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pastelgrungewrecker · 2 years

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Meow Mix || Sg || Au of an Au of an Au...

You are out of luck~

It was SUPPOSED to be a happy birthday mixed with a welcoming.

Percy was giggling far too much, no doubt from the assistance of multiple shots and several glasses of champagne. Chromedome, a paradox double of him, was equally amused- mostly at the antics of his best ‘business partner’s’ oldest daughter.

“So full of questions.”, he mused as she gently grabbed his visor to pull it away and put it over her toddler eyes, “And so curious! You get that from Stormy, don’t you sugarbug?”

“Yuppa!”, she cheered, “How come your glasses are so sparkly?”

Of course, nothing is simple in this little world- and Perceptor was the one who heard the sound of an upstair’s window shutting just a little too hard. Pistol visible but safely contained on his thigh, he slunk over to the stairs and stared up them, eyes narrow and already vicious.

Stormy, pulling away from he and his double’s discussion about the Trials and Tribulations of being Chromedome’s Best Friend, moved next to him.

“...Hear something, sniper?”

“Mhm. Bedroom window. Heavy dressed, probably master room. Heard the bar rattle and that’s the only room with multi-part curtain rods.”, he said quietly as he unholstered his weapon and aimed it, “Footsteps our way, limping, left side weak. Low breathing, sound of polysteel so their armed EVERYONE GET DOWN, NOW!”

The party, crashed. Percy, the sniper’s double, snarled in annoyance as the gun fired and a voice sounded out in manic disdain.

“Now what in the FUCK kinda welcoming committee did this author make me?! Gunshot wounds? My guy, my buddy friend pal-i-o; I JUST recovered from radiation burns here!”

Perceptor lowered his weapon, blinking slowly at the red ponytail- and waited a second too long. Scattered back with a hard kick to jaw, he bounced once on the floor and swore heavily when a blade pressed against his throat.

“Aht, aht- baby, you know better than to pull that trigger on me.”

“CALL ME BABY AGAIN AND I’LL TOSS YOU IN THE FIREPIT, FUCKFACE!”

“LANGUAGE double!”, snapped Percy, up on his feet and smoothing out his favorite blouse. His heels snapped hard as he stomped over to the surprised party crasher... and swung a hard haymaker into their skull.

And Lock’s head thudded off the decor of the wall, making him wince hard and stumble backwards a step; drawing to his feet.

Drift groaned, “...You’re shitting me. Please be shitting me. This isn’t funny.”

Lock popped his jaw and shook the dizziness away before smiling far too wide, almost Chesire like.

“Well holy shit. A twofer- I’m kidding! I’m kidding, sweetie, sugar, darlin’ babycakes, c’mon- you’re the only gunner for me sugarpop, right through the heart remember?”

“Oh. Oh I’m the ONLY gunner for you, hm?”, said Percy flatly, “Is. That. So.”

“Yeah, yeah of course!”, Lock crooned, reaching out to take Percy’s hand and kiss the knuckles oh so gallantly, “Love written in blood and stars baby, the best trophy in the room, yeah?”

“BLUESTREAK. RODIMUS. IRONHIDE, THREE TIMES. PROWL OF ALL PEOPLE. JAZZ? SMOKESCREEN?! RING ANY BELLS, YOU RED DEAD REDRAW?!”

A wince, “...Sweetie they didn’t mean nothin’, c’mon you know me! I just got. An appetite.”

Percy suddenly smiled as his double got to shaky feet, assisted by an Aid who wore his annoyance like a neon sign, “Is. That. So? Then please- explain to Ratchet-dearest and my darling Stormy why you vanished for EIGHT. YEARS. And left me behind, dropped me like yesterday’s dose, hm?”

A sniffle, and Lock seemed to immediately panic as he saw the aforementioned pair stand a little taller, saw the glitter of a prosthetic arm and heard the pneumatic hiss of jaws creaking open.

“And why don’t you explain to WHIRL as well, how you let the Wreckers burn and pinned it on him- got him arrested?”

Lock laughed nervously, “Babe- c’mon, he’s long gone-”

“YOU.”

The word rumbled through the house as Whirl got to his feet- his own double shaking his head and taking another sip from a bottle of beer. The gentleman assassin himself walked silently, levelly, to where Lock seemed to try and smooth the situation over.

“Look, c’mon- it was a really big misunderstanding and some bad plotmapping, yeah? We’re all buddies here! All Last Lighters, unified in our desire for a fancy new world yeah?”

“I’m going to fucking peel your face off and wear it like a costume mask, hiliter.”, snarled Whirl.

Ratchet’s eye twitched, “I call first dibs, lads. I’ve earned it.”

That’s around the time Stormy had vanished from view- ducking into the kitchen. Lock noticed him slip away, and raised both eyebrows.

“I get it the reading of my sins, plenty they may be, but uh. Anyone else notice the manic depressive foil for the vampire sniper I banged on the regular sneak away?”

“You should be paying attention to ME, FIRST OF ALL!”, was Percy’s shrill shriek before another haymaker was thrown that Lock managed to dodge while he warily eyed the mad mod medic who was cracking modified knuckles with hell in his eyes- and the once revered Wrecker who still wore the signs of prison on his hair and shoulders.

“Baby, lovebunny, c’mooooon- You know how my work is! So I made a few whoopsie-doodles here and there and all; but I’m back now! And I’m so sorry for leavin’ you behind like that. C’mooooon.”

Percy seemed to calm just a little, cheeks brightening as Lock sidled closer to kiss just under the shattered sniper’s ear, “C’mon Percy-baby. I’m big sorry, lemme make it up to you, yeah? You know I can~”

A hand on the sniper’s waist and the blush began to rise alongside the anger in Ratchet’s expression.

Brainstorm watched with a sigh before looking at the still dizzy Perceptor, “Yeah, he’s DEFINITELY your double.”

“Oh shut up.”

“That’s LITERALLY what Drift did on that fuckin’ ship, we all saw it.”

“STEP THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE SNIPER YOU HOMESICK STD.”

Lock paused at Stormy’s shout, and hummed appreciatively, “...That was a good one, actually- STORMY! MY GUY! Hey, listen, can’t thank you enough-”

“YOU SHUT UP, JUST SHUT THEEEEE FUCK UP, DO YOU HEAR ME?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WENT THROUGH? I HAD TO MOP THAT SONUVABITCH UP OFF SO MANY GOD DAMN FLOORS, YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA. YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF GODFORSAKEN TASTE HE HAS!”

“Stormy, precious, I can hear you-”

“YEAH AND I COULD FUCKING HEAR YOU TOO. I HEARD YOU WITH RODIMUS AND I HEARD YOU WITH SWERVE AND I HEARD YOU WITH- UGH- G E T A W A Y.”

Lock frowned, “Primus, really? Getaway?”

“SAY ONE MORE WORD AND I WILL ABSOLUTELY OBLITERATE YOUR BOTTOMLESS FUCKING PIEHOLE.”

“Storm, c’mon- I get it, it was a rough patch! But hey, you helped him right on through it and I cannot begin to thank you but I got this now!”, said Lock amicably, standing straight and spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture, “But I can take it from here, you can retire from Percysittin’ duty and I’ll take back over-”

“I THINK THE FUCK NOT YOU GRIMY BUTTERKNIFE SLINGING BITCH-”

Thankfully, Chromedome was able to cover Stardust and Pulsar’s eyes when the... toaster was thrown at an alarming velocity.

“STORMY, THE WALL-”

“OH FUCK THE WALL!”

Ratchet sighed as his less modified double choked on air at the meaty thud of Lock’s head and a several thousand credit painting being crush betweena sturdy wall and a toaster thrown at approximately the speed of a fighter jet taking off.

“...A little respect for my decor would not be amiss.”, he said moodily as his double ran to the toaster’s victim.

“Listen, buddy- I get y’all come from a fucked up hell dimension but HIS SKULL IS CRUSHED WE NEED TO-”

“We need to do approximately shit and fuck all.”, was the still moody reply, “Take the kids and the family to the backyard- refreshments will be made available posthaste. I’ll take care of my wayward experiment.”

“...Hwat.”

Ratch watched people filing out, slightly in shock as Chromedome sighed out a whispered explanation out in the kitchen; Ratch turned to his double.

“He can’t die, sadly. I needed a pardon, you see- had to guarantee my firstborn’s safety after Vaporex was razed to the ground and our Optimus said that if I ‘defeat death’ then ‘the line may continue’ so...”

“...So... what.”

“A little biotech fiddling here, a bit of electrocution there- trimming off the singed brainmatter and controlling tumorous growth for a few decades and et viola! A merc that cannot be truly killed.”

The stare was legendary as the mad mod medic reached for the toaster- ding.

Both of them stared blankly at the sliced cinnamon raisin swirl toast. Whirl, once more composed after threatening Lock, reached over and plucked the toast free.

“Apologies, I’ll take that- what? I was a touch peckish!”

“...Did. Stormy know you were making toast before he threw my toaster into someone’s skull?”

“...No. I was TRYING to be discreet. Besides- I... didn’t want you to know I stole the last slices of swirl.”

“....I almost hate you as much as I hate this soon to reanimate corpse. Take your toast and go with the rest, please.”

“Yessir.”

Both Ratchet’s watched as the one-time infamous high-crime assassin skittered away, hissing softly at how hot the toast was. And then the toaster was finally dislodged from its collision point.

Lock remained still, jaw slack and part of his face crushed and bloodied. And then, a cough, a groan- and a spit.

“..My CARPET.”

“Shut UP Doc I have a splitting fuckin’ headache.”

“I wish God took returns without a receipt sometimes just so I could be rid of you.”

“Love you too, beardaddy.”

And that’s when a pocket pistol was palmed and fired between Lock’s eyes before the mad mod medic began gathering the mess that was Deadlock, Famed Mercenary and Pocket Shadow of the Autobot Special Forces.

“YOU SHOT HIM-”

“And? I used to do it frequently.”, was the flat answer, “Now I have to sacrifice good linens for him to bleed on while his empty fucking head decides to rebuild at the speed of branching god damned evolution.”

Another cough, and a wheeze, “It d-does NOT take that long.”

“Shut up before I try to dissolve you again.”

“Ooooh, kinky.”

“I hate you.”

Ratchet watched his double carry the mess of Lock up the stairs the mercenary had descended earlier, and slowly made his way back to rest of the family. Stormy was massaging his temples, Percy rubbing his shoulders apologetically while Aid seemed to still be processing what he just saw.

Chromedome looked up, unnerving split-pupiled eyes too reflective and only slightly ominous.

“...So would it be bad to say that uh. The cat’s out of the bag about how the superb sailing shitshow feels about each other?”

“Chromedome. I understand we are closer than most, would say we were the closest thing to best friends possible.”, said Stormy through gritted teeth, “But you make. ONe more cat pun. And I’m sealing you in an iron drum an thROWING YOU INTO FUCKING ORBIT!”

“Sheesh, okay alright. Chill out Mister Weapons Cartel. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Ratchet watched, brain still chewing on what his double said and did until he felt a nudge at his side. The toast-munching assassin gave a small half smile.

“Beer, champagne, or something stronger?”

“Battery acid on the rocks, thanks.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

#pastelwrites #shattered glass #ive been cackling this entire time i love this shitty deadpool cat

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mysterioh · 4 years

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hello neighbor [ 1 / 10 ]

Pairing: Writer!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: Brooklyn Heights’ residential playboy has got his eye set out on the new girl across the hall. She’s got it all. The looks. A killer smile. A pretty laugh. Two cute kids……………..wait a second.

Taglist Open!

Masterlist

Bucky wakes slowly, blinkingly.

He slept a sleep that boasts of the bottled ruby red Burgundy sun, the whispered tune of slow jazz wafting in a dimly lit room, and her eager fingers running across his tailored suit.

There’s a smear of red hot lipstick on his pillow with traces of it marking his cheek. Sunshine pours into the room through the window. The curtains add an orange glow to the morning sun. Warm in its color; cool in its embrace. The songbird beckons with a lively song but the air in the dull-colored room is thick with sleep, emptiness, and her.

The slow rise and fall of her chest, naked against the white sheets. Bucky can hear her breaths, heavy and slow. He doesn’t need to turn over to picture her golden waves against sand-colored skin. The bed is enveloping, tempting, and teasing, but he slips out anyway.

He rubs the side of his cheek, smearing the red onto his fingers as he exits his room and goes straight to the Keurig. After making a cup for himself, he slides open the door to the tiny balcony of his apartment and steps out.

In an instant, the gentle summer sun warms his skin — like kisses from the divine.

Kisses from the divine.

That’s a good line, he thinks to himself and files it away for when he sits to write.

A chorus of birds dancing in the breeze drone out the dull sound of ongoing traffic while the strong aroma of breakfast reaches his nostrils all the way from the cafe across the street. Leaving his mouth watering at the smell of warm bread, scrambled eggs, and sizzling bacon.

Bucky leans against the railing, coffee mug in hand as he observes the start of the day for his neighbors. The owner of the corner store lifts the steel rolling door with ease while another shop owner pulls out a rack of clothes and tables of trinkets with eye-popping signs that denote some sort of sale when the prices weren’t really worth it. Children run by, hollering and teasing, heading towards the park and it’s like torture to his ears. Shrill and coarse. It ruins the delicate mood. He huffs while taking another sip of his coffee, hoping it’d help alleviate the pain.

Sadly enough, it’s run cold and to make it even worse Charlotte from the night before finds him in the solace of his balcony.

“Hey there,” she murmurs sleepily as she rests her chin on his shoulder. She’s wearing his shirt and he's trying to figure out who gave her the right to. “You left me all alone there,” she pouted.

Oh God, she’s a clingy one.

Bucky groans quietly, but she doesn’t notice.

“I had fun last night,” she whispered into his ear, seductively like she’s begging him for more

Bucky chuckled at her. Maybe five years ago it would’ve been a huge boost in his ego but now it’s just another lackluster compliment.

She slides her hand against his bare chest. “Come back to bed,” she cooed.

Bucky turns towards her with a sardonic smile.

“Listen, Amy,” he starts and her hopeful smile falls.

“It’s Nora,” she replied as if he cared.

“Whatever,” he lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, shaking his coffee cup. She stands straight, sleepiness gone in an instant. “I had fun last night, but that’s it. We’re done here,” he said flatly.

She’s left in shock, mouth ajar and eyes wide. He was blunt and straight to the point, and it threw her off.

“So, enjoy this cup of coffee,” he hands it to her, “while I go take a shower. And by the time I’m done, I better not see that pretty face of yours around here,” he ordered with a sweet smile. “You got that?”

She nodded dumbfounded and slightly ashamed.

“Good,” he walked inside, the sound of a moving truck rumbling down the street. “It was fun while it lasted. See ya.”

Bucky locks the door to his apartment before walking down the hall. He scrolls through his phone, searching for Sam’s number.

The elevator bell rings signaling the doors to open. He hears footsteps exiting the elevator and quickens his speed to make it in before it closes. Eyes glued to his phone, Bucky doesn’t notice a small pair of brown eyes watching him from the corner of the hall.

His little fingers were wrapped around the handles of the nerf gun. He aims his gun at Bucky walking down the hall, following his every step through the sight of the toy. Like a sniper ready to fire, he waits for the perfect moment to strike. Bucky pauses in the middle of the hallway to read something on his phone, giving the boy a perfect moment to take his shot.

He pumps his rocket blaster back and aims straight for the head. He shoots at Bucky and it hits him smack dab in the middle of his face.

“Haha!” the boy jumps out from the bend at the end of the hallway with the gun in his hand.

Bucky mutters a curse underneath his breath while rubbing his nose.

Oh, how he hated kids.

“What’s the matter with you?” he questions the boy. “Watch where you’re shooting that thing!”

The boy laughs with a smug grin. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going, grandpa!”

Grandpa? Who the hell is he calling grandpa?

“Don’t call me that,” Bucky snaps at the boy.

“Oh yeah and what are you gonna do about it?” he boldly asked.

“Ezra!” you shouted, stomping down the hall.

The color fades from the child’s face and his confidence begins to diminish quickly.

Bucky turns around to see who was calling and freezes the minute his eyes fell on you.

His world seems to slow down just a little as you walk towards them. Your sun-kissed skin shines under the dull lights of the hallway, rather distractingly. He’s caught in the wonder of your gentle features, the loose strands of hair that swept past your face, the crease in your lovely brows, and the down curve of your full lips.

Bucky remains still as you scold the boy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask him with your hands on your hips.

“Nothing,” Ezra shrugs innocently. You press your lips together and just stare at him. He doesn’t falter but instead flashes the sweetest face he could muster up.

You sigh, letting your hands drop, heart softening every time he blinks. You try your best to remain firm, but he knows he’s won.

You point down the hallway. “Inside now,” you order. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He nods and dashes down the hall.

You turn to look at Bucky and there’s a shine in your eyes that has him falling closer. One full of mystery and the expanse of the galaxy hidden within.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologize, taking a step closer. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” Bucky smiles. “Kids will be kids, y’know? Just moved in?”

A smile stretches across your face. “Yeah,” you chuckled and it’s like a pretty melody to his ears. “Just down the hall. Apartment 216.”

“No way,” he exclaims. “That’s right across from mine.”

“Really?” you asked with twinkling eyes. Damn, she’s pretty. “Nice to meet you, neighbor,” you extended your hand.

His hand slips into yours immediately and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, too,” he replied calmly, despite his insides twisting by the touch of your hand. “My name’s Bucky.”

“Bucky?” you say with a bit of a chuckle. Your hand falls back to your side.

His cheeks blush a soft pink as his hand goes to scratch the back of his neck. He lets out an embarrassed, breathy laugh. “It’s just a nickname from when I was a kid. My name is James, but everyone calls me Bucky,” he explains.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend—”

“No, it’s totally fine, um?”

“Y/N,” you replied, “I have no nickname, so just Y/N.”

Bucky nods with a laugh.

“Sorry about Ezra again” you repeated, still feeling guilty, “he’s a bit of a troublemaker.”

Bucky shakes his head with a wave of the hand. “He’s a kid. What would you expect?” he says, although inwardly he wanted to repay the action. “I’m guessing he’s your brother?”

Your cheeks burn a bright red and bite the side of your lip. “Ah no,” you reply, “he’s my son.”

“What? He’s your son?” Bucky blurted. It only made the red hue of your cheeks darken.

“Is it really that hard to believe?” you questioned, with a slightly defensive tone and a scowl forming on your face.

“No, no!” he puts his hands up in front of his chest. “I was just—I mean you’re so young.”

The scowl on your face fades and an embarrassed smile appears in its place. Your blush is still a bright red. You shake your head with a chuckle.

“I’m not as young as I look,” you state.

“But you look great,” he exclaims.

Bucky screams inwardly. “Why did I just say that? Now she thinks I’m a creep!”

Bucky didn’t like to brag, but he was a bit of a Casanova of modern times. A “gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets” sort of man. Although the past ten minutes could have proven otherwise.

“Um, thank you,” you reply sheepishly.

“Hey Y/N!” a voice calls from behind Bucky.

Bucky turns his head to see a woman with brilliant red hair sticking her head out the door of your apartment. She has a box of books in her hand.

“Where do I put these?” she asks.

“Oh, just put them anywhere for now,” you chuckled with a shrug.

“I should let you unpack,” Bucky says, wanting to escape. “I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“Oh no,” you assured. “It’s fine!” You take a step past him as if you were running from him.

Not like he wasn’t expecting that.

“It was nice meeting you again,” you wave, “hope you have a nice day!”

Bucky nods with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, you too.”

He turns on his heel and walks towards the elevator. He pressed the button and waited silently for the doors to open. The metal doors slid open and he entered the elevator.

“If she has a son, that means she’s probably married.” he thought. He presses the main floor button and sighs.

“What a tragedy.”

The doors close as he leans against the wall. He can’t seem to get that pretty smile out of his mind.

“But I don’t see why that should stop me.” He ruminates on that thought for a while and wonders where that will take him. He shakes his head in refusal.

“What the hell, dude, you’re disgusting,” he mutters.

Permanent Taglist: @chuckennuggets1213 @murdermornings @marshyrebelcloud @miraclesoflove @fckdeusername @undiadeestos @hailmary-yramliah @andiebell2023 @anjali750

Hello Neighbor Taglist: @disaffectedbarnes @rootcrop @nerdgirljen @simmisblog @supernatural-bangtanboys @marvelismysafezone @littlemissporter @dark-night-sky-99 @justlovelifeblog

Only Bucky Barnes: @infinity-saga @sebastian-stan-is-my-love

#bucky barnes x reader #star's celebration challenge #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fluff #single parent au

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thepancakeboi · 4 years

Text

63. “Is this how little you think of me?”

Note: spoilers for today’s (2/2) ingame date in Persona 5 Royal, including final palace details. Especially under the cut.

“I will carve my own path for myself.”

Why do I have to be telling Ren this? Well, when I had decided to come to Leblanc the evening before our deadline, I had expected a calm evening with Ren going over the plan for tomorrow, probably with some coffee. Or maybe we’d go somewhere else. The jazz club comes to mind, or even Penguin Sniper for darts or billiards.

What I hadn’t anticipated was for Ren to be in the middle of a conversation with our target upon my arrival.

I had to speak with Ren immediately before he did something foolish. Sure, the calling card had been given and the plan’s in motion, but I can still see the hesitance in his face. All this time, he had been as steadfast as the rest of us in breaking free from this fake mirage. He had been the one person who had seemed unaffected and knew something was amiss.

Until now, that is.

To hear Maruki confirm my suspicions, that I could be dead in the real world and that Ren’s wish is to “have a fresh start” with me...it’s exasperating. This is nothing more than a setback. Can’t Ren see that this is a trap meant to coerce him to Maruki’s side?

When Ren doesn’t say anything to my words, I continue to assert my position on the matter. “I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.”

Ren finally speaks up, sounding distraught as he says, “But then, you’ll...”

Die. I know. It’s better than the alternative: living a life without agency. “So what? That’s the path I chose.” It’s simple. I would rather be dead than controlled again. Once was enough. “All you have to do is stick to your guns and challenge Maruki. Or are you really so spineless that you’d fold over some bullshit, trivial threat on my life?”

He looks stunned that I’d talk so callously about my own life as if it doesn’t matter. Frankly, it doesn’t matter. If I can’t live my life the way I want, then it’s simply not worth living. “Trivi-Goro, this isn’t small potatoes!”

“It is!” I snap, looking away from him. My life is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It would probably be better if I wasn’t around. I’ve caused enough misery to everyone who was unfortunate enough to meet me in these eighteen years, yet here’s Ren being decidedly stubborn about it. He’s the only reason I’m still alive, even though my disappearance from this reality would be better for everyone else. I clearly don’t deserve this blissful happiness, but Ren thinks otherwise. And it’s infuriating. “Do you really think I’d be happy with this? Being shown mercy now, of all times? I don’t want to be pitied.”

“I’m not-”

“This isn’t something I’m debating with you!”

“Goro...?” Ren hesitantly asks as I shift my gaze to the ground. “Please-”

“Your indecisiveness on the matter is essentially a betrayal of my wishes.”

“I...I’m not...”

I look back up at Ren as he trails off, unable to answer. I’m going to have to press him for one, it seems. If he won’t give me an answer by himself, then I’ll just have to pry it from him. “I want to hear you say it aloud. What do you intend to do?”

After a few seconds of agonizing silence, he finally responds, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I don’t know what I should do.”

I scoff. “You really are that spineless, aren’t you?”

“No!” The only reason I don’t interrupt him is that he looks completely vulnerable right now. “It’s just...Maruki was right. When I thought you had died in...his Palace, I...wasn’t okay. After we stole the treasure, I just wanted to sleep. Everything hurt. I couldn’t stop when we had to defeat Yaldabaoth, but...I wanted to stop. I had to force myself to keep moving. And now that I have you back...I can’t bear the thought of losing you again.”

This is not good if Ren is admitting all of this to me. He’s not the type to tell others about his problems as he doesn’t want to burden his friends. I know how that is, being the same way myself around everyone except him. It’s the only reason I know that about him; it’s yet another similarity between us. The fact that he is sharing this information now...worries me. It means he might be seriously considering Maruki’s offer. I refuse to be the reason Ren falters, after everything we’ve done. We’ve come so far that folding now over something as worthless as my own life would be inane. “Is this how little you think of me? If you truly cared, you wouldn’t even consider accepting Maruki’s offer.”

“I do care!”

“Then why the hesitation? How can you possibly be so indecisive when the answer should be so blatantly obvious?”

“I love you.” Well, that unexpected confession stuns me into silence. Part of me is wondering why he would ever love someone like me, someone who is undeserving of anyone’s love, let alone his. At the same time, I’m hopeful that it’s true. Wait, no. This isn’t the time nor the place for these thoughts. All this could ever be is detrimental, a temptation that I’m afraid Ren can’t resist. “You’re not like the others. Everyone else just sees what they want to see. I can’t be myself around them, so I just wear a mask and show them what they believe I am. You’re the only one who understands me and accepts me for who I really am.”

“Ren, you’re in love with a fake version of me living in some sweet fairytale kingdom full of false happiness.”

“That’s not true,” he immediately refutes. “I love you for you, Goro, flaws and all. I don’t want to give up on you, but if I go back to reality, I...I can’t let you go.”

I jolt as he tightly embraces me as if he’ll lose me as soon as he lets go. He can’t be doing this. It’s only going to make my possible death much more painful. I shove him off of me. “Don’t you get it, Ren? You can’t save me.”

“At least let me try. Maruki’s not evil. He just wants to make everyone happy. Is that really so bad?”

“What the hell’s gotten into you!? He’s the same as Shido!” I snarl. It takes immense mental restraint to stop myself from lashing out at Ren. “His intentions may seem ‘pure’ to you, but a gilded cage is still a prison. He wants to take control of the world and everyone’s lives. And I don’t want to be controlled again.”

“I...”

I’ve had enough of his indecisiveness. He has to make a choice now before he becomes too bogged down by the “what ifs” to decide. “What do you intend to do?” I ask him again. “I won’t wait a moment longer. Answer me.”

“I’m...I’m sorry. We’re taking his offer.”

I stare at him in disbelief, not believing what I’m hearing. Sure, I knew it was possible that he would take Maruki’s offer after what we have learned tonight, but I had been denying that he would be so foolishly sentimental. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

I search his expression, shocked to find that he’s...he’s actually being serious. He fully intends to accept Maruki’s reality as the truth. And it doesn’t seem like he’ll change his mind. He’s...going against my wishes. I’ve dealt with backstabbing and insincere people in the past, but this? Being betrayed by the one person I’ve come to trust...it hurts. It hurts so much. I’d rather Ren just stab me in the heart with a rusty, serrated knife and let me bleed out. I sigh, not even bothering to keep up false pretenses regarding my feelings. “...Well, I have your answer.”

“Goro-”

I slap Ren’s reaching hand away, turning my back to him so that he doesn’t see the tears starting to form of their own volition. It pisses me off that I can’t even fight against him. His friends don’t have the backbone to refuse him if Morgana’s earlier comment of leaving the decision to Ren is any indication. And, despite my own strength, I know I’m not capable of bringing down Maruki on my own. The only thing I can do now is to accept Ren’s decision. I want him to be happy, I do. Even so, I’m furious with him and his choice. At this moment, I don’t want to see his face ever again. Not that it’ll matter. Starting tomorrow, I won’t have a choice. I’ll be nothing more than a puppet, stuck under another’s whims with no chance to escape. “There’s nothing left I can say. Our deal’s off.”

I stop with my hand on the door. I expect Ren to try and say something, attempting to convince me he’s doing what he thinks is best. Instead, there’s only silence. I turn my head to stare him down. His steadfast, stubborn determination is what pushes me over the edge. If he’s going to hurt me like this, then I have no regrets about driving my own metaphorical knife through his treacherous heart. I won’t get another chance to be myself, so I might as well make the most of it. “I hope you’re happy, Ren. Happy you’re living a lie that you know is wrong. I want you to remember that you’re forcing me into a situation that I don’t desire. I’ve explicitly told you that I refuse to be controlled by another, and what do you do? You stab me in the back with your betrayal because you say you love me. You may call it love, but you don’t love me at all, do you?”

I don’t give him a chance to respond, to deny my accusation and claim that he loves me with all his heart. I’m already out the door, tears streaming down my face as I try to get as far away from Yongen-Jaya as I can. I ignore the door slamming open, Ren desperately calling out to me as he tries to follow. He isn’t able to keep up, and I manage to lose him in the night crowd. There’s no destination in mind. I just want away from here, away from him for whatever length of time I have left before I’m no longer me.

Leaving Leblanc, and Ren, tonight...is the last action I will ever take with my own free will.

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nevernotwriting · 4 years

Text

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 1: A Proposition

Read me on AO3!

It had been a normal morning so far. Well, as normal as it could get when you worked for a kind but, quite frankly, sketchy group of people.

You pulled off of the freeway, making your way through crossroads and down a path you previously thought abandoned. After graduating from a master’s in cyber security from Caltech, you’d been lucky enough to land a job almost immediately after your project was handed in, meaning you didn’t have to haul yourself and your belongings all the way back home to the backwaters of Pennsylvania. Sure, you did have to haul yourself across Los Angeles in a giant moving van, but a couple of hours of California traffic was much better than a several thousand-mile journey across the States. Over the last few months, you’d settled nicely into a life you could call your own, filled with people from all walks of life, and with much warmer weather.

You smiled to yourself as you scanned your ID card at the gateway to your HQ, thinking of all the people you’d met so far at this bizarre yet wonderful job. There was your boss, for a start. She’d changed her name so many times that everyone lost track and instead settled on calling her ‘Shark’, which she welcomed with a hearty laugh and a flash of a mouth full of teeth. The name suited her, you thought.

You and some of your other colleagues also liked to use unusual codenames, both for privacy and for fun. There was Vakarian, who had an affinity for calibrating everyone’s computers and was a killer shot with a sniper rifle. Next was Shrike, who had named herself after a type of bird known for piercing its prey on thorn bushes. You decided not to ask her why she chose that name. For yourself, you settled on Zero, a reference to your almost lifelong affinity for binary code which led you down the tech path in the first place.

There were others who just chose to use their real names – Jasmine, Gareth, and Mark. You and Jasmine worked together regularly in the tech department, spending hours chatting in between your hacking sessions and gaining intel on building layouts for the heist experts. Jasmine had been on two heists herself, and always came in the next day talking at a million miles per hour about how fun it was, how it sent her adrenaline skyrocketing higher than any rollercoaster ever had.

By her mannerisms today, you guessed she’d been on a third heist last night. You’d been settled at your desk for all of two minutes when she waltzed in, placing a cup of coffee down for you and twirling in her chair with a gigantic grin on her face.

“Mornin’ Jazz,” you greeted her. “Another heist last night? How was it?”

Jasmine began her spiel before you could even reach a hand towards your coffee. She rambled on and on about the thrill of scaling buildings, how good her new night vision goggles were, and how she nearly got caught but managed to make it out right on schedule.

“Zero, you have to go,” she finished at last, taking a sip from her own cup. “You won’t regret it.”

You hesitated, shrugging your shoulders. “I dunno, Jazz. I’m more of a behind the scenes tech monkey.” You’d been on a few scoping exhibitions, but that just involved sitting on a rooftop watching guard rotations until the early hours of the morning. You’d never done anything more adventurous, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to just yet.

She rolled her eyes, wheeling her chair closer to you. “But think about it. You could get some more up-close-and-personal time with Mark,” she whispered, nodding her head to your left.

You followed her gesture. Mark had just entered the office, dressed in all black. He took off his beanie and swept a hand through his dark hair. It immediately flopped forwards again, so he shook his head to one side. The action seemed to go in slow motion, and you tried not to stare.

Before you could chastise yourself for definitely staring, Mark’s eyes landed on yours. He shot you a warm smile that lit up his whole face, and you felt heat rising to your cheeks as you smiled back, giving a little wave before swizzling round in your chair.

“No way,” you hissed in embarrassment, snatching up your coffee before it turned cold. As it turned out, it was still very much burning hot. You tried not to wince as you forced the liquid down.

“Why not?” She shot back. “Look, he’s clearly into you. He practically jumped at the opportunity to show you the ropes of all the heist gear, and to a rooftop night shift with you. You guys are always lingering by the water cooler together on breaks, giggling away like little schoolkids. And, Shrike told me he asked you out on a date last week.”

You nearly spat out your second mouthful of molten coffee. Jasmine sat back in her chair with a smug grin as you glared at her.

“How does she know that?!” You tried not to yell as Vakarian milled into the workplace, throwing around cheery greetings.

“You know Shrike,” Jasmine shrugged. “She gets around. She skimped on the details, though. So, what did he say exactly?”

You could see Jasmine wasn’t going to let this go. You sighed, mirroring Jasmine’s posture as you began to recount the details of that evening.

You got out of your chair and stretched triumphantly, knowing you were just about done for the day. The last thing you had to do was collect the blueprints you’d sketched up from the printer, then leave it on Shark’s desk for her to look at in the morning. You did just that, and dusted your hands off with a satisfied smile as you made your way down the corridor to the exit.

You’d been so caught up in your daydream of getting home, changing into your pyjamas, and curling up in front of the TV that you hadn’t realised that you weren’t the last one in the building. That is until you walked straight into another person.

You gasped at the abrupt contact, shutting your eyes as your prepared to hit the ground. The fall never came. A strong hand caught yours and pulled you upright with a gentle grunt of effort. When you opened your eyes, you were face to face with a kind smile and dark, inquisitive eyes.

Mark’s eyes.

Blood rushed to your face immediately, and you stumbled out an awkward apology.

“Jesus, s-sorry Mark. Didn’t realise you were still here.”

Mark just laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh, but not an unkind one. “No problem Zero.”

Your eyes travelled back to his from where they had chosen to fixate on the floor. He was still smiling at you, and you managed to smile back sheepishly. His face only brightened as you curled out of your awkward posture to face him properly. He’d been incredibly sweet to you ever since you joined, and you two became even closer after many hours spent on that rooftop in the middle of the night a few weeks back. That night in particular really caused a stir in your feelings, and brought up a whirlwind of emotions you’d never felt before.

That whirlwind started all over again as you realised he was still holding your hand. You cleared your throat and he broke your shared gaze, letting go and scratching the back of his head.

“Hope I didn’t hurt you,” you said, gaining a small amount of bravery and dusting off his shoulders from where you’d collided. A hint of pink appeared on his cheeks at your action, but he covered it up with a barrage of his usual confidence.

“Me? Nah, I’m a big strooong man,” he replied, puffing out his chest and grunting in an exaggerated manner. He curled his biceps for an exaggerated effect, clearly trying to make you laugh.

And boy did he. You doubled over, failing to stifle a snort. Your face grew hotter at the embarrassing noise you hadn’t intended to make, but Mark seemed to revel in it, his grin growing wider with pride at getting such a strong reaction from you.

“Anyway,” he started again as you both calmed down from your shared laughter. “I’m glad I ran into you. I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something.”

You raised your eyebrows and stayed silent, waiting.

Mark let out a short exhale, running a hand through his hair and then across his stubble. Despite the joy on his face mere seconds ago, he now looked a little uncertain. It wasn’t an expression that came naturally to him; he normally paraded around with a kind yet confident smile as he told you about the heists he’d pulled off in the past, about his family, and as he asked about yours. You’d never seen him like this before, and you didn’t know what to expect.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

“Look, I really like spending time with you here. Showin’ you all the gear, chatting over coffee, all the usual work stuff.” His voice was quiet. He cleared his throat again, taking a step closer to you and looking into your eyes once more.

“But I’d like to get to know you better, in some place that’s not work related. Would you like to go on a date sometime?”

Your mind screeched to a halt as you stood frozen on the spot. Did you hear him correctly? It sounded like Mark just asked you out on a date. Mark the heist expert, Mark the previous engineering student, Mark your very cute co-worker, wanted to go on a date with you.

You couldn’t lie to yourself - the thought had crossed your mind several times over the past few weeks. When he held out a hand to you after you fell flat on your ass when you failed to use the grappling gun. When his form lingered around yours as he taught you how to aim a tranquiliser pistol. When you sat on that rooftop together exchanging stories and his eyes never looked away as you started opening up to him. You just never expected it to actually… well, happen.

A gigantic grin, bigger than all those before, broke out onto your face. “Mark, I’d love to!”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “Great!” He exclaimed, a relieved laugh escaping him. “When works best for you?”

You hesitated, remembering your schedule was pretty booked for the upcoming weekend. “In all honesty, I’m pretty busy this weekend. Family visiting,” you tried not to sound too negative. “But maybe after then?”

Mark nodded understandingly, shoving his hands in his pockets and shuffling on the spot. “Sure thing. I’m free most of the time, so whenever works for you, really.”

You smiled back, heart skipping beats as reality set in. You and Mark were going on a date. Sure, you didn’t know exactly when you were going on this date, but it was definitely happening soon.

“I’ll let you know, for sure! For now though, I guess we’d better be heading home,” you replied, a spring in your step as you and Mark made your way to the exit. It was dark when you got outside, so Mark insisted on walking you to your car, even though it wasn’t too far from where he’d parked his own. You turned to Mark when you stood next to your vehicle, unsure of what to expect but not wanting to seem rude.

Mark stood with his hands in his pockets again, beaming at you like before. You felt heat rise to your face again; you’d never get used to him looking at you like that.

“Goodnight, Zero.” He took his hands out of his pockets and held his arms out for a hug, which you more than happily accepted. He was warm and his hold around you was strong but comforting, making you feel safe and at ease. Your heart was beating rapidly again as you wound your own arms around his waist and spoke into his ear.

“You can call me by my real name if you want.”

You let your arms trail away from him as his grip softened. Mark looked surprised, but flattered, by your suggestion. He pursed his lips in thought.

“How about we keep it as Zero for work?” He suggested. “I’ll switch to your real name for our date.”

You nodded as you unlocked your car. “Deal.”

He winked at you as he walked away backwards, almost tripping on his own feet. You covered a small laugh with your hand. Mark regained his composure and waved you goodbye. You waved back, getting into your car and driving into the night.

Next chapter

#a heist with markiplier #ahwm #heist mark #heist mark x reader #heist! mark x reader #yancy x reader #ahwm yancy x reader #my writing #nevernotwriting #ahwm yancy

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dragongirl642 · 4 years

Text

Sunstreaker/Sideswipe x human!female!reader (bayverse) part 5

Recap:

Once he was calm, we hurried to collect the Allspark. That humming in my chest, just kept getting stronger and now it was accompanied by a sense of urgency from Starblaze but also this feeling of awesome power.

One thought crossed my mind. 'I got a bad feeling about this.'

-------------------------------------Recap end------------------------------------

I was riding an ATV following the transport units. My speciality is mobile battle. The modified ATV's two sub-automatic machine guns being my best friends in battle. Closely following my cousin's truck, I could clearly see Lennox sat in front of me, through the open back of the vehicle. He was briefing the unit on possible hostiles and giving the oh-so-positive, 'it's better to live to fight another day, than die doing a heroic stunt that gets you killed' kind of speech.

The Allspark and Sam were riding with Bumblebee up ahead. We were heading to Mission City; whilst there it should be easier to contact the copters and get the hell out of the Decepticon's reach. Keller agreed with the idea, so here we were.

Starblaze and the twins sent me encouraging pulses over our bond. 'Wait...I can feel the twins now too...must be a Gaian thing.'

I was busy watching William until I heard the roar of engines ahead. Holding the handlebars of my ATV steady, I twisted to look behind me. A blue Peterbuilt semi-trailer truck with flame decals (Optimus Prime), a silver Modified Pontiac Solstice GXP (Jazz), a black Modified GMC Topkick C4500 (Ironhide) and a Yellow Hummer H2 Search and Rescue SUV (Ratchet) were coming the other way. The songs bursting out of Bee's radio signalling that these were the other Autobots. They passed us and I heard the squeal of tires as they made u-turns at breakneck speed. 'But then again they don't have necks to break in that form'. They began gaining on us from behind.

My ATV's inbuilt radio crackled, orders to fall back and hold the rear; I complied. I slowed and allowed them to pass me. William threw me a thumbs up from the back of his truck, I sent back a small wave. We continued in this formation, Mission city in our sights.

As we joined the main highway, civilian cars either side. I heard metallic clicking behind me. Yet again I twisted to look and wished I hadn't. 'Scrap'. I faced forward and hit the throttle. Shooting forward just in time to avoid the metallic fist that came down were I had been moments before. I powered forward passed the Semi as it transformed into a tall, powerful looking Autobot. 'The red and blue really suit him'. He began skating and turned back to face the threat. I weaved my way through the other Autobots and came up behind Lennox. He looked at me as I jokingly called, "Definitely a Decepticon...get ready to have some fun", as I flicked the switch on my ATV's dash to power up my guns. The blur of motion as the chambers spun and set, hitting home. One recruit went completely white. 'Hope he doesn't throw up...too late...that's gonna be a mess to clean up later'.

We made it to the city. The communication with the Nellis Air Force base lifting spirits; help was on the way. The first transport units sending out fire teams to clear buildings and set up sniper points. The Autobots transformed and we spread out. I parked further up the street with my guns pointed towards the highway. The whine of an F-22 Raptor was heard. 'Thank God they're here...wait that was too quick, something's wrong'. I opened my mouth to call my cousin just as smoke flares were sent up. The Raptor changing course, heading straight for our position. I set my guns, plotting its trajectory. Good thing too...it was a Decepticon. The Black Autobot, Ironhide, called a name; "Starscream". Bumblebee and Ironhide picked up a truck as the jet transformed into a grey Seeler, 'seekey, seekser, oh...seeker I think it was'. Ironhide ordering everyone to "fall back". Starscream shot at them and the resulting explosion almost blinded me. My battle goggles tinting automatically. As the smoke cleared I could see that Bumblebee had been decapitated. Ironhide had been blasted backwards so poor Bee took the brunt of the shot.

Starscream stood over him, ready to give the finishing blow. Ironhide was coming around and the other Autobots were already springing into action, but an idea came to me, 'stupid but brilliant, as they say'.

I gunned the throttle, shooting forward at speed. I opened fire. Bullets distracting the seeker as I did one of those idiotic heroic stunts Lennox was talking about. Using a crushed car as a ramp, I leapt with my ATV, straight for the astonished Starscream. Knuckles white with the effort it took to stay seated as the wheels of my ATV struck his faceplate. I kept the throttle on as they gave him tyre burn. Also sending me into a backwards flip. 'This was not part of the plan'. Starscream fell back and holding his face transformed and flew off while I held on for dear life to my ATV. Thankfully it landed right way up, so I wasn't about to be a (y/n) pancake yet. But the resounding crack upon impact wasn't the most reassuring sound in the world.

Lennox sending me the radio version of an angry face. I just sent him back the radio version of a wink face. 'You gotta have a sense of humour in this job, otherwise I would've gone mad years ago'.

The sounds of battle crashed around me as I gunned the throttle once more. The familiar feeling of adrenaline filled me as I differed to my training, the battlefield becoming a blur.

I was moving, running, ducking through showers of bullets and firing my second sub-automatic machine gun, (I'd taken them off the ATV when it was scrapped by a Decepticon bullet shower). Just as I was about to turn a blast of wind rushed past, accompanied by a figure, 'no make that two'. The silver Autobot, Jazz, was being carried off by Megatron. The huge 'and I mean HUGE' scary looking leader of the Decepticons. Jazz was fighting bravely but I could already tell he was going to die. You would have to be able to fly to rescue him. 'WAIT A MINUTE'.

I ran for the building they were heading towards. Dropping my gun, I performed the transformation sequence as I ran. "Gaian fusion, partner up!" The transformation was quicker this time, maybe because I was in the middle of a battle.

With a powerful downthrust of my wings I was airborne and heading for the two mechs.

"You want a piece of me", I could hear Jazz's taunts. I raised my bow and drew back the string a glowing arrow taking form. It was growing the longer I held the bow taught, but I didn't give it time to grow. I let loose just as Megatron began to reply, "No I want..." The arrow hit his left servo. He yelled in pain and dropped Jazz, grabbing his injured servo with his good hand. On reflex I dived. My fingers finding the grooves in his armour, I took hold, and beat my wings furiously to slow us down. It worked and I deposited him on the floor. Floating before him I gave a quick nod before spotting my cousin over his shoulder.

Mouth agape, all surprised, he was quite the sight. Staring at me like I'd just turned into a 'wait'. The comic picture was broken by the sight of an injured brawl returning to his feet and aiming his gun for Lennox's unprotected back. I swooped forward. Shield at the ready I blocked the incoming fire. Ironhide, Ratchet and Jazz rushing back in to re-engage.

"How?...What?...When?...WHAT?" Lennox was spluttering and gaping like a fish. I composed myself, ready to tell him everything when he honestly surprised me. "You know what, tell me after we don't die" and he ran off.

The blur of battle setting in once more...this time though...I fought using my powers. Slash and parry, let loose a volley of small arrows, block, shield at the ready and begin again.

Startled once more out of my trance, by an almighty crash and the audible cracks of something very important. Glancing over my shoulder, Megatron is standing there, Optimus injured, sitting in a small pile of rubble, leaning against a damaged building and Sam running for his life. All the nearby soldier's radios crackled to life, Lennox's voice sounding from all around. #(y/n)...protect Sam#

I took the order to heart. 'So sweet of him to include me though' I thought, and vaulted over several cars to run beside the teen; along with Ironhide and Ratchet. Sam threw me an incredulous look but kept running. A Decepticon made a swing for him, raising my shield up to block the attack we slid under the blade. We kept running. The pounding in my ears almost drowning out the sound of Starscream engaging our two Autobot protectors.

A thump crashed behind, "Give me the cube boy!" Megatron was chasing us, 'well that's just fragging great now isn't it'. We didn't see the SUV till it was too late. I pushed Sam ahead, he fell and dropped the cube. A wave of power being discharged, hitting me and several machines; bringing them to life and causing general mayhem. While I dropped to a knee in pain. Heat flaring within my chest. The feeling of a sparkbeat began, then failed, then began again.

"Go Sam" I choked out before collapsing.

He ran on, darting into a relatively undamaged building. I lay there, wings twitching and body wracked by painful spasms. Images flashing through my mind, a planet wracked by war, a desperate plan, a secret, a void, "You will do my will"...and a dark voice. "They will never follow you brother". I watched helpless as two vast beings fought. Then the one who spoke last held out a hand, 13 pinpricks of light appeared and formed into, what I recognised, as cybertronians.

"Behold my Primes, they will be your undoing brother unless you turn back from this foolish path, return...please". The last part almost a whisper.

"NEVER!" The dark voice ringing in the void. It hurt.

A flash and the dark voice screamed, in pain and anger...slowly it faded, drifting away, swallowed by the void. I felt that kinder presence turn to me, "What you have seen young one, learn from it. You have felt the power of the Allspark and carry part of it within you, use it wisely." I felt myself being dragged away.

"Wait...what do you mean?" I called but no answer came. I was falling into a dark all-consuming abyss. Then a small spot of light appeared. I recognised it before it spoke. "Come back...partner" Starblaze. I followed and the light grew enveloping me.

I opened my eyes. I was lying on the ground, cheek pressed to the hard asphalt. Just in time to see my cousin perform another one of those heroic stunts'...on a motorcycle no less'.

Blackout fell and I slowly sat up. A headache slowly fading. 'When you're in the middle of a battle, you're not supposed to black out and hope for the best.' Silently berating myself, I stumbled to my feet, a cascading waterfall of dust and rubble falling of my body.

Swaying I summoned my bow. Pulling back the string and taking aim. I could feel the F-22 raptor pilots panicking above as Starscream appeared in their midst. Lennox and the ground forces fired on Megatron, so did the remaining raptors. They were trying to expose his spark, but though he fell back there was still the protective layer of his spark chamber to contend with.

I released the arrow. It struck home, burning through the final protective layer. Megatron howled in pain, Optimus using that moment to strike him. Grappling the two titans almost crushed Sam. I saw Optimus's dermas move but I didn't hear what he said. Nevertheless, Sam thrust his hands upwards, pushing the Allspark into Megatron's spark. Another white hot flare built in my chest and Megatron's spark shone and pulsed erratically. The Allspark burning up. Eventually it went dark and Megatron fell to the road, offline.

I ran over to Lennox, out of the corner of my eye, spotting Sam pick something up from the ground. He looked at me with a smile. I was not prepared to be picked up and spun like some doll by an over energised cousin. 'He's still in a battle high...great' I internally rolled my eyes.

When he put me down, he gave me a look up and down. I cocked my hips, giggled and gave a spin to show off my new look. My wings buffeted his face and he promptly sneezed. 'Who said I don't have a childish side'. The other members of the unit were looking at me in awe. One cheeky lad at the back even wolf-whistled.

"Ok, now I've seen it, is there any way to unsee it" he stated.

I performed the motions while calling "Power down" and with a flash of light I was back in uniform.

I watched as the Autobots and Sam gathered around Prime for a speech. I just smiled and turned back to my cousin. Opening my mouth to speak and finally explain my whole crazy story when I felt a tug within my heart.

Starblaze exuding waves of calm while the twins were frantically asking me whether I was ok. I responded yes and then their alt-modes just rolled, all calm like, out of a nearby alley and transformed.

With panicked yells everyone raised their weapons at the newcomers. "Whoa, hold your fire, hold your fire!" I called running in front of everyone, arms raised in the classic I-am-defending-this-person position. Lennox marched, like two steps, over to me, "Who are these guys?" He then studied me up and down, noting how I was calm and obviously protecting the trio, he rolled his weight onto his back foot and leisurely said, "Friends of yours?"

'How does he stay so calm?' I questioned in my head. I gestured behind me, "This is Starblaze, my Gaian partner and his siblings, the twins, Starocean and Starwave. I'll explain later Cousin..." I put on the most sweet voice I could, "I have something I need to discuss with dear Starblaze here." now I turned to Starblaze, "AND WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN, I'VE BEEN FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE AND YOU'VE BEEN CHILLIN' IN AN ALLEY THIS WHOLE TIME!" I was going into rant mode. "YOU COULD HAVE DECIDED TO HELP AT ANY MOMENT BUT NO..." Starblaze raised a hand for silence, cutting me off mid-rant.

He just looked at me, completely unimpressed, and said, "You're a competent fighter, I said we would come if you were in danger, you weren't. You are still alive are you not?"

'Oh that just takes the cake' I geared up for a real rant, I could feel my face going red as blood rushed to it. Some of the other soldiers, having realised these were friends, wore broad grins on their faces, just waiting for the show to begin.

"Should we run", said Starwave. "Probably" replied his twin and they slowly backed off hands raised, leaving their older brother to face his partner's fury.

Of course they didn't get off that easy,

The Autobots had noticed the new arrivals.

#transformers #fanfiction #autobots #decepticons #megatron #optimus prime #transformers ocs #not my ocs #x reader #transformers bumblebee #transformers jazz #starscream

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agentxthirteen · 5 years

Text

The “Sharon Carter Is Just A Love Interest” post (to cut & paste when necessary)

Ways in which Sharon is NOT just a love interest:

When we first meet Sharon, she’s an undercover agent directly across the hall from Steve. We don’t know how long she’s been there, or how well they know each other, but Steve feels comfortable badly flirting with her. We find out the next time we see her, when Fury’s been shot, that he assigned her to protect Steve. So we know she’s capable enough that Fury - Director of SHIELD - trusts her to protect him. The movie implies that she’s there to protect him from external threats, and that’s possible, too, but it’s also likely that she’s there to protect Steve from himself. Tie-in materials mention Steve’s depression and potential for suicide. Sharon is undercover as his neighbor instead of someone across the street (as Winter Soldier was) because she needed a reason to interrupt him if SHIELD or herself were ever seriously worried about his mental state. She could break his thought process.

It’s also important to note that Fury only warns Steve that “they’re” listening. It makes sense to have video - at least in some parts of the apartment - to make sure Steve isn’t hurting himself. But there aren’t any. Why? Probably because Sharon was across the hall. She didn’t just protect his mental state - she protected his privacy. She doesn’t say Fury assigned her to a team to protect him, he assigned her to protect him. It’s likely she’s the one who insisted on giving Steve as much privacy as possible.

Fury was assassinated by the Winter Soldier but lived 1) long enough to make it to surgery and 2) he’s still alive, actually. He says he did it with the help of a drug, but Sharon was the one who stayed with him after he was shot. Steve went in pursuit of Winter Soldier. Sharon stayed to keep Fury alive long enough for emergency services to get there.

When Steve goes in to talk to Pierce, he sees Sharon. Upset that she deceived him (Tony was a bit miffed when he found out Natasha had deceived him), he only greeted her with “Neighbor.” Instead of fawning over him or looking hurt or ashamed at doing her job to protect him, Sharon half-rolls her eyes and keeps walking.

Sharon is the only one to question why SHIELD is hunting down Captain America. She likely got into SHIELD because her aunt, Peggy, founded it, and she believed in its ideals. She’s the only one in the room not to blindly follow along with orders and question them instead.

Sharon is also the first one to pull a gun on Hydra. After the - at the time, nameless - tech refuses to comply with orders for Hydra and they pull a gun on him, Sharon gets over her shock at Hydra infiltrating SHIELD and goes to defend him. It’s only after she reacts that other SHIELD loyalists do, too. Maybe she isn’t a leader to them (although she is seen in a supervision role helping multiple tables instead of just her one), but her action is what galvanizes them to act. She takes on Rumlow - an elite member of one of SHIELD’s elite fighting forces - and not only does she survive, but if he hadn’t run behind bulletproof glass, she would have killed him.

Her final scene in Winter Soldier is when she joins the CIA. Does she join because that’s all she knows? Does she join because she’s hunting down Hydra on her own? Does she join because Fury asks her to? We don’t know. But we know from Agents of SHIELD that SHIELD agents are all considered terrorists after the Trisk falls until it’s proven otherwise. This scene shows, once again, that Sharon is a skilled marksman.

Time on screen: ~2 minutes, 30 seconds.

We next see her attending Peggy’s funeral. Given how many enemies Peggy likely had, this puts a huge target on Sharon’s back. She does it anyway. This is also where Steve first realizes who, exactly, Sharon is. And it’s important to note that Sam is the one who recognizes Sharon first, even though we’ve never seen them interact in canon before. Does this mean they’ve met? Does this mean Sam has seen her through some other means, like Steve’s sketches? We don’t know. But we know that Sam recognizes her and knows that Steve needs to see this ASAP from how Sam nudges Steve and stares at Sharon. Keep in mind that at this time, everyone knew about the Accords. And Sharon’s stories about Peggy help inspire Steve to stick to his ideals and fight for them when he has to (kind of a major part of the film).

Steve and Sharon talk after the funeral as he walks her to her hotel. She reminds him that she was just “doing her job.” He seems to accept it. She tells him that she didn’t tell Peggy because she didn’t want Peggy to have to keep a secret from him. Is it true? Or was Sharon concerned that a dementia-ridden Peggy would spill the beans? Or did Peggy remember Sharon at all at that point? We don’t know. This is all we have to go on.

Again, their flirtation comes to nothing. They’re interrupted by Sam when he comes to tell them of the bombing at the UN. Sharon helps organize the investigation and then goes to Berlin and supervises others. She’s only been with the CIA for two years - possibly a little less - but she’s already supervising.

Later, she joins Steve and Sam at a bar and gives Steve the folder on where to find Bucky. She makes a point of telling them about the “shoot on sight” order. At this point, multiple people - even Avengers - had been looking for Bucky for years. And Sharon, with her resources, finally helped Steve find him. Not only that, she helped Steve save his life. Why? Some people think she did it just to get in Steve’s pants, but we know from storyboards that it’s a calculated decision on Sharon’s part. She knew that the Winter Soldier could kill everyone sent after him - except for Steve. As she says in the storyboards, she called the right man to do the job. (source) But she also must have known that Steve would NEVER kill Bucky, whereas an Interpol sniper could have taken out Bucky, so her intention must be to keep Bucky alive. We know that she has ideals - perhaps that includes an actual investigation and fair trial. Or perhaps she thinks Bucky may be brainwashed. We don’t know. But her actions to keep Bucky alive arguably save his life.

We see this intelligence on screen shortly thereafter as she and Steve deduce that the goal was to bring Bucky into the UN facility (assuming he wouldn’t be killed, at least). Just then, Bucky is triggered and goes into Winter Soldier mode. Sharon is the one who tells Steve and Sam where to find him - because she knows that Steve has the best chances of stopping him before Winter Soldier kills people.

She then teams up with Tony and Natasha and tells them to follow her. Even though she isn’t an Avenger, Sharon is already acting as support for the Avengers on site to help them do their jobs and save lives. And she doesn’t refrain from joining in the fight, either. There’s fear on her face as she fights Bucky, but she still does so. The implication is that if she can’t stop him, she can at least slow him down and buy other people time to get away.

She’s only in one more scene in the movie, the one where she gets Steve his gear, Sam his wings, and possibly a change of clothes for Bucky. Again, people have tried to skew this as Sharon just doing it to get in Steve’s pants, but remember - at this point, the group there’s a group of winter soldiers that Zemo is going to release and control. She’s not getting him his shield because she’s trying to seduce him (hell, he’s the one who asked her out two years before, and also the one who first pulls her into the kiss. He’s the instigator). She’s getting him the shield because it will enable him to save people. She doesn’t even seem to hold a grudge against Bucky - she seems more amused that he tried to kill her and is currently in the back of a Volkswagon Beetle than mad.

She’s also the one who leaves. We don’t know where she went. We only know she didn’t join in on the fighting because Marvel got to use Spider-Man (without him, Ant-Man would have been on Tony’s side, and Sharon on Steve’s to even things up). Before she goes, though, Steve tells her they’ll be coming after her, and she replies that she knows.

Time on screen: 5 minutes. (Yep! If you do the math, she did all of this in 7 1/2 minutes on screen)

That’s the thing, though. It was never about romance for Sharon. It was always, always, about doing what she thought was right. She went into SHIELD because she wanted to save people. Questioned orders because she didn’t trust the orders. Gave Steve info on Bucky because she thought even a brainwashed assassin deserved saving. She got Steve and Sam their gear because she knew it was the best way to save people. And what does she get for it? Multiple hard-earned careers destroyed and a fugitive status.

Sharon is, ultimately, a good person. Not just a love interest. Fandom loves to reduce women to love interests, but no woman is ever ~just~ a love interest. Kissing someone, being loved by someone, does not erase a woman’s character, personality, and accomplishments.

So what can you do if you’re worried, after all this, that Sharon will still be reduced to “just” a love interest?

ACTUALLY SUPPORT HER.

Tweet @MarvelStudios, send in emails, write letters, get buzz going about how you want to see Sharon as a fully-rounded character. Ask questions about Sharon’s story that we haven’t gotten. Where did she go when she was on the run? Why did she join the CIA? How much did she help Fury? Why have we seen so little of her?

If you claim to “support women characters” and all that jazz, actually do it. Stop putting women down for finding love/being loved. Start propping them up by demanding more screentime and development for their characters.

If you’re really bold and want to put your actions where your words are, you can also follow Sharon fanblogs and reblog fanfic and fanart that doesn’t put her down. It’s alarming how many Sharon “supporters” only support her when it comes down to her needing to be independent and not “just” a love interest, but their blogs are devoid of any actual support.

(Oh, and in case this post isn’t enough, there’s another essay with things I missed about how she isn’t reduced to a love interest here.)

#sharon carter #just a love interest #what more should i add?

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daisyxbuckley · 5 years

Text

I’m Only Human

PART ONE A/N: So I did a thing because apparently I can’t just have a normal obsession with something, I have to write about it. So here is Part One for my American Assassin Fic. Tell me what you think, if you like it and all that jazz. I am using an actual Original Character instead of Y/N though because it is more than one drabble and it gets very difficult for me to write a multi chapter series doing it that way.

Description: Ophelia Lane has a past that most CIA operatives would hate to have. The 25 year old is sent back to The Barn to help Stan train the new batch of recruits, including one that is hell bent on getting revenge. Can she keep it together or will a secret that is hidden under the surface come back and haunt her?

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The Barn- Present Day

Pop. Pop. Pop. The shots rang out in the empty shooting range, echoing off the walls. The slim hands that held the 9mm G4 moved in a fluid motion that not many were capable of, but she was. To her it was an extension of her body, something that seemed as natural to her as breathing. Emptying the mag, the woman put the gun down on the table in front of her and took her protective gear off.

"God damn O, I've seen you shoot probably 1000 times and every time I'm still amazed at how good you are." Ophelia smiled a bit and looked at Jones as he walked over clapping.

"Thanks. I just needed to blow off some steam. Stan has some new guys he wants me to check out for him so if anyone asks I'm a recruit up here." O said as she fixed her ponytail and handed the weapon to the range instructor. The older man nodded and clapped her shoulder with a warm smile.

"I'm really happy you're back Phi. I was worried about you." Before Ophelia could answer she heard a noise behind them. Turning around she saw Stan standing by the entrance staring at her. Nodding once more at Jones, the brunette walked over and grabbed her bag following Stan out of the range.

"I need you to lead combative class for a bit today. I have a new guy coming in." Stan said as they both walked towards where the group was standing. It was a circle of about 10 males and 2 females. "Scope them out. Find their weaknesses and tell me who you think is a good fit"

Ophelia nodded but didn't respond. She didn't have to. Stan knew her inside and out by now and knew that she understood. Her goal was to see if there was anyone else that would be good enough, that could be trained for his select team. "Remember your cover." Was all he said before they reached the group.

"Listen up! This is Ophelia Lane. She is going to be leading the class for the first half today. She's one of the best that's two classes ahead of you and I expect to hear a good report when I return." Stan said with a blank face. Ophelia stood next to him mirroring his expression as she scanned the crowd. "Anyone fucks up and you're gone." He said before turning away. The group stared at Ophelia as she stared back. She knew that they were trying to figure out who and what exactly she was, but she knew they would never be able to. Motioning for them to circle up around here, O stood and waited before she began.

“When you’re in the field on a mission you won't always have a weapon close by.” She said as she slowly looked at everyone. “It’s a huge reason why the CIA trains you to be the best in combative’s. When it's you and your target, or you and other enemies, you need to be able to take them down in any way possible. The majority of the time you won't have it as easy as point and shoot.” As she spoke she heard someone snickering in the background. Turning on her heel, Ophelia faced him. “Conners, you have something to say?” She asked tilting her head to the side as she studied him. Conners stood up straighter as he looked down at the hazel eyed woman. “No ma’am. I was just saying that if you have to fight hand to hand you’ve already lost. Or at least that’s what my dad said.”

“Your father is also a sniper who has seen little face to face combat.” Ophelia deadpanned “And he wouldn’t know real combat if it hit him in the face.” She saw him scoff and try to deflect it but she knew that he was upset with it. Stepping towards the middle of the circle, she lifted her hand and made a slight motion beckoning him forward. Conners stepped into the circle with her and looked nervously around.

“The main rule of hand to hand combat is never let the enemy know what you’re going to do next. You want to have the element of surprise on them at all times, if they can read your moves they can kill you.” She said as she faced towards the taller man. Putting her hands behind her back she stood there. “When you’re ready.” Was all she said before taking a step back. Conners looked at her for a full minute before he finally realized that she wanted him to attack her. Charging forward, Ophelia saw his eyes move to the side that he wanted to attack. Right before his fist was about to make contact with her face, the girl moved to the left. Conners kept going as his momentum carried him to the other side of the circle. The look on the woman's face never changed as he moved back in front of her.

“I wanna go again.” He said with a determined look on his face. Ophelia nodded as she got ready along with him. As he charged forward Ophelia dropped down low and swiped her leg out as she took out his left knee. Conners went down with a yell as she lifted herself up and wrapped her legs around his neck, squeezing till he was on the ground. When she felt a tap on her thigh Ophelia got up and looked at him.

“Rule number two. Always know your targets weaknesses. If you know their weaknesses then you can play off them. Conners here had an old football injury from college that I took advantage of.” She said looking down and offered her hand. Conners took it and Ophelia helped him up and smiled slightly. “That was good though, just remember i’ve been doing this a bit longer than you.” He nodded as he went back to his spot in the circle. Ophelia looked everyone in the eye for a second before talking again. “You need to understand that out there it’s basic instinct. You need to be the best otherwise you will get killed. Everyone pair up.” She said as she watched who went with who. Conners paired up with one of the girls and Ophelia watched them for a bit as they fought before walking over to the other female in the group.

Watching her struggle against the other man, Ophelia finally cut in. “Kates. You need to use your size.” Ophelia was about 5’7 but Kates didn’t reach any higher than about 5’2. Compared to the other recruit she was almost childlike. Kates looked confused as she Ophelia walked over. “Here, you’re tinier than him and all your power is in your legs. You can use that.” She said showing the girl the move she used earlier on her sparring partner. Working with her for a bit longer, Ophelia finally heard the footsteps that signaled Stan's approach and held up her hand to get everyone's attention.

“Okay shitheads. Enough party games.” Stan said as he walked down the hill where the group was. Ophelia noticed the man that was standing behind him and though she stayed focused on Stan, she observed him out of the corner of her eye. He was tall, probably about 6 feet and had long hair that fell in his eyes. The scruff of his beard looked like it had been trimmed recently, but to the point where it was just to stave off looking like a wild animal. His eyes were the color of warm whiskey and he had an unreadable expression on his face that Ophelia recognized as someone who didn’t want to reveal what they were thinking. The brunette realized that she had let her eyes stay a little too long on him when he met hers before looking away.

“Combative training isn't a time for you to go easy on people, it’s not a time to show off and look like a hot shot. It's a time to hone your skills and practice how you fight.” Stan said his voice booming through the woods.”I’m sure Ophelia here has shown you a few things and taught you our two main rules.” The group nodded as they looked over at her before looking back at him. “Good, you’re going to need it.” Motioning for the man to follow him into the circle, Ophelia took her place leaning against a tree and watched what was about to happen next. “This is Mitch Rapp. He’s one of the new guys who will be joining your class.” Stan said with a grin on his face that O recognized as one of his famous ones. Taking a knife out of his back holster, Stan held it out to Mitch. “Kill me.”

It took Mitch about ten seconds to grab the knife and attack. Ophelia straightened up and watched the man as he moved. His shirt lifted up as he went after Stan and Ophelia could see the defined trail of hair that disappeared into his pants. His muscles in his back could be seen moving under his shirt as he swiped the knife moving around the moves that Stan blocked. He was good, but sloppy. He moved as if he had some sort of training but not the kind that stood out with the CIA...at least not yet. Ophelia watched as Mitch moved like he was almost dancing, a determined look on his face. He was no match for Stan though and the older man knew that as he managed to get a grip on Mitch’s arm and twist it, shoving him to the ground as he pointed the knife in his face.

“Know your enemy. And don’t get too cocky.” Stan said standing up. “Mr. Rapp’s issue here is that he is messy. Hes good but messy and he let his cockiness get the best of him. Don’t do that.” He looked around at the group and locked eyes with Ophelia and nodded. “Go take a shower. All of you fucking stink.” He said walking towards the main house. Ophelia looked at Mitch one more time as he got up and started walking away catching up to Stan to tell him how the beginning of the class went. She could feel eyes on her as she walked and glanced over her shoulder to see those eyes belonging to Mitch. Shaking her head she sighed as she caught up to Stan, trying to put the whiskey colored eyes out of her mind.

Mitch watched her as she walked away and caught up to Stan. Her ponytail swung as she jogged and even with her zip up hoodie on, he could tell that she was defined. Her yoga pants cut off at the calf and were tight on her lower half, showing off the strength that she had in her legs. What she didn’t know is that he and Stan had stood on the hill watching her lead the group before coming down. He saw just a little bit of how she fought and knew that she was good at what she did, and she knew it. There was something about her that Mitch recognized though, a coldness behind her eyes that was there even though she had tried to hide it. Moving the hair from his eyes, he started towards the house that he and the other recruits stayed in wanting nothing more than to just shower and be alone.

@cxddlyash

#american assassin #mitch rapp x reader #american assassin fanfic #american assassin x reader #mitch rapp #dylan o'brien #mitch rapp fanfic #mitch rapp imagines

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cywscross · 5 years

Note

got any f/f fic recs?

Okay so apparently not Final Fantasy but femslash. I’m stupid, sorry. Uhh I don’t read that many femslash compared to slash but I can name some:

NARUTO

Sing as their bones go marching in again by felinedetached (Sakura/Ino)

Instead, it goes like this: Haruno Sakura is the daughter of two civilians, from civilian families. She is nothing and no one—smart, yes, top kunoichi, yes, but she will never be on par with clan kids. She is teammates to an orphan powerhouse from a dead clan and the last remaining Uchiha.

Haruno Sakura is nothing and nobody, but she breathes and grows and thrives and the forest thrives with her.

(She opens her eyes to wood, grown from nothing, and Hatake Kakashi stares in disbelief at the tree where his student used to be.)

Or, Haruno Sakura should have had the goddamn Mokuton and this author is mad.

No one there to shame me for my youth by felinedetached (Sakura/Ino)

What she hadn’t expected was to be what is apparently next in line for Kakashi’s position—although, she supposes it was inevitable—or for the nurses at the hospital to look at her with such adoration.

Sakura’s not complaining, she just hadn’t expected it.

(She’s the medic on a team of powerhouses, the backline fighter to Naruto and Sasuke’s brilliance, and she never thought it would be her people looked at like this.)

But it is her; and as she gets glances and propositions from both civilian and ninja, from male and female alike, she wonders.

The Fair Maiden by Tozette (Sakura/Ino)

Basically: Princess Ino has been kidnapped by the terrible dragon Sakura! Brave knights Chouji and Shikamaru must rescue her from the fearsome beast. It... does not go entirely as expected.

The Shinobi version of Pride by grit (Sakura/Hinata/Karin)

The coffee sways dangerously.

“Why,” Sakura interrupts, before the chaos can get any worse, “are you in my kitchen?”

every fire is a lesson learned by blackkat (Konan/Sakura)

Just when Konan has lost hope, she meets a hero.

three birds watch and the fourth flies by grit (Minato!Sakura/Kushina)

There's a legend in her hands like clay, so she must work hard to be formidable, to be everything he was and she isn't, because what if she screws up the future, selfish enough to make space for her own?

She pours over heaps of sealing scrolls and tries not to think too hard on what happens if she fails.

Or: Timid Minato but this time around, she's Sakura.

throw it my way (all the love you keep) by amako (Sakura/Ino)

The crux of the matter is: they don't have a Hokage, the one that could be Hokage is sharing a Moment with his soulmate or whatever, and when asked to take the mantle again, Tsunade had broken a few bones. Not hers, obviously.

will to live by justdoityoufucker (Sakura/Ino)

Sakura joins the ANBU. The entire world seems a little tilted after that, but they all adapt.

Bumpy Future by Dovey (Sakura/Hinata)

It's her last year at the academy when Sakura hits her head. When she wakes up, she has a little trouble matching memories to the people in them- but she'll have to get it right eventually, yeah?

in which sakura pairs vague associations with the wrong people, and everyone is much happier because of it (Except Iruka-sensei).

the Rebel ‘verse by felinedetached (Sakura/Ino)

(Three things come after that:

The moment of realisation. The moment she realises Sasuke’s left the village, gone off to do who knows what with Orochimaru-

Her memory returns to her - she was useless against her teammate; taken down by a pressure point and unable to do anything to prevent him from getting at it.

Inner rages, throws herself around, cursing and screaming until finally, finally she calms and she says Uchiha Sasuke is a traitor.)

In which Sakura gets the character development she deserved.

shattered dreams into rhapsodies by blackkat (Kushina/Mikoto)

For the prompt "I’m a monster/guardian that the local village give sacrifices too and you’re the new sacrifice but don’t worry I won’t eat you, I’m kinda lonely"

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HARRY POTTER

Four Walls (And the Right People) by blackkat (Lily/Narcissa)

“Is coming in there going to make me lose my will to live?” Lily calls, amused.

“No!” Harry protests, wounded, like she and Narcissa haven’t previously walked in on structural damage, fires, flooding, and mysteriously conjured cat-sized dragons. Sirius has been a terrible influence on them.

the girl who lived (again) by dirgewithoutmusic (trans!Harry/Ginny)

Molly tried her best. When Harry had told them, Arthur had asked excitedly, "is this a Muggle thing?" Hermione had hurried out a "no!" and a frantic history of gender diversity in the wizarding world.

"It's just that I'm a girl," Harry had said, and Arthur had nodded and asked her about how telephone booths worked. He would call her by the right pronouns until the day he died at the respectable old age of one hundred and thirty three, and he would make it seem easy.

But Molly had to try. Hermione explained things faster and higher-pitched every time Molly messed up a pronoun. Molly frowned and muttered and put extra potatoes on Harry's plate at breakfast. Harry slept in Ron's room, which didn't bother either of them but which made Hermione scowl.

Harry got boxes of sweets and warm hugs, as Molly chewed things over. For her fifteenth Christmas, the Weasley sweater she would receive would be a bright, friendly, terrible pink.

The next time Harry visited, Molly put her on Ginny's floor to sleep-- for some definition of sleep that involved Hermione hissing threats at three in the morning if Harry and Ginny didn't "shut up about Wronski feints, do you know what time it is."

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GAME OF THRONES

When Warp Is Fire And Weft Is Ice by afterandalasia (Dany/Sansa)

People tell many stories about them, the Mother of Dragons and the Queen in the North.

Some of them even have a grain of truth in them.

a strangeness of sunlight by musicforswimming (Dany/Sansa)

Someone calls Sansa home, and sets her free in doing so.

Ivory and Dragonglass by madeinessos (Rhaenys/Sansa)

For the valar-morekinks prompt on livejournal: "Rhaeneys follows in her father's footsteps when she and Sansa run away together to the free cities so they can be with each other . Both ladies left a letter to their families so that their absence wouldn't spark the embers of another rebellion."

Sansa in Dorne by sear (Arianne/Sansa)

Alayne Stone wakes confused, in the body of the young maid she once was. She has returned to Winterfell, before everything went wrong. All she wants now is to be free, to never be hurt again. Dorne will give her that.

Mirror of the sun by myrish_lace (Dany/Sansa)

Daenerys arrives at Winterfell to attempt to treat with Jon Snow. She's immediately side-tracked by her fascination with Sansa Stark, and the two grow closer. Told from Daenerys's point of view.

-0-0-

And these are genderswap femslash, in case you’re not a fan:

TEEN WOLF

Utterly Appropriate by wynnebat (Peter/Stiles)

There's only one person whom Stiles would marry, and whoever has asked for her hand isn't on that list.

Spin a Web of Silk by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Peter/Stiles)

“Darling, will you marry me?”

Stiles stared into the eyes of the light of her life, the one who held her heart- her love.

And then she looked back at the man who had asked the question.

“Yes.”

Sugar Babies Not Sugar Vaginas by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Peter/Stiles)

Stiles is a copywriter working for a service that's been contacted by a company that sells something called Passion Dust. It's so much worse than it sounds.

Free Birth Control by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Peter/Stiles)

“I can’t believe they haven’t fixed the footbridge yet,” Peter said, disgruntled as she toweled off her feet, getting all the muck from the creek off of them.

“I can,” Talia said absently as she shelled peas on the front porch. “The only people who use that bridge are you, Stilinski, and Stilinski’s clients. And Stilinski does her best to avoid clients. Did you hear what she did to the woman who took out the bridge?” Talia settled further back into her chair. Peter immediately recognized it as Gossip Position, and leaned in eagerly.

“No, tell me everything.”

Ain't No Stranger (Been This Way Before) by pibroch (littleblackdog) (Peter/Stiles)

Stiles loved orgasms, and she really loved the shuddery, mind-numbing orgasms Peter had spent months meticulously and enthusiastically learning to coax out of her. She also loved the relief from cramps she’d get from a good climax or four, and Peter had no complaints about blood. Definitely a win-win, all around. - Stiles has a period from hell, and Peter has a surprise.

On The Loose by SmartKIN (Peter/Stiles)

Stiles has a job to do; Hot Lady Sniper almost ruins it for her.

The Same Damn Hunger by Twisted_Mind (Allison/Stiles)

There’s no soft jazz, no flower petals or candles, because that’s not what this is.

-0-

MARVEL

Mightier Than The Sword by aloneintherain (Johnny/Peter)

Janey Storm freezes in the doorway.

Pen is half naked. Her boney, freckled shoulders and the faded sports bra she’s had since high school are on display. Bruises from this morning’s encounter with the Scorpion haven’t had time to heal yet—purples and sickly greens tesselate over her ribs and toned stomach.

Janey can see every unedited part of Pen: her open knuckles, blood a sharp red against her pale skin; her unbrushed hair, grown out past Pen’s jaw like a tangle of weeds; her loose jeans, slung low on her hips, with fraying ends and ripped knees. Janey stands there and sees Pen Parker, a half naked, wide-eyed girl choking on her heart.

“It’s occupied,” Pen manages.

Or: a universe where Johnny and Peter were born girls.

-0-

YOWAMUSHI PEDAL

One For The Road by Atropa Belladonna (WorldsJunk) (Onoda/Arakita)

Fuck her entire life on a cactus she’s a fucking loser. Not because Onoda’s boobs are bigger than her’s - ok, they’ve always been. Actually, everyone has bigger tits than she does, she is flat as hell and she likes it. Why the hell would she want a couple of Shinkai-style jugs waving around in the wind when she’s riding for fucks’s sakes, that’s impractical as all fuck. No, Arakita is a loser because now she can’t stop thinking about Onoda-chan’s tits and no way she is perving like this on an innocent girl that is all around too good for the likes of her.

#Naruto #Teen Wolf #Marvel #Yowamushi Pedal #Harry Potter #Game of Thrones #Naruto Fanfic Rec #Teen Wolf Fanfic Rec #Misc Fanfic Rec #Harry Potter Fanfic Rec #Marvel and DC Fanfic Rec #Femslash

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artemis25603 · 4 years

Text

So apparently I never shared my clone ocs on this account so here they are now.

They are called Blitz company in the 117th legion under the command of Jedi general Aella.

SlipShot CC-6493, ARC commander

SlipShot was originally a CT but got moved to CC when the Kaminoans saw that he was a good leader. SlipShot got his name during training when he was trying to shoot a target but slipped and fell while pulling the trigger and he still got a bullseye. He is quiet and insecure but can come out of his shell in a second if his brothers are in trouble.

Tra CT-6394, ARC Captain

Tra is SlipShots batchmate and has been with him from the beginning. He got his name because he just really likes triangles but didn’t want to be named a shape so he shortened it to Tra. Tra is always encouraging the shinies to do their best and he is very cultured I swear this man knows like every single language and loves to teach people new words in them

Jazz CT-3648, shiny

Jazz loves music and that’s how he got his name. He is very charming and all the vod love him and he’s everyone’s vod’ika but don’t let his outgoing personality fool you he’s always listening and knows a lot of dirty secrets of different vod

Blade CT-4294, Sniper

Blade got his name because he always carries around a vibroblade at all times. Blade is very observant and meticulous you can always see him watching whether it’s animals or people he can sit for hours and watch. He’s also very meticulous everything has to be in the right place and all work has to be done before he can go to bed.

Guard CT-5391, medic

Guard got his name because he would do anything to protect his brothers. Guard is humble and reliable. This boi can not take compliments if you compliment him he will be a blushing mess and say he did nothing important and will always push the glory to other people. He is also very reliable. You need help with something go to Guard, he will do everything in his ablility to help you.

Demon CT-9275, heavy ordinance

Demons name is very literal, if you ever see him on the battlefield you can get all around him are dead droids many clones are glad he’s on their side. Demon is very intimidating when you first see him but he is one of the nicest vod you will ever find but he’s no pushover either and can and will beat you up.

Dust CT-5294, ARC

Dust got his name when he inhaled some as a dare and wouldn’t stop sneezing for a good 10 minutes. Dust is an asshole but a lovable one you need help with a prank or something that will make him laugh he’s your guy and if you need anything he’s also your guy because he’s runnin all the blackmarket deals on the ship and nothing gets past him

Six CT-7494, special operations

Six got his name when he fell down 6 flights of stairs then just got back up like nothing happened. Six is very loud and loves to blow things up you got a problem he’s got a solution and it involves bombs and detonators. Six is also a big softie though and if you need comfort he gives the best hugs

#my bois #my art #ocs #my ocs #star wars the clone wars #clones #star wars #star wars art #cline wars art #i love them all

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veridium · 5 years

Text

the good, the bad, and the dirty

GET ON YOUR SUIT & TIES YA’LL BECAUSE WE’RE HEADING TO BEST-DRESSED HELL! IT’S GOING DOWN!

the start of this all // the previous episode

Special thanks to Panic! At The Disco for this segment song title reference. Oof.

The weekend is as it’s always been whenever she goes home: a brain-washing initiative for a Neo-Stepford Wives way of life. While she hides in her childhood bedroom playing “Beverly Hills” on blast to drown out the noise on the other side of the door, the night of the gala rolls around whether she likes it or not. If it wasn’t for Ellinor’s text updates about her weekend with Rutherford tol and Rutherford smol, she probably would have swan dove into her family pool from her second floor mini-balcony just to scare the shit out of her parents. Again.

She gets ready on her own, much to her Mother’s taste for opulence. A red, strapless velvet gown is her piece meal: not nearly her style, but not completely out of left field. When you can’t go black, you go red. Its ruching onto one side gives her a good illusion of a hourglass figure...or so Josephine recommended. She curls her hair and pins it to fall on one shoulder. Red lips and eyeliner sharper than her stiletto heels, and she’s done for caring. Traffic will be hell anyway, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t have her own way of escaping the evening. When she arrives and hangs up on her bluetooth call with Ellinor, the first presence she encounters is her Mom’s of course, because they had spent so much time apart. A whole hour.

Her Mother spends the brief time they have convened on the sidewalk in front of the doors to do the following: side-comment about her dress, wonder why she did not ride with them, and tell her not to do ‘unideal’ things since she is running for Mayor in the Spring so the family has to look presentable. Her step-father, Fred, comments that she cleans up nice, but it too scared of her wrath to do more. She will enter in after they do, to not risk an over-attached link; her preference, not theirs. While she stands off to the side of the main entrance and security detail, she can hear the music: smooth jazz, live, by the echo of it. Which means people will pretending they like jazz, know jazz, go see jazz. Fantastic; as if she wasn’t striving to puke into a ficus during the event anyway.

Then, as if her Champion on a shining Honda bike, Theia pulls up to the valet. She’s wearing a perfectly fitting pair of black straight pants and a matching blazer with a white pressed button-down shirt on the inside. A deep purple pocket square and black matte dress shoes cap off the outfit.

“Josephine work her magic on you, too?” She says with a laugh on her lips when she jogs up.

“Pff, yes, thankfully. You look...like you’re about to buy the entire gallery and tip the man...shit.”

“Yeah well, I gotta polish up once in a blue moon, right?”

“Ugh, a Blue Moon. That sounds so good right now.” Olivia slouches and leans against the cement block planter behind her, full of tropical plants that were undoubtedly planted mature rather than grown. Everything pretty and worth time was purchasable like that.

Theia smiles, and leans next to her. “Hey, come on you fembot. It’ll be over before you know it. Let’s go before we’re not fashionably late anymore. I have a beautiful woman in a pretty dress to see and feel undeserving of.”

The place is a madhouse. Whoever said “little Board gala” was lying out their ass. Oh, wait, it was her Mom. They enter on the first floor, but the locus it down a central, rather wide staircase made of glass and metal. People walk down is as if they’re floating down from on high -- and they probably believe it. At the base is a couple of photographers for local press, and a red carpet. A corny, overdone red carpet.

“God,” Olivia mumbles as they come down the walkway towards the stairs. “I match the carpet.”

Theia chuckles. “No, you out-do it. Come on, keep up the pace.”

“Theia, I’m in heels, and I’m tiny. Your step is four of mine, okay?”

“Then chop chop, miss!”

She elbows her in the side a bit, before rounding the open corner. The lights shining down from the tall ceiling up three floors are yellow and warm, but it doesn’t smooth over the icey, artificial feel of it all.

Elbowing through a few groups of people they stand at the top of the stairwell.

“Ready?” Theia sighs under her breath.

“No,” she responds. Then, with futility, they both start descending. Slow, not for the sake of her enjoyment, but for her shoes and gown skirt. Everything is bad as it is, until out the corner of her eye, a certain head and face flag her vision down like nothing else. Black hair. Pointed, strong nose. Oh God. Oh no.

“Shit,” Olivia curses low, veering in close to Theia. “Theia, I have to get out of here.” They’re still walking to save face, but she wants to run in the opposite direction and never return.

Theia looks out, searching. “What, what’s going on?”

“She’s here.”

“She?”

“She...she who--”

“Oh, shit. That’s her, isn’t it. Here, take hold of my arm.” She doesn’t wait for Olivia to do it, and takes her hand and hooks it under her arm, now looking like she’s escorting her. Olivia pulls back but then, as if on tragic cue, the woman she believes to be the one woman she never wants to see again looks up.

And then their eyes lock. Her heart stops, and her weight falls heavier onto Theia as she gets them down the stairs. It’s like she’s out in the open for a sniper to take her out, elevated above it all on her way down from the bullshit, wealthy heavens. It is a horrible, agonizing few seconds, before she breaks her stare and gazes down at the remaining steps. She’s too far away to see details, but her pristine, but slightly sullen complexion is enough.

People stop and stare up at them, and photographers pine mindlessly. They’re beautiful, well-dressed, and daughters of prominent families. Both rejects of the silver-spooners club, though, for different reasons. They stand together respectfully and wait for the fanfare to pass as it always does after a half minute; afterward, it’s a swift pull to the underside of the stairs and out of sight.

“Fuck! She wasn’t supposed to be here!”

“How did you know? Did she say as much?” Theia follows and stands tall while Olivia paces. Steady for her, as a friend would want to be. But in the moment she wishes Ellinor was there to match her pitch of over-worrying.

“I did--well, like, okay,” she pivots around, “the game was this weekend. The jocks party like heathens. She should be there. Ellinor said--” she stops herself. Ellinor did not say, either way, for sure. She just took the conversation for granted. She pulls out her phone and starts texting like a mad-woman:

--SOS. Cassandra is here!!!! I am losing my mind!!

Theia takes her phone just as the message sends, intervening. “Olivia, get yourself together.”

“No! No no, this is not ‘get together’ time. This is panic ti--”

“It is not! You are going to walk out there and mingle, and be hot, and not back down! Come on, you look dressed to kill. Now is the time, if there ever was one.”

A half-second of deliberation, then… “Nope! Running! Gonna--gonna r-r--”

“Liv!” her hands go to her shoulders. “You have been given a golden opportunity. The queers above have granted you this one fleeting moment of brilliant karma. You, alone, have the power to slay your demons once and for all. Are you going to cower and hide, or are you going to own it?”

Shit, that was a good speech. Olivia holds her breath and bites her lip, trying to man-up. Woman-up. Person-up. Literally anything at this point would help.

“Ugh, fuck,” she continues breaking her promise not to cuss excessively. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, take my arm again, and let’s go.”

As they re-emerge, Olivia can’t help but scoff. “You’ve been watching too much Downton Abbey with Josephine, haven’t you?”

“Agh, no! Just work with me. I have to find a way to challenge her to a duel, anyhow.”

“Jesus. You have been watching it.”

They disburse into the crowd, and Olivia does her best to mingle with meaningless manners to everyone she rubs shoulders and elbows with. Some County Commissioners, a few old people, and some young. It was exhausting, but by the end of the first hour, she had hope. Only one more, and she could free herself. Eventually they did run into good company: Josephine, in a dress just as, if not more beautiful than expected. Purple, matching Theia’s pocket square, and sequined mermaid style.

“My dear,” Josephine said coyly, as Theia left Olivia’s arm for hers. “Traffic wasn’t too much, I hope?”

“Not at all,” Theia kissed her politely against her cheek, hand gentle on her bent elbow, “I just had to persuade Olivia not to run away before she could leave her glass slipper.”

Josie giggles, and turns her attention to their third-wheel. “So, has it been bearable?”

“Not really,” Olivia says as she snags a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and his tray. It’s her third serving in the last hour or so. Theia turns to Josie and whispers something in her ear, all discrete and sexy. Fuck it all, they look so good together. When Josie’s happy face adjusts, she can only hope for the weak alcohol to start kicking in.

“I see,” Josie muses, “I should have known something was afoot when Lelian--”

“Who, now?” Olivia looks and interrupts, more on edge.

Josie raises a brow. “I...uh, nothing. Nope. Nothing.”

“Josie…” Olivia dreads, “what haven’t you told me?”

“I have not kept anything from you! But I am not responsible fo--”

“Josie!!”

The voice that could summon Olivia’s wrath comparable to a thousand suns comes from behind her. In an instant, she evaluates the surroundings for potential sharp objects to use. But it’s not fast enough for darling Leliana, as she appears. They grow their mingling circle to accommodate her.

“Leliana,” Theia nods tenuously, “so good to see you.”

“Theia!” Leliana smiles, before bending forward and kissing her on either cheek. Theia looks nervous, but humors her Parisian attitude. “You look stunning. I am so glad you could make it here.”

“Yes, well, I don’t miss an opportunity to support Josie, or her sister. By the way, Josie, where even is Yvette? She owes me my CDs, still.”

Josie folds her arms and snorts. “I’m afraid she is somewhere flirting with a classmate. Something Lucian, Lucas, I have no idea. It is her night to peacock.”

“So it is,” Leliana adds, before she looks at Olivia, blinking and shaking her head as if she had just appeared out of thin air. Maybe it was her quiet brooding. “Olivia, my goodness! I didn’t even notice you, you are stealthy in a crowd.” She’s wearing a knee-length, black dress. Chanel, maybe.

“Yes, I am, Leliana. Thank you for noticing.” Not stealthy enough, evidently. She isn’t safe from the same double-cheek-kissing, and she survives it with less grace than Theia mustered. But, when it’s over, it’s nothing but glee for everyone else.

“How wonderful. These events can be so boring.”

“They can, indeed,” Theia takes Olivia’s glass before she can knock it back like the inner bar blonde she is. “You are flying solo tonight, Leliana?”

Theia I am going to murder you in your sle--

“Hah! Oh, no, not this time, actually. She’s...hm, let me see!” she looks back over the crowd behind them. At this point, Olivia is praying for the rapture. Something, anything apocalyptic. Or a guy. A guy Leliana has brought as arm candy, named Cliff, who studies kinesiology and loves snickers. “Oh, yes! Hey, over here!” she waves.

Olivia, who has had her shoulders and chin tucked for self-preservation, locks eyes with Theia. She has that same look on her face as she did when she was giving her the pep talk: carpe diem, bitch, it’s time to handle it. Josie also looks at her, more sympathetic than motivational, but they both look away as the person Leliana’s flagging down like a plane draws closer. And so, with a deep breath and raised head, Olivia peeks back over her shoulder to behold her undoing.

A black, long-sleeve jumpsuit, with a plunging neckline that goes to the top of her ribs. Simple, fitted well, and so flattering on her figure. Black oxford-style shoes with a slight heel. Her hair is shiny and soft-looking, so much so she wants to run her fingers through it the second she sees it. For the second time, they lock eyes, and it’s in passing again. But when Cassandra looks at her the whole room becomes abysmal.

“Ah, there you are,” Leliana’s voice echoes from miles away, as if Olivia is underwater. It’s too much. It’s too good. She looks away fast, back to her friends, while Cassandra arrives between where she stands and the redhead ruining her life.

“Theia, I’m unsure if you’ve met Cass--”

“Cassandra Pentaghast,” Theia says, vaguely threatening as she holds Olivia’s champagne to her own lips, “no need to say.”

Leliana doesn’t miss a beat, glossing over the interruption. She places a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder and it inspires Kill Bill sirens in Olivia’s mind that are near-deafening. “Remember I mentioned her? Josephine’s girlfriend,” she adds.

Cassandra’s chin lifts, her tone changing, becoming more interested. “Oh. Yeah?”

Josephine bunches her shoulders all cute and clever, “the one and only, finally in the same place at the same time.” At that, Theia grins and nudges her with affection. Easy, and complete. They fit together.

“Nice to meet you, Theia,” Cassandra finally says, calmer in tone. “I have heard good things about you.”

Theia gives a pointed look back. “Wish I could say th--”

“Yes, I’m afraid I’m too much of a bragger,” Josie, again, softens the blow. “Uh, Theia, why don’t you and I go see about the chocolate fountain I hear is in the east lobby? I’m starting to get hungry, anyways.”

Olivia feels herself go pale, and she looks up, like a light bulb goes off. Her way out is granted, or so she thinks. “Good idea--”

“Oh, I can bring you back something!” Josie smiles, taking Theia in her arm and turning away, “you do not worry about exerting yourself in those stilettos!”

Olivia gives a pained exhale, thinking she’ll just follow anyway. Fuck manners. But then, she’s called by her temper.

“So, Olivia!” Leliana catches her mid step. She turns back to see them both standing to themselves like tall beams of rich snobbery, Cassandra looking reticent while Leliana’s enthusiastic as all hell. “I hear your Mother is running for Mayor in the Spring?”

She swallows hard, and straightens up. Think tall, be tall, take the chance. Make Theia proud before you kill her for all this. “Yes, she is. She’s very excited about it.”

“That is impressive. Running against an incumbent in her own party, no less.”

“Well, Republicans do love plurality of choice, do they not?” she clutches her bag with both hands.

“That’s true. Interesting times. Did you know Cassandra’s cousin will be running for the Democratic seat?”

Cassandra speaks, but is interrupted. “Leliana, that is--”

“It’s all rather hush. Your family is so reserved with their plans. It’s a wonder how they have so much going on.” An awkward half-pause, before Olivia turns more to Cassandra. Their eyes lock, and she softens.

“That is exciting, I’m sure. Congratulations and good luck to your cousin, Cassandra.”

“It..it’s no big deal. Political offices are common trappings in my family.”

Olivia fakes a grin, but her sheepish response is usurped. “Modesty,” Leliana remarks, hands going behind her. “Even with such a recent victory under your belt, no less.”

“Leliana…”

“No,” Olivia interrupts, trying harder, “I heard from Ellinor. You won the game! That is good.”

Cassandra looks back at her, somewhat surprised looking. “It was...it was--”

“It was harrowing, to say the least. A nail-biter. But Cassandra’s been practicing so intensely, and she was a master on the field. Carried the team, if you ask me. It was so special to watch. tout à fait le spectacle!” quite the show. Lord, this woman was working the Francophile angle. It was so painful. So, so painful. Olivia’s eyes glazed a bit, and she let a breath out her parted lips.

“Leliana, really, that is quite--”

“Agh, If you’ll excuse me, both of you. I...I have to make sure my eye makeup hasn’t sweat all over my face.” She looks to both of them, slanting her chin fast before seeing herself away. Behind her, she swears a faint “Olivia” is spoken, but she doesn’t heed it. Ejecting herself into the crowd. Cutting through the legion of people in black blazers and multi-colored gowns she finds a corridor, where a less-dramatic staircase is found behind an exit door. She climbs up one, two flights, heels clicking furiously until she enters the floor. It’s part of the gallery, more desolate with every turn she makes into it. She comes across an offshoot room, wide but not long, where an artist’s works line the walls with a bench in the middle of the floor. It’s white walls, industrial lights above her head, and impressionist-inspired portraits. She’s panting, out of air beneath her tight dress and the spanx. Fuck spanx.

She walks to the far corner of the room and stands in front of a painting, a woman in a black dress with a low back, sitting at a round table. There’s fruit in a bowl, of course. Always fruit in a fucking bowl. A game plan has to be made while she catches her breath. Just as she’s about to get her phone out to call Ellinor and signal her retreat, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Shoes hitting the concrete floor back in the main walkway. Closer, and closer.

“Olivia?” Her voice. It carries well, in the gallery’s cavernous architecture.

She looks to her shoulder, but keeps her back to her. “Oh, hey,” she then turns. Her hand rubs her arm. God, she looks so beautiful. Tall, statuesque, with muscled curves she wants to get lost in. It’s been a week and she’s starved like a year without crumbs.

“Hey,” Cassandra looks anxious, like she hadn’t planned this all through. “I...I’m sorry for Leliana being all...”

“What? No, don’t be. I’m not...that’s not at all why I’m up here. I just needed air. I get flustered in crowds.”

She nods abruptly. “I-I do, too.” Her hand hooks onto her elbow. “You...I almost didn’t recognize you. You look…”

“Yeah, I know.” Fuck. She shakes her head and corrects herself. “I mean, I...thank you. And don’t worry, I don’t hate your date, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s swe--”

“Date?”

She flinches. “I...I just figured...”

Cassandra’s awkwardness melts, and she rolls her eyes and looks away, shaking her head. Everything about her says ‘unbelievable’ with frustration. “Leliana and I are not dating.”

“You...you aren’t? B-but,” she turns to face her head on, hands falling to her sides. “I thought when I saw you both at the coffee shop that morning, I…”

Cassandra steps forward. “She and I, we…” she chuckles drily, “we go to--”

“The same church. Got it.” It always...goes back...to church. She sucks her teeth for a moment, regaining her composure. Everything in her heart says leap forward, make right what was wronged. But her mind says spare more heartache. More awkward silence passes between them, before Cassandra takes another step closer.

“Is that why you’re acting like this?”

“Me? Cassandra, you have been just as aloof as I have.”

“I was trying to respect your space. You were the one who called for it.”

“Yeah, well, you said you agreed and you wouldn’t have time.” Her shoulders go back as argumentative confidence settles in. She’s good at picking fights. Not so much at...well, most other things. But if there was ever a good hail mary for her in a tough situation, it was a sparking conflict. “Um...you know, like I said, no harm done. I was going to get back to the party anyways, find my Mom, she’s--”

“You’re going to leave again.”

She blinks and looks up from her attempt to walk away, and Cassandra is staring at her. Decisive, and impatient. One might even suggest fed up.

“I…”

“You are doing exactly what you did the first time.”

Her cheeks heated. “I beg your pardon?”

A humorless smile. “You think you have it all answered again, and you’re running. You won’t let me explain, because you don’t care. You just want what you want when you want it, and when you don’t, it’s nothing.”

“Ohoho, oh no, you don’t,” the earrings come off...metaphorically.

“Then what’s the truth? Because from where I stand, you’re booking it fast for a woman in heels and a gown.”

“I’m a dancer, I’m used to being on my toes.”

Cassandra folds her arms. “Olivia.”

“Cassandra.” She matches her tone, but staring at her is breaking her apart. “You...you think what happened could just happen and I would not want space?”

“And what exactly happened, in your opinion?”

“You wouldn’t...you just…” she struggled, waving her hand at her side. “You have been making me do all these things, and chase, and I don’t know what I’m chasing! That’s what happened!”

Cassandra stares, a brow raising, but otherwise dead-pan. She then comes even closer. They are now only a couple yards apart when she stops, looking clever again. Clever and infuriating.

“Let me ask this, then: which one of us has initiated all our plans thus far?”

Olivia pouts and stomps her heel, arms crossing. She does mental math: the concert, the coffee date, the Church...thing. The pho outing. The work night in her office. Shit.

“I, uh...y-you.” Dammit. She can’t look her in the eye.

“And who has taken the other to various places that are important to her, so that the other can really get to know her, and perhaps even trust her?”

“...You.”

“And who has--”

“You, okay. You. Fine. Whatever it is, it’s you. I got it.”

Cassandra’s gaze lowers to the floor, and her hands go into her pockets. Shit, the jumpsuit has pockets.

“I think you have miscalculated just who has been doing the chasing.”

“Really?” Olivia rebuffs, “and what exactly are you chasing for, then? You...”

“I what?”

“...Make no sense, Cassandra! You’re all intentional, and you have your rules, but you don’t say anything about what they’re supposed to be accomplishing? I have no fucking idea what you want from me. You think I’m the demanding one, but you’re the one who has all the hoops to jump through with nothing promised on the other side. So what’s up?.” Her voice echoes a little too well, and she hopes they are alone wherever they are in the ridiculous building.

In the wake of her temper, though, Cassandra only frowns and looks to the floor. Pensive, as her eyebrows twitch up. Her lip rolls inward.

“You know, Liv, I don’t think the problem is my ambiguity. You’re too smart for that. I think you knew what I wanted; I think you’ve always known. You’re just upset that you can’t call the shots, even if it means the chance at being treated how you should be treated without having to spell it out or dictate it.”

Ouch.

“...And how should I be treated, then? Like a virginal Princess? To be brought back to the good side from her tawdry exp--”

“Like a person who deserves respect and genuine care as to what her ideas, concerns, and interests are!” her voice lifts, but not in volume. More...in depth. “Do you really think you objectifying me like that is going to resolve the issues you have with objectifying yourself? That every time something goes astray, you can just blame it on my background, when you know so little about it other than what I have so cautiously shown you?”

Her vocabulary, her passion, has and always will get the best of her. Olivia deflates underneath her puffed up chest, now hollowed out and losing the hunger to fight. Cassandra is right, she is not always the most articulate. However, when she is it cuts to the bone. Clean, and merciless.

“I’m not trying to do any of that,” she says, stoic but losing grip, “I’m just trying to do what’s best for me. And from the sounds of it, you have been very mistaken in your understanding of who I am.”

“Oh, have I?”

She swallows. “Yes.”

“Don’t be ridi--”

“Bullshit! You don’t get to call me ridiculous. You don’t get to show up here out of the blue, have your friend torment me on your behalf, and call me ridiculous!”

“I did not come here to torment you, I had no idea you would even be here! You said you hated these kinds of things.”

“I do! I hate them, but my family has me on a leash called ‘tuition.’ What’s your excuse, huh? Needing to show off on the town after your big soccer...thing?!” she bitterly remembers she’s inept at sports. Inept at women, too. It’s a match made in hell.

Cassandra stiffens, and takes a beat. “If it’s anyone doing the tormenting, Olivia, it’s not Leliana. I would look in the mirror for that answer.”

Olivia’s eyes narrow into a hostile, acidic glare even she can feel burn. “How dare y--”

“No, you know what,” Cassandra sets a foot back, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did think I had found someone who turned out to be anything but who I thought they were. I’ll save you the trouble and see myself out. I know how it tortures you to be the first, anyways.” Unadulterated sarcasm. It cuts even deeper than her words.

“How can you--”

“No! Enough is enough. Now maybe, just maybe, you’ll get a taste of what it’s like when the person you can’t get out of your head for some God forsaken reason...ugh, forget it. Have a good night.” She continues back-stepping, hands with palms flat in Olivia’s direction. Olivia’s heart goes quiet again with the hope that maybe it’s all a dream, or Cassandra will come back around the corner and take it all back. But she doesn’t wake up, and Cassandra doesn’t come back. From the distant end of the floor, the fire escape door opens and shuts.

She wants to say goodbye, or mingle to keep up the charade, but coming down the stairs she can’t bring herself to rejoin. She can’t show her face, smiling and graceful, when she feels this way. So, she gets off on the first floor, and heads for the exit. There, she waits like a scorned Greek statue in her pretty gown for her car to be brought around. There’s no messages on her phone, not even from Theia or Josie. They must be having a wonderful night. Good, they should.

She drives off with all her masterful disregard for speed limits. When she brakes at the first stoplight she plugs in her phone to the AUX cord and puts it on one of her weird Spotify Daily Shuffle playlists. The first up is The 1975, “Somebody Else.” She leans forward onto her steering wheel and bursts into tears. Luckily, her last-minute stop before she drives home is nearby. She stops at the Trader Joe’s, strutting with wrath inside in her gown.

All the late night vegan Moms and 20-somethings turn to look at her, and watch her as she marches her way to the alcohol section. Her face was carefully wiped using the visor mirror before she entered, thank God, but she’s still choking back sniffles. While she stands in front of the menagerie of bottles she calls Ellinor, but nothing. Voicemail.

“H-hey, Ellinor. I’m on my way h-home. Things h-happened, and...look, I’m gonna pick up stuff and be back tonight. Maybe y-you’ll be a-awake. I...I love you…” she wants to say more, because the message thus far sounds pitiful, but she hangs up there. She grabs two bottles of mid-priced whiskey and marches, growling at the rum on her way out.

Whiskey and chocolate bars. Elitist, ‘ethically-made,’ over-priced chocolate bars, and she’s out onto the road. Her bags never left her trunk. They rarely ever do when she goes home.

She drives like a Bond stunt woman, but it gets her back faster. By the time she sets foot on the campus parking lot she’s listened to an entire 1975 discography.. The last 20 minutes were no music at all, which, arguably, is the most miserable. But she can’t keep crying while driving.

‘I think you knew what I wanted.’ Past-tense. It’s digging under her skin and driving her wild.

It’s past midnight when she walks into the dorm, barefoot and with her brown paper grocery bag, and everything is as safe as it’s gonna get. Going to her door, a faint sound echoes into the hallway and makes her stop.

Crying...that’s gotta be crying. Olivia turns and jogs down the hall as her stomach sinks with an intuitive feeling that shit has hit the fan. Pressing her ear to the door, her worst fear is realized. Nothing can stop her from shoving a bobby pin from her over-sprayed hair and unlocking her way in.

When she does, it’s bedlam: Sheets tossed, pillows thrown around the room, her string lights on draped on the walls but nothing else. And Ellinor, on the floor, curled up and sobbing.

“Ellinor, oh my God!” she drops everything and falls to her knees, crawling over to her. “Ellinor, hey, hey it’s me…!”

Ellinor flinches, but keeps crying. “L-Liv,” she quivers, “I...I…”

“Shh, sh,” Olivia sits back and pulls her into her lap, wiping her hair out of her face. She’s choking back tears both of self-pity and sympathy, now. In no shape to be a friendly savior, but she’ll try. Ellinor gains enough coherency to roll over into her, shoving her face in Olivia’s stomach. More crying, for what feels like ages, as they hold onto each other.

Then, after some time, Ellinors inhales sharp and congested. “Y-you f-feel like a Build-a-B-Bear…”

Olivia lays her head back against the lower twin bunk wood. Her chin curdles, and she wipes her face. “Y-yeah, I do. It’s a whole t-thing.”

“Liv, I f-fucked everything o-over...and he...h-he…”

“He did what?” she looks down, her attentions all the sudden lethal. “What did that bastard do?”

Ellinor trembles in her shoulders and lays on her back, face up at the ceiling as she rubs her soaking eyes. Still in Olivia’s lap, where it’s safe. “He-he went to the p-party, a-and...wait, did you…” she peers over at the bags. “Did you bring something?”

“Y-yeah,” she rubs her nose, “I went and got our favorite thing.”

“Whiskey?” her nose and lip quiver.

“Yeah. And chocolate, to go...to go in between. Maybe we should just w-wait, wait just a little while to dive in, okay? Maybe...maybe drink water, or some...something like that.”

“Ugh, angel face,” she closes her eyes and takes hold of Olivia’s hand. “You don’t look too hot, either. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Shh, babe,” she sighs, before yanking her necklace off. “Don’t be sorry. It’s...it’s not your fault. We’re gonna be okay, okay?” she takes a breath, and looks at the clock on the dresser. The second catastrophic Saturday night in less than a month. They must be going for a new record.

#college au #college au update #ellinor trevelyan #olivia sinclair #modern!olivia #adventures of ellinor and olivia #PREPARE THYSELVES #FOR THE ANGST

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