then, Potter?”

Harry looked at the blond with a frown. “What would be the point? I’m not in this for a fling, Malfoy. Using a glamour to hide who I am kind of defeats the point, doesn’t it? I wouldn’t want to have to use a glamour for the rest of my life.”

“Alright, alright, fair point,” Malfoy replied playfully. He raised his wine goblet and took a delicate sip, his silver eyes never once straying for Harry’s face. “And you were going to use tonight…”

“…to hopefully find someone a little more long term,” Harry confirmed with a nod.

“Hmm. What a shame you ended up with me.”

Harry felt his cheeks begin to colour. “You’re not so bad, Malfoy.”

“Not so bad?” There was a chink as the blond placed his glass on the coffee table beside Harry’s. “Thank you for the shining endorsement, you utter twat.”

A smile broke across the brunet’s face. Lifting his head, Harry felt his heart leap to his throat. Malfoy’s gaze was so very heated as he moved towards him on the couch.

“Erm—Malfoy?” He didn’t mean for the question to come out so timidly, but as the ex-Slytherin’s face drew exceptionally close to his, there was nothing but nervous butterflies left tingling in his stomach. Malfoy’s body was sliding elegantly between Harry’s thighs, his pale hands pushing on Harry’s shoulders until his torso hit the cushioned arm. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as he stared up into molten silver. A tantalising smile was curling Malfoy’s lips.

“Was this not where you wanted the evening to head, Potter?”

Malfoy’s voice was low, husky, and definitely filled with promise. Harry shivered.

“I—well, yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” Harry murmured, feeling suddenly breathless. “But, I didn’t—”

“Mmm?” Malfoy’s eyes were now focused on his lips.

“I didn’t realise that you wanted this too.”

“Then allow me to inform you otherwise.”

Harry was sure he made a noise, partway between a sigh and a strangled moan, and then he was lost, falling into the searing heat of Draco’s mouth. It was hard, brutal, and hot as fuck; Draco’s mouth seemed to completely dominate his and Harry was quite content to let him. His hands came to rest instinctively on Malfoy’s shifting back muscles, fingers digging in sync each time the blond sucked on his tongue.

Bliss.

The kiss began to calm, becoming almost tender, a twisting dance of tongues and soft gasps. Harry’s hand caressed the back of Draco’s neck, fingertips brushing the delicate blond strands as he cradled the male’s head—god, he never wanted to leave Draco’s mouth.

With a final lingering press of lips to his, Malfoy drew back slowly, allowing only a few inches between them.

“How’s that for not so bad?” he asked huskily.

The post make-out miasma was blathering praise. Harry willed his mouth to move. “Superb, exceptional, outstanding—nothing bad—only good.”

Draco chuckled as he kissed a reward on Harry’s lips. “Mmm, I really should thank Weasley then for arranging our date.”

Harry was practically purring in agreement when he suddenly jolted. “I—wait, what? Date? Weasley?”

Draco’s eyes glinted audaciously. “Charlie to be precise.”

Harry stared up at him in utter confusion. “But he—what was all that shit with Eli then?”

A wicked smile appeared on Malfoy’s face. “Part of the plan, Potter. Weasley was to find the most unsuitable male he could and convince you to go to the Black Stump where I, wonderful, considerate, evening-saving Draco Malfoy, would just happen to be.”

Harry’s mouth worked open and closed wordlessly as Malfoy’s words sunk in. “That git!”

“Yes,” the blond purred, leaning down to trail his tongue along one of Harry’s neck tendons, “an atrocious git.”

“Both of you are a pair of fucking—oh f-fuck, do that again.”

Malfoy complied, and Harry felt himself arching up off the couch at the sensation of teeth scraping his skin roughly, a delicious moan falling from his lips.

“You’re both arseholes,” Harry panted.

Malfoy made an amused sound. “Good thing you like arseholes.” He bit into Harry’s neck. The brunet’s breath hitched.

“W-Wait—how do you even know Charlie?”

“Dragons,” Draco replied simply. “I adore the creatures and Charlie is the most talented dragon handler I know.”

“Oh.”

“Now shut up, Potter, I wish to have my wicked way with you.”

Time seemed to shift then. It began in a rush of blurred shapes, sounds, and smells; Draco’s moans and whimpers were like music to his ears. Clothes were discarded, articles of fabric thrown across the room. He barely remembered flipping them, Draco’s heated figure undulating beneath him, long fingers knotting in his dark hair as Harry’s lips marked the glorious pale skin of Malfoy’s chest. The fingers clenched tighter and tighter the further down Harry travelled with his mouth, tongue teasing, teeth nipping, and Draco moaning.

“H-Harry—!”

And then he was swallowing, his throat convulsing delectably around the thick cock, until his nose was nestled in blond curls. Malfoy was gasping, stammered pleas passing his trembling lips. Through the haze, Harry managed to gather enough coherency to cast a wandless, non-verbal lubrication spell, his right hand becoming exceptionally slick and soon, a slippery finger was sheathing itself inside Draco’s warmth.

“Oh, f-fuck! Harry—Harry, please—” Draco’s back arched almost painfully, legs falling further apart. “H-Harry, I can’t—oh, gods, I’m going to come if you k-keep doing—” Another sharp intake of breath. “P-please, not yet… not yet… with you, Harry—I want to c-come with you inside me—”

Draco’s eyes were pools of pure arousal, dark and glazed, as Harry looked up the length of his body, allowing the cock to slip from between his lips. The blond whimpered. He watched, transfixed, as Harry kept a sturdy pace with his finger while he moved back up towards him. Draco’s eyes fell to reddened and swollen lips.

Capturing Malfoy’s mouth with his, Harry pushed a second finger inside, swallowing Draco’s moan as he began to scissor the digits.

Time was speeding up again.

Fingers were moving, stretching, penetrating. And Draco was moaning, sobbing, begging for Harry to fuck him already.

Three fingers.

Four fingers.

And with one final whispered plea into Harry’s mouth, he complied, coating his impatiently aching cock with the remainder of the lubricant on his hand. Then he was moving, kissing Draco sweetly, pushing himself against Draco’s entrance.

And slid inside with one gentle, smooth stroke.

Time slowed. Stopped.

Harry could feel himself trembling, holding himself back so Draco could adjust, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

So good, so good, he feels so good… Draco…

A gentle hand was pressing on his neck, pulling him down. He opened his eyes.

“Move,” Draco breathed, kissing him roughly.

Harry did.

His hips flexed, his thrusts working a rhythm that drew beautiful gasps from Draco’s throat. He quickened his pace every time his lover urged him, angling himself until he hit that spot just right.

With a furious cry, Draco came. His seed splashed against his pale chest in a series of glorious spurts, his body stretching in a display of pure ecstasy. And Harry, his cock now massaged by the convulsing muscles in Malfoy’s perfect arse, felt his orgasm rip through him, flooding the tight channel with come.

It wasn’t until his head was resting on his lover’s shoulder, a soothing finger tracing his lips, that Harry realised he had been moaning Draco’s name. He sucked gentle, open-mouth kisses on the damp skin of Draco’s neck, enjoying the feel of arms wrapping around him securely.

Harry felt his eyes close, content in Draco’s embrace as they both drifted in post orgasmic bliss.

One year later.

Something soft brushed against Harry’s mouth. For a moment, his sleep-addled brain was unable to recognise what it was exactly, until he felt it again, pressing more firmly. His lips curled into a smile as they parted, accepting the gently probing tongue with an exuberant, drowsy sigh.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

“Mmm, Happy Valentine’s,” Harry replied sleepily, reaching out to pull the warm body lying beside him closer. A head came to rest on his chest and one of Harry’s hand immediately delved into the delicate strands as he angled his head to press a kiss to blond hair.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of pancake duty by acting all sweet, love.”

Another smile quirked at his lips, his body positively humming with delight.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Draco.”

#drarry #drarry fic #draco x harry #dralentine's day #drarry squad #one shot #complete #valentine's day #special fic #harry x draco #harry potter #draco malfoy #my writing #my work #find me on AO3!#pottergerms #ourloveislengendrarry #julietsemophase

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paarraanoid · 7 years

Text

“You’re Too Young” -- Michael Del Zotto Imagine (Part 3)

A/N: This next part is sincerely just a filler. I have the rest of the story planned out, and depending on how it is written, at most, there will be two more parts. Thanks for sticking around for the story between Zoey and Michael. You guys are awesome, and I hope you’re ready for next week’s installment 😈 (I promise, you guys WILL get what you’ve wanted since part 1 of the story!)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

When I awoke I was seeing all different shades of colors. Reds, blues, blacks, purples, and greens, to be specific. My head was pounding, but I swore I hadn’t had that much to drink. I took a few seconds to take in my surroundings. I spread my hands to the side like I had wings. Sheets. I ran my hands over my stomach. More sheets, which means I must be under sheets. Okay, good. Good. I rolled my head back and forth. Something soft and fluffy. Pillows. So I must be on a bed. I blinked a few more times even though I couldn’t see anything, the room was so dark.

I sat up slowly, careful not to inflict any headaches with sudden movements. Everything smelled vaguely of…Michael. “Oh, brother,” I groaned to myself, wiping the sleep from my eyes. I glanced down at my watch and clicked the backlight button. The time read 7:40 AM. “That’s about right,” I groaned to myself again. No matter the night, I always seemed to wake up before eight in the morning, every time. I threw the covers over my legs and crawled out of bed and opened the curtains in the room. As the sun shined through the clear windows I quickly realized this was not the guest bedroom. This was Michael’s, and he was unaccounted for.

I decided that if Michael wasn’t in the room, I’d have at least a few minutes to myself. I walked around his room trying to gather the pieces of what happened last night. The bar, Michael taking me home, us fighting, then me making a move on him, and then his words: You should just come live with me. At the same moment I stopped in front of his desk and noticed a few photos, a few photos of us to be exact. One was of his family and mine together two years ago in Toronto at Christmas. It was clear that his family was much larger than mine but we all managed to squeeze in front of the tree in the living room. I was crouched next to one of my dogs, clearly occupied in trying to get his “I ate Santa’s Cookies” hat to stay on his head, and Michael was standing behind me with his arm around his brother.

There was a second photo that consisted of just the children. My sister was standing proudly in the middle, hands on her hips as she showed off her homemade Beer Pong Christmas Tree Sweater (to reiterate the fact that she is the eight-time back-to-back reigning champ in beer pong). Michael’s brother was seated in a chair to the right of my sister, with his now-wife covering his face with his hands, leaving only his ugly Christmas sweater on display for all to see. Standing to the left of my sister was Michael, who wore his infamous threesome with Rudolph sweater—and then there was me, perched on Michael’s back with my legs around his waist, an arm around his neck, and a red solo cup attached to my lips. I was giving the camera the biggest middle finger I could that day. Michael had the biggest smile on his face in this photo. I remember that his laugh was contagious that day, too.

I smiled at the memories from that day. Things were so much simpler. Even though it was a year since they had moved, my parents were still trying to get settled in the atmosphere that was Toronto. The Del Zotto’s as our neighbors saved us in more ways than one.

My heart ached thinking about the memories so I moved on. I walked out of the room and stopped in the hallway, looking in the direction of the guest bedroom. My hand reached the doorknob and turned it slowly, trying my best to open the door quietly. Unlike the room I slept in, this one had no blackout curtains, and it was bright as hell. Apparently that didn’t phase Michael. He was stretched out on his stomach on the bed…and he was shirtless. His hair was wild from the sleep and his arms rested underneath the pillows. His bare shoulders and the muscles that materialized with every breath was a sight to see. One that made my heart skip and my legs tighten.

I quickly turned around and exited the room, closing the door gently behind me. The only other logical thing I could do in the moment to clear my head was to take a shower. I ran to his bathroom closet and ripped two towels out. I forced the shower on and turned the handle to hot. I stripped out of my clothes and hopped in, letting the water droplets slide down my skin and remove the pain I was feeling.

I lost track of time as I just stood in the shower. I went through the motions of pouring soap into my hand to wash my body and then my hair, but all I really remember was feeling relieved. I tiptoed out of the shower and into the living room, quickly grabbing my duffle and making sure I was safely in the bathroom before Michael woke up and walked out of the guest room. I placed clean leggings and a t-shirt on, combing my hair and then brushing my teeth. I touched up some problem spots and the dark circles under my eyes and decided I looked well enough to venture out into the world. I sent Macy a text with my address asking if she could come pick me up. She quickly called in response.

“Zoe, thank goodness you’re alive. Are you okay?”

I snorted at her. “You don’t have to be so dramatic, Mace. I’m fine. It’s just, I know that you stayed the night at Justin’s, but I was wondering if you’d be able to pick me up? I know it’s a lot to ask—”

“Zoey, absolutely. I’ll be there in ten minutes, seven if I get more than half green lights.”

“Thank you, Macy. I’ll be out front.” I pressed end and took one more breath in. I shoved the rest of my things into my duffle, turned the light off in the bathroom and headed back down the hallway. I peeked into the guest room and found Michael still sleeping, but his head was facing my direction now. I smiled to myself.

I walked back to the living room, slipping my sneakers back on along with my sweatshirt. I stopped in Michael’s kitchen and highly debated writing a small note, to let him know I was leaving and I had gotten a ride, but I received a text from Macy saying she was out front. The note isn’t important.

I closed the door behind me and walked down the stairs, smiling at the same doorman who helped me last night. I waved to Macy as I climbed into the passenger seat of her car. The first thing she did was give me a bone-crushing hug. I didn’t even have time to close the door. “I was surprised you were up this early, Mace. It’s just before nine thirty.”

“If we’re being honest,” she began as I closed my door and buckled myself in, tightening the strap across my chest. “I was up at six this morning because I had this feeling that you were going to call, and I didn’t want to miss it.”

“Jesus, Macy! You didn’t need to spend that much time worrying about me, all is well, seriously. I’m fine.” I laughed at her. She smiled at me even though she was driving.

“So, are you going to tell me all that happened last night? I’m anxious to know.” We hit a red light and she turned to me. Her eyes lit up and she had a greedy smile on her face.

“Wow, fishing for gossip, are we?”

“When am I not?”

“Well…” the light turned green. “Um, I’m trying to figure out where to start.”

“Literally, start from when I hopped into the car with Justin. You two walked off together, then what?”

“Well, I hit my head trying to get into the car, and he was upset about that. Then I told him to take me to my apartment and he threw a fit about that.”

“Wait, why did he throw a fit about that?”

“Because he doesn’t like the neighborhood we live in. Thinks it’s dangerous.” I rolled my eyes and began searching in for a piece of gum, hoping I had maybe a lost piece floating around in my bag somewhere.

“Well that’s a load of crap.”

“And you don’t think I’ve told him that before? Anyway, after I threw a fit I at least convinced him to take me the apartment to get some clothes. He didn’t even want to do that. But, he was surprised when he saw Binx, who he likes by the way. He thought he was mine.”

“Baby Binx! We’re coming for you, buddy!” Macy yelled at the windshield in front of her. We pulled up out front of our apartment at the same time and exited the car. We both rushed up the two flight of stairs and busted through the front door, screaming for Binx to come greet us. And he did, and there were many, many purrs.

I picked him up and gave him a snuggle next to my face. Macy joined in, and we both started purring with Binx. “You’re a spoiled cat, you know that Binx?” He just kept purring.

“Okay, finish your story.” Macy wasted no time.

“Well, after I fed Binx and packed my bag, right as we were going to leave, Alex burst through the door with some random guy—”

“And he looked like Michael! Am I right?!”

“He did indeed.”

“I knew it! Alex sent me drunk snaps last night.”

“So of course, once Alex saw us together, she freaked out, so then I pushed Michael out the door to avoid Alex pouncing on him…” Macy took a few sips of water, nodding her head in agreement. I hesitated, because honestly, what was I supposed to say?

“Spit it out, Zoe. C’mon.”

“So, uh, when we finally made it back to his place, uh, long story short, I made a move on him.” This time Macy spit her water out of her mouth and straight onto Binx, who was now extremely upset and hissing at Macy.

“Oh hush, Binx. Okay, so what did he do next?! Did he also make a move?!”

“Well, he also made a move, but, he didn’t kiss me. I mean, I’m extremely convinced he wanted to, but, he kept saying ‘You’re like my sister, you’re like my sister.’ Ugh! God damn it, what is with him!” I screamed in frustration.

“So it was hot and heavy?”

“Very hot and heavy. But no kissing. His hands were on my stomach and I mean damn! I was a really good tease, Mace! But nope! Nothing!” I dropped my head onto the kitchen counter. All was quiet…until my phone started ringing.

Macy asked if I was going to answer it, and when I told her no, she came around to my side and grabbed my phone from my jacket pocket. “Oh fuck. It’s Michael.”

“I’m not answering.”

“Zoey—”

“Let it go to voicemail.” And so it rang, and rang, and rang and eventually went to voicemail. So I got a notification. Then it started ringing again.

“It’s him.”

“I already told you I’m not answering it.”

“Why do you think he’s calling?” I gave her a hard stare. “You never told him you were leaving, this morning, did you?” I shook my head. Another voicemail notification. It started ringing again and I grabbed the phone angrily off the counter and marched myself out the front door.

“Michael?” I said quietly as I answered the phone. He let out an audible gasp of relief.

“Zoey! Where did you go? Why did you leave this morning and not tell me?”

“Michael, I’m fine. That’s all you need to know.”

“No, Zoey, it’s not. We need to talk about last night.”

“You made things very clear last night. Nothing more needs to be said.”

“Zoey—”

“Good luck at your game tomorrow, Michael. We’ll talk soon.” That was the last I said as I hung up and walked back into the house.

“I didn’t sleep very well last night. I’m gonna go take a nap, Mace.” I threw my phone onto the counter and bent down to pick up Binx, hoping to get some snuggles out of him. I was exhausted. I held Binx close as I walked towards my room, hoping to finally get some much needed rest. It had been a long day and night and all I wanted to do was sleep.

Getting rejected sucked, especially from someone I was absolutely sure was interested in me. There was also a very good chance that Michael and I’s friendship was wrecked for good now. Family get-togethers in Toronto would be very awkward from here on out.

I placed Binx on my pillow as I climbed under the mountain of covers, pulling them tight around my body. Binx clawed at the pillows for a few minutes before he decided to make his way closer to my arms. I opened one up and he snuggled right into my nook. What a cat he was.

I could hear Macy talking out in the kitchen, but I only heard her voice, which meant she was probably taking to someone on the phone. It was probably Alex or Ally, letting them know I had a tough night and not to bother me whenever they returned home. I shrugged it off and reminded myself that I was snuggled with a one-of-a-kind cat, who loved me very much. And just that thought was enough to send me off into a peaceful sleep.

“Wake up you lazy ass!” Someone screamed as the door to my bedroom shot open, scaring the shit out of me as I woke up. Binx was hissing very loudly and jumped in front of me in attempts to protect me. When my vision finally came around, it was only Macy.

“Alright Binx, let’s settle down, now. It’s only your mom.” Binx’s green eyes stared into mine, and it was obvious that he didn’t care Macy was the one waking us up. Just like me, he was upset that we got woken up at all. “Can I help you, Macy?” I adjusted my position on the bed and propped myself up on my one arm, with the other wiping at my eyes.

“Yeah, you got any plans for tomorrow?”

“Uh, laundry, maybe? If I feel like doing it.”

“Great, other than laundry, keep your day free. We’re going to do some roommate bonding, the four of us. That is all.” And just like that, she was out of the room. Binx and I shared a look with each other. He meowed at me and then looked at the door.

“I know, she couldn’t even close the door on her way out. How rude.” Binx meowed again, and he settled down into the covers. I flopped back onto my bed, wondering what Macy was scheming up for tomorrow, while simultaneously having Michael’s words replay through my head. You should just come live with me.

#michael del zotto #mdz #michael del zotto imagine #mdz imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #part 3 #philadelphia flyers #philadelphia flyers imagine

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supernatural-schism · 7 years

Text

Episode 2: Long and Winding Road

(Click here for content warnings.)

It was a hot day in Madrid, and it seemed that Crowley hadn’t invested in air conditioning. Castiel staunchly ignored the heat as he stalked through the demon’s lavish mansion, his shoes thumping on the expensive carpets. Normally, human sensations like sweatiness wouldn’t bother him, but he was short on patience today, and the heat irked him. Crowley was somewhere in this labyrinth of marble columns and persian rugs, and Castiel was going to find him. He could feel the demon’s presence, radiating in waves, something stronger and deeper than heat.

Castiel marched down a hall, past a painting that he was nearly certain was an original Bosch, when a shout came through a lavish wooden door.

“Get in here, Badcock, we need to fix the shoulders!”

Castiel gave the door a disgusted look before pushing it open.

The door swung into a dressing room filled with beautifully carved hardwood furniture and dominated by a massive triptych mirror with mother-of-pearl inlay. Crowley stood at the center of it, garbed in an immaculate ash-grey suit, adjusting cufflinks that flashed with fire opals. He met Castiel’s eyes in the mirror and squinted unhappily.

“You’re not Badcock.”

Castiel shut the door behind him. “I’m not interested in hearing what that means.”

“He’s my tailor,” Crowley snapped. Cufflinks adjusted, he fiddled with the shoulder of his suit. “It’s an old English name and I swear it’s his real one.”

“I heard your tailor had been... consumed.”

“That was one of my other tailors. You think I have just one?” Crowley scoffed. “My American tailor whose untimely demise you speak of specialized in the Italian cut. Badcock’s expertise lies with the English -- ”

“I don’t care,” Castiel cut in. He marched up to Crowley until he too was standing before the mirror. “We had a deal.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Yes, we did. A very tidy one, I thought. You had terms, I had terms, we all shook hands and went home happy.”

“I didn’t go home happy.” Castiel’s voice sharpened. “Something’s wrong with Sam. He didn’t come back right.”

Crowley snorted. “And you’re surprised? Do you think Mike and Lucy have been having tea parties with our dear Sammy this whole time?”

“He is not conventionally wounded,” Castiel insisted. “He is... numb. I would expect him to be in pain, but he’s not. He’s not feeling anything.”

Crowley was silent for a moment. He adjusted his tie thoughtfully. “ ... Those fleshy little human brains are quite the enigma, my fine feathered friend. A mystery for the ages. However... ” He turned back to the mirror, smoothing down his suit. “ ... Not my problem.”

Castiel snarled and grabbed Crowley’s tie, yanking him forward, rumpling the perfect suit. “How about I make it your problem?”

“Bloody -- Cool it, feathers!” Crowley shoved him off, glaring. “Even if I wanted to help, I wouldn’t know what to tell you! Saving souls isn’t really my territory, you follow?”

Castiel watched silently as Crowley grumbled and tried to re-adjust his suit. “ ... You’re saying I should ask an angel.”

Crowley snorted. “I’m saying you should do whatever pleases your pure little heart, just do it elsewhere. I kept my end of the bargain, I got you the Cage. I’m not responsible for what you found inside.”

Castiel turned his gaze to his own reflection. The hard lines of anger on his face softened and his shoulders slumped.

“You... may be right,” he relented. He straightened his spine. “But don’t think I won’t be back if necessary.”

“Delightful,” Crowley grunted.

“And get some air conditioning,” Castiel snapped. “It’s like a furnace in here.”

He stretched his wings into the fabric of the universe and flitted away.

Crowley chuckled, not bothering to glance at the empty space next to him. He looked over his suit, admiring the fit of it, the knot of the tie and the cut of the ash-grey fabric. His eyebrows pursed as he examined the shoulders.

“Badcock!” he bellowed.

----

It was hot. Sam felt hot. The sun was high in the sky. The sun was making him hot. Sam shoveled. He needed to dig deeper. He would like to be less hot. He was standing in the sun. The sun was making him hot. He could see shade in a different part of the lot. It would be less hot in the shade. Sam wanted to be less hot. Sam stopped digging. That felt wrong. He needed to keep digging. Sam kept digging.

----

When Sam dug really deep, there was shade. The walls of the pit made shade. Shade was good. It was less hot in the shade. But now the pit was too deep and Sam couldn’t shovel dirt out of it. He would toss the dirt out and it would slide off the pile, pouring back into his pit. That was a problem. He couldn’t go deeper if he couldn’t remove dirt from the pit. He couldn’t go any deeper here. He needed to go deeper somewhere else.

Sam tossed his shovel out of the pit and grabbed the rim. He started hoisting himself up, but that was wrong. He stopped, letting himself slump back to the floor. Sam was in a pit. He couldn’t go any deeper. He needed to climb out. He grabbed the edge of the pit and started pulling himself up. Up is wrong. Down is correct. Up is wrong. Sam stopped. He didn’t like climbing out of the pit. But if he didn’t climb out of the pit, he couldn’t dig a new pit. He needed to dig a new pit. He needed to go up to go down. He didn’t like that.

Sam pulled himself up, up, up, towards the sky and the clouds and the wind and the sun and everything was wrong it was all wrong he was supposed to be going the other way down down down down he needed to be down he was being ripped apart --

Sam was out of the pit. He picked up his shovel. He could see shade. It would be cooler in the shade. Sam walked to the shade and started digging.

Sam’s stomach hurt. That happened when he was hungry. Eating would make the hurting stop. Hurting was unpleasant. Sam had just stared a new pit, not even big enough to stand in. He dropped his shovel and walked towards Bobby’s house. There was food in Bobby’s house.

Sam walked inside the house. He walked to the kitchen. Rats littered the floor like tiny men, and they scattered like tiny men when they saw Sam. Sam opened the refrigerator. He could see cheese. Cheese was a food. Sam was hungry. He picked up the cheese and opened the plastic packaging, taking a bite.

“Caught you! Shut the goddamn fridge door!”

That was Bobby’s voice. Sam turned around and looked at him. Bobby was standing in the door, holding a beer and scowling. Sam took another bite of cheese and closed the refrigerator door.

“God damn it, Sam... ” Bobby walked over to Sam and took his cheese away. “Don’t just take bites off it... ”

Sam watched as Bobby put the cheese on a cutting board and cut slices off of it. Bobby got out a plate and put the cheese on it, then he reached for the fruit basket and picked up a withered old apple. He sliced that too.

“This used to be your favorite school lunch.” Bobby’s voice was quiet. He wasn’t looking at Sam. “Apples and cheese. You mostly wanted the apples, though. Got so damn finicky about which kind of apples I bought.” Bobby made a noise that was kind of like a laugh. “You had this list of fancy apple names memorized just to drive me crazy. And it worked, too.”

Sam remembered the apple and cheese lunches. Bobby used to make them for him when he was in school. He remembered the apple names too. Fuji, pink lady, braeburn, gala, granny smith, macintosh.

Bobby turned around and handed Sam the plate of apple and cheese slices. Sam took it. He picked up a slice of apple and ate it.

Bobby shoved his hands in his pockets. “ ... Right kind of apple, Sam?”

Sam swallowed. He didn’t know what a correct or incorrect apple was. “It’s an apple.”

Bobby looked away from Sam. “P-put the plate in the sink when you’re done, we have enough damn rats.” He left the room.

Sam looked at the food on his plate, picking up a slice of cheese. Maybe an incorrect apple was one that was up, and a correct apple was one that was down.

No. Only Sam was supposed to be down. Down was the only place Sam could be. Down was where...

He needed to dig.

----

Monsters screamed in the living room as Dean pulled two beers out of the fridge. He hummed, snapping the magnetized bottle opener off the fridge door and popping the glossy red bottle caps off. The clatter of those little bits of metal hitting the countertop cut crisply through the roaring snarls from one room over.

Something squelched loudly. Lisa laughed, and Ben yelled “Gross!” with the kind of glee that only a twelve year old can attach to that word. Dean chuckled and picked up the beers, walking out of the kitchen to join his family in the TV room.

Lisa and Ben were snuggled up on a couch in the darkened room, sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching the television. On the screen, a “monster” was roaring at a pair of children, flailing tentacled arms.

Dean thunked the beer bottle gently against the top of Lisa’s head. She twisted around to wrinkle her nose at him, but smiled when she saw the beer.

“Are you sure you’re all right with this, honey?” she pried as she took the bottle.

Dean glanced at the screen again, taking a slow sip of his beer. “S’no problem. Monster movie night is a tradition, and I don’t fight tradition.”

“You wanna join us?” Ben asked eagerly. He gestured at the screen. “It’s a really fake monster, you can totally see the guy under his facepaint.”

“Honey, if Dean doesn’t want to join, he doesn’t have to.”

Dean ruffled Ben’s hair. He kept his eyes locked on the space of wall just above the television. “Nah, monster movies ain’t up my alley. Lemme know when you’re watching one of those cooking shows with all the pies.”

Ben seemed a little sad, but to his credit, he replied, “Okay. We’ll tell you when it’s done.”

“Thanks, champ.” Dean bent over to kiss Lisa’s head. “I’ll be on the front porch.”

Lisa reached up to find Dean’s hand, giving it a loving squeeze. Dean smiled down at her before letting his hand slip out of hers and walking out of the room. The monster gurgled behind him, children screamed, and Dean took a sip of beer.

----

The sun had long since gone down, and the air outside was cool and soft. Dean sat on the porch and watched the shadows of clouds move across the navy sky, losing their last dusky blushes of purple. In the gloom between streetlights, the neighbor’s cat stalked across the street, a slinky black and white beast taken to yowling at dogs and shedding affectionately all over Dean’s pants whenever it got the chance. As Dean watched it pad across the asphalt and disappear into the neighbor’s gardenia, he tried to shut off the part of his mind that zeroed in on anything that prowled in the dark, the part of his mind that was ready to prowl in pursuit.

He shouldn’t have stepped into the TV room. The shrill, fake screams of the children reminded him of real ones. He knew Ben and Lisa had picked out the dumbest, corniest monster movie they could just to keep him comfortable, but it wasn’t enough. It had been a week since Dean’s visit to Bobby’s, but he still wasn’t recovered from it. And arguably, he hadn’t been recovered even before that.

Dean understood why Castiel had brought him to see Sam -- or what was left of Sam -- but part of him wished he’d never answered the door. Sam wasn’t back, not really. It was just a tease, a puppet wearing Sam’s body, a vivid reminder of what he’d lost and would never have again. His brother was gone. That thing at Bobby’s house just rubbed it in Dean’s face.

All Dean wanted to do was settle down with Lisa and Ben and put every speck of hunting behind him. Every drop of blood, every choked scream, every dead stare from the cold, judging eyes of someone he hadn’t been able to save --

The stars were starting to come out. Dean took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm himself down. It took so little to make his adrenaline spike these days, and he hated himself for it. Yesterday he’d been reduced to clammy-palmed terror just because Lisa made hardboiled eggs for breakfast and left the kitchen smelling of sulphur. He knew his hair-trigger reaction time had saved his life before, but he wanted the damn thing shut off now. He was jumping at shadows.

Maybe this was the fate that awaited any retiring hunter. But Dean would be damned -- again -- if he let his own twitchiness get in the way of Ben and Lisa’s special mother-son tradition. He could tough out one cheesy-ass, poorly-written, cornstarch-and-food-dye monster movie that he wasn’t even sitting in the same room as.

Dean shuddered and downed the rest of his beer. He should have brought whiskey.

----

A crescent moon shone down from the dark sky when the door creaked open. Ben stepped onto the porch, holding a beer bottle.

“Here.” He offered it to Dean. “Mom said you’d probably want another.”

Dean chuckled and took the beer as Ben sat on the steps next to him. “Your mom’s a smart lady.”

“Damn right she is.”

Dean laughed again, louder, and took a sip of beer.

Ben thumped his sneakers together a few times before saying, “Sorry the movie was so hard for you.”

“Hey, don’t you go feeling bad about that.” Dean gestured at the sky with his beer. “I had plenty of fun out here with the stars.”

Ben nodded, giving Dean a quiet smile. “You’re pretty tough, Dean.”

For hiding from a scary movie? Dean didn’t say it out loud. He just grinned back and stood up. “Damn right I am. Let’s go back inside, I bet you’re tired.”

----

Lisa was unloading the dishwasher when Dean and Ben walked into the kitchen.

“Ben, honey, could you get the popcorn bowl?” she called as she put away a stack of plates.

Ben nodded and scampered off. Dean made sure Ben was around the corner before stepping up behind Lisa and wrapping his arms around her.

“I’ll put the kid to bed and help you with the dishes,” he murmured into her hair.

Lisa tsked. “Just the dishes?”

Dean kissed her neck. “Oh, I hope not.”

A shrill yowl from outside made Dean’s whole body go tense. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand flew to his hip, looking for the weapons he no longer kept there.

Lisa found his hands, wrapping them in hers and squeezing. “Shh, it’s okay. The neighbor’s cat is just throwing a fit again.”

“At what?” Dean shuddered hard, fighting the urge to run outside and make sure it was safe. “ ... I’m sorry, baby. I’m on edge tonight.”

“You’re fine, honey.” Lisa lifted Dean’s hand to her lips, kissing the white knuckles. “We’ll put Ben to bed and see about taking some of that edge off, hm?”

Ben walked back into the room, munching on the last few kernels of popcorn. “Take what edge off?”

Dean stifled a weak laugh, squeezing Lisa’s hand once before slipping away from her. “I’m gonna go make sure the door’s locked,” he announced, fighting to keep his voice steady. As he walked out of the room, he could hear Ben exclaim, “Did you guys hear the cat?”

----

The door locked with a hearty click as Dean turned the latch. He wished the sound comforted him more. A deep unease had worked into his chest, sitting there like a solid lump. Dean heaved a slow breath, rubbing his temples.

“There’s nothing in the house, there’s nothing in the house... ” He repeated the phrase silently to himself as he walked back to his family. There’s nothing in the house...

----

Ben was helping Lisa with the dishes, but he was yawning his way through it. He gladly followed when Dean suggested bedtime.

“Come on, squirt, it’s almost midnight.”

Ben stumbled up the stairs after Dean, rubbing his eyes. Dean flicked the lights off as they went, creaking open the door to Ben’s room and letting himself smile as Ben grumbled his way to the bed and collapsed onto it. Dean gave the room a quick scan -- habit -- and stiffened.

“Ben,” he asked sharply. “Did you leave the window open?”

“Di’n open the window,” Ben replied tiredly. He rolled over, following Dean’s gaze. “Huh. Guess I did.”

The unease in Dean’s chest flared up. He covered the distance between the door and Ben’s bed in three long strides, grabbing the kid’s shoulder.

“Ben. Look at me. Are you absolutely sure you didn’t open the window today?”

Dean’s fear must have woken Ben up, because his voice was clear when he replied, “Y-yeah, it was cold in the morning and then I was downstairs with you and Mom all day -- ”

Dean’s heart was pounding. He rushed over to the window and slammed it shut, locking it.

“Lock your door when I leave,” he ordered. “Stay in your room.”

Ben was clutching at his blankets. “Dean, is something in the house?”

Dean swallowed. There’s nothing in the house. There’s nothing in the house. “I’m not sure,” he answered at last. “But I want you to stay in here until I’m positive.”

Ben’s eyes went wide. “Mom’s downstairs!”

“I know, kid, I’m gonna go get her.” Dean grabbed a baseball bat that was leaning against Ben’s laundry hamper. “Just stay in here, okay? Make sure you lock the door.”

Ben nodded, pulling the covers up. “Make sure Mom’s okay!”

Dean nodded and slammed the door behind him.

----

No hunter lasted long without a reliable gut instinct for danger, and Dean’s was screaming at him. As he picked his way down the stairs, his hand was so sweaty he was afraid the baseball bat would slip out of it. The silence in the house felt cold, choking. There’s nothing in the house, there’s nothing in the house...

Dean got to the bottom of the stairs and crept towards the kitchen. There was a clink, as of a wet dish being set down on the counter. Dean tried not to sigh with relief.

Lisa was humming as she put away the last few dishes. She turned around and started when she saw Dean.

“Honey, you snuck up on me.” Her smile faded when she saw the bat dangling from his hand. “Dean? Is something wrong?”

Dean crossed the kitchen and dragged Lisa into a fierce hug, burying his nose in her hair. He pulled back just as quickly, holding her shoulder.

“Something’s in the house,” he spilled out. “Ben’s window was open. I want you to go upstairs with Ben while I -- ”

“Dean, it’s all right. There’s nothing in the house.”

“Ben’s window -- ”

“I opened Ben’s window.”

Dean blinked. Lisa cupped his face, giving him a comforting smile.

“It was starting to smell like ‘boy’ in there,” she confessed, wrinkling her nose.

Dean’s heart was still racing. “Are -- are you sure?”

“Positive. I meant to close it before it got cold again, but with dinner and the movie and everything, it must have slipped my mind.”

Something still could have crawled inside. Dean shuddered and rubbed a hand over his face. His heart wouldn’t slow down.

“Honey... ” Lisa’s voice was so gentle. “There’s nothing in the house.”

Dean hugged her again until his shaking died down.

----

The stairs seemed so easy to climb. Dean didn’t know how that was possible when they had stretched on for miles as he crept down them not minutes ago. He blew out a sigh as he approached Ben’s door and creaked it open.

“False alarm, kid,” he announced, “Everything’s all -- ”

The words died in his throat. Ben’s bed was empty. The sheets were a mess, kicked back, and as Dean stared, a cool wind wafted across his face. A wind that would have had to come through the open...

Window.

“Lost something?”

The foreign voice made Dean’s blood freeze. His head whipped up.

Something was in the house.

A man stood in the corner of Ben’s room as if he belonged there, his fangs flashing in the dim light. Dean’s brain felt clogged. There wasn’t supposed to be a vampire calmly standing next to Ben’s laundry hamper, teeth bared, drops of red dripping down his chin. Dangling limply from his arms, glassy-eyed and breathing raggedly, was Ben.

Dean’s limbs felt frozen. There was a sickening dark smear on Ben’s neck. And another across his mouth.

“It’s funny,” continued the vampire, cocking his head. “I lost something too.”

I closed the window. I told him to lock his door. Dean’s hands were shaking. It was already in the room and I made him lock himself in here --

Dean didn’t realize he was hearing Lisa’s footsteps until she was peering into the room.

“Honey, is everything -- ”

For a millisecond, Lisa made eye contact with the vampire. Then Dean felt the baseball bat being ripped out of his hand.

“No -- !” Dean didn’t have time to finish the word before Lisa was charging into the room and swinging the bat at the vampire’s head. The vampire caught it, wrenching it out of Lisa’s grip and striking her across the face so hard she was knocked to the floor.

“Lisa!” Dean ran into the room, grabbing the bat off the floor. He put himself between Lisa and the retreating vampire as she groaned and got to her feet.

“You took my progeny, hunter!” the vampire spat, piercing Dean with its cold, icy eyes. It shook Ben, making him groan. “Consider this paying off your debt.”

Before Dean could raise the bat, the vampire disappeared out the window. Dean might have not moved from that spot until dawn if Lisa hadn’t grabbed his arm and yanked.

----

The backyard was empty. No vampire, no Ben, not even a spot of blood to lead Dean in the right direction. He and Lisa piled into the car without a word, and Dean tore out of the driveway.

The night seemed to be alive with flickers of movement, and in the corner of Dean’s eye, all of them looked like vampires. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel as the Impala screamed around corners, and Dean did his best not to throw up. He couldn’t stop picturing the smear of red on Ben’s mouth.

Lisa had her window open and was leaning outside, vigilantly scanning the peaceful suburb. Dean tried not to look at her, or a the growing bruise around her eye where the vampire had struck her.

They drove until dawn.

----

By the time the sky started to grow pale in the east, Dean’s head was light from lack of sleep and a adrenal exhaustion. He wasn’t exactly sure where they were, only that Lisa had stopped looking out the window a long time ago. He nearly jumped out of his seat when her voice cut the aching silence.

“Take us home.”

Dean shuddered. “We might still -- vampires rest at daytime -- ”

Lisa turned towards him. Her eyes were so cold and dead that she almost looked like Sam. “Just take us home. Please.”

Dean swallowed the bile in his throat and turned the car around. Lisa didn’t speak for a few minutes, staring sightlessly through the windshield.

“He was already turned,” she said at last. “Wasn’t he?”

Blood all over his mouth. Dean had known it, but he’d been too terrified to bring it up. “ ... Yes.”

“Is there... any way to bring him back?”

The flicker of hope in her voice broke Dean’s heart. He couldn’t look at her.

“No.”

That bought him another fifteen minutes of silence. The world slowly brightened outside as they drove home. Dean’s whole body ached.

Lisa spoke again. “The vampire acted like he knew you.”

Dean was too exhausted to parse apart this information. “Never seen him.”

“He said you killed his progeny. Did you?”

Dean shrugged. “I’ve killed a lot of vampires. I probably -- ” Dean’s stomach curled up. He was staring at the road, but all he could see was a shock of orange hair in the gloom of Bobby’s house. “I -- I think I killed her last week.”

“Last week?” Lisa straightened up. “When you were at Bobby’s?”

Dean couldn’t breathe.

Lisa sounded choked. “ ... You promised me you wouldn’t hunt.”

“I -- ” I did it to save myself. I did it to save the worthless husk that used to be my brother. He couldn’t force the words out. Ben was gone because of him. He didn’t deserve excuses.

Lisa shuddered, curling up in her seat. “Take us home faster.”

----

The sun was starting to rise when they pulled back into the driveway. Dean couldn’t meet Lisa’s eyes as he stepped out of the car and shut the door. His legs ached from sitting. His whole body ached. Looking at Lisa was physically painful, but Dean forced himself to do it. She was hurting more than he was right now. She’d lost a son. Wish as Dean might, Ben wasn’t his.

The bruise on Lisa’s face was darkening to the color of the morning sky. The neighbors are going to think you put that there. Dean swallowed. He opened his mouth and tried to force out the words “I’m sorry,” but they felt dead even in his mind.

“You promised me you wouldn’t hunt.”

Dean flinched under the sharpness of the words. Lisa was staring at the ground and hugging her stomach like there was a knife in it.

“You promised me you’d let it go, that we mattered more to you.”

Your fault your fault your fault. Dean tried to breathe. “I w-was just -- ”

“We had one thing we absolutely couldn’t fuck up!” Lisa was shouting, her voice harsh and cutting in the morning air, and Dean couldn’t meet her eyes. “One thing! Take care of Ben!”

“I’m so sorry -- ”

“I just -- ” Lisa cut off with a strangled sob that made Dean’s gut twist. “A-all I did was leave the window open -- ”

Dean took a halting step towards her, ready to pull her into a hug and kiss her hair and tell her everything was okay --

“I just left a f-fucking window open and -- ” Lisa flinched and shut her eyes. “ ... I j-just want to go inside and wake him up for school -- ”

Dean grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight while she shook and cried into his shirt.

“H-how do I go back in the house now?”

“I’m sorry... ” Dean couldn’t tell if the words were actually leaving his lips or just rattling around in his head. His eyes were squeezed tight shut, blocking out the sweet new rays of the rising sun hitting the side of a house that Ben would never set foot in again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry... ”

----

Sleep did not come easily to Dean that morning, but weariness finally overtook him. He didn’t know if Lisa did the same. She collapsed into bed when he did, but the sheets were cold and empty when he awoke a scant hour later.

The morning had turned cold and rainy. Dean found Lisa in the kitchen, staring out the window, holding an untouched cup of coffee. The house felt bigger than it had before. Too big for two people and that much silence. Dean’s hands shook as he poured himself a cup of coffee to never drink.

----

Before the rain had cleared, Lisa was packing. Dean didn’t need to ask where she was planning on moving. He knew he wasn’t invited.

Silently, Dean packed his own things that day. As he was walking out the door with his last bag, Lisa caught him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her words had no emotion left, dry and thin and weary. “I know this isn’t fair.”

Dean grunted and shifted the duffel on his shoulder. “Nothing is.”

----

It was a long day. The road stretching ahead under Dean’s wheels was longer.

----

Dean’s tears had dried by the time he reached Bobby’s, but in their place, a deadness had settled in his bones. Bobby had the good grace not to say a word when he opened the door and saw Dean standing there, sunken-eyed and hollow. He invited Dean in, gave him a bear hug and a glass of whiskey, and left to arrange a sleeping place. Dean guessed he shouldn’t be surprised that Bobby could recognize death in a friend’s eyes.

Dean finished his whiskey and left the glass on the table, walking to the back porch. He was pretty sure Bobby kept extra shovels in the shed.

----

Sam was digging holes in the back lot.

Dean watched him for a long time. Sam didn’t say anything, didn’t so much as look at him, focused on shoveling dirt. The pattern of it was soothing. Unchanging. Dean envied it.

“Can I join you?” he asked at last, lifting the shovel in his hand.

Sam looked up at him, blinking. “You can.”

“Awesome.”

Dean jumped into the pit, finding space next to Sam and driving his shovel into the ground.

For just a second, he felt as dead as Sam. It was the best he’d felt in days.

----

In a grimy alley between two towering Chicago buildings, three hours after midnight, a sleek black van grumbled over the uneven pavement. Emblazoned on the sides were the golden words Lioncourt Luxury Hardwood. As the van drove, splashing through oily puddles, a middle-aged man with pale eyes stepped out from between the buildings, dragging a stumbling child with him. The van jerked to a halt before the two of them, rocking back on its wheels, flooding the man and the child in the yellow glow of the headlights.

“I hear you can put me in contact with Boris,” the man called, letting his fangs show.

The van door creaked open. A man slung his legs out, thumping onto the asphalt. He looked like he hadn’t bothered to cut his dark, dense hair in a few centuries, and his smirk made the filthy alley look pristine in comparison.

“Now who’s been tattling about my little program?” he drawled, shoving the door shut.

The first vampire swallowed. “B-Boris. I didn’t expect you’d be -- ”

“Manning the vans?” Boris shrugged amicably. “I’m not about to leave the most enjoyable job entirely up to the grunts.”

The vampire regained his composure and dragged the child forward. “I have a gift.”

Boris glanced at the kid, who stared back at him with dilated eyes. “Oh, bad boy,” he chided. “You’re not supposed to turn them that young. They come out wrong.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Furthermore, he’s not my type.”

“The gift isn’t for you,” the vampire growled. “It’s for Him.”

Boris’s smirk vanished. “ ... I see.” He turned and crooked one thick finger, silver rings flashing in the van’s headlights. “Come on, we’ll put him in the back with the others. I’ll take it from there.”

The vampire led the child around the van, following Boris. He peered skeptically at the gold writing on the side of the vehicle.

“About this... ” The vampire gestured at the van. “‘Lioncourt’? Not terribly subtle, is it?”

Boris laughed as he flung open the back doors of the van. “It’s called honesty.”

“And the bit about hardwoods? Is that honesty too?”

Boris just grinned.

The vampire gave the lacy words one more cringing glance before dragging the child around the back of the van. He peered inside and his eyes widened.

“ ... Are they all for Him?”

Boris laughed again, pulling the kid away from the vampire’s grip. “Shit no. These ones are for me.”

#supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #crowley #sam winchester #bobby #lisa and ben

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buckyspetpsychopath · 7 years

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You’re Negan’s daughter? // part 2

Words: 1911 Carl x reader The walking dead

Part 1 / part 3 ./ part 4 / part 5

We are driving for a while before the RV stops. I give the man, ‘Eugene’ a sad look as he steps out. “princess you shouldn’t feel sorry for these people, they hurt daddy” he pouts trying to make me laugh but I just shake my head turning to my book. He sighs and goes to scold me presumably but there is a knock on the side of the RV. “don’t come out unless I tell you too got it?” he sighs. I nod with a roll of my eyes. He steps out and I see him waltzing around.

“pissing our pants yet?” he pauses. “boy do I have a feeling we’re getting close... yeah, gonna be pee-pee pants city here soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?” he asks. “it's this one” someone calls out. “Hi, you’re Rick, right? I’m Negan and I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also when I send my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool, Not cool, you have no idea how not cool that shit is but I think you’ll be up to speed shortly. yeah, you are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes. yes, you are. you see Rick whatever you do, no matter what, you don’t mess with the new world order, the new world order is this and it's really very simple, so even if your stupid which you very well may be you can understand/ you ready? here goes, pay attention.” he pauses to point the bat at Rick. He bends down closer to him. “give me your shit, or I will kill you. Today was career day, we invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now, you have shit you give it to me that is your job. Now I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow but swallow it, you most certainly will. You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But, the word is out, you are not safe. Not even close. In fact you are pegged more pegged if you don’t do what I want and what I want is half your shit. And if that is too much you can make, fight or steal more and it will even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now, the more you fight back, the harder it will be. So if someone knocks on your door, you let us in, we own that door. You try to stop us and we will knock it down.You understand? What? No answer? You don’t really think that you are going to get through this without being punished now did you? I don’t want to kill you people, I want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can’t do that if you’re dead, now can you. But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them, more than I am conformable with and for that you have got to pay.So now, I am going to beat the holy hell out of one of you. This, this is Lucille and she is awesome. All this, all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honour.” He finishes and walks to a ginger haired man. “huh, got to shave this shit” He walks over to a boy who I can’t see as he’s standing in front of him.

“You have got one of our guns. You have got a lot of our guns. shit kid, lighten up at least cry a little.” he laughs. He then stands up and walks over to a woman with short hair, she is sweating and looks really ill.

“Jesus, you look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now.” he says and someone immediately jumps up shouting ‘no’ “Get him back in line.Alright listen, don’t any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions. First ones free, it’s an emotional moment, I get it. Sucks don’t it. The moment you realize you don’t know shit.” he talks to the Rick again.

“This is your kid ain’t it. This is definitely your kid.” he chuckles. “stop this” Rick shouts back. “Do you not make me kill the little future serial killer, don’t make it easier on me. I have got to pick somebody. Everybody’ s at the table waiting for me to order.” he starts whistling and I look closer to the boy and gasp, it’s Carl. “I simply cannot decide. I got an idea. Eeny, meeny, miny, mo, catch a tiger by his toe, if he hollers, let him go, my mother told me to pick the very best one, and you are it. Anybody moves, anybody says anything cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father and then we’ll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry, hell you are all going to be doing that.” he says and then starts beating someone with Lucille. I jump up and run out of the RV screaming ‘no’, he doesn’t stop and Simon holds onto me as I fall to the floor not that far away from the line of people but I am facing them. “ohhhh, taking it like a champ.” My dad continues to beat the person and they are all crying. Even I was, this was an innocent person.

“y/n?” Carl whispers and I look at him pathetically. That catches my dad’s attention. “hey little serial killer, how do you know my daughter?” he asks pointing the bloody bat in his face. His eyes flicker to mine. “daughter” he mumbles. I sob. “I’m sorry” I cry out squirming against the person holding me in place. I tune everything out, he ends up beating another person to death and then taking Rick on a little joy ride. I focus again when he addresses Carl.

“ Kid... Right here. Kid...now. “ Carl stand up. ”You a southpaw?” “Am I a what?” Carl grits. “You a lefty?” “No.” “Good.” my dad puts a belt on his arm and my face drains of colour. “That hurt?” “No.” “Should. It's supposed to. All right. Get down on the ground, kid, next to Daddy. Spread them wings.” Carl lies down. “Simon... you got a pen? Yeah. Sorry, kid. This is gonna be as cold as a warlock's ballsack, just like he was hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across the forearm.” he says with a pen in his mouth, he draws a straight line on Carls' forearm, Carl glance at me and tears are streaming down my face. “There you go. Gives you a little leverage.” my dad cheers. “Please. Please. Please don't. Please don't.” Rick stutters. “Me?" my dad chuckles. “I ain't doing shit. Ahh. Rick, I want you to take your axe... cut your son's left arm off, right on that line. Now, I know -- I know. You're gonna have to process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though, I'm gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then Carl dies, then the people back home die... and then you, eventually. I'm gonna keep you breathing for a few years, just so you can stew on it.” he laughs but a woman interrupts him. "You -- You don't have to do this. We understand. We understand.” she stutters. “You understand. Yeah. I'm not sure that Rick does. I'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it's gonna have to be like a salami slice -- nothing messy, clean, 45 degrees -- give us something to fold over. We got a great doctor. The kid'll be fine. Probably.” I let out a sob and my dad looks at me confused. “Rick... this needs to happen now -- chop, chop -- or I will crush the little fella's skull myself.” he sighs. “It can -- It can -- It can be me. It can be me. W-W-” Rick sniffles. “Y-You can do it to me. I c-- I can go with -- with you.” he stutters. “No. This is the only way. Rick... pick up the axe. Not making a decision is a big decision. You really want to see all these people die? You will. You will see every ugly thing.”Rick makes no movement. “Oh, my God. Are you gonna make me count? Okay, Rick. You win. I am counting. 3!” “‭Please. Please. It can be me. Please!” Rick cries and gasps. “2!” Negan yells. “Please, don't do This is it. Aaah!” he continues to sob. “1.” Negan says more calmly. Rick picks up the axe and holds carl’s hand. “Dad... just do it. Just do it.” Carl whispers. Rick sobs bringing the axe up. “No” I scream and thrash against Simon. “please, no, Carl” I sob hyperventilating in Simon’s hold, my dad sends me a death glare but I ignore him focusing on Carl, we stare into each others eyes as he accepts his fate. All of a sudden Negan bends down next to Rick. “ Rick.You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right? Speak when you're spoken to! You answer to me. You provide for me.”Negan spits. “Provide for you.” Rick exhales. “You belong to me, right?!” Negan yells. “Right.” Rick whimpers. “Right. That... is the look I wanted to see. We did it... all of us, together... even the dead guys on the ground. Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure.Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope, for all your sake... that you get it now... that you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you... that is over now, load him up” he says to Dwight pointing at the redneck man. He starts talking again but I tune him out again sitting on the floor, on my knees, heaving and rocking back and forth. I reach out for Carls hand and he just stares at me. I notice the confused stares from the people in his group and from a lot of the saviours but ignore it.

My dad finishes with everyone and yanks me up by my arm. I thrash against him but he drags me away. I stare at all the poor people and see them looking at me sadly through their mourning. I take one last glance at Carl before I’m pushed into a car.

“now what the hell was that” my dad grits. “you killed them men” I huff. “that boy? Carl, how do you know him?” he seethes. “I met him in the woods” I sigh. He exhales loudly. “I told you to stop going out there alone.” he spits. I shrug my shoulders and look away, the drive ‘home’ is silent and when we reach the sanctuary I head straight to bed laying down.

#carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl #the walking dead #amcthewalkingdead #walking dead imagine #walking dead

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brainbusterradio · 7 years

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Friday Falls Count Anywhere: The Brainbusters Predict WWE Fastlane

This week’s “Friday Falls Count Anywhere” is a combination of all Brainbusters putting in their professional perspective for the last stop on the Road to Wrestlemania for Raw.

Kick Off Show Cruiserweight Tag Team

By A Man Called Wired

The Cruiserweights kick it off! In what could have very well been two separate matches themselves, Noam Dar and The Brian Kendrick take on Rich Swann and Akira Tozawa. I will be one to say that I cannot believe WWE is giving away this match for free on the kick off show. Weeks of building have been coming with this one.

Rich Swann has turned Noam Dar’s game against him and is gunning for the now infamous Alicia Foooooxxxxx. Swann may say that Alicia “Can’t handle this” but it sure looks like she is willing to give it a shot.

The Brian Kendrick also continues on his path to cement his legacy in WWE by attempting to take Akira Tozawa under his wing. The problem? Kendrick sees himself like Ted Dibiase and Tozana has no plans on being Virgil.

Both Dar and Tozawa have resented their individual quarrels with their counterparts and now it is coming to its climax.

This match was pushed to the preshow to fill time and the little guys get the short end of the stick. Don’t fall asleep on the “little guys” as this match has the potential to be top 3 on the night.

Sasha Banks Vs Nia Jax

By Sir Mil Calzones

The last time these two athletes stepped in the ring, Nia Jax came out victorious. It was not a tough battle, but just a show of dominance by the semi newly acquired talent known as Nia Jax.

Sasha Banks, a three time Raw Women's Champion, who has been plagued with Injuries since her current run on Monday Night Raw, tries to redeem herself and possibly get another shot at the Raw Women's Championship.

This is not going to be an easy task for Sasha. She has to go thru probably one of her toughest opponents to date.

There is no doubt in my mind, whoever wins this match must clearly be the number one contender. Especially with Wrestlemania just around the corner. Many of you know I am ride or die when it comes to Sasha Banks, but we don't know if she is truly 100%. And the chances of Nia Jax going after Sasha's nagging injuries are a sure thing.

Nia Jax has been showing she is "The Next Big Thing" in the Raw Women's Division and I don't see that stopping any time soon. At Fastlane, although it will be a much closer affair, I have Nia Jax with the victory.

Samoa Joe vs Sami Zayn

by A Man Called Wired

This past week, Sami Zayn finally got the upper hand on Samoa Joe. After multiple sneak attacks and constant knock out blows by the Samoan Destroyer, Zayn decided to take his actions to Joe’s level.

Sami has been in the ring with some of the most dominant performers in recent weeks, and Joe is definitely in that same category. Samoa Joe comes into this as still a newbie on the main roster. This will be his first match on a WWE PPV and he is looking to make some noise.

What can Zayn Do to stop him? Absolutely nothing. Look for Samoa Joe’s theme to be cranked up a few notches and to show the world that there is a new destroyer in town.

Head-on Collision at Fastlane: Roman Reigns vs Braun Strowman

By Jumpin’ Jacob J

It does not get much bigger than this folks… literally. Have you seen the size of the “Mountain of a Man” Braun Strowman? After running roughshod through local jobbers and mid-card underdogs from the underground, the “Abominable Strowman” is finally getting real competition in the form of Roman Reigns come this Sunday at Fastlane. This is a match both of these athletes wanted, but will they still be saying this once the chains are off and the bell rings on this colossal confrontation that would be more fittingly held on the roof of Cobo Hall?

I’ll be honest, when Braun got drafted away from the patriarch of the Wyatt family, I feared that he would go the way of a Mason Ryan or Ezekiel Jackson and be underutilized and miscast. Thankfully, Mick Foley and Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley knew they had something special on their roster. While initially misunderstanding Strowman’s unquenchable lust for competition, the Raw brand is finally giving him the competition he deserves. Although it still may not be enough to satisfy Strowman.

But, I am not counting Roman Reigns out just yet, and nor should you. While the Roman Empire has shown signs of crumbling post Money in the Bank, the Big Dog wants to assure the rest of the locker room that this is still his yard and any and all who oppose him should stay off the grass. THE GUY is a multiple time world champion for a reason, (would have retained his title against 29 others [one of them being Braun Strowman] if it wasn’t for an unannounced entry that booked himself at #30)

What I am trying to say here is that this will be both men’s toughest challenge to date and as far as I am concerned, this is the main event. You can have your title matches, but the winner of this contest will forever be known as the most feared individual on either roster. I don’t know how to say it any other way, this is going to be like Ford vs. Chevy, lumberjacks vs. off shore oil drillers, flank steak vs. brisket. It is just too close to call, but you know you are in for something special when these two hook up.

A Torn Kingdom : Neville vs Jack Gallagher

By "The British Sensation" Sir Mil Calzones

I am pretty sure everyone is excited for the clear picture of Wrestlemania to be clearer and what matches will main event and so on and so on. But, this Sunday there is only one match that leaves a country torn. Adrian Neville vs Jack Gallagher! Two boys who grew up in England only dreaming of becoming wrestlers. Neville was born in New Castle Upon Tyne and Jack Gallagher in Manchester. Both cities less than three hours apart. I have been getting reports from The Queen herself letting me know the chaos that is running her streets. Hooligans wandering around beating up anyone who is not one of them. I know, "Sir Mil, why are soccer hooligans involved in this article?" Well it isn't soccer hooligans, it’s actually Nevillegans who go around dressed as kings and deliver 450 splashes to anyone who does not agree that Neville is the one true King. To make matters worse are the Gallaghans. The mixture of people dressed in fancy suits with wonderful manners and umbrellas. They go around offering tea and biscuits and usually end up flipping tables and someone getting hit with an umbrella. For that past few weeks, citizens of England have been living in constant fear of getting in the middle of one of these huge fights that seem to occur almost every day between the Nevillegans and the Gallaghans. This match puts Neville vs Gallagher but in the heart of England it puts brother Vs brother, father vs son, mother vs daughter. So for the future of England, this match ends in a Double DQ and there is no winner. God Bless the Queen.

Raw Tag Team Championship Match - The Club vs Enzo & Cass

by Long Alan Iced T

If there is one thing the Raw Tag Team Champions are good at, it's beating up nerds. This Sunday the Good Brothers have an opportunity to get their hands on the WWE's most lovable trash talking nerd, Enzo Amore. Unfortunately, for The Club, in order to get their hands on the nerd, they need to get around his good buddy, the 7 foot tall, "face of the New Era," Big Cass. Yes, he is indeed 7 foot tall and you can't teach that.

Nobody is talking about how, amidst this tag team revolution, we are seeing across the Pro graps landscape, Gallows and Anderson are quietly positioning themselves to be the faces of tag team wrestling. They hold the belts on the biggest show and they are mere weeks from a shot at laying the groundwork for their Wrestlemania legacy. The Hardys (we think) are not in this spot. The Young Bucks are fantastic but as great as they are, the stage they are on is nothing compared to where The Club can be.

The Club has it all right now too. With Gallows' wonderfully educated feet and Anderson's ridiculously hot asian wife. The sky is the limit for the "Omen in the sky." As for Zo and Cass? They have lost so many times in this situation, anyone betting on them is a damn fool. Cass might finally realize he needs to pursue singles gold full time after this one.

WWE Raw Women’s Cahmpionship - Bayley vs Charlotte

Nature vs Nurture

By A Man Called Wired

The number 16 is infamous with the name Flair. And now, it is for a different reason. Charlotte is 16-0 in title matches on the WWE Network. This is not a good sign for current Raw Women’s Champion Bayley. This fact alone makes Charlotte and overwhelming favorite to regain her 5th reign as champion. A fool would bet on Bayley at the odds that she is currently at. There is only one thing that can boost Bayley’s chances, and its pride.

Challengers, when going into a title match, attack the champion any which way they can. Anything to gain an advantage on the champion is key to a challenger’s success. We have seen tactics over the years that span from sneak attacks to kidnapping family members. Charlotte has pulled the old fashion attack on the morale of the champion. Making Bayley feel as though she doesn’t deserve what she has worked her whole life for is a tactic that brings doubt into anyone’s mind. Charlotte proclaiming that Bayley’s best friend Sasha doesn’t want to let the spotlight shine on her and demeaning her as one of the “Fans” is getting to Bayley. Bayley knows she has something to prove after her controversial win against the former champ 3 weeks ago. Will this be enough to push the most dominant performer in Pay Per View History? Probably Not…

Charlotte by far has the advantage here. No one is more of a Hugger than myself, but part of being a Hugger is understanding your role in the presence of greatness. Right now, nothing is keeping Charlotte from shinning when the lights are on. Come Wrestlemania, this might be a different story, but we aren’t quite there yet. To Bayley’s credit though, her time to shine is when everyone is expecting her to fall flat on her face.

Universal Title Match: Kevin Owens vs Goldberg

By Vinman

This Sunday, at the Fastlane pay per view event, the WWE heavyweight universal championship of the world is on the line! Now you are either thinking one of two things: this is either an epic clash of good versus evil, or an epic miss match. On one side you have the challenger, Bill Goldberg. After becoming a well accomplished professional tackle football player, Bill went on to continue his athletic career where the big boys play. Some have even called Bill the greatest professional wrestler in the history of World Championship Wrestling, right up there with the sport's icons such as "Nature Boy" Ric Flair, Big Van Vader, Hollywood Hogan, Dusty Rhodes, Lex Luger, and A Man Called Sting. He had one of the most legendary undefeated streaks the sport has ever seen and held the real World's Title on multiple occasions. Upon returning to the WWE, Bill has defeated Brock Lesnar, become a role model for youngsters worldwide, and has set his sights on the big prize.

Now, I know most of you are probably asking the question, who is this Kevin Owens and how is he the champ? For those of you who don't know who he is, I'll tell you. He's a fat, low down, fat, no good, fat, back stabbing, fat, no talent, fat bum. This guy is nothing more than an indy wrestling enhancement talent, and he has no respect for friendship.

Not only is this a good guy versus bad guy match, it is a match that will not be close. Bill is going to demolish KO with a spear and a jackhammer. But as good as it will be to see all the children jumping for joy with smiles on their faces, it will be even better to see the marks crying in their beers and kicking snow. Finally, some legitimacy will be brought to the Universal Championship. Everyone will witness the coronation of a legend. Finally a champion we can be proud of. We deserve a champion we can look up to, not a champion we can relate to. Kevin Owens, if that's your real name, you're next!

Here are all the Brainbusters picks for this weekend’s Fastlane.

(Brainbusters from left to right: Vinman, JJJ, Sir Mil, Wired, Moose, Long Alan)

#wwe #raw #monday night raw #wwe raw #fastlane

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