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anonymous-dentist · 6 months

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Or: a pirate au

Before having the nerve to turn Roier in to the Navy, Spreen had this to say:

“I have no compassion for anybody.”

And then he had leaned forward and driven both the metaphorical and literal-actual-goddamn sword in between Roier’s ribs, and he had whispered right into Roier’s ringing ear:

“You’re lucky I’m not drowning you.”

And then he had kicked Roier off of his ship and onto the Navy’s, and he had sailed away, free to live and fight another day while leaving his best friend and first mate behind.

But, well. Joke’s on him! It’s been a year since that fateful day, but Roier is alive, and he’s free, and he’s got a gun and a sword and a ship of his own, and he’s gonna make Spreen pay.

But first? Breakfast, and fast. The Navy is after him, and he doesn’t want to get captured this early in the morning. (Foolish would never let it go!)

The Barcoier docks just after sunrise, and Roier is off the ship and speeding down the pier before Jaiden even has the anchor weighed.

The island is small, so small that it’s just a town and some farms and a couple of trees and a single lake smack in the center of it all. It’s so small it doesn’t even have a name, but that just makes it all the better for hiding from the Navy on; if it’s too small to be on a map, it’s too small for those idiots with the Navy to pick up on.

Maybe Roier is a bad pirate captain for leaving his crew to tie up the ship and run errands while he gets everyone breakfast and tries not to get arrested. But also:

(“We need a chef,” Jaiden complains. “No offense, dude, but your cooking sucks.”

Roier sniffs, hurt, but he doesn’t argue. He’s a better chef on land than he is on the water.

“I’ll get us a chef,” he promises. “But only if you-” He pokes Jaiden between the eyes with a corner of his hardtack biscuit. “-get us better food! Nobody can cook with this!”

He smacks his biscuit hard enough against the table to crack it [the table.] Jaiden rolls her eyes, but she shrugs.)

Where there’s a good breakfast, there’s a good chef. And, on an island as tiny as this one is, said chef might just be desperate enough for a change of pace that they’d agree to become a pirate. (It’s how Spreen got Roier, after all.)

How hard can it be?

…Really hard, actually, especially now that the Federation and its Navy are starting to crack down extra hard on pirates. They’ve moved on from life imprisonment to public executions, and all because most of the pirates left on the seas have started to unionize under the guidance of the feared Captain Bad Halo.

But, who knows? Maybe today will be the day!

Maybe…

The town’s only restaurant is closed for renovations, but the town’s bakery is open, thank God.

The bakery, much like the town it’s based in, doesn’t have a name. It does, however, have a wooden sign hanging above the door with a donut painted on it. The donut’s center, rather than being a hole, is a bright yellow-irised eyeball. Freaky.

The door jingles like rusted keys as Roier enters. Someone swears from the back room; otherwise, the bakery is entirely empty.

“Coming!” Roier hears.

“No worries!” he responds. “Take your time!”

He doesn’t exactly have time for the baker to take, but he isn’t exactly going to get himself a chef by being rude, is he?

So Roier waits, and he takes the opportunity to look at the display cases by the front counter. Donuts, of course, some muffins. An… abnormal amount of meat pies. Sure? Why not! Every place has its specialties.

A few moments pass, during which Roier starts mentally counting how many of each item he’s gonna need, and then footsteps from the back and an apologetic, “Sorry, I’m just-”

The baker cuts himself off as Roier stands up and looks him over. He’s… handsome, okay. Okay. More importantly, he already looks more piratey than half of Roier’s crew: pierced ear, scar across the bridge of his nose, solid build. Hot.

“You’re a pirate,” the baker says, much calmer than most regular people would be. Good, he’s brave, pirates need to be brave.

Roier leans forward against the counter, propping himself up on his elbows. He smiles, head tilted juuuust so.

“Who, me?” he asks. He shakes his head. “Naaaah. I’m just a regular guy looking for breakfast, you know?”

The baker’s eyes trail over Roier’s head and shoulders like he’s memorizing him. Creepy, kinda. Hot, kinda.

Roier continues, “But I’ve never been here before, so… any recommendations?”

He winks. The baker’s eyes widen slightly, and then he smiles himself and leans himself against the counter, his arms just inches away from Roier’s.

“Well,” he says, “the donuts will last longer on a long trip, if that’s what you’re asking. Everything else has fresh ingredients in it.”

“Who says I’m going on a long trip?”

The baker rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the counter to start unloading donuts into a bag. “Please, nobody actually wants to stay in this shithole. I’m used to tourists.”

He has nice arms. Maybe he even knows how to use a sword already.

“Sooo… you want to leave, too?” Roier asks.

The baker shrugs. “Maybe someday.”

That isn’t a no…

So it’s basically a yes!

Roier beams. “What if today was your someday?”

The baker gives him a flat look. “I’m not a pirate.”

“Maybe I’m not, either. But I do need someone on my ship who knows how to cook, and you wanna get out of here.”

The last donut is dumped into the bag, and the baker ties the bag shut and plops it onto the counter. He leans over it with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not a chef, either,” he says. “Shouldn’t you be hiring someone that can actually cook, Captain Roier?”

At Roier’s gasp, the baker nods his head towards the wall behind Roier. On it is a bulletin board with wanted posters for nearly every pirate on the seas, Roier included.

Whoops.

Whatever! The baker hasn’t called the authorities yet, so he’s fine.

Roier opens his mouth, ready to try his pitch again, but he’s rudely interrupted by a cannon ball sailing through the bakery’s front window and slamming into a cabinet full of flour.

The room explodes into white, sending both Roier and the baker reeling.

“Fuck!” Roier coughs. He fans the air in front of his face, blinking rapidly to get the flour off of his eyes.

The bakery’s door is slammed open by a heavy boot. Its owner, a Navy officer, follows it in with his sword drawn and pointed at… the baker.

“Hands in the air,” the officer sneers.

Roier looks at the officer. He looks at the baker.

The baker looks at him. The baker looks at the officer.

He raises his hands slowly, holding the donut bag with it for whatever reason.

He looks at Roier again, a small smile on his handsome, yet flour-dusted, face.

“Thank you for having me aboard, captain,” he says.

The officer just then seems to notice Roier, but the poor bastard is just a bit too late because, just as he’s turning around to slash at the very obvious pirate captain in the room, Cellbit chucks the donuts at the idiot’s head. The bag makes contact, and then it makes the officer stumble right into the pointy end of Roier’s sword.

What a shame.

Roier pulls his sword out of the guy’s stomach with a grimace, wiping the blood on the bakery’s shredded window curtains.

He turns to smile at the baker, then.

“Glad to have you aboard…”

“Cellbit,” the baker supplies.

Now, where has Roier heard that name before…?

Whatever! There’s time for that later.

For now, Roier has a ship to get to, and he has a chef to deliver to it.

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#spiderbit pirate au #that’s right I revamped it #based loosely off of 1 piece iykyk

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dracaesusurro · 1 year

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May Eywa be our witness pt3

Pairing: Netayam x female reader

Genre: fluff, little angst, mating mentions, sensual scenes, mature

Summary: part 3 to the last two fics !!!!!

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As she ran after him she saw he was about to get on his Ikran and called out to him, “neteyam, Nete wait, one moment..” she thought he would just fly off but he slowly retreated and walked towards her. She wanted to talk but he grabbed both her forearms and stared into her eyes. “Ma y/n you don’t have to go through with this, his delusional! You can’t mate with some water Na’vi you don’t love, what about your choice, what about me!?” You couldn’t agree more but what else could you do, “what do you expect me to do Nete? We can’t be, and if Jake found out it would be a worst fate then to mate with another…” he dropped your hands and scoffed lightly “a worst fate then watching the one you love mate with a stranger, anybody who’s not you? Are you hearing yourself y/n?! This is absurd” he expresses this looking deeply in your eyes hoping you’d meet him half way, when you stay silent, much to his dismay he begins to walk away, back to his Ikran.

“Why do you keep doing this? Putting the worlds decision on my shoulder, why do you enjoy my pain neteyam!?” She is exhausted, of being composed, the understanding one, the one who listens and takes it all. “I don’t ever enjoy your pain, understand me, see me, your pain is my pain my y/n! Why do you insist otherwise” there’s a minimal space in between the two yet it feels yards away, years even. He feels years away. “Then why can’t you see my point, I’m trying to save you from my fate why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn” she’s in tears yelling yet her voice is not as loud as she’d like it to be, it’s faint. “Because I love you, what kind of life do you expect me to live without you huh” he lifts your chin with his hand, getting you to look at him, he studies your face, the other hand on your waist keeping you balanced, “a world without you, isn’t a world suitable for me, listen, hear me, I give myself to you for life, I am yours mind, body and soul. Damn whoever that says otherwise, if we have to fight for our love then I’m willing to do it with my life but I need you by my side, you need to choose me…”

His words felt like a prayer, a healing force, stitching your bleeding heart. You leaned into his touch kissing the palm of his hand, he smiled at you, a smile sweeter than the worlds nectar and you felt a laugh erupt from deep within, a watery happy laugh. “Your wiser than you let on my Neteyam, so wise-” your hands trailed up his chest “so brave” cupping his cheek “so mighty” your fingers tangled in his hair “and so, so beautiful” you breathed out and he could only stare at you, still waiting upon you answer, admiring everything about you silently and so you continued “my life began when I met you, my heart beat for the first time when I saw your smile and my world changed by your first touch. Your world is mine and I am as every bit yours, mind body and soul, I was yours from the first hello” you took a break, caught your breath and brought your face closer to him “I’ll fight with you, I’ll fight the world, the demons, anyone who stands in our way neteyam I’ll fight them for you, Nga yawne lu oer ma neteyam” your foreheads lent against each other a laugh escaped your lips and he soon followed, a relived laugh, happy, hopeful, free.

You didn’t know where the world would take you from here but you Followed him, you trusted the great mother and you let him lead you. He flew you to a river, a breathtaking sight, it was his favorite place he said a place he seeks to hide, to calm himself, a place he needs when he doesn’t have you. He sat you by a tree, golden branches glowing in the black of the night, it was a dream, it all seemed like a dream.

Your head was tilted up admiring the beautiful branches, he was silent, you looked down to see him staring at you “what are you staring at?” You asked teasingly with a genuine smile. “At the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen” he had a way with words, he knew it and so did you. “Oh stop it, you’re being foolish” you giggled looking away from him, your ears a crimson color. “Foolish?! Come here I’ll show you foolish you beautiful girl” before you could react he pulled you into his lap kissing you all over the face and neck, little kisses straying fast but as your laughter died down, so did his speed. He left memories with each kiss, behind your ear, your jaw, your neck, and back up to your face. “Neteyam, I choose you” you stare into his bright eyes, your hands around his neck, “I chose you a long time ago yawne” you brought your lips to his, a slow motion turned passionate his tail brushing against your waist and up your arms before yours began to entangle with his, neteyam leaned forward laying you down on the bed of grass, he looked at you, you grabbed your queue and held it towards him smiley silently your lips inches away from his. He connected his to yours and when you felt the bond a gasp left both of you, a sudden electric motion running through your bodies, neteyam was quick to bring his lips down to yours his hands roaming your body, a moan escaped you lips vibrating against his mouth, this only made him deepen the kiss further, there was nothing between you, no space, the two of you molded into one. With every motion a sound escaped your mouth and that only fed Neteyam’s pride.

As you pulled away you could see the happiness radiating off Neteyam’s body. He looked up at you and smiled, it was almost a sheepish grin, “I was yours mind and soul before but you can add body to the list now” he chuckled his voice sending waves of heat into you heart. “Nete..” you gasped slapping his arm.

He smiled widely before shoving his head into the crook of your neck to savor this moment and you with it, he took a deep breath and laid with you, you relaxed under his grasp, during your moment all you could think about was your love for him, but there are things that had skipped your mind, “neteyam..” you stared off carefully not wanting to anger him, he rose his head to look into your eyes, you cupped his face and stared for a moment. He sat up slightly worried at your features, you hadn’t noticed your frown having been lost in thought. “What is it my y/n what’s in your thoughts?” You didn’t want to ruin this moment but you had to bring it up, it was inevitable.

“What am to do, with the arrangements?” His soft Look faltered, the reminder brought him rage, but when he looked at you all those feelings vanished, he could only feel your love, “whatever we have to do we’ll do it together. You are my mate, we’re bonded for life, they can’t separate us ever” he kisses your forehead softly then your lips, you close your eyes and sigh.

“I’m never going to get used to these kisses, they’re becoming a life source for me” you chuckled leaning your forehead against his chest, his touch relaxed every worry you’ve ever worn.

“I am yours entirely, all these kisses are reserved for you and only you, for the rest of our lives, I promise this to you, may Eywa be our witness”

“Ma neteyam, my eternal love is promised to you, may Eywa be my witness”

He hugged you tightly against his chest leaving his chin on top of your head, “if only you could promise to not be so damn hot headed, your way too stubborn you worry me too much yawne”

A loud laughter erupts from you, his remarks genuine but his reached too deep, “ oh you and I both know that’s a promise I can’t keep not even in the name of Eywa” he laughed along with you, kissing your shoulders, his voice was a melody, music to your ears, that hug lasted an oblivion in your mind. And so did your bond.

Thank you for reading❤️❤️ total power couple here, there is not way in hell his letting Jake mate her off!!!!!

Leave any requests you have for more stories!! I’ll try to get to them all.

#neteyamseries #neteyam avatar #neteyam angst #neteyam fic #neteyam x oc #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar fic #avakinlife #avatar the way of water #avatar #fanfiction

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avvail-whumps · 9 months

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Oh my God your latest ask just gave me the idea that Leo would run away, be successful in that escape, but end up in the clutches of another whumper who's like Roy in profession but not in personality, like a little more soft and intimate but still like rly dangerous but Leo like doesn't realize it and before he knows it like 3 months later he's become his housewife (idk how else to describe it) and hes too far into it to try and get out because he literally can't and maybe this whumper and Roy KNOW each other and they hate each other's guts omg I know this is your story but I'm having so much fun imagining this scenario I'm sry I'm super excited to see what else you have in store and if my idea helps you then uh I ain't complaining lol

Roy had never been one for sharing.

Maybe it was the competitive streak in his chest, or the gruelling independence that led him to seizing any opportunity he could. He was no stranger to fighting for the things he wanted, especially contracts.

So maybe it was when he strolled into Shann’s house, already in a completely foul mood just from having to endure the man’s presence, that the visceral anger had ignited the way it did.

Because leaving the kitchen, was a face he recognised all too well.

Roy had actually paused. His footsteps slowed to a stop, cold eyes pinned onto that baby face he liked to bloody up and watch crinkle into tears. Leo had gone rigid upon seeing him, hands tightening around the tray he was holding.

It was a filled with a pot of fresh tea and cups, and Roy’s jaw clenched in annoyance once the situation became abhorrently clear. He felt Shann’s eyes on him, breaking his train of thought.

“Something the matter?” He hummed. Roy looked away from the blond with a sharp glare, making his distaste about the arrangement known. The two weren’t on good terms; never had been. But this was the icing on the cake, taking something that was his.

Roy evened himself out, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched Leo scurry off into the living room. A huge, open space, the entire front wall made from glass, revealing the yard outside.

“No,” he spoke sharply. “Let’s get this over with.”

Shann hummed. He, too, watched Leo go with something glimmering in his eye that Roy didn’t like. Because despite having lost his lion, he didn’t need him in anybody else’s clutches, let alone a competitor like Shann, who he disliked more than anybody else.

“Do you know each other, perhaps?” The man spoke as they entered the living room, eyes pinned on Leo. Roy could sense his discomfort, the little panic and worry in his eyes that he always tried to hide. Roy took a seat.

“No,” he answered. Clear cut, not wishing to dwell, otherwise he might say something he’ll regret. Leo didn’t dare look in his general direction, hands easing the pot up and beginning to pour the tea.

Shann swiftly stopped him, voice and expression switching into something kind and gentle.

“It’s fine, sweet, I’ll handle that. You keep preparing the food, alright?”

His hand eased along the bottom of his back, finger gently tapping under his chin, and Roy watched Leo’s ears go pink under the bright lighting. His arms abruptly came over his chest, throwing one leg over the other angrily.

“Sweet?” He grit out, spitting out the pet name like dirt on his tongue. Leo was already skittering off with his tail tucked between his legs, disappearing down the hallway and back to the kitchen. Shann hummed, a subtly dangerous smile on his face.

“Well, isn’t he just?” He spoke, pouring tea for them both. “I found him on the side of the road a few weeks ago. Poor thing looked like he’d been run ragged. Was claiming he’d been kidnapped and all.”

Roy’s finger inpatiently tapped against his arm. When Shann pushed his tea towards him, he didn’t move.

“You don’t strike me as the type to keep pets,” he slowly bit out, keeping his eyes off the door. Of all people his lion could run into during his escape, it had to be Shann.

The man scoffed. “He’s not a pet. He just takes orders, and does so very well.” He sipped the tea, gazing at Roy over the rim with a sharp look. “Obedient little thing, isn’t he? I just couldn’t help myself.”

Roy’s eyes darkened. He could sense the way Shann was trying to get under his skin, coax any information out of him that he could. Even just for an excuse to put a bullet in his head right now. He imagined where those invasive hands might have been for all but a second, and he was already growing frustrated.

“I’m not here for hospitality or pleasantries,” he snapped. “Neither are you. So let’s stop delaying, shall we?”

They spoke for some time, until Roy promptly excused himself to go the toilet. He slipped down the corridor, eyeing the light coming from the kitchen, and nimbly headed inside. Leo was quietly and obediently tending to the food as he was told, but a look of absolute horror passed over his face once he saw Roy enter the kitchen.

He began to approach him.

He imagined he might try to swerve away, call for his new master. He invisioned that pained look in his eye and those little whimpering noises he made when he got his hands on him once more.

He wasn’t expecting the lion to drop to his knees by his feet.

“Roy, please,” he whispered shakily, his watery eyes staring up at his with desperation. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for running away, I swear, I won’t—I won’t ever do it again.”

It wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Not in his rage filled mind, not only from managing to escape his grasp, but falling into Shann’s instead, and being at his every beck and call like a little puppy. His face remained stoic, blank, and it made his lion crumble into tears.

“Please!” He begged, his fingers digging into his legs as he shifted closer, visibly shaking now. “Please, help me. Take me away from him, I don’t want to be here anymore. Please, help me, Roy. I’m begging you.”

A twitch of a smile ghosted across his lips. Tears were tumbling down his pale little cheeks, dripping off his chin, and it was delightful how much of a pathetic mess he looked right now. As if appealing to the man’s thoughts, Leo suppressed a sob, his arms clinging around him tightly, squeezing.

“Please,” he choked, shuddering. “I won’t run away again, I promise. Just please—please help me.”

His tilted his head. “What would you have me do, lion?” He drawled, fingers just barely winding through those blond locks. “Do you want me to kill him?”

“I don’t care!” Leo snapped, his head tilting backwards to meet his eyes once more. “Do whatever you want. Just please get me out, I’ll do anything. Absolutely anything.”

And how could he resist his lions request?

Roy didn’t have a problem putting a bullet in the back of Shann’s head, and guiding a shaking, sobbing Leo back to his car. Because, as he’d come to learn, he had definitely never been one for sharing.

#guns for hire special #this is NOT part of the main story #ask #whump #whump writing #whump tropes #whump scenario #whumpblr #whump community #whumper #whumpee #leo and roy #multiple whumpers #my writing #writing #guns for hire requests #avvail whumps #jealous roy >>>>

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manygeese · 10 days

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new essay just dropped and it’s about

BECKENDORF AND SILENA

Beware, weary travelers, for there be spoilers ahead

Charles Beckendorf is great, guys, and anybody who says otherwise will catch these hands. He’s introduced in the Sea of Monsters, and is the first person to accept Tyson. He shows Tyson how to work the forges, showing his compassion and empathy. As far as I know, he’s the first canonically African-American character in the series. Also, he’s the best.

Silena Beauregard is also introduced in the second book, I think, and although this may not be her (might be one of her siblings), I think she asked Percy is he needed eyeliner for his “eye- sorry, eyes”. This was meant to make fun of Percy and Tyson, showing a stark contrast from the get go between her and Beckendorf.

Silena is shown to be feisty (“[they said that] Love is worthless. I’ll pulverize them” from the Titan’s curse) and an expert at Pegasus riding. Beckendorf is head counselor of Hephaestus and expert at the forges. While not polar opposites, you’d expect Silena to stick to her group and Beckendorf to stick to his, right?

Then comes The Last Olympian, where we are told that Silena and Beckendorf are dating. Beckendorf carries a picture of Silena onto the ship- onto a ship where he has to complete a dangerous mission- onto a ship where he will meet his death. And when Silena dies after the fight with the dragon, her last words are “Charlie… see Charlie…” (BTW she’s the only one who calls him Charlie, it’s established that literally everyone calls him Beckendorf).

Hephaestus and Aphrodite’s marriage was arranged. It’s unhealthy and neither of them actually care about their relationship. Aphrodite cheats with Ares and Hephaestus gives up, just spends all his time in his forge.

But Hephaestus’ son, Beckendorf and Aphrodite’s daughter, Silena- they chose each other. They choose each other again and again. Beckendorf chooses Silena’s photo to bring with him to his death. Silena chooses her last words to tell her love that she’s going to see him again. Their choices are what make their relationship so tragic, and the fact that Silena makes such horrible choices (being a spy for Luke) outside her relationship with Beckendorf makes it all the more special. They seem like they wouldn’t get along, but they cross all boundaries to be together. They are Romeo and Juliet and they died just as tragically- with each other on their minds.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #hephaestus #hephaestus pjo #aphrodite #aphrodite pjo #silena beauregard #charles beckendorf #whom i love #the sea of monsters #the last olympian

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lesbianwriter · 1 year

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I love your writing! Could you possibly write a flirty lesbian villain and aroace hero (who likes her just not like that) who end up in a qpr? tysm!!

“You look adorable trapped under me.” Villain commented slyly, smiling down at the hero. “You should be under me more often, I like you like this.”

“Uh—uhm…uh-huh.” Hero flushed.

She liked Villain, but she didn’t like her like that. But still, she blushed, and that was due to the fact that the entire ordeal was humiliating. From falling to the ground in a fight to having Villain tease her, it was humiliating. What made it even worse was the flirting. It made Hero crawl back in her skin.

The flirty teasing was one thing when they were fighting and the position wasn’t so…intimate…but pinned down to the ground? Hero was a fish out of water.

“Aw, you’re blushing.” Villain fluttered her eyelashes.

“That’s because—“ Hero started, but her retort fizzled on her tongue before she could get the words out.

Nothing she wanted to say sounded right. She didn’t want to hurt Villain’s feelings. Sure, they fought, but outside of work they got along. The flirting was all teasing, and Hero would absolutely make fun of Villain too if she had her enemy caught in a vulnerable position.

Hero just didn’t like Villain’s method much.

Not while she was pinned to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Villain asked, looking over Hero carefully for any bleeding or otherwise any type of damage on her head.

“I don’t like you!” Hero blurted. Villain’s eyes widened, and Hero scrambled to think of words. Right words. Words that wouldn’t hurt feelings. “Well, not like that. I do like you—I like talking to you, I like joking with you, and I like being around you—but I’m not…I’m not interested in romance.”

Villain tilted her head.

Gone was her flirty demeanor, and instead the criminal simply looked confused, like a lost puppy.

“Oh.”

Hero winced. “I’m sorry, I just—“

“It’s okay, Hero.” Villain interrupted, reassuringly squeezing Hero’s arms. “Though I’ll suffer so much—“ she dramatically pressed a hand to her heart. “—I think I’ll survive without flirting with you. I won’t flirt with you if you’re uncomfortable.”

“It’s not exactly that.” Hero fumbled, all the words she wanted to slay slipping like air between her fingers. “I’m ace. Do you know what that is?”

Villain nodded.

“Okay, well, I’m not looking for a relationship exactly, but I enjoy your company. I feel close with you. It’s just…not romantic.”

“Then we’re friends.” Villain said.

“I think it’s more than that.” Hero added, hesitantly. “It’s complicated.”

“So what are we?” Villain rolled off of Hero.

She moved to lay on her back next to the crime fighter, and she turned to face Hero, but she wasn’t impatient. Instead, she was patient. Calm. There was a faint tuck between her brows, and her eyes were flicking over Hero as if she were tearing her apart in tiny pieces, she still looked at Hero without judgement.

“A queer platonic relationship…I think.” Hero wasn’t exactly sure—as she said, it was complicated—but she did know that she enjoyed being with Villain. “Would you be okay with that? Would you want that?”

“I like you, Hero.” Villain responded. “If that’s what would work, I’m more than willing to try it.”

It wasn’t exactly romantic and it wasn’t just friendship either…but it was something that bent the lines of everything Hero was used to seeing.

Though she was certain that she and Villain could make it work.

I wasn’t really sure about writing this one mostly because I was having a hard time trying to put it into words that a person would use in an actual conversation where Google isn’t exactly at their disposal while also my main source was the internet because I don’t know anybody personally in this type of relationship. Once again I am asking ace people/people in queer platonic relationships to please tell me how I did or things that could be done better, it will be much appreciated 🙏

#hero x villain #queer platonic relationship #aroace #heroes and villains

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air-of-the-waterfall · 1 year

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Arc of a Scythe characters as Princess Bride quotes

Citra:

“Move? You’re alive. If you want, I can fly.”

“I wasn’t nervous. Maybe I was a little bit concerned, but that’s not the same thing.”

Rowan:

“Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

“You use different moves when you’re fighting half a dozen people.”

Greyson:

“The name was the important thing for inspiring the necessary fear. You see, no one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Wesley.”

“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Jeri:

“I inherited the ship from the previous Dread Pirate Roberts, just as you will inherit it from me. The man I inherited it from was not the real Dread Pirate Roberts either. The real Roberts has been retired fifteen years and living like a king in Patagonia.”

Thunderhead:

“As you wish.”

“Unless I am wrong, and I am never wrong.”

“It won’t be easy, sir.” “Try ruling the world sometime.”

“There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead.”

Cirrus:

“Have you ever heard of Plato? Aristotle? Socrates? Morons.”

“Yes, you’re very smart. Shut up.”

Faraday:

“You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you.”

“I’m not saying I’d like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.”

Curie:

“Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.”

“I did that on purpose. I didn’t have to miss.”

Goddard:

“I’ve hired you to help me start a war. It’s a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition.”

“I’ve got my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder, and Gildar to frame for it. I’m swamped!”

“Do you hear that, Highness? Those are the shrieking eels. They always grow louder when they’re about to feed on human flesh.”

Rand:

“Good night, Wesley. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”

Astrid:

“No more rhyming, now I mean it!” “Anybody wanna peanut?”

Munira:

“In studying, you must have learned that man is mortal.”

Loriana:

“Unemployed in Greenland?!”

Morrison:

“Oh, you mean this gate key!”

Constantine:

“She’s alive. Or was an hour ago. If she is otherwise when I find her, I shall be very put out.”

“He can track a falcon on a cloudy day; he can find you.”

Mendoza:

“Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

Tyger:

“I wonder if he’s using the same wind we are using.”

#arc of a scythe #citra terranova #greyson tolliver #rowan damisch #the thunderhead #the toll #scythe goddard #jerico soberanis #curaday #my first time on tumblr im scared #the princess bride #this was inspired by that post of scythe characters as my immortal quotes

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majaloveschris · 1 year

Note

I wish more blogs would post exactly what you did. I follow you because I want to follow the updates on Chris and this shitshow. I go back and forth between real and PR, but I’m mostly on PR. Too many things that just don’t make sense for this to be a real relationship. I follow many blogs and just stay out of the fighting between them. I know this isn’t going to happen, but I wish all the mods got along. I understand why they don’t and it’s not my place to tell someone to get over it and to get along either. There’s been some hurtful things that have happened. I don’t agree with with everyone but that’s ok by me. I don’t need to agree to enjoy reading someone’s blog. If someone believes it’s real well ok then. It doesn’t matter to me.

I wish that we just focused on Chris and his drama/gossip instead of the fandom in fighting and just be ok that others have a different opinion. Some believe real, some believe PR, some aren’t sure. It’s ok to disagree without being accusatory or nasty to people. I don’t like seeing any of the mods upset.

I know many have sources but since so many claim to have sources (but also I understand why they can’t share their sources or proof for the fact they’ll lose their source) I don’t know who actually does or doesn’t. Honestly it doesn’t matter to me. I really don’t care to question sources all that much. I’m ok with saying to myself ‘I don’t believe it’ but I don’t feel the need to lash out because I don’t believe it. I appreciate when someone backs it up with proof but don’t feel the need to demand that proof either. I appreciate all the mods who share their content so I have stuff to read on my downtime. That’s all I’m looking for here. I stay out of the way otherwise besides a couple of asks here and there. And I’ve learned there’s some blogs it’s best not to send asks in at all. I’ll just respectfully read along and not bother them.

I like when mods share things so I can keep up. Not trying to piss off anyone here as I don’t want to get blocked because I actually enjoy reading everybody’s takes on this whole thing. I focus on the Chris content. But it does make me sad seeing mods upset and hurt.

Thanks for being respectful of others opinions, and thanks for your blog!

Agree, but unfortunately, that will never happen. We all have different opinions and views, which is okay. I've never had problems with blogs or people because they think it's real or not, but because they were disrespectful or said really disgusting stuffs. I try to distance myself from people and blogs who make me feel anxious or on edge, and I think other people should do the same. Until people express their opinions with respect towards other mods, and people like Chris, Alba, etc., there isn't anything wrong with that. I sometimes tell a light joke, but I always try to remain respectful, even towards people I can't stand, like Justin, for example 😏😂

I get why a lot of mods don't share their sources, but I also get that it's hard to believe something you don't have proof of. I always say not to believe everything you read online because anybody can make anything up, so when I share something I was told by someone, I always try to make sure they back it up with info, even if it's just a few screenshots of messages and etc., but I understand if somebody doesn't believe in what I share, but I would never share my sources private info.

My inbox is always open, so feel free to share your take on things. I can't share every single ask but I always read all of them. 😊

Thanks for sharing and being here! ❤️

#majaloveschris #cevans-love

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sebastianstangirl · 1 year

Text

The Other Side

Chapter 3: Rue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ Rue Barton

Word Count: 2989

Warnings: language, fighting, guns, fire, high adrenaline

Rating: MA

Chapter Summary: Clint invites himself on a mission with Rue, Bucky and Sam.

Series

Tags: @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @sparklebae15-blog

Clint is mad.

I can feel the anger rolling off him in waves. He hasn’t said anything, but he can’t hide his feelings from me – he never could. We stare across the table at one another, ignoring the conversation around us. It’s like we’re in our own little world – Bartonland – and I’m riding the rollercoaster that is his demeanor. He rips into his bacon and chews aggressively. If anyone else at the table notices his attitude, they must be chalking it up to a hangover.

I know better.

I don’t have to ask, I’m more than capable of putting the pieces together – Clint’s anger, the fading mark on Bucky’s cheek. It can only mean one thing, Bucky went to him this morning. I wish he had let me handle my brother, but I know he is old fashioned and likes to do things a certain way.

Apparently Clint is a caveman and likes to talk with his fist.

“Barnes, Wilson and Barton,” Tony reads from his tablet, “there’s a high-security research facility that has gone suspiciously silent. We’ve been sent the case to look into it.”

“And why can’t the cops handle it?” Rhodey asks.

Tony sighs heavily and shakes his head as he scrolls. “Uh, it says that the facility is running tests on dioxin.”

“Dioxin?” Sam scoffs. “And you want to send a super soldier and two regular bad-asses opposed to, I don’t know, Thor or Banner? Or maybe Wanda who can contain an explosion.”

Tony peers over the tablet at him, replying, “Sorry, didn’t realize we were being guided by our emotions today. I assumed we had a standard protocol and order for these sub-par missions. And while you’re here bickering with me instead of taking action, somebody else could be taking their last breath.”

Sam crosses his arms but keeps his mouth shut.

“Where’re we going?” Clint asks, sliding his chair back.

Tony looks at him and shakes his head, “wrong Barton.”

Clint glances between me and Bucky before standing up abruptly. “No way, I’ll go. She’s not handling this.”

Tony drops the tablet and tosses his hands in the air. “Does anybody listen to me?” He asks Steve who gives him a sheepish look with tight lips.

“I can handle it, Clint,” I protest, quickly jumping to my feet.

“Then I’m going too,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Fine, whatever,” Tony quips. “Not really a four man mission, but if it’ll stop an argument just go.”

~~~~

As soon as Bucky lands the quinjet, Sam lands nearby and meets us on the ground. The flight was tense but otherwise uneventful. Clint made me ride in the back opposed to my usual seat next to Bucky, it irritated me but I spared everyone the argument.

“Whatcha got for us Sam?” I ask, tying my hair up in a ponytail.

“Looks like there’s hostages, nineteen gunmen scattered across the facility — including four outside.”

“Four outside, fifteen in, got it.” Clint drew his bow with a frown. “I’ll take out the outside guards.”

“We should take them out at the same time,” counters Bucky, shifting his rifle on his shoulder. “So we have the element of surprise. We still don’t know what they’re doing here, and I for one, don’t feel like being blown up today.”

Clint glares at him but doesn’t argue. “Where are they?”

Sam turns and points as he speaks, “two at the front door, one at the back and the fourth is patrolling. I can pick off the patrol from above.”

Just as soon as he was with us, Sam was gone again – shooting up into the air on his metal wings that shimmer like swords in the sun.

“I’ll cover the front,” Clint claims the closest door quickly.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “give me a minute to get around the building.”

He turns to face me, I glance at Clint who is watching through narrow eyes. Bucky walks over and stops less than a foot away from me, an easy smile on his lips that makes me smile.

“Hold this for me, will ya doll?” He asks, holding his rifle out to me.

Blushing, I grab it, our fingers brush along the stock. “Sure thing Buck.”

He taps my chin with a curled finger and smiles, “thanks. See you on the inside.”

“That’s enough,” Clint huffs.

We turn to look at him only to see he has his bow drawn and is aiming at Bucky. I quickly step forward, putting myself between the sharp arrowhead and Bucky’s chest where it’s aimed – Clint quickly adjusts his aim. I may be a head shorter than Bucky but I know Clint won’t risk actually shooting if I’m in the way.

“Come on, don’t you think that’s a bit much?” I scoff and gesture at the bow.

Clint keeps his eyes locked on Bucky, “nope. I warned him.”

“All he did was give me his rifle.”

“And now he can take a step back before this arrow embeds in his forehead.”

“We both know you’re not going to do it, so put the bow down,” I snap.

Clint narrows his eyes with a growl, but lowers his bow. He rolls his shoulders and nods towards the facility.

“You’re with me.”

“I was going with you anyway,” I grunt and roll my eyes before turning back to Bucky. “Be careful.”

He smiles warmly, “always, doll.”

He strides down the hill, choosing to take a route closer to the trees than the open field. I know he’s been in several perilous situations before and is equipped to face anything coming his way. Hell, we’d been on a handful of missions together already so I know first hand his capability.

Yet, even with that knowledge, a wave of apprehension settles deep within me, making my heart beat faster with each step he takes away from me. I can’t bear to witness him going in unarmed, so I hastily grab one of my handguns from my calf holster and rush after Bucky.

“Rue!” Clint shouts behind me.

“I’ll be right back.”

I hear a branch snap as I stumble down the hill, and when I reach the bottom, there is Bucky. He looks like a statue at the edge of the trees, his bear hands clenched into fists. His expression is dark and the lines in his forehead deepen as he sees me approach. I stop to catch my breath before holding my pistol out to him.

“I can’t just let you go without something,” I rasp as he takes the gun and slides it into his waistband.

“Thank you, love,” he says while his eyes soften and his demeanor relaxes.

Not being able to resist, I take a step closer to him. “I’ll see you on the inside," I whisper with my heart fluttering in anticipation.

He reaches out to stroke my cheek with his hand and sends me an enigmatic smile. “Can't wait, kitten.”

I reluctantly tear my gaze away from Bucky and take off running up the hill, realizing I'd pushed Clint too far. Reaching my brother, I can tell he's mad at me, but he wordlessly hands me the rifle and takes the lead. We move quickly and quietly to a group of rocks halfway down the hill. He deftly loads two arrows onto his bow in one elegant motion in readiness for Bucky’s sign. Sam soars up above, keeping watch on his target while staying hidden from the guards’ view.

Clint's gaze is locked on the talking men, not wavering for even an instant. His lips curl as he snarls, “when we get in there, you worry about the hostages.”

"I can fight Cli–

"Just do as I say," Clint snaps back, cutting me off, his voice hard and cold with authority. "We can handle the fighting.”

He squares his shoulders and tightens his lips, leaving me with no choice but to comply.

I roll my eyes, it’s pointless to argue with him when he’s in a mood. And something tells me he’s going to be in a mood for a long time. Bucky gives his signal, Sam swoops down and snatches the patrolling guard up and Clint lets his arrows loose.

They find their marks, both of the guards fall and we’re running. Bucky’s rifle slaps against my back, I didn’t take the time to adjust the shoulder strap before slinging it back on.

We reach the door in no time, Sam swoops towards the back – ready to help Bucky with whatever they find inside.

Clint yanks open the door, driving his shoulder into it as he dives through. He never hesitates to put his body between me and whatever he anticipates was waiting ahead of us.

An explosion of gunfire rips through the building and we immediately break out into a sprint.

Around the corner, three threatening figures stand with weapons raised, ready to fire. Clint pushes himself in front of me again, shielding my body from the danger as we face down our attackers.

Clint’s fingers close around an arrow but I act faster than lightning, spinning Bucky’s rifle around and unloading a barrage of bullets across the hallway. My accurate aim takes them all down in one fell swoop.

I ignore Clint's astonished gaze as I swiftly return the rifle to my shoulder and grab my handgun — a weapon much more suited to me.

Cold anticipation flares in my veins as my finger rests lightly on the trigger.

I demand into my com, “Sam, where are the hostages?” as I follow Clint down the hallway.

“Center break room. Door's guarded," Sam replies with gunfire and shouting echoing in the background. “There’s more of them than I initially saw, we’re outnumbered!”

We share a knowing glance; he knows I'm about to propose something that he won’t like.

“We can't afford to stay together, not at this point," I hiss as we clear another hallway. "I'll take the guy guarding the door – you go help Sam and Buck."

He shakes his head vehemently and steps in front of me. "No chance. You don't know what could be lurking around the corner. We stick together."

We methodically check every room and shadowed hiding spot for any sign of ambush, but I can sense time slipping away from us.

Every second he lingers with me is another second Bucky or Sam could meet their final blow.

"Come on!" I snap. "They need you in the back! I'm an Avenger too, I can hold my own against one guy!"

Clint's eyes narrow with rage and the sound of war fills the air.

"That wasn't Bucky!" I scream at him, brandishing the rifle for him to take.

He glares back coldly and snatches the rifle from my hands, "Fine."

We stand in a tense standoff for several moments before he strides off determinedly, leaving me shaking with anticipation as I prepare to rescue the hostages.

I take a deep breath, squeezing the gun in my hands until I feel its cold metal pressing against my sweaty palms.

Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I sprint down the hall, darting past upturned furniture and broken glass.

My ears are filled with echoing cries and the loud blasts of bullets firing. With each encounter, my heart races faster and faster towards an unknown destination.

I struggle to stay focused on my mission, as I’m verwhelmed by the thought of Clint and Bucky running into danger.

Despite my best efforts, my mind keeps drifting back to them.

In that moment, I finally understand why Tony had always resisted putting me and Clint together on a team – he knew how dangerous it could be.

As I come to a room at the end of the hall, my heart stops and a chill runs down my spine.

A looming figure stares menacingly at me, his eyes cold and calculating. His arm rises as he takes aim and I know there is no time to lose.

I lunge forward with all my might, barely dodging the bullet. It whizzes past me, just inches away from my skull, making a loud thud as it embeds itself into the wall behind me.

I quickly take cover behind a large wooden crate and peek out just in time to see the enemy reloading his gun with four more shots.

My heart slams against my ribcage as I flatten myself against the wall, my feet perched on the corner of the crate, gripping my gun tightly in my damp hands.

My finger tightens on the trigger as the man comes closer, his fat bald head illuminated by a string of overhead lights.

I can feel every beat of my heart as he confidently strides closer, sure that he's already pierced through the crate and me - unaware of what awaits him.

The shadows of his silhouette stretch across the floor, starkly contrasting with the emptiness.

He never thought to check for mine as he arrogantly assumed his superiority based on my sex.

Like a spring I coil myself down until I can see him before he can detect me.

My breath catches in my throat as his head slowly rises above the crate and his eyes land on mine.

In a split second I am upright and two shots fire in unison - booming through the room like an explosion, tearing through his chest and neck.

The force of the impact sends him flying back against a crate, still as death.

Glancing at his body triumphantly, I slip out from behind the crate and head in the direction he was coming from. Even if he wasn’t the one guarding the hostages, he surely was coming from there – or if nothing else I would join the guys in battle and we would save the hostages together.

Sweat rolls down my temple as I navigate the next few halls, relying on intuition and the sound of battle to determine which way to go in the labyrinth. I never expected the facility to have so many halls, but I’m also not well versed on research facilities.

“Rue!” Clint shouts across the com, “are you okay?”

“Yes,” I answer as I finally lay eyes on a sign that points me in the direction of the break room. “Took out a big baldy.”

“That’s my girl,” Bucky grunts as the sound of his metal fist finds its resting place in some unfortunate man’s face.

Smiling, I follow the directions on the sign and soon come to a stop when I see the guarded door of the break room.

“Found the hostages. You guys about done?”

“Sure thing,” Sam groans. “Matter of seconds.”

Thankfully the guard stationed at the door is preoccupied with looking down a hall towards the sound of the fighting. It is obvious he’s itching to join the fight, but has been commanded to stand guard. For a second I sympathize with him, if Clint had his way I would still be on the quinjet.

Shaking my head, I quickly shoot him in the head – he crumples to the floor without even knowing he was being watched.

I rush to the door and fling it open to see a room full of terrified scientists and various workers.

“Let’s go,” I demand, holding the door open.

“Who are you?” A scientist demands.

“Don’t be rude,” another snaps, “that’s Black Magnolia.”

I smile lightly and glance behind me to make sure nobody’s sneaking up on me. “Come on, I’m getting you guys out of here.”

The group quickly floods out of the break room, tensions are high as they all look to me for direction. Gunfire rings out, some of them scream while others duck – an alarm starts to blare through the ruckus.

I find myself torn, I know I need to get the civilians to safety but I’m worried about my teammates. As much as I want to run to help them, I know these people are top priority.

I look at the scientist who knew me, one of the few who didn’t flinch. “You start leading everyone out of here. I’ll follow and cover you.”

He nods and begins shouting orders at the others who start back down the hall I emerged from. I look back in the direction of the noise before I bring up the tail of the group.

Outside, the fire alarm continues to bellow out an earsplitting wail through the air. I urge them all up the hill, shouting orders like a commander in battle so that even the injured amongst them can hear me over the ringing chaos. Every second counts, as I'm terrified a spark will ignite a fiery explosion and incinerate us all.

Smoke rises from the building, rolling like ferocious grey thunderclouds reaching for the sky. I implore them to hurry, as my heart thunders in my chest with fear.

Suddenly I see Sam shoot out of a side window and up into the air, blood stained and grimacing.

“What’s going on Sam?” I demand.

He looks down and spots me then quickly flies down to where I’m at.

“Where are they?” I yell the second his feet touch the ground.

“I don’t know, we were separated,” he says hesitantly. “I couldn’t make my way back due to the fire. I couldn’t see.”

My heart drops and I start to rush forward but Sam grabs me by the arm.

“I can’t let you go back in there.”

I turn to glare at him and shout, “we can’t just stand here! My brother is in there!”

“I know, and he would kill me if I let you run into a burning building full of pathogens. I’m sorry Rue,” he shakes his head, “I can’t.”

My jaw muscles clench painfully as I spin around, my eyes widening at the sight of the monstrous smoke clouds gathering strength. Every breath of wind feeds them, their power and fury intensifying until they seem to loom over us like a menacing black blanket.

#james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x oc #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #mcu au #avengers au

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madamspeaker · 7 months

Text

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2023/10/13/pelosi-lessons-next-gop-speaker-house/

When progressive hard-liners used to come to Nancy Pelosi with yet with another unrealistic demand for action from their wish list, the then-speaker had a standard reply ready: “I agree with you. I have those signs in my basement from 30 years ago. But right now, you’re in the Congress of the United States. We’re not on the streets with the signs.”

Pelosi would tell them that when they had 218 votes behind them, a majority in the House, she’d be happy to talk to them again: “But otherwise, recognize that we have to build consensus ... and live to fight another day.”

The speaker’s role comes with many such moments, she recalled in an interview in her office on Thursday; as we talked, Republicans who now hold a tenuous majority in the House were huddled across the street in the Capitol, unable to come together to select their own leader to take over the wreckage that Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) has left behind.

Pelosi and others who held the gavel learned — but the deposed McCarthy never did — that one of the hardest and most vital things a speaker must do is say no, sometimes to friends and ideological allies. At times, her majority was so narrow she could afford to lose no more than three votes. But without a leader willing and powerful enough to summon that kind of fortitude, the House is ungovernable.

McCarthy’s constant appeasement of a handful of bellicose GOP members is what got us to this pitiful moment. He put their hard-line legislation on the floor knowing it would go no further, gave them key committee assignments — and even signed what was effectively the death warrant of his own speakership by agreeing to allow the rule in which any member could call for a vote to vacate the chair.

All of this should be an object lesson to whoever gets the job next. As departing speaker John A. Boehner (R-Ohio) advised his own successor, Paul D. Ryan (R-Wis.): “You can promise effort, but don’t promise results.” Both Boehner and Ryan saw their leadership undermined by the demands of a rising hard-right faction within their party, but it was McCarthy who ceded effective control of the chamber to them.

“Part of the job of the speaker is to manage reality rather than fantasy,” former speaker Newt Gingrich (R-Ga.) told me.

For Pelosi, who had a solidly liberal record, an early test came shortly after Democrats regained their majority in the 2006 election and elevated her to the speakership. The big issue in that election had been the Iraq War, and she had been one of the most outspoken opponents to it. Which is why many in her caucus felt betrayed when she did not stand in the way of Congress providing more funds for the conflict without insisting on a clear timetable for ending it — an end date that would not pass the Senate nor survive George W. Bush’s veto.

“My message to them was, I’ll compare my credentials on opposing this war to anybody here, but as long as the troops are at war, we must support them,” Pelosi recalled. “I basically said to them, we all support the troops. But we have to do it when it’s difficult as well as when it’s easy.”

In 1996, Gingrich brought legislation raising the minimum wage to the House floor — a popular measure conservatives were against and yet knew would pass with a combination of Democratic and more moderate GOP support.

In that year’s election, “we had 23 districts where members thought they would lose if they didn’t get a vote,” Gingrich told me. It was an especially bitter pill to swallow for Majority Leader Dick Armey (R-Tex.), who opposed the very existence of a minimum wage. And yet, Armey argued in a private meeting, the survival of their majority hinged on allowing the House to work its collective will.

When Boehner was speaker, one of his closest friends in the House would regularly come to his office and plead for a seat on the powerful Energy and Commerce Committee. Boehner would hear out the member, then tell him: “Not gonna happen.”

But now “the reality is we have a lot of members who have distorted views of what’s possible,” said Brendan Buck, a former aide to both Boehner and Ryan.

It might be that only one of the bomb-throwers themselves — say, Rep. Jim Jordan (R-Ohio) — would have the credibility it takes to say no to them, though there is little evidence he has that capacity for pragmatism and respect for the institution. Or maybe it has to be a graybeard such as Rep. Tom Cole (R-Okla.), who is respected across the various factions within a party that is squabbling with a pettiness that would put a small-town city council to shame.

But someone has to do it. At this moment of peril for the country, and the world, there is too much at stake for any new speaker to continue indulging the least responsible actors in Congress. Is there a grown-up in the House?

#nancy pelosi #madam speaker #the option to insert links seems broken at present

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halothenthehorns · 2 years

Note

You only post about wolfstar but first you wrote the whole books with remadora and I’d like some headcannons for them please, or even a whole one shot

Anons Request is below, I’ll even post a oneshot for them by the end of the month, but I should clarify I don’t ship remadora. I wrote a cannon compliant reading the books fic because I always wanted a completed one and there isn’t a good one that exists so I wrote my own.

I always got the feeling they were written together to get Teddy to exist, otherwise they have zero chemistry, I can literally count their scenes on one hand, especially in comparison to Wolfstar. I don’t hate them together, I just don’t prefer it, I’m median to it.

The Life and Lies of Remus Lupin and Tonks:

She admits her crush to him after Arthur’s attack, and that scene where Harry sees them arguing in OCCLUMENCY is him explaining to her that he’s to old to be with her.

Which is why she disguises herself as an elder woman and is very stern and serious (not you Sirius!) getting them on the bus.

Neither of them had ever come out and said it but Tonks realized on her own wolfstar was a thing so she quietly accepted it and moved on very soon

Andromeda had foolishly believed Sirius had committed the same crime as everybody else, even after Tonks began to subtly begin hinting otherwise by digging into the case to show her mother otherwise. Dumbledore had plans to try and show Sirius’s innocence before his discrediting but Tonks was still after it for the innocent man who still called her cousin

It causes a rift between them when her mother pretends she never even had other family and Tonks doesn't tell her mother anything, just like Moody and the Order had cautioned her since the beginning

After Sirius dies she tries to come to Remus as just a friend to be there for him, but before she can get a word out he explodes at her. It gets quite foul, he’s really awful to her and says some horrible things about how he’d never love her and she runs to Molly, not her own mother, because Molly knows the truth and Andromeda had yet to apologize to Tonks about Sirius’s fate in the first war even when it was blasted across the papers

Harry shows up before she can get the majority of it out though and only says she admitted her feelings and Remus had brushed her off

Remus goes on pretending like nothing had happened until that Christmas, when Harry reminds him so much of James. How Prongs and Evans used to have the worst fights even after they fell in love, they were so different and loved each other so much…but how could anybody ever look past his furry little problem? Only one person ever had and look what happened…Tonks was to young to know what she was asking for…

When Remus finds out she’s been asking after him to other members of the Order after the Montgomery attack, that she’s actively acknowledging his werewolf side, he goes to confront her again and have a proper talk with her. He apologizes for his temper before but again explains all the reasons they shouldn’t be together, his sickness, his age...

She doesn't accept his apology, but they leave on a semi mutual company. It’s awkward and stilted, but neither are prepared to give ground now

Especially as Remus has never said he didn’t love her back, he just needed time to grieve…

They sleep together for the first time after Dumbledore's death. Tired of being alone, tired of losing people, tired of the world and the last first, and greatest wizard he’d ever known falling, Remus goes to her place.

She makes him tea just the way he had made it for himself a million times, like she’d been watching how he did it all those months at Grimmauld place. She brings him a tray of chocolate biscuits and just sits quietly so he can say whatever he’s come here to say and he kisses her gently, just a question.

She answers very enthusiastically and for just that little while after Dumbledore's funeral he believes somebody other than Padfoot could love him

Then she tells him she’s pregnant. She’s so thrilled and already glowing with the news and he’s just, destroyed. Dead inside. All he can hear in his head is his own screams that night he was bitten and he wants to cry but he won’t hurt her like that again so he buries it all and forces a smile and does the proper thing, asks her to marry him on the spot and she hugs him so tight, it’s the only thing holding him together in that moment from jumping off the astronomy tower himself after what he’s done.

Haha, whoopsies, only half done and needs a part 2

#remadora #wolfstar #both can exist together #teddy #headcannons

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londonhalcyon · 2 years

Text

WIP Wednesday but it’s Thursday but I was tagged on Wednesday so I’m calling it Wednesday and going to bed as soon as I hit post

Tagged by @dumpsterhipster . Tagging @unoriginal2tall . No pressure to join in! I’m just gonna start throwing the invitation out there. If anyone else wants to participate, please do! If you tag me when you share, I’ll aim to tag you in the future.

I’ve finished the rough draft of the Mad Witch chapter 31, so I can’t share anything from that quite yet, so here’s more post-canon Fallout 4. This angsty piece takes place well after this scene and is one of the events that prompts this disastrous buddy cop (detective?) road trip. Just a fair warning that it gets a bit dark and deals with heavy themes of grief. Uh, enjoy?

In one fluid motion, Ros drew her pistol on Piper, the hammer clicking under her thumb. Piper raised her hands alongside her head. “Easy! Easy!” she gasped. “No, keep that gun lowered, doll.” This second command wasn’t directed at Ros. It was directed at Nora, who had trained her .44 on Ros the moment her hand had gone for her hip.

Nora didn’t take her eyes off Ros. Nor did she lower her gun. “Piper,” Nora warned.

“No one’s shooting anybody,” Piper said. Then, when Nora didn’t move: “Blue.”

Nora pointed her revolver at the floor, although she kept both hands firmly on it, maintaining a ready stance. “Easy, darling,” she told Ros, her voice low. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t want to do this,” Piper said softly.

Ros’s grip on her gun was white-knuckled. Sweat gathered beneath her palm. Breathless, wild, she said, “I don’t have anything left to lose.”

“You have us,” Piper said.

“You can’t promise that.”

“What is hurting me going to accomplish?”

Ros couldn’t answer. She couldn’t drop Piper’s gaze either—she physically couldn’t. There was something fierce and earnest in that freckled face, behind those hazel green eyes. Something that burned Ros to look at. And, yet, if she looked away, Ros would shatter because of it.

“You’re safe here,” Nora said. “We’re friends.”

Ros scoffed, “Are you?”

“I’m not going to fight you,” Piper said. “Tell us how we can help you. Tell me how I can help you.”

“You can’t help me. No one can help me.” There was no backing out. No returning the gun to its holster. They couldn’t pretend this had never happened, so there was no way all of them would get out of this alive. Someone would have to pull a trigger, and Ros didn’t want it to be her.

Not while aiming at Piper, at least.

“Let me try,” Piper said. Her voice was shaking, just like her hands, which were still raised alongside her head. But she spoke so calmly, so softly, as if Ros was no more than a frightened child.

“You can’t,” Ros hissed. “You can’t make it go away. It’s always there, empty and rotting.”

“What is, hon?”

Ros had no words for it. She didn’t need them. When she took her free hand and clawed her fingers across her chest, the pity in Piper’s face told her she had conveyed exactly what she had wanted to say.

Nora sucked in a breath. “Sweetie…”

A jolt rocked Ros’s entire body. She twitched the gun toward Nora. “Don’t call me that!”

“Easy!”

“Careful, hon.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” She rotated her aim between them. “You’ve been acting like my mom. You’re not! My mom’s dead. You’re not her!”

They stared at her. Maybe they were stunned. Maybe they were waiting for her to say more. She didn’t have a choice. The rotting hole beneath her fingers was caving in.

“She’s dead,” she repeated. “My whole family—everyone I have ever loved is dead. I have nothing—nothing left to lose. Don’t make me pretend otherwise.”

“Ros—”

Ros turned her gun back on Piper, who broke off with a gasp. The fearful noise, Piper’s flinch—it brought Ros an odd satisfaction. It felt right. Far more right than her infuriating forced calm. “Haven’t you heard?” Ros laughed. “I’m the Grim Reaper. Death follows me wherever I go.”

“Ros.” Nora this time. Ros didn’t look away from Piper again, because the rational part of her brain that was still functioning said this would hurt Nora the most. The irrational part of her brain, the one that was running the show, found an odd satisfaction in that too. “Hey, Ros, tell me about your gun.”

“What?” Ros asked. Piper frowned, equally confused.

“Guns sometimes have stories. What’s yours?”

“Don’t—don’t distract me.”

“I’m not. This is relevant, I promise. What’s your gun’s story?”

A tremble ran through the weapon. Ros brought her left hand up to steady it, finally gripping it properly. Her fingertips rubbed against the nicks in its trigger guard. “It…it doesn’t have one. I traded for it, about a year ago. I lost the last one. Threw it at a raider’s head when I ran out of ammo.”

Nora laughed once. It was a breathless laugh, the kind formed when pressure intensified every emotion. “See, that’s a story. My gun has a story too.” Ros dared to watch her from the corner of her eye as she held up the modded .44 for her to see. “This revolver,” Nora stated, “belonged to the man who murdered my husband and kidnapped my son. I took it from him after I killed him. I would’ve tossed it in the river years ago if it hadn’t kept me alive repeatedly since then.”

More tremors ran through Ros’s gun, stronger than before. She couldn’t keep her aim straight, not long enough to react when Nora stepped in front of Piper. Piper’s hand grabbed her arm from behind, but Nora elbowed her, forcing her back.

“Piper’s pistol has her own story,” Nora continued. “She inherited it from her dad after he was murdered.”

“Blue,” Piper warned.

Nora ignored her. Slowly, she holstered the .44 and raised her empty hands, arms extended, palms upturned. She took a step forward.

Ros shifted her weight from foot to foot, rocked by a burst of adrenaline with nowhere to go. “Stay back!” she warned. Everything was shaking now—her voice, her breath, her hands, her legs. Even her vision was wavering.

“I can’t comprehend what you’ve gone through, how much pain you’ve been in for a very long time. I only know what I feel right here.” Nora placed her left hand on her chest, her fingers clawing into her shirt. “How empty and raw it is, like someone ripped out a part of me that can never be filled. Sometimes it burns so much I can’t breathe.”

“What’s the point?” Ros said hoarsely. Her throat was almost too tight to speak. “What’s the point of anything?”

“The point”—Nora reached behind her to briefly squeeze Piper’s hand—“is that when I was lost, someone was waiting for me at the city gates. Locked out, actually. Waving her arms and yelling.” She gave a half-smile. “I found good people, kind people. People that were willing to love me if I let them. I have a family again.”

“You’re not my family.” There was no more anger behind Ros’s words. There was simply a tired, miserable grief.

Nora’s smile turned sad. “I know,” she said, and that was it. That was the trigger that had been pulled. Just not from a gun.

Ros closed her eyes. The hammer on her pistol clicked. She rotated it in her hand until the handle was facing away from her. “Take it,” she whispered. “Before I do something.”

The cold metal left her fingers. Without it, she might as well have been drifting away through air. She no longer had a weapon to protect herself from the rotten things in that hole in her chest. So, defenseless, she threw open the door and ran, ignoring the voices that called her back.

#i swear this fic has happy moments #there’s supposed to be goofy dancing and corny jokes…eventually #that’s if i ever write more than these snippets #wip wednesday #fallout 4 #piper wright #sole survivor #ros markey #rosemary reaper #fallout 4 fanfic #hey look new tags

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my1guilty1pleasures · 7 months

Text

Strongest Rematch Rewrite

Okay, so I wrote a fic called 'Strongest Rematch' but I hadn't put my all into it and it showed. So here's a rewrite that I did put my all into. It's also more well thoughtout.

2.8K words

Gojo smiled as he and the others reminisced, his head perking up when he heard a woman’s voice over the intercom.

“Now boarding flight 48, all passengers for flight 48, please make your way to the gate.” the voice called, Gojo watching as his friends stood. Nanami, Haibara, Yaga, Amanai, and Kuroi smiled at Gojo before walking over to one of the gates. It looked like it was time. Moving to take a step forward, he found himself stopped by Geto’s hand on his shoulder, the black haired young man giving him a somewhat mournful smile.

“Sorry, Satoru, but the others still need you. Shoko, Mei, Utahime, and especially Megumi and Yuji. We’ll meet again on the other side of the gate, but right now, you need to make sure Sukuna doesn’t hurt anybody else.” Geto said, his heart aching. Gojo stared at his lifelong friend, the person who he’d done everything with. The man who’d walked away from him a decade ago, the one who he’d had to kill, the one who he had enjoyed seeing the most.

“How am I supposed to do that? Did you forget what happened to me?” Gojo asked with an uncertain laugh, not sure what to do.

“You really expect me to believe that? You’re the strongest, Satoru. I’ve seen you do the impossible before. How many times have you faced death and come back? Besides, you still need to answer my question. So when we meet again I want an answer. Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest.” Geto said as the two stood there staring at each other for a moment. Gojo wrapped his arms around his friend the black haired male doing the same as they took a moment to simply enjoy being reunited, no matter how brief it had been.

“Well I can’t exactly lose after a send off like this, now can I?” Gojo said with a laugh, trying and failing to hold back the tears at seeing his friends. The two separated as Geto headed towards the gate, waving goodbye as they separated once more.

Yuji and Hiromi breathed heavily as they attacked the King of Curses. Gojo had lost, Kajimo had lost, but they couldn’t just give up, they had to kill him. Whatever Kenjaku had planned could wait for now, if they didn’t kill Sukuna, there’s no telling what he’d do if allowed to run free. They’d already lost enough people to Sukuna, they couldn’t let him roam free and they couldn’t let Gojo and Kajimo’s efforts go to waste. Still, it seemed as if he was toying with the two, which, to be fair, he probably was, but they couldn’t think about that, they couldn’t let themselves get disheartened by that. It wasn’t until they stood, worn and battered that they stopped, eyes widening as they watched a familiar mess of white hair and cocky smirk appear behind Sukuna. Interlacing his fingers, Gojo raised his hands above his head before bringing it crashing down on Sukuna’s sending the man tumbling and skidding away. Standing on the ruined remains of the city, he looked at the two males who had just been fighting Sukuna. The bottom half of his shirt was gone, his pants were stained with his own blood, and what looked like a scar ran across his entire upper torso where he’d been cut in half, but otherwise, he looked fine and completely uninjured. More blood still dotted his skin where cuts had once been, more still dripping from the corners of his mouth though the wounds had all been healed. Gojo quickly wiped the blood away from his mouth as he looked at the two beat up males.

“Go find Kenjaku. I’ll take care of Sukuna. I can’t lose this time.” he said with a confident smile to his student. He wouldn’t say it, but the smile was more for his student’s comfort than for any confidence of beating Sukuna. The man wasn’t called the King of Curses for nothing and while Gojo had told Geto he couldn’t lose, he honestly wasn’t so sure. He was on borrowed time and borrowed curse energy, he couldn’t afford to be cocky or play around. To anybody else, it would seem as if his energy increased tenfold, as if his abilities, his power, his everything, was suddenly better than ever like some sort of Super Saiyan upgrade! But he knew it was all temporary, that it would have a price. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too high.

Taking a moment for Sukuna to shake off the daze, Gojo quickly teleported away before teleporting back in front of the four armed male.

“Sukuna!” Gojo shouted, drawing his attention. He could see the surprise on Sukuna’s face, just like everyone, the king of curses had thought he was dead, “I’ll make a deal with you. I figure Megumi’s still in there somewhere, I’ll trade you.” he said, holding up the last of Sukuna’s fingers. It was the last bit Sukuna would need to regain his full power, the last thing he’d need before he was truly back again. Gojo was dropping the finger and catching the black haired boy that had formed before he could begin to fall, him and Sukuna trading places as Sukuna went after his last finger. He allowed Sukuna a moment to laugh and feel the abundance of power flow as he teleported away, leaving Megumi with Shoko before returning to the fight. The power that radiated off of Sukuna could kill a normal human, hell, even many of the students would probably have a hard time against the pure curse energy that seemed to permeate the very air around him.

“Great, now that you’re not inhabiting Yuji or Megumi, I can go all out, and since you have all twenty fingers, I can kill you for good.” Gojo said, still grinning as if this was all just a giant game. Once more they were throwing punches at each other, Gojo barely dodging Sukuna’s blade as it left large fissures across the battlefield. The same blade, the same attack, that had left him split in two the first time. Perhaps it was lucky that Sukuna had cut him in half cut above the waist, had he split Gojo in half vertically, he would probably be on the other side of that gate with Geto. Now, at least, he could keep Sukuna from hurting anyone else. Activating his domain, he poured more energy into it than the first time. Sukuna was stronger, in his proper body, while he didn’t want to waste what energy he had, he couldn’t afford to not give it his everything.

Thankfully, with Megumi no longer a part of Sukuna, Sukuna couldn’t use Megumi’s abilities, Megumi’s shikigami. It was easier to fight the man one-on-one than to fight him and two other things. Blow after blow, they sent each other flying across the battlefield or sending out shockwaves of cursed energy. Knocking the blade out of Sukuna’s hand, Gojo caught the male’s weapon, smirking as stood across from Sukuna. Neither would admit it, but they were exhausted, their extended battle taking its toll on them. He could tell that Sukuna’s cursed energy was starting to run out, the waves of power no longer flowing from him, his attacks slowing, and his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Had his own energy not been dwindling, he might have given a cocky smile, but he didn’t have much more than Sukuna did at this point. He could do it, he was certain he could do it, the cost would be high, but he knew the consequences when he came back for a second round. Activating his curse technique and reverse cursed technique, he watched Sukuna’s eyes narrow. They both knew that there was no getting out of this. If Sukuna tried to flee, Gojo would hold him down, not hesitating to sacrifice himself to bring down the ‘almighty king of curses’, if he stayed, he’d likely be obliterated, his only hope was that he could withstand the blast.

Sand. That’s all that was left of a mile long radius of the blast site, all that remained in this part of the city. All the rubble, the concrete buildings, destroyed glass windows, everything had been reduced to sand from the attack. In the center lay 2 men, both barely conscious, both too worn and too battered to move a muscle. Gojo wasn’t entirely certain what was happening, but he knew that he’d taken down the king of curses. Even Utahime could kill him now. That thought made him want to laugh, a small smile playing on his lips as he stared up at the sky. The others could handle it from here. Mei-mei, Yuta, Kusakabe, Maki, any of them could take over. He didn’t know how much time passed before he felt something warm spreading throughout his body, a feeling he recognized. Shoko. She was using her reverse curse technique to heal him. As soon as his body was healed, he was, reluctantly, sitting up, despite Shoko’s hands trying to push him back down.

“I… have one more… thing to do.” Gojo said between gasps of air, forcing himself to stand. Hopefully Kenjaku wouldn’t be hard to beat, because Gojo had a fraction of his cursed energy left and he’d already been working on borrowed energy. Looking around, Gojo smiled as he spotted Yuta. Hopefully Yuta wouldn’t protest, “Yuta! I have a request.” Gojo called, the boy running over to him.

“What is it?” Yuta asked, looking up at the man he idolized, wondering what Gojo could possibly need him for.

“Just uh, borrowing a little cursed energy. Don’t ask, I don’t really know how it works either, but I still have some unfinished business.” Gojo said, watching the boy nod in confusion. The young man could feel his cursed energy draining, as if he’d just gone 2 rounds with Sukuna himself, stumbling and landing on his butt on the soft sand below him.

“Thanks, Yuta. Don’t worry, it’s temporary, you should be fine after you rest.” Gojo said, ruffling the boy’s hair before disappearing. He still had to take care of Kenjaku.

Standing in front of a gravemarker, Gojo sighed. They’d taken care of Geto’s body properly this time after dealing with Kenjaku. After everything that happened, he’d insisted on a good burial for his friend, one within the barriers of Jujutsu High. Having defeated Sukuna, the elders weren’t in much of a position to refuse him. It had been 3 years since then, the students who had lived to see the end were all special grade now, all except Megumi who was still in recovery and Yuji who, without Sukuna’s abilities, had been forced to start from square one, learning things that the others had learned a long time ago. Not that Yuji seemed to mind too much, the boy was happy to be learning from the ‘strongest’. Gojo chuckled at that. The strongest, while he still technically carried that title for defeating Sukuna, he was no longer the strongest sorcerer alive.

It was something he’d known would happen from the moment he came back. He’d been on borrowed time and borrowed energy, he’d borrowed further energy from Yuta. Bringing himself back to life, the enhanced energy gained to defeat Sukuna, defeating both Kenjaku and Sukuna, it had all left him unable to use cursed energy at all. He hadn’t just fried parts of his brain that allowed him to use cursed energy properly though, he’d fried just about everything that allowed a jujutsu sorcerer to be a jujutsu sorcerer. He could still see cursed spirits and had his six eyes, but everything else was gone. His infinity, his limitless, techniques red and blue, hollow purple, domains, reversed curse technique, it was all gone. Literal decades of training gone in what seemed like an instant. The cost of his fight with Sukuna, of his revival and seemingly enhanced cursed energy. As if he’d borrowed a lifetime of cursed energy for that one battle.

Hearing an excited voice, Gojo turned and smiled to see a familiar pink haired young man running towards him.

“Gojo-Sensei! I think I finally got it!” the boy shouted excitedly. Yuji was always so energetic, even after everything that had happened.

“Oh? Well it would be about time. It’s only taken you 3 years.” Gojo teased, smiling at the boy. Lowering his sunglasses, he gestured for Yuji to show him what he’d accomplished. Quickly setting a soda can down on a bench, the boy took a deep breath, concentrating on the can. It took a moment, but soon the can twisted and crumpled, bringing an even bigger smile to Gojo’s face.

“See! I finally got it! I told you I’d get it! Just you wait! I’m going to be the next strongest!” Yuji shouted cheerfully, only for Gojo to chuckle.

“Nah. Pretty sure Megumi’s going to be the strongest. You can be second strongest though.” Gojo teased, ruffling the boy’s hair, it reminded him of him and Geto back when they were the strongest duo, “speaking of ‘Gumi, where is he?” Gojo asked, looking around.

“He uh…. He’s been having nightmares again lately. I told him to take the day off, I’d cover for him for a little bit.” Yuji said nervously, rubbing his arm.

Megumi hadn’t been the same after Sukuna. It had been hard on him. The boy had spent hours locked in his room, only eating or drinking when Gojo brought it to him and made sure he ate, sleeping as much as possible while waking from nightmares, and spending hours sobbing. Yuji had been next to him as much as possible, chatting with Megumi whenever he was awake, making sure Megumi still got some fresh air, and always offering a shoulder or ear should Megumi need it. Both Gojo and Yuji constantly reminded Megumi that, even with the people he’d lost, he wasn’t alone, he was never alone. It had taken a year but Megumi had gradually started coming out of his room, even if only for a short while, coming out for meals and the occasional visit to his sister and Nobara’s grave sites. These days, he came out more and more, occasionally he’d train with Yuji, though most of the time he’d sit under various trees and stare at the sky, thinking about the people they’d lost. Gojo did that too.

Without his cursed energy, he had a lot more time on his hands, time to think. Think about what had happened with Geto, with Amanai, about Tengen, Kenjaku, and Sukuna, about Nanami and Haibara, Yaga, even the old geezer. It was something he hadn’t really done in the past. Always working to get stronger. Get stronger, don’t let another Toji situation happen, don’t let another Amanai situation happen; get stronger, don’t think about how Geto left him; get stronger so he could ignore what Geto was doing… get stronger so he’d never have to lose another friend like he lost Geto. Yet he’d still failed at that. He hadn’t just lost friends though, he’d lost Nanami, yes, but he’d also lost Nobara, Yaga, Tsukumo, and while he hadn’t known the Kyoto students that well, they’d also lost Mai and Kokichi. And now, without anything to distract him, he had time to think. There was no ‘getting stronger’, frequent checkups with Shoko had proven time and time again that his cursed energy wasn’t coming back, or if it did, it wouldn’t be any time soon. Training Yuji could only take up so much of his time, leaving him with too much time left to his thoughts.

Looking up at the sky, he smiled, watching a plane fly overhead. He wondered when he’d meet Geto on the other side of that gate. He wasn’t the strongest anymore, meaning it could be at any time. Without his infinity, he didn’t have a constant barrier around him, anybody could kill him with ease if they wanted to. That thought made him chuckle.

“How about a third option? I’m Gojo Satoru, regardless if I’m the strongest or not. I don’t have to be the strongest because I’m me and I don’t have to be me because I’m the strongest. I hope you don’t mind that answer too much.” he said softly as the breeze ruffled his hair.

“Uh, Sensei? What are you talking about?” Yuji asked, redirecting Gojo’s attention back to his student.

“Nothing you need to worry about, Yuji. Now come on, if you really want to surpass Megumi, you’re going to have to work a lot harder!” Gojo said, his excitement and energy seeming to return as he and Yuji walked away from the gravestone. It was a nice day, Geto wouldn’t want him to linger here, he had people here who needed him, maybe not for any world ending battles, but they needed him.

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