#and MY DAD FUCKING DEFENDED THIS GUY IVE NEVER MET OVER ME JUST BECAUSE HE MIGHT BE ROMANTICALLY INTERESTED IN ME???
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when yr having fun with yr dad but remember he doesnt respect young people or women and will never fully see you as a person
#was just bitching about how this guy is texting me a lot and was told by a friend that i TRUST#that he does this to 5 or 6 people at once#im like damn i wish he didnt send me 4 messages and get all sad ant with bindle if i dont reply in 15 mins#and MY DAD FUCKING DEFENDED THIS GUY IVE NEVER MET OVER ME JUST BECAUSE HE MIGHT BE ROMANTICALLY INTERESTED IN ME???#then i was like ohhh he doesnt believe anything im telling him because im under 35 and thinks its getting too late for me to not have a bf#< ive had 3 girlfriends is whats ironic#but my dad had to be reminded of the guys name TODAY but still would rather defend this. alright man 👍#i brought this up to him at one point where i was like i wish you didnt treat me as too hysterical to listen to#DO WE KNOW WHAT THIS MF SAID. 'well you were being hysterical back there 🙄'#LMAOOOOOOOIDONOTRESPECTYOU#say it with me. i am always and unequivocally better than anyone who would judge a 16 year old for things out of their control#if yr reading this you are too 🫶🫶
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The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 13/?
Word Count: 3.2k
Author’s Note: Part 13? The unlucky part??? I’m evil
Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name ( your best friend’s name).
I don’t know when this will be posted because time is dumb! But I do think I’ll have something prepared for Jason’s birthday<3
Hope you’re all well!
Warnings: Swearing, Eludes to sex, Mentions of injuries, Mentions of underage drug use (Do Not Condone), Mentions of sexual assault, Eludes to trauma, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)
The next morning, Jason and Y/N would wake up in the same bed. Y/N would get up and stumble her way into his ensuite, trying not to wake him as he was still injured. It had been 4 days since his injury, and he was hoping that the next day he’d get his stitches removed. She would grab the clothes she wore the day before and walk into the ensuite.
She would fumble with her makeup a bit, realizing it had run slightly from the night before. Before just realizing it would be a lot easier if she took it all off. She wasn’t wearing heavy makeup, but it was just enough to hide what she thought were imperfections.
She wasn’t wearing anything, so she just threw on all of her other clothes and threw her hair up.
When she exited the ensuite, he was still sleeping in the bed, but his clothes were strewn across the room. She paused her thoughts to clean up his clothes and put them in his laundry basket.
She touched her nose to test if it was still warm and painful, which brought all the pain to the forefront, and it was still warm to the touch, she knew it was inflamed from the head-butting incident and looking in the mirror.
She didn’t think it would hurt this much, and she winced at the pain.
Jason would start groaning in his sleep, she assumed it was because they didn’t close the blackout curtains before they had their fun the night before. So she went to go close them when he went and grabbed her thigh, she laughed quietly.
“Good morning, Jason,” she said as she closed the curtains before leaning down to see his face, and what was obvious bedhead.
“Hi,” he whispered before pulling her back into his bed.
She laughed, “Sorry, baby. I had to get up and get dressed.”
“Lame,” he whispered and curled into her.
“Jay, you’re naked,” she said.
“Thank you Sherlock Holmes.”
“Oh shut it, you should get dressed,” she suggested.
“Yeah, I should,” he said as he left the bed, crawling over her and going to his dresser, thank God he didn’t have any IVs and blood bags anymore, so he could walk without having to drag those around anymore.
She didn’t stare at him, because he nose started pounding and she whimpered.
“You alright, Y/N?” Jason asked her.
“Yeah sorry, my nose is killing me.”
“Well that’s what happens when you head-butt someone.”
She laughed, “I’m sorry okay, I panicked.”
“That part’s obvious.”
“You could pretend to care that I’m hurt, Jay,” she joked.
He laughed as he put on his boxers and his pants, “I could, but I also think you were being reckless, I worry,” he searched for a shirt, “I worry that us being together is putting you in danger,” he said as he found a shirt.
“Well, I like the danger, if there is any.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a danger,” he put on his shirt and fumbled with his hair, “It’s obviously because you’re attached to Bruce, you heard that man ‘I wonder what Bruce will give me for you’ he knew we had money. You need your car back.”
“I can’t afford the fees,” she sighed.
“Bruce can pay them, you know.”
“God no, I would feel so bad, I’ll just take the subway or something.”
He sighed and went back to her, cupping her face, “Please let my dad pay the fees, it’s dangerous out there,” he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, “I can’t stand that you got hurt linked to your shenanigans with me,” he kissed her.
“I guess it’s me being protective,” he said, “But I think it’s a reasonable thing to be concerned about, Y/N.”
“I’ll figure it out, I swear.”
“You figuring this out involved you head-butting your attacker, I get it was quick thinking, but my god woman, that was dangerous,” he said.
“You literally got stabbed protecting your best friend,” she argued.
“Okay, good point, but I’m prettier than you so I win,” he joked.
“What kind of fucking logic is that you bastard!” she joked.
“The kind of star-crossed lovers or something, I don’t know, I don’t write, you do.”
“I’ll sell our story to Warner Brothers, we’ll make millions off of us.”
“Two lovers, harassed by the press in the media, spend most of their time hiding and protecting themselves from the disgusting eyes of the media and the man who attacked one of them,” he said in a news broadcaster voice, “Amazing, isn’t it?” he joked.
“The kind of story Artemis said Dick would eat up.”
“Oh, he would. Man’s a sucker for a romantic story.”
“Well, maybe he can sell his and Barbara’s romantic story to the Warner Brothers, he’d probably make millions too, if it’s worth anything.”
“Well, they’ve known each other for years, and when they finally started dating, myself, Steph, Cass, Tim and Damien all celebrated to an extent, we all saw it coming from all those years of them knowing each other,” he paused, “They actually fought a lot when they were younger before they dated, it would be normal to hear Dick and Barbs going at it about how they hated each other.”
“That’s such a meet-cute stone-cold-woman meets goofy guy story that I hate it.”
He laughed, “They’re so gooey, it’s so cute that I want to vomit.”
“That’s valid. We should be cuter so that they want to vomit.”
“I like your thinking, Y/N.”
“You always do, I have good ideas, Jason.”
“Only sometimes.”
She laughed. It was true, someone with always good ideas wouldn’t have head-butted her attacker, but it’s not like she carried knives or guns around to defend herself. She was considering getting a conceal-carry permit, just because she truly was shaken up by the event.
But a little trauma makes for good stories, and her story with Jason was just starting.
--------------------------------------
Dick decided he’d drive her to her class that day, she didn’t think it mattered that much, her attack, but she realized that a lot of them didn’t want to see her hurt, even if they barely knew her.
She figured it was a kindness that they all possessed. She heard stories of the Waynes paying off waitress’/waiters’ student debts. She heard stories of the Waynes being polite to their ‘lower’ counterparts of the world. She knew they wer kind people, so she wasn’t shocked when Dick insisted he drive her to her class.
“So, Y/N, what are your intentions with my brother?” Dick joked.
“Oh no, not this, I haven’t prepared my answerers for this exam,” she retorted.
“No, its a pop quiz, you have no chance to prepare.”
“Fuck. Can I drop out of this class?”
“How would you even accomplish that?”
“Tuck and roll out of the car, probably,” she joked.
“You ever done that before?”
“Nope, you?”
“Did it on a dare, Jase dared me.”
“And he calls me reckless,” she laughed.
“Well, we were still in high school at the time, we’re supposed to be reckless,” Dick said.
“You ever met a college kid? We’re supposed to be reckless too.”
“He’ll get over it in time, Y/N. I promise. He just needs time to accept that you’re going to be as reckless and opinionated as he is, no one really refuses each other like you two do, and I’m sure you don’t mean it to be like that.”
“I think you’re reading too far into it, Dick, we make compromises.”
“Then why is your car still an issue? Bruce can cover the cost no questions asked.”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
“Maybe it’s something to think about.”
“Are you always this brotherly? I need to know what I’m getting into here.”
He laughed, “You really do keep out of the press, don’t you?”
She took that as a yes, he is that brotherly and would continue to be. She didn’t mind, she never had a brother growing up so this would take some time to get used to, but she did not mind at all. She just figured she’d have to keep her partying ways even further down in the depths of her secrets.
They didn’t need to know what she did and what was done to her, she even ignored those problems herself. If they came out, then so be it, but if she could keep them hidden, she would.
“What were you like back in high school?” Dick asked, trying to fill the silence.
“Probably not the type of person that your dad would want Jason to be with,” she admitted.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Honestly? I don’t want to talk about it. You’d probably have to get me hammered to talk to you about it.”
“Well, maybe one day you’ll go to a gala. And after you’re wasted, I’ll ask you about it.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“I’m sure you will, Dick. I’m sure you will.”
“Well, we’re here,” he said, “You have my number right?”
“I do, I do.”
“Good, call me if you need me to come get you and take you home, or to the Manor. Either or, no questions asked,” he laughed, “I expect the same when you have your car back, to be fair.”
“Consider it a deal, thanks Dick.”
“Anytime, really.”
She closed the door and waved him off, but when he pulled out of the lot, the press was at Y/N’s ass. She ran though, she ran far to get out of there.
Class was the usual. She wrote her normal psychology notes, sitting in her class, concentrating as she scribbled down the notes that she struggled to read.
When she was done and getting read to call Dick to come get her, her old friends from Metropolis showed up at her school.
“Hey! Y/N!” Christopher yelled when he saw her leave her class.
“Oh my god?” she said before running to hug him, “What the fuck are you doing here, dude?” she questioned, before looking at the rest of the car and seeing Justine, Kaitlin and Thomas, “What the fuck are all of you doing here?”
“C’mon party girl, we’re taking you to your pale, you get dressed, and we’re going out,” Justine urged Y/N to join them, “Just like old times, man.”
“Yeah! We haven’t partied in weeks since you got your scholarship! We know you’re busy and trying to discipline yourself, but we can go party every once in a while, girl!” Kaitlin added.
“You know we miss you too,” Thomas finished.
“Alright, I need no more convincing, let’s get going,” she said as she hopped into the car and they went going to her house. She thought on the drive there, What if I fall back into old habits, and I’m doing so well, what if I fall off?
She couldn’t have more thoughts because before she knew it, she was in her house sending Jason a quick text,
Hey baby, I can’t come over tonight. Old friends came by.
Oh. I hope you have fun, I’ll probably be with my brothers. how did you even get home?
They drove me. I promise I’ll be over tomorrow and you’ll have me all day and night long, though.
That. That is exciting.
It should be.
She got dressed.
And she sent Jason a photo of what she was wearing (like the picture above) just to get him going. Before running out of her place and hopping back into the car.
“You always dress to impress, don’t you?” Thomas asked.
“I dress like I know what I’m doing,” Y/N joked.
“Never change, Y/N, never change,” Justine joked back.
------------------------
She walked into the club she frequented back when she was in high school, but the Gotham one. She had a fake ID, and she used it well and was in the club before the rest of her group knew it.
Justine would grab her hand and take her to the bar, Fuck, she thought, Here we go. And they ordered drinks.
The rest of the night was a blur of people, drinks and her friends.
She knew she overdid it from the minute she woke up, in her bed, feeling around for her phone in her messed up and torn up sheets. Het body was covered in bruises, she noticed between harsh blinks from the pouding headache she was nursing. She remembered why she didn’t party as hard anymore. She didn’t even know how she got home that night. She found her phone and turned it on, 8:00am it read. She checked her messages, adn there was Jason, at 7:00am he said;
Are you awake yet?
To which, she replied: I am, why?
How drunk were you last night?
I think blackout. I don’t remember much.
I can tell.
Tell me I didn’t do anything stupid.
You did something stupid.
What did I do?
You called me at 3am and told me you loved me, followed by saying you threw up at one of your friends. I don’t even know how you got home.
Well that’s not that bad.
You told me about your past.
Oh.
When were you going to tell me you’re a recovering alcoholic?
I don’t know.
Come here. Come over. We need to discuss this.
Alright, alright. I’ll be there soon.
Dick will come get you in an hour, actually. Don’t leave the house without him.
I won’t.
She got up and looked at the mirror at herself. She was covered in bruises, her makeup was smudged, her eyes looked sunken in and her hair was a mess. She sighed, knowing she fucked up, and wiped off her makeup and got in the shower. She quickly showered and put on a turtleneck and a pair of jeans.
It was to hide the bruises from Jason. She assumed someone had physically assaulted her, possibly sexually. She only had that thought once before she pushed it very far down and swallowed it. She went to go make coffee, but her head was racing at the ideas of last night and what she said.
She was fucked up and she did fuck up. She knew she shouldn’t have drank. but she did. And she knew Jason was either really pissed or really sympathetic. She was scared at how much she might have discussed when Dick honked his horn and she left the house.
In the car, Dick tried to break the silence, “You should have told someone, anyone. We’re all really good at listening, Y/N.”
She wiped away a few tears that were pooling.
“You didn’t need to hide from us, Y/N.”
“I do.”
“No, Y/N, you don’t. Jason’s probably more mad that you didn’t tell him over you actually being a recovering alcoholic. You called him last night and let it all spill out. Everyone knows, you don't need to hide anymore.”
“Of course I did,” she said, swallowing more tears and her voice breaking.
She wanted her past as an alcoholic to die when she moved out of the city, because she didn’t want everyone to know how broken she was, fighting with addiction. A lot of her anxieties and treatments of people make sense with her past addictions, but that doesn’t mean she liked them.
She hated that girl, the wild party child who almost drank herself to death, her body was just recovering fully from her escapades when she went out clubbing. She knew this was going to be an issue, but she didn’t know how to fix it.
He looked over at her and caught eye at one of her bruises that was peaking over her turtleneck. He tried to not stare, but she noticed.
“Don’t ask about it, Dick. I don’t know what happened.”
“I think you two will get through this.”
“I hope we do, but realistically,” she paused.
“Don’t think like that.”
They pulled into the driveway and the minute Dick unlocked her door, she was out of there, speed walking to the door and then to Jason’s room.
She opened the door to find him reading a book, she would have smiled at this, had she not been certain that they were about to fight.
“Jason?”
“Oh. You’re here.”
“Yeah, I just-”
He cut her off and got up from his bed, looking ever-so disappointed in her as he walked to the door of his room. She expected the fight to take place in the hall, so she tried to step back when he grabbed her forearm with one of his hands and yanked her into his room. She assumed maybe, just maybe his room was soundproof so his family wouldn't have to hear the yelling. He closed the door once she was in and stared at her.
She gulped, expecting him to let loose on the argument now about her drinking and her confessing she was a recovering alcoholic, but instead, he pulled her into a hug, which she yelped at.
“Jason?” she said, shocked.
“Shh,” he broke from the hug and cupped her face, “It’s okay, really.”
“But I hid it from you...”
“You know, we’ve only known each other two weeks or something, right? I get you hiding it, I just wish it didn’t come out like that,” he laughed and kissed her quickly, “Besides-” he noticed the bruise on her neck, “What’s that?” he asked, grabbing her hand and clutching it.
“There’s...”
“There’s more?” he asked.
“What, I mean, uh... uh... no?” she stuttered.
“Take your shirt off.”
“Jason...”
“Or tell me the truth.”
“Baby-”
“So there’s more, who hurt you? Did you fall?” he asked, getting a little bit heated, really squeezing her hand.
“I don’t know.”
He cupped her face, “That’s okay,” he leant his forehead against hers, “It’s okay, I promise, I do. I just really don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I don’t try to,” she said.
“Seems like trouble likes to follow you,” he said.
“Well, you found your way to me so I’d have to agree,” she joked.
“Ha ha. How’s your nose?” he said as he broke contact with her to go sit on his bed, she followed.
“It still hurts, but I can’t tell if that’s from last night or from my shenanigans with the attacker.”
“It could honestly be a combination of both, depending on what happened to you, have you asked your friends for the full story yet?”
“No. I’ve been scared to.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“I’m going to. Right now.”
“I support your decision on that,” he said as he turned on the TV in his room, but then Y/N paused.
“Y/N?”
“Reports are in of a group of friends, who all got arrested last night, for bodily harm of a man who attempted to rape their friend, Police say., the suspects in the attack are Christopher Green, Justine Wong, Kaitlin Benoit and Thomas Harthrew. More to be coming soon.”
“Thank god that girl had those friends.”
She turned to Jason, “So,” she paused, “I’m glad you think that, because, those are my friends.”
#dcu#dceu#dc#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd fluff#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x y/n#red hood x you#red hood fluff#dick grayson#nightwing#artemis crock#female oc#male oc#jason todd angst#red hood angst
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Battle of the Bands (Ch.12)
Pairing: Robb Stark x Reader, Jon Snow x Reader, Viserys Targaryen x Reader, Ramsay Bolton X Reader
Summary: You just moved into the city for the first tie all by yourself. After you get your dream summer job working for a small magazine, you find yourself in the middle of the city’s rock festival: Battle of the Bands. Local rock bands throughout the city compete to win a record deal that could change their lives. Your job? Get close to them and write about them online.A single girl in the city surrounded by rocker boys during the summertime. What could possibly go wrong?
Words: 2053 // AO3 Link
Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five // Chapter Six // Chapter Seven // Chapter Eight // Chapter Nine // Chapter Ten // Chapter Eleven
You know those days where you’re running around endlessly and it seems like you couldn’t catch your breath? Like one of those days where everything just went to shit? This wasn’t one of them. Instead, you sat back in Jon’s apartment watching a movie character suffer through the worst day of her life over and over again.
“You know, this wouldn’t be happening if she had at least gone on a date with that guy,” Jon said, passing the blunt to you.
You placed the blunt between your lips, but didn’t smoke it. You reached for the remote to pause the movie. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“I mean, she should give him a chance.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s at fault for all of this? If she went on a date with him, she wouldn’t be living her worst day over and over. She should’ve just given him a chance.”
“So, I should go out with Ramsay Bolton on a date or else he’ll kill me?” you said flatly. Jon nodded.
“You’re right. You’re right,” he unpaused the movie and then paused it again. “Ramsay Bolton asked you out?” Oh no. Today was going really, really well. Jon moved closer to you. His hand landed on your ankle.
“Did he bother you? I’ve punched his face in the past, but—
“No, please. I’m just…weird today I guess.” You moved his hand away, and then Jon sat closer to you. His fingers brushed your arm.
“You are being weird. Where are you right now?”
“What do you mean?” you asked, facing him. Jon’s big brown eyes always did you in. You didn’t want to tell him, but if you didn’t you felt like you were lying to him.
“I know Robb really likes you and all, but—
“Ramsay does too,” you came out with it. “We hooked up not too long ago, but that was before you! It was just a one-time deal and I’m not even sure if it’s gonna happen again.” Jon looked down to the floor, digesting everything you told him.
“Do you still like him?” he asked.
“It’s complicated,” you said honestly.
Jon nodded and held his arms out for you. You laid into his chest, feeling his deep breathing soothe you. His arms held you against him on the couch while Jon played the movie again. The main character in the movie gave the guy the middle finger while you silently cheered on.
“I’m not mad, you know,” Jon said aloud. “I’m a little jealous if anything, but I’m not mad. He was your past. I mean, Robb saw you two together. He told me you were with him in a sense, but he’s not your ex-boyfriend. You never dated him. You’re with me now.”
“Wait,” you sat up. “Like I’m with you? As in girlfriend?”
“Yeah,” Jon smiled. “You slept over last night. You know how I feel about you. Right? Doesn’t all of that make you my girlfriend?”
“Jon, I never said I was—
“You never said?” Jon’s eyebrows knitted together. “I thought you had feelings for me.”
“I do! It’s just—
“You have feelings for other guys too, right?” Jon finished the harsh sentence for you. Stark men. Quick to anger always. He rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen. You followed the potential werewolf explosion.
“Jon, please don’t be mad.”
“Mad? I’m not mad,” Jon grabbed a knife and started to cut open an orange. Each cut was louder than the last.
“You are mad. Please. I don’t want this to be like your brother—
“Then go out with him then. Everyone does. Or better yet, why not piss us both off and go fuck off with Ramsay somewhere. Clearly, you have great taste in men.”
“Now, you’re being mean.”
“I’m being mean?” Jon slammed down the knife and faced you. “I defended you in front of Robb. I told you exactly how I felt about you, and you don’t even want to be with me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
“Jon—
“Answer the question. Do you want to be my girlfriend or not? Because I don’t know what we’re doing here then.” Jon’s brown eyes turned cold with every second he stared you down. The Stark boys weren’t like Viserys or Ramsay. They were a different kind of dangerous. One that should be taken seriously, not played around with. You held up your hands in a surrender. You exhaled all of the air from your lungs, maybe if you worded things carefully, Jon would understand.
“After what happened with Robb, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to jump into a relationship with you this soon. I’m not even sure if I want a boyfriend anymore. I don’t want to hurt Robb. I don’t want to hurt you. It’s not the answer you want, but it’s the truth.”
Jon closed in the space between you. “You’re right. I can’t be mad at you for telling me the truth. If you want to wait, I can wait. I’ll wait as long as you tell me to. Just as long as I still get to kiss you.”
Jon’s lips brushed yours again. He tasted like the oranges he just cut. His hands wrapped behind your head as he leaned into you. Your hands found his chest and they rested there. You could hear a bird singing outside and you swore your heart knew the same song. His lips were soft and hungry. You opened your mouth for more access, and he took advantage.
His hands slid down to your hips and picked you up to place to on the kitchen counter. You found yourself in a happy embrace until
“Y/N? Jon?” Robb said from the doorway.
“Fuck! Robb!” Jon pulled away immediately. You jumped down from the kitchen counter and faced Robb. He stood there frozen to his spot. You couldn’t tell if you shocked him or broke him entirely.
“I have to go. I have to go,” you pushed past Robb and left Jon’s apartment. You put your face in your hands and groaned loud. Okay, maybe you were having a bad day. One person could sort this out.
You to Margie: [Guess who landed herself a restraining order from the Starks? Hint! Its me.]
Margie: [What happened? Also! I think I met someone today ;) ]
You: [Whaaaaaaaaaaat? Who?]
Margie: [His name is Podrick. His dick is…oh my god. I think it’s the best dick ive ever seen.]
You: [Girl you did NOT]
Margie: [No! Not yet anywaysss…I did get some good pictures from him. But tell me what happened!!! You’re with jon and??]
You: [Robb discovered us. We were kissing and he just walked right in.]
Margie: [Oh. Fuck. Did Robb know that you two were?]
You: [Nope.]
Margie: [And??]
You: [And I walked out. What else was I supposed to do?]
Margie: [Hmph. You right. Issa mood.]
You rolled your eyes at your best friend’s slang. What else were you supposed to do? Stay and explain why you were kissing your boss’ brother at his place? After Robb just gave you front page? Didn’t fucking think so. Your phone buzzed again.
Ramsay: [What the actual fuck is this?]
[Sent Image]
You saw a picture of the headline from The Scene. ‘Viz Targaryen: A Real Dragon or a Low Snake?’ You smiled and watched the typing balloon pop up on your screen. Come to think of it, the famous Viz himself hadn’t texted or called you yet. You wondered if he knew.
Ramsay: [Are you coming after me too? What the fuck is this?]
You: [Aw, is somebody scared of the writer now?]
Ramsay: [If you’re gonna pull that me too bullshit with me, I will remind you that we had very consensual sex and I did some happy biting on you, bitch.]
You: [You call me a bitch like that’s supposed to offend me.]
Ramsay: [I could call you a whore, but you seem very comfortable fucking me and then lying about it.]
That one cut deep. You closed your eyes before you responded to the asshole that made you skin crawl and head confused.
You: [What do you want?]
Ramsay: [Are you writing articles like this about me? Did you fuck my band over?]
You: [No. Why would I fucking do that?]
Ramsay: [My father is in his office with Viz right now. Viz is fucking pissed off at you. He’s going to try take you to court.]
You: [Whoa. What? How do you know that?]
You saw the typing bubble come up again. You had time to get to The Scene’s office and warn—shit. Robb was at Jon’s place. Renly. Renly would be at the ‘The Scene’ office. Your feet carried you four blocks in on direction and two blocks in another direction. Your phone buzzed again with a block of text from Ramsay.
Ramsay: [I told you. I cut a deal with my dad. Battle of the Bands was my last chance to get anywhere in the music scene. I had to quit and clean up my act. I work here with my dad now. Viz and his band came in here 15 minutes ago. They want you to stop writing. You have so much dirt on everyone in the battle. That’s how I know.]
You: [You…youre a lawyer? You have a law degree?]
Ramsay: [I told you that I was awful. I never said I was stupid like Viz was.]
You: [So you agree? Viz is stupid.]
Ramsay: [He’s stupid enough to piss you off. Three brands dropped his band today. Because of that article, he could lose both the battle of the bands and whatever record labels that were looking at him.]
You smiled. Fucking over toxic men was your calling. You knew it. Ramsay sent another block of text over to you.
Ramsay: [Look, I don’t know who fucked over my band. It could be Renly. But it could be you.]
You: [I had nothing to do with your band being disqualified. You belong up there on a stage. I saw what you did to your crowds. You’re really talented.]
Ramsay: [How do I know youre not lying to me?]
When you reached The Scene’s office, you found Bran manning the record store again. He quietly played with his old Gameboy.
“Hi Bran,” you said to him.
“Don’t eat Chinese tonight. You might regret it.”
“Oh..okay Bran. Nice seeing you?” You made your way up to the office. You heard Bran once more going up.
“Even dragons have their endings, Y/N.”
You spoke about Bran a couple of times with Robb. You weren’t sure what was up with him and his…way of speaking with people? Robb usually shrugged it off and told you that’s just how Bran was after an accident where he fell out of a tree. When you asked Jon about it, he simply told you “if you’re asking me if I believe in God, then yes I do, because I don’t know what Bran is but something made him that way.”
You turned back to your phone. How would you prove to Ramsay you were on his side? When you looked around, you found the office mostly empty save for everyone’s pet goldfish, Jules, who swam to and fro in his bowl on Renly’s desk. You made your way to your desk and found the perfect proof.
You took a picture of your playlist on your computer at work. It was a mix between Ramsay’s favorite music and Bloddy Bastard’s first album.
You: [There. If that’s not proof I didn’t do shit, I don’t know what is.]
Ramsay: [You really liked our first kiss, didn’t you? ;) I see American trash playing in the corner. Alright. I believe you. I’ll text you later. I’m going in. I’ll tell you what happens afterwards. You might want to warn Robb what’s about to happen. Viz is out for blood. He might want to tear down the entire magazine.]
You sighed in relief knowing you had a bad boy lawyer on your side, but it didn’t last long. Robb had to find out about this soon. And you just got caught kissing his brother, Jon, who you couldn’t decide on dating or not.
Note to Self: Your father taught you how to get yourself out a pickle…this is a VERY DIFFERENT PICKLE.
Ultimate Tag List (People who wished to be tagged in EVERY work I post.)
@angelicshinigami @sugarwastaken @carilov09 @i-theredqueen @sleepylunarwolf@loki-0fasgard @parkerplexed
Game of Thrones Tag List (People who wish to be tagged in everything GoT related)
@boltonblade @why-so-red @sj-thefan @sunshinesydney-blog @drunkenpoets @antiscocialfanwarrior @fnnexua @fraueninflammen@wanna-plan-world-domination @bravado07 @k-macncheese@theladyofrice @lokimysunandstars@tyri-yawn @kcd15 @theocatkov @cassandrabelleaime @oberyners
#battle of the bands#batb#game of thrones#got#game of thrones fanfic#viserys targaryen#viserys targaryen imagine#viserys targaryen x reader#viserys targaryen/reader#jon snow#jon snow/reader#jon snow x reader#jon snow imagine#robb stark#robb stark/reader#robb stark imagine#robb stark x reader#ramsay bolton#imagine ramsay bolton#ramsay bolton imagine#ramsay bolton x reader#ramsay bolton/reader#modern au
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Spring 2019 Fan Fest Prompt List
Hey fan-festers!
We’re happy to say that we received 81 prompts this time around, and we spent the last few days distilling all those amazing and creative prompts down to a list of 63 prompts! (If you’re keeping count, that’s far more than last year’s 48!)
As with last year, we had some repeat prompts and prompts that were similar enough that it made sense to condense them under one item. Additionally, most of the prompts we distilled down to a few words for the sake of having a concise list! Again, like last year’s fest, we’re providing the full text of the original prompts under the cut, in case you’re looking for more details to get started!
You’re free to create any kind of fanwork based on the below prompts! There’s no minimum word count and no rules on what to create, or even how many - if you want to combine prompts, that’s cool! If you’re called to make more than one thing, that’s awesome too! The only limit is that this fest runs from now until April 15th - so if you’re creating something, make sure you post it and tag it with #bennguinfanfest so we can share it to this tumblr! If you’re posting to AO3, the collection is now open for submissions as well, so make sure to include your work there so everyone can find it!
One final thing: even if you didn’t submit prompts, feel free to participate and join us on the discord! We’ve set up a discord server here: bennguinfest on discord to stay connected, inspire each other, and have fun! It’s a great group and really active, so don’t be shy!
That’s it! On to the prompt list!
Matchmaking dogs
Space AU
Birthday gifts
Coming out/being together in the NHL
Acting like a couple (but they’re not actually a couple)
Tyler as a WAG
Transported to a parallel universe
Abducted by aliens
Superhero/Superpowers AU
Amnesia from an injury
Soulmate AUs: Color-based, name-on-wrist
Thirst follow/Met online
Drag AU
Time loops
Alternate histories
Cop AU
Reality show AU (Survivor, the Bachelor, Married At First Sight)
Jamie Poppins/Single dad AU
Supernatural races (vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, etc.)
Omegaverse: Courting
Delivery boy/Uber driver AU
Tyler gets traded back to Boston
Breaking up & making up
Omegaverse: Bonding drama
Boring office desk job
Road trips
Protective Jamie defending Tyler
College/University AU
Tyler tries to be Jamie’s wingman
Lites’s comments affecting the boys
Taking care of a sick hockey player
Cuddle pile/team bed fic
Harry Potter AU
Fire alarm meet-cute
DnD/Hockey Mashup
De-aged after a fight
Bakery/Tattoo Artist AU
Friends with benefits - and then with feelings
Zombie AU
Homeless AU
Nerds are hot/competency kink
Omegaverse: scents
YouTube channel AU
Bridal shop meet-cute
Beard appreciation
Tornado warning
Figure skater mpreg
Self-conscious Jamie
Wing!fic
Winning the cup and a kiss on the ice
Lifeguard AU
Haunted farm
Animal daemons
Surprise/sudden parenting
Jealousy from dating/flirting with someone else
Secret relationship and almost getting caught
Long-lost childhood friends
"Come here."
“Close the door.”
“I feel like I can’t breathe.”
“It’s three in the morning and you want me to do what?”
“You could’ve died.”
“I thought you were dead.
Full text of the prompts under the link! If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask - and as always, happy creating!
1. Matchmaking dogs: Tyler’s dogs want to get their human with a certain cow-eyed captain
“well this is really awkward considering the last time we saw each other, i was screaming at you to never talk to me again, but like, my dog recognized you all the way across the park and literally dragged me over here because she misses you so hi” AU
2. Space AU (ex. Star Trek, Firefly, or something else entirely)
3. It's Tyler's birthday and at first Jamie gives off the feeling that he's forgotten and this hurts Tyler but it turns out that that Jamie wakes Tyler up at midnight on his birthday with two tickets to an offseason trip
4. I want a fic that REALLY captures what it would be like if two NHL players were to come out in 2019. I'm talking teammate reactions, press reactions, social media, family, the whole shebang. I wanna see the real raw reactions and the struggle the guys would have to go through. I would also loooove if you could fit Jamie proposing to Tyler in there somewhere but it isn't a necessity.
Jamie has a hard time dealing with how public Tyler’s life is, with the insta stories and with random people filming him all the time. It feels like it’s only a matter of time before their relationship is exposed because of how much Tyler is in the public eye. Jamie doesn’t want to break up but it seems like that’s the only choice he has. He doesn’t want to do this so much that he calls a press conference and comes out of the closet.
Jamie and Tyler have been dating since 2014 and he’s tired of hiding it. So with Jamie’s consent he posts a cute photo of them being a couple and writes a heartfelt monologue about their story. And the whole hockey community blows up about it. And it’s kinda about how they deal with being and out couple and Tyler posting obnoxiously cute couple photos on his Instagram. Sorry this prompted is a mess I just want Tyler to be a troll and post cute cliche couple photos on Instagram of him and Jamie and the world loading their minds about it.
Jamie and Tyler come out to the team about them dating. Management wants to keep their relationship secret so they make Jamie fake date someone. And him and Tyler struggle with the stress that puts on them.
realistic consequences of being together with the team
5. Tyler and Jamie are super close but super oblivious to the fact that they act like a literal couple. Jamie has a gf and she hates the fact that it seems like Jamie cares more about Tyler than he does her.
6. Fluffy fic where Jamie still plays hockey, he meets tyler and they fall in love and tyler becomes an nhl wife/husband/boyfriend.
7. Parallel universes -- somehow Tyler (or Jamie) finds himself in an alternate universe where his life is radically different (for better or for worse) which makes him realize how much his relationship to Jamie (or Tyler) means.
waking up in the future/alternate reality fic
8. Jamie and Tyler are abducted by aliens and taken to a faraway planet where they are prisoners in a bizarro planet. Is it real or is it a nightmare though?
9. jamie and tyler are in danger and major trouble when their identities as superheroes are revealed and bad guys are after them.
powers/mutant AU (as in pick one, not all at the same time) One hides their ability from the other, and when the other finds out, its...not good
Superhero AU! Are they superhero partners? Is one of them a superhero and can't date the other because he has to keep him safe? Are they both trying to keep their secret identities secret from each other while simultaneously dating in both iterations? Up to you, or anything else!
10. Amnesia angst for the win - Jamie gets a particularly hard hit, wakes up and can remember everyone except for tyler (maybe not explicitly, say they can *remember* them, but not remember that they've been dating for eight months now) cue tyler avoiding jamie because its too hard him to be around him
11. soulmate au! people are born with blackmarks - on their hands, their faces, their skin in general - the black marks is the first place their soulmate would touch them. Jamie was born without a mark. Tyler was born with two pitch black palms. Years after tylers been traded to the stars, Jamie falls asleep, and tyler can't help but run his fingers through Jamie's hair, just once, and then he looks down at his hand and the tips of his fingers are colored, and so are the few strands of Jamie's black hair.
Soulmate au- either abo or name on wrist. No drama, just fluff!
12. Tyler thirst follows Jamie on insta. This can be hockey or non-hockey, but Jamie follows back and they start talking.
13. Rupaul’s Drag Race au. Tyler and Jamie are competing against each other but are constantly talking about how much they like each other/are attracted to each other in the confessional. They’re both single, so why not go for it? Alternatively, one is a queen and the other is a member of the pit crew.
14. groundhog day au (aka, tylers/jamies day keeps getting reset, again and again until they get together finally and wake up the next day)
15. alternate history, tyler is never traded to dallas, but they still somehow meet and fall in love anyway
16. cop AU, where in tyler the rookie transfers and get stuck with Jamie the sorta senior to show him the ropes. Jamie gets attached. And that’s...a problem, in their line of work. Or at least it is for him.
17. Survivor au- same or different tribe, as long as they’re the “showmance”
"The Bachelor" AU
Married at first sight au- either within the parameters of the actual show, or they literally get married the day they meet
18. Jamie!Poppins - tyler is a single father with a new baby and no clue of what he's going to do. enter Jamie Poppins!
19. Minotaur Jamie
The Dallas Stars are a pack of werewolves, and Tyler is the vampire that’s been traded to their team.
Shifter verse!! and ive got nothing else for this other than wanting to see tyler as a tiny lab puppy pls and thanks
20. Alpha Tyler and omega Jamie: “usually when I meet an omega I wanna bone, but with Jamie I wanna fucking hold his hand and feed him bonbons all day, what the fuck”
21. Jamie the delivery boy. Kay hear me out. Like he keeps delivering huge quantities of food to this particular house and it always seems like there should be more than one person. But there’s not. And Tyler orders. All. The. Time. Hopeful it’s jamie. But they’re both too dumb to ask each other out. Lots of pining
Uber driver! Jamie picks up Tyler from a one night stand
22. Tyler gets traded back to Boston AU - Everything hurts and nothing is okay. (except that at least one of them is retiring at the end of the season so it's actually more okay than they think) (also a future fic)
23. breakup and makeup but spanning over seasons - no cheese plots
24. Bond drama (abo) either they bond too quickly, like at the all star game or something and dont know ehat to do because theyre on different teams, or they really want to bond and its not happening as fast as they think it should
25. Boring office desk job
26. road trip to Montreal to visit Jordie
27. while out chilling at a bar celebrating a win, jamie and tyler are having a couple of drinks and when jamie gets up to go the bathroom, a drunk stranger and a couple of his friends decide to harass Tyler, upsetting him. A furiously protective Jamie intervenes and despite holding his own, Jamie is beaten up and him and tyler end up in a dumpster.
28. A University fic where Tyler is out and proud and gay and Jamie is still trying to figure out his sexuality but he's having a hard time. No homophobic Jamie tho please, just a guy trying to figure himself out. Would love if he would rely on his family throughout the fic for advice.
I’m always a sucker for college au, or masters/PhD students etc
COLLEGE AU BECAUSE WE ALL NEED MORE OF THAT IN OUR LIVES
'the cops showed up to a party we were at and chased everyone away. You and I happened to run in the opposite direction of all our friends and got lost in some dark and creepy street.’ - College AU
29. Tyler finds out Jamie is gay (outed/comes out/whatever you prefer) and embarks on a wild but good-intentioned quest to find Jamie his perfect man.
30. Tyler is hurt by Lites' comments more than one thinks and Jamie is worried when he sees Tyler crying in private.
31. sickfic? jamie taking care of tyler is- like just how pathetic is a sick hockey player?
32. team bed au omg someone pls
33. Harry Potter au but not as high school student, just something in the magical world
34. "3am and the fire alarm in our apartment building went off and you look cold here is my jacket"
35. Hockey AU but they’re all dnd races. I would love to see half-orc Jamie, and goliath Bishop, and tiefling Tyler. Please be as creative as you want with this!
Hockey AU where instead of going out, a core group of guys plays dnd in their hotel rooms while on the road. Tyler and Jamie’s characters are getting flirty in game, and it’s starting to translate outside of it as well.
36. Tyler and jamie fight - a *big* fight, and the next day Jamie suddenly got a deaged tyler on his hands and no idea how to fix it
37. Jamie owns a bakery and tylers the new tat artist next door plsplspls gimme that slow burn bullshit with this one
38. ty/jam used to have a whole friends w benefits thing that went oh-so-wrong because one (or both of them) caught feelings—as one does—and the fic is kind of that aftermath and trying to repair the broken relationship.
39. ZOMBIES
40. Homeless AU w/tyler
41. Tyler is smarter than he leads people to believe, and Jamie is into privately nerdy Tyler
42. Abo verse surrounding scents. Tyler smells like the most delicious thing Jamie has ever smelled, but he thinks he shouldn’t bond with a teammate
43. Youtube channel
44. Designer and single friend of client at a bridal shop AU
45. Beard appreciation
46. a tornado warning hits dallas and everybody is ordered to seek shelter. jamie follows tyler back to his house and hide in the basement with the dogs, frantic and terrified.
47. Tyler is a figure skater, Jamie still plays hockey. They meet and fall inlove but whoops tyler ends up pregnant. The world still isn't 100% accepting of LGBTQIA+ people and even less accepting of men getting pregnant. Tyler feels down at some point cause he has to put his career on hold. but it all ends up great in the end.
48. Jamie feels self-conscious about his ass after some chirping from opposing players and it's up to Tyler to comfort him
49. Wing!fic
50. They win the Stanley cup and kiss at centre ice
51. Jamie's a lifeguard. They meet after Tyler basically drowns himself. (It's not an excuse to have Jamie kiss him. Its *not*.)
52. Haunted farm au- Tyler is a witch that lives on a farm where extremely weird things happen. He ends up rescuing Jamie and Jamie pledges his services for one year in exchange for his life. During that year, they fall for each other hard, but there are outside forces in the farm trying to keep them apart.
53. Animal daemons
Goose daemons
54. Marshall, Cash and Gerry turn into human kids (temporarily or not), Bennguin handle being sudden parents
55. Tyler having a serious boyfriend for a while and Jamie is jealous because he wants to date Tyler but he’s not ready to come out. And he’s also upset because everyone is taking it so well and nothing has changed and he realizes he really missed out. But in the end they still get together.
56. secret relationship and how they almost get caught - many many times
57. Childhood pen pal / long distance childhood friends?
58. "Come here."
59. “Close the door.”
60. “I feel like I can’t breathe.”
61. “It’s three in the morning and you want me to do what?”
62. “You could’ve died.”
63. “I thought you were dead.”
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Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 26: The Julius Formerly Known as Prince
Part 25
Welcome back to Fire Emblem IV! Last week we had started our invasion of Grannvale, coming up to it through the southern Miletos district, and in so doing got to smack the crap out of Tinni’s crazy aunt, who unfortunately managed to get away. These things happen. This week, we have to start off by opening the gates that will allow us to proceed north to Miletos itself.
I’m just gonna say, if you guys wanna stop now, I’m down for that. How about we just move in to Hilda’s old torture castle and set up there? Do we really need to beat the Empire?
Yes?
Shit.
Ah, well.
Well, to start, we need to take Rados castle, which is thankfully unoccupied after we killed all its inhabitants last week. It’s cool, they were gross people. Though first, I have Ced grab the village right north of it…
Behind the Times: Not so long ago, from what I hear, Emperor Arvis himself forbade ‘em. What the devil could’ve changed his mind? Please, I’m begging you, you’ve gotta save our children! Here, this magic ring oughta help you out.
Niiiiiiiiiiice. This pushes Ced’s magic above the 30-point cap, leaving him even more of a killing machine that he already is. Dude doesn’t even have a holy weapon, he’s just raw badass. Cairpre also continues his path to minor godhood.
This kid was level one on the last map, and he’s going to be promoted and breaking skulls right along with the rest of the kids next map. I’m so proud of him.
Seliph, take the castle and set the story going, my man!
(Yeah, but he had to be a man named Morrigan, so who really suffered the most?)
Seliph: How could they… how could anyone be so savage…?
Lewyn: And that’s why we’ve got to fight this war to the end, Seliph. This is something you’ve got to understand.
(OKAY WE GET IT JEEZ STOP PESTERING ME DAD)
Lewyn: This is the way of the Loptyr Empire. There’s no place at all for the good-hearted… Now, it shouldn’t be too long before the gate to Miletos opens for us.
(…. Why…?)
Lewyn: What’s your next move, Seliph?
Seliph: Needless to say, we must march on Miletos. We can’t afford to rest while those children are still at risk. Or Julia, for that matter.
Lewyn: Good. And after that, Grannvale awaits!
(OH FUCK IT’S ISHTAR)
(Oh, and also Arvis. Man, you have not aged well, buddy. I’d feel bad for you, but you know… the rape and murder and stuff.)
Arvis: Listen, Ishtar. Release the captive children. I know you care no more for these foul deeds than I do.
Ishtar: My apologies, sir, but I’m on Prince Julius’s-
Arvis: Pay Julius no mind. I’ll be having a word with him soon.
(Funny story, bro, he said the same thing about you last week, and I’m a bit more scared of him at this point.)
Ishtar: But…
Arvis: This is an order from your emperor, Ishtar! Has Julius bent you such that you will no longer listen to the word of your liege?!
Ishtar: N-no. Never, your majesty…
(Speak of the [Literal?] Devil.)
Arvis: Julius! How dare you-
Julius: Why, Father, it almost sounds as if you still don’t know any better! Old age must be dulling that once-brilliant mind of yours. Why not retire before it grows still feebler? Unless… ohohohoho! Don’t tell me you still seriously believe that you can banish me?
Arvis: … No. I know better than to try something so futile again. I… have no further objection.
Julius: That’s better. Now, then. Begone! Return to your post and haunt my sight no more. Defending Chalphy is crucial, so don’t fail me for once in your sorry life, Father.
(Daaaaaaaaaaaamn, son, you just got burned. Or should that be Julienned?)
Arvis: Y-yes, Julius. At once…
(God, it’s like every creeper left in the game is all gathering in this one castle to see who can be most sleazy. If Hilda shows up, I’m going to need to stop to take a shower.)
Manfroy: Never would you think this wretch, now clinging only to the ghost of a crown, was once the most powerful man in Jugdral.
Julius: Ah, Manfroy. Where’s Julia? Have you restored her memory yet?
Manfroy: Your dear little sister is in Chalphy, burdened once more by her old memories. Never have I seen such horror as when she recalled how you, her own brother, almost killed her! Or how her dearly departed mother spirited her clear of the castle and your clutches…
Julius: Indeed… near everyone puts up some defiance to death by my hand, yet Deirdre never so much as flinched in the end. She accepted her own demise, all to save Julia with what little strength she still had. But Julia possesses the foul powers of that ghoul, Naga, just as Deirdre once did. Nothing is more crucial than killing her now, Manfroy, lest we lose the chance.
(………. Then… why did you need to restore her memories…?)
Manfroy: You overestimate her threat, milord. After all, the Book of Naga remains under the strictest lock and key in Belhalla. Without it, Naga’s soul could never come to dwell within that girl…
Julius: How many times must I explain, Manfroy?! Every last one of the avatars of Naga, the heirs of Heim, must be purged!
Manfroy: Understood, milord. I’ll have my men see to it that Julia is dead by sundown.
Julius: Do not fail me, Manfroy. Now, then, I suppose I’m needed in the capital.
Manfroy: I shall ensure that holding the Miletos territory is the Order’s highest priority. Before the week is done, Your Majesty, the corpse of Seliph shall lie before you.
Julius: Seliph? … Ah, of course. The one the peasants call ‘the scion of light’. Just as they call me the ‘scion of darkness’. The alleged eldest son of Deirdre and the alleged true heir to my throne. A fairy tale, told to inspire hope amongst fools.
Manfroy: He is still a threat, milord. The sooner we dispose of him, the better.
Julius: Surely he doesn’t truly bear the power of the Crusader Baldur. He couldn’t possibly. I don’t care about him, Manfroy, but you’re welcome to do with him as you will.
Manfroy: Very good, milord.
Julius: … Actually, I have a better idea. I want to play a game.
Julius: Rumor has it that a small army of fresh sacrifices are headed our way. Let’s see who can claim the life of a rebel first.
Ishtar: Yes, Lord Julius. I’d love to!
(Sympathetic anti-villain~)
And then the newly arrived enemies start screwing with me, thus ruining the drama of the moment. Anyhow. The army arrayed against us is arguably the worst in the entire game thus far, given they are almost all dark mages. Dark magic still has no disadvantages to anything in the weapon triangle, and a lot of them have status effect staves to fuck our advance over hard. And of course, standing near the castle…
At first glance, Ishtar actually looks worse than Obvious Final Boss Julius. She’s bulked up considerably since we last met her; her Magic has gone up by six points, speed by one, and resistance by a whopping twelve with the addition of a Barrier Ring to her inventory. He, in contrast, has generally good stats at everything (and is a damn stone wall with 25 defense and 35 resistance) but he’s slower than her and his Loptyr tome is heavier than her Mjolnir. Beyond being a stone wall, he appears to be less dangerous than her.
This is a filthy lie.
You see, Ishtar is stronger than her last fight with us, but we’ve leveled up far more than she has since then. She’s certainly still very dangerous thanks to her combo of Mjolnir and the Vantage ability meaning if you don’t kill her in one shot she’ll wreck your ass on all further battles, but that’s nothing new. It just means we’re playing the same damn game of Nuclear Rocket Tag that we were last time, and Arthur is carrying a much bigger nuke than before. Maybe he still only has like a 60% chance of pulling it off, but I honestly can’t believe I did it at all last time.
And as for that heavy Loptyr tome? It has a little extra trick to it that you’ll quickly come to despise.
See that little note, ‘cuts foe’s atk’ down in the bottom left corner? See, more specifically, it cuts the attack of anyone who gets into battle with Julius by a whopping 50%. So before hitting Julius’s again, stone-wall defenses, anyone who takes a swing at him will first have their attack cut in half, at which point he will swing right back with a Holy Weapon that has no weapon triangle disadvantage to anything and is backed up by his maxed out magic stat. And in his ability list, he has Pursuit and Accost for maximum possible double-attacking potential to go with his very high natural speed, and Wrath to cause his critical hit rate to skyrocket if you do eventually get his HP down below half.
His 80 HP.
So yeah, this is the game’s subtle way of telling you ‘DON’T FIGHT JULIUS’. Indeed, the easiest thing to do here would be to let him or Ishtar kill one of our soldiers and then have Cairpre revive them with the Valkyria staff, because they will both leave if one of them manages to win their ‘game.’ Which, I mean, if I get really desperate, maybe, but for the sake of my pride I’d prefer to beat one of them, causing both to retreat. And by ‘one of them,’ I mean Ishtar. And by ‘beat’ I mean, ‘Arthur, it’s time to play another round of Holy Weapon Nuclear Death Tag with your cousin, please try to survive.’
Oh, and just for fun:
That’s Julius’s Holy Blood screen. Just in case you didn’t have enough unhappiness in your life.
Now then. First thing we need to do is clear out at least some of the enemies in play here. There’s a whole mess of Dark Mages with some melee fighters scattered among them, and they’re operating with a variety of tools, but the worst, as poor Altena found out, are the ones with Sleep staves. Status effect staves in this game are the worst; they have perfect accuracy as long as the one using them has higher Magic than the target has Resistance. In our hands, they’re balanced by only having 2-3 charges before they break. In the enemy’s hands, they have infinite charges because Fuck You, that’s why. Sleep + Hel + Any Hit of Anything is a very bad situation. So first step is to work out where they are:
There, we have a basic cross-reference of where only high-resistance units should go. The dark mages have 16 Magic each, which isn’t much for the purposes of combat but for the purposes of Sleep Staves it might as well be a trillion. Maybe a quarter of our army can go into that crossfire zone without being zapped, and one of them is Cairpre, who can’t fight. On the other hand, he’s also the only person who can wake people up, so his staying awake forever is useful, in its own way.
Back to full power! And now, we clear out the vanguard and move the team up, making sure to keep most people firmly to the east.
There we go. First wave down; the only people in the current batch who can lure out enemies without getting a forced nap are Ares, Fee, Ced, Tinni and Cairpre; Seliph will be able to when he actually reaches the army, but he, Nanna, and Ulster are a bit further back. He had to take the castle and they needed to do some weapon repairs.
End turn!
Ah, yes, some of them have siege tomes too. Because, again, fuck you, that’s why.
Cairpre, you’re just getting silly. But in any event, we’ve now gotten a situation where the only people in the Sleep range are people who cannot be Sleeped, and they should also be drawing in some of the enemies from the west so we can clear out at least one or two of the staff wielders and give us some more movement range. There’s two to the west, and two to the north; the western ones should start moving on this turn now that we’ve cleared out the enemies closer to us. With luck, I can kill them both right away. End turn…
Okay, not bad. With the positioning of the enemies, I thiiiiiiiiink three of the sleep staffs can be taken out this turn without much issue. Let’s see…
That’s one!
And that’s two, and also all we’re going to get. But the remaining two are going to put some people to sleep, but they won’t be able to get anyone killed. That’s worth Ares getting a shit level, I guess. What remains is to clear out the final village-burning bandit of the map…
And killing off this sniper so he can’t kill Fee and ruin everything.
Good times. All right, dark mages! Please don’t kill anyone. End turn.
Lame, but tolerable. We will be able to kill one more staff guy this turn; but the second one is being… troublesome.
He’s one of those charming robed figures firmly in Julius’s combat range. That is not a fight I want to pick. Instead, we’ll take this other dude with the physic staff…
And pull back, trying to lure them out further. Cairpre wakes up Lester to let him do the same, and gets his like seventieth level.
To the south, we need to clear a path without letting Patty get put to sleep preferably. So I have Tinni try to clear a path, which will let Ced get through to the third Sleep user.
….
She misses. On a 90% chance. Dammit. Seliph, please?
That’s why we’re putting you on the throne later, buddy. And now Ced can get through and remove one more stumbling block.
Beautiful. Only one staff jackass left, and the only people in his range are Tinni and Seliph. He’ll have to move, and with any luck at all he’ll do so out of Julius’s combat range where someone can take a swing at his dumb face. End turn!
Heeeeeeeeeey buuuuuuuddy.
Niiiiice. With that, there’s only seven enemies left total; one guy with a normal tome, three siege tomes, the boss in the castle, and the two far more dangerous bosses waiting for us to get all up in their business. This will be… tricky. But for the moment, we’re safe, so I have Seliph drop in to have a conversation with Tinni.
(In all this mess, you may have forgotten Lewyn is her dad. He certainly hasn’t been very fatherly.)
Seliph: If you need anything from me, I’ll be waiting over there.
(You see what I mean about her having a character arc, now? Imagine the Tinni we first recruited saying that. She was so broken down she was going to fight us just because she was too afraid not to. And look at her now, electrocuting her aunt! I’m so proud.)
Lewyn: She didn’t treat you well, did she?
(“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA…. Oh, you’re serious…? Wow. No. No.”)
Tinni: Day after day, again and again, she would beat and abuse us. She kept on accusing Mother of being a traitor…
Lewyn: Your mother… Taillte…
Tinni: Yes… after the Battle of Belhalla, she and my brother, Arthur, fled to Silesse. I was born there soon after. I never knew my father. I think he must have died long ago…
Lewyn: I see. Then you went to Alster, right?
Tinni: King Blume and his minions came to Silesse, one night. They dragged us away to Alster… Mother never left there alive…
Lewyn: I… you’ve had such a hard life…
Tinni: Mm… Hilda hated Mother so much. I’ve never seen anything like it. Mother coped with so much, trying to protect me from Hilda. She was always in tears, right till the end…
Lewyn: She… she did…?
Tinni: Lord Lewyn? Is… is everything okay, sir?
Lewyn: … Yeah. Why do you ask?
Tinni: It’s your eyes, sir. Are those… tears?
Lewyn: I… no, it’s nothing. This is just a bit of sweat. I’m fine… I… I’m okay…
I like this conversation for a few reasons. First, it gives Tinni a ridiculous +5 magic, which is wonderful for these conversation bonuses and pushes her to her magic cap of 27. But on a story front, you’ve probably noticed that Lewyn has become kind of a douche in the years since the first generation. This is one of the very few moments where that attitude breaks and he really shows you just how much he’s hurting beneath it all. He manages to hold up the Jerk Attitude for most of his other daughter conversations (he can have one with Fee, Lene, or Tinni if he’s their dad) but this is the only one he breaks down on. Learning your wife was essentially tortured to death will do that, and it probably only hurts more because Tinni isn’t trying to guilt him over it. Just innocently sharing how awful her life has been.
It’s a good, solid, quiet little character moment. I really like those when they’re done well, and I think this one was.
End turn.
Way to kill the emotion, jerk.
After murdering that buzzkill, I have to consider the situation. Ishtar is by far the weaker of the two enemies, but she’s not weak by any means. And unfortunately, anywhere that she can go, Julius can go too, thanks to the Leg Ring in his inventory. Getting them separate is hard. So what I’m going to do is have Ares, with the Mystletainn in hand, stand on a forest tile in Julius’s range. I will also put Nanna, Seliph, and Dermott near him; with boosts from two Charisma skills, Seliph’s leadership stars, and a forest, he gets something like a 45% boost to his dodging, which even Julius should have some trouble with. And even if he takes one hit, his Resistance is high enough that he should be able to survive. And from there, I have all of them run past him with Arthur, giving him a similar bonus to his offense and offsetting Julius’s own five leadership stars when he fights Ishtar. With luck, which I seem to be having lately with these big annoying bosses, Arthur will nuke the crap out of his cousin once again.
This might work. Maybe! Or I might die. End turn!
Gotta admit, the man makes an impression! Ares takes the hit, but survives with 21 HP left, and Ishtar runs up behind Julius, but can’t reach anyone to blast. But we can reach her. Deep breath. Moment of truth. Everyone, get her! NUCLEAR ROCKET TAG GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
I’m hoping you don’t notice how many of my problems I have been solving with Forseti. Like… all of them. Seriously, of the three hardest bosses in the game so far, Ishtar, Arion, and Ishtar again, Arthur has killed all three of them on his first move, doing the exact same thing. I have dealt with every serious challenge the game has to offer by nuking it with a wind god.
If this is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.
Oh, and hey, why not.
This kid is going places.
Now then, not much left on the map to deal with. I have Lene dance Cairpre, so he can grab one of the two remaining villages.
Captain… Nay, GENERAL Obvious: Just a single glance into those eyes of his and you’re gone. You lose yourself. So many of my friends and people my age have all left for Belhalla to serve him… I’ve heard nothing from any of ‘em since.
Oh-ho. So, does this mean Julius can literally warp the minds of others? It can’t be limitless, mind you, since otherwise he could just mind-rape our army into joining him, but some ability to sway the weak-minded to his side would fit with how so few Imperial citizens are actually protesting the whole… you know. Hunting of children.
On the enemy phase, there isn’t a whole lot left. We have only three enemies left outside the boss, and they’re all carrying siege tomes.
And hahaha, they’re not super great at picking targets. That was fun. Now, let’s destroy them!
Not bad at all! One guy remaining, we can get him on the next turn before Seliph takes that castle. Altena grabs the last village, as well.
Extremely Morbid Info Master: Hate t’say it, but sometimes, yeh need t’make sacrifices if yeh wanna keep going…
See, kids, this is why you don’t fuck with Info Master. He is willing to make those sacrifices. End turn!
Dick.
… They can’t all be great, Cairpre. You’ve still grown far beyond anything I ever expected. Now, nothing left to do but send the team up north, preparing to go where the story will dictate after we take the next castle. Seliph, care to set things up?
Lewyn: I hate to admit it, but I doubt we could’ve gotten here soon enough either way. Now, then. It sounds like they’re just finishing up repairs on the Miletos Strait bridge. Ready to move in on Chalphy?
Seliph: Chalphy…. My father’s homeland….
Lewyn: So it is. I’m betting the citizens there will be even happier to see you than usual. Let’s not make them wait any longer!
Seliph: Indeed! Everyone, move out! Onward, to Chalphy!
(“We’re not forgetting anything, right? Eh, I’m sure Julia would remind us if we were.”)
Well. There isn’t a whole lot of this chapter left, but it can take quite a bit of time to successfully pull off, so I do think I’ll stop here. See y’all next week when we head back home to Chalphy! The very first castle we ever had in the game, and now we get to go take it back from another blast to the past, good old Arvis! I sure did miss him.
But my aim is improving.
See y’all next week!
#let's play#let's play fire emblem#let's play fire emblem IV#Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War#fire emblem 4#lp#my writing#long post#Julius is a jerk
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Your forever is all that I need [HOPPER X READER]
A/N: It’s a new dawn, it’s a new Sunday, so here’s my latest fic. This one is quite angsty. You can all blame my friend @sirlsplayland because she was the one to request this idea. Hope you’ll enjoy this one and I am wishing you a wonderful week! By the way, this is in no way medically correct, I am sorry haha.
The drive home was silent, the night was making quick work of cloaking Hawkins in utter darkness. Eleven was mindlessly scrolling through the radiochannels. Although, mindlessly might be the wrong choice of words, as she was using exactly these telekenetic abilities to get to her song of preference.
“So El, did (Y/N) mention anything to you about plans she had for the evening?”
“No.” Eleven answered, a small smile spreading across her face when she heard a song she liked.
It had been hours since you and Jim had last talked and worry had settled itself deep in his bones, it was a sensation that he was familiar with, but it didn’t make him less weary. He knew that he was probably worried about nothing, that you were fine and would be waiting for both him and Eleven at the doorstep of the cabin. Yet he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong.
“She went to see her parents, but she hasn’t been in touch for hours now.” Jim told El, in the hopes of easing his worries when voicing them out loud. But nothing of the sort happened, instead they came back with a vengeance. He shook his head, trying to ban those thoughts from his head, but no luck.
“You never let me know when you’re going to be late. You can’t blame her.”
“Why is it, that coming up with full sentences always comes more natural to you when you’re defending (Y/N) and sassing me huh El?”
“Teenagers.” She answered cheekily, an echo of the way Jim said it everytime he dropped his daughter off at the Wheelers.
Jim’s last ounce of hope was turned to shreds when the headlights of his car caught sight of his doorstep, but you weren’t there. The lights were off, just like he left them, so you weren’t inside the cabin either. He knew that you didn’t care much for the haunting darkness of the woods surrounding his home, so there was no way that you’d sit around in the house without any lights on.
Eleven hopped out of the car, she wasn’t even remotely as bothered as Jim was. But maybe that came with the deal, this was the first time in her life that she got to be truly careless, he wasn’t intent on taking that away from her. Besides, worrying seemed to be in his job description, being chief of police isn’t a job you do when you don’t care about the people. Jims hard shell exterior often fooled the people of Hawkins into thinking that he didn’t mind much about them, but in reality he did.
“(Y/N) isn’t here yet! The light on your phone is on.” Eleven yelled from the house.
Jim made way to the cabin, nearly stumbling over his own feet when he tried running up the stairs more smoothly than he could muster. The sounds of his boots sounded heavy on the wooden patio.
He took the phone of the hook and dialed the number of his answering machine, his heart in his throat. Instead of hearing your singsong voice, he was met by the gruff sound of a male voice.
First he recognised the telltale lisp, he had heard it somewhere before. But the realisation dawned upon him like a wave in a stormy sea, when Jim realised that the call originated from the Hawkins hospital. The guy who had left the message was an emergency nurse, Jim had talked to him a billion times before. He was usually the first person Jim had to talk to whenever someone had hurt themselves in the process of doing anything illegal.
Mister Hopper. We got your girl here at the hospital. She’s in bad shape, there was a collision with a truck. She kept askin’ for you. I’d advise you to get over here as soon as you hear this message. Thanks.
Eleven didn’t need beckoning to follow him to the car. The look on his face and the slumping of his shoulders probably was enough for her to follow her father without any orders.
In bad shape. What did that even mean? Why hadn’t that idiot been any more specific? Jims heart was racing a marathon in his chest, it hammered so agressively that he thought he was going to collapse. This could not be happening to him. He could not lose you too.
He felt the velvet box in his pocket burn. The feeling seemed to intensify with every time he pressed the pedal. He was going to ask you today godammit. Fuck.
Eleven didn’t speak, she knew that it would be better to keep her mouth shut. She had never seen her father in such a state, worriedly her hand crept up to his shoulder and she patted him, like she would with a wounded dog.
The sound Jim made then was nothing short of animalistic, but Eleven wasn’t startled by it.
Jim whimpered and he swallowed violently, as if he was trying to speak, but he couldn’t get the words out.
He pulled up in front of the hospital and got out of the car. He ran to the other door and pulled Eleven into his arms, even though she was nearing to be 13 years old, she was still light as a feather.
With his daughter in his arms he ran to the reception desk. He sat her down on top of it and began scrambling for words, but the nurse behind the desk had recognised him, which was enough for her face to drop.
“Hey chief, uhm the doctor will be with ya in a couple of minutes.”
“I need to see him right fucking now okay sweetheart?” Jim said, unable to keep a threatening hint from his voice.
“Mister Hopper?”
Jim spun around so fast that he felt dizzy.
“(Y/N) was in a collision with a truck. We suspect the other driver was speeding. Her car was hit at the driver’s seat, so she was hit quite badly. We’ve had a few scary moments, but she seems okay for now. We put her into a coma, but by the looks of it, she’ll be up shortly.”
“Can I see her?”
The way he had asked it had let the doctor know that Jim wouldn’t take a negative answer very well. So he simply nodded and pointed the way to your room. Eleven hopped off the reception desk and hid her smaller hand in that of her father.
She gasped when she saw all the machines you were connected to. But the way Jim shushed her, did calm her enough to get to your bed. She carefully went to sit at your side and curled herself up into a small ball, almost cat-like.
Jim wanted to tell her off, but felt that he couldn’t blame her, so he kept silent. Right now he wished that he had been there to keep you safe, he wanted nothing more but to take you home and take care of you until you were better. But he couldn’t, he knew that he couldn’t.
“Not your fault dad. Not a black hole.” Eleven suddenly mentioned from where she was lying.
Jim was surprised at how well she coulld read him, nothing was ever a secret with her.
“Yeah, I suppose.” he sighed.
He sat down near to you and grabbed your hand in his, careful as to not pull on the IV.
“What kind of mess did ya get yourself into now sweet thing?”
Part of him had expected that you’d answer, but you kept lying there silently.
Jim took the velvet box from his pocket and opened it to look at the ring again.
It was absolutely fucking perfect and now you weren’t even akwake to give him a proper answer.
“Might as well.” Jim said to himself and he took the ring from the box and put it on your finger with careful ease.
She’s in bad shape. But please wake up and say you’ll marry me…
Tagged:
@jobean12-blog @loverosetyler @casownsmyass @sleepylunarwolf @lucifer-in-leather @alexielwrites @rlupin-moony @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @justsimplevicky @the-bitch-gotham-deserves
@holding-on-to-francis
#hopper x reader#jim hopper fic#jim hopper x reader#masterlist#jim hopper reader insert#reader x jim hopper#chief hopper x reader
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the tangled web of fate we weave: iv
part iii/AO3.
The incredibly stupid (and rather terrifying) situation that Master Sergeant Wyatt Logan has presently found himself in goes like this.
Something feels off about the botched operation the instant he gets off the phone with Neville, and since Wyatt is still technically the official personnel assigned to this case, if he doesn’t want to drop it, he doesn’t have to. He stands there in the middle of the pickup curb at LAX, being jostled to every side by passing travelers, until he decides he should, if nothing else, get out of the way. Heads back to his car, stares through the windshield for a long moment, then takes out his phone again. Sorry babe, he texts Jessica. Order some pizza and invite some friends. Don’t think I’m making it home tonight.
With that, he tosses the phone into the passenger seat, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt. Jessica knew when she married a serviceman, especially one in special ops, that it would be a lot of long separations and unexplained absences, and she’s held up admirably thus far, but she has to be wondering when the buck finally stops. So is Wyatt, for that matter. They need this. They love each other a lot, but they’ve become different people during his last three deployments. A relationship can’t survive forever on Skype calls and care packages.
Putting that out of his head for now, Wyatt turns on the engine, pays the exorbitant parking charge, and rolls into downtown L.A. He can’t help wondering if he’s been outsmarted and the mark is going to turn up at the Burberry store now that a potential accomplice has given him the all-clear. But how would a relatively routine drug runner, or even mid-level member of the mob, be privy to the classified details of a Delta Force sting arranged just hours ago? Their counterintelligence is good, but not that good. And while tons of information isn’t exactly par for the course in this job, they usually at least give you a name. Even a fake one.
At that, Wyatt makes a decision. He isn’t hauling all the way back to San Diego tonight, and he’s gonna drop by Bam-Bam’s. Dave Baumgardner, given the nickname for his enthusiasm for certain parts of the job, is on leave, but he lives here. Has a nice bachelor pad in Westwood. His dad is rich, because Bam-Bam definitely does not make enough money to afford it by serving in the army, even in a specialized unit. At least Wyatt can get a second pair of eyes on this, judge if there’s actually a wrench in the spanner, or he’s just being paranoid. Everyone in their line of work knows it happens eventually.
Traffic is a crawl up 405, because aside from all the other reasons for L.A. to have terrible traffic, there’s a Los Angeles Tech Convention and some billionaire bigwig named Connor Mason is the featured attraction. Has all kind of gizmos he’s wheeling out for public display for the first time ever, so this place is Nerd Mecca. In Wyatt’s opinion, it’s bad enough they keep inventing new iPhones every year. Who needs all that?
He sighs, reminds himself not to be quite so curmudgeonly, and makes it to Westwood with only two minor road-rage incidents. Pulls up in front of Bam-Bam’s place, parks, and heads up the walk. Technically the term for what Bam-Bam is on is “paid administrative leave,” because there’s still some question about whether his actions on the Abu Dhabi mission were entirely necessary. This is, also in Wyatt’s opinion, a dog-and-pony show. The U.S. government pays David Baumgardner to kill people, and the legality isn’t something they’re concerned with except when it appears in the press. It does occur to him to wonder if this is a great place to be asking advice, but hell, he’s here now.
A few moments after his knock, Bam-Bam opens the door, holding a sweating Budweiser bottle and looking surprised. “Hey, Logan! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Complicated,” Wyatt says briefly. “You gonna let me into your beer and porn den, or what?”
Bam-Bam smirks, gives him a bro clap on the shoulder, and leads him into the kitchen, where he twists the cap off another cold Bud and hands it over. Wyatt takes a long swig, leaning against the counter, then follows Bam-Bam out to the porch. Here in an airy, comfortable suburban backyard, it feels as if he might definitely be overstating things, but no point chickening out now. As economically as he can, he explains his hunch. The fact that he can’t be sure, but this feels like a setup, and not in the right way. Bam-Bam might be trigger-happy, but he’s a good soldier. Wyatt trusts his instincts.
“Huh,” Baumgardner says, when he finishes. “That is a little weird.”
“Okay, so it isn’t just me?”
“No, that does sound off the ranch. Not even this guy’s name or who he’s supposed to be working for – ‘Ndrangheta, Yakuza, plain old Mafia, Big Pimpin’ dealing weed down in Compton?” Bam-Bam takes another slug of beer. “Who’d you piss off?”
“Nobody,” Wyatt says. “Far as I know. This all came out of nowhere. Yesterday I thought I was finally going to have a real weekend with Jess, today I’m here with… this.”
“Just send her a dick pic.” Bam-Bam finishes off the Budweiser and chucks it expertly across the lawn into the recycling. “Tide her over?”
Wyatt gives him a cold fish stare, as he doesn’t think that any woman, not even his wife, just magically needs his genitals to appear in their life. “Good thing I don’t ask you for romantic advice, you dog.”
“Whatever.” Bam-Bam shrugs. “Anyway, what are you planning to do about this?”
That catches Wyatt short. He doesn’t actually know. Critical thinking is a valued skill for a solo operative, but independent thinking, less so. A soldier follows orders, he doesn’t start yanking at threads and veering off on tangents and trying to rewrite the script, thinks he knows better than the brass and can do whatever he wants. Finally he says, “Should we call someone?” You never know. Pestering the boss could do something.
“Guess you could try? I’d call my dad, actually, but he’s at some retreat up in the Bay Area this weekend.” Bam-Bam’s rich daddy, Rick, is a defense lawyer in Orange County and makes gigabucks shielding even richer assholes from the consequences of their crimes. In other words, if there’s a big bust afoot, he might know something about it, albeit on less official channels. “Leadership development potential, or whatever.”
“Can you call him anyway?”
“Because my Delta Force buddy thinks something smells a little fishy about one of his jobs?” Bam-Bam gives Wyatt a weird look. “This is still classified, remember?”
“You don’t have to tell him it was me. Just put it in general terms.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work. Anything else?”
Wyatt racks his brains, trying to recall the paperwork he skimmed through quickly to get to the operational summary. This is probably a cautionary tale about why you should actually read it. “I think there were initials? Dunno if it corresponded to the guy at all. G.F.? And something about an unauthorized investigation.”
“Shit.” Baumgardner’s eyes widen. “Garcia Flynn?”
“What?” That catches Wyatt off guard. “Who?”
“He works in the NSA. He’s from somewhere in former shithole-Soviet land, he’s been in Eastern Europe for most of that time. I met him a few times, actually. He’s about the one guy who could take me in a shooting contest.” Bam-Bam sounds proud of this, which Wyatt finds worrying – is this the guy they sent him into LAX to take down, solo op, civilians to every side? “Anyway, though, that’s not why I thought of him. My dad was just talking about him earlier. Apparently Flynn’s lost his marbles, and that worries people.”
“Your dad’s work colleagues? Flynn sounds like the exact kind of client they love.”
“You think anyone from Orange County is gonna defend a possible Russian mole?”
“Yeah. Probably have three on the payroll already. Is that what they think he is? A mole? How the hell is that too controversial to tell me?”
“Look, man, I don’t know. This is probably on shaky confidentiality grounds anyway, but you and I are on the same security clearance, so…” Firearms-related or otherwise, David Baumgardner has never been bound too strictly by an exacting observance of the rules. “You wanna stay and play some Halo, or go and do your fucking job?”
“Probably the latter, huh? Not all of us get to sit on our ass and stuff our face right now like you.” Wyatt slugs down the last of his beer and stands up. “Do you have anything else you can think of? Anything at all?”
Bam-Bam considers, frowning. Then he says, “I think my dad knows that tech guy who’s in town for the convention. Connor Mason. If you wanna pull rank and flash a badge at him, pull him off into some back room and scare him, he could be helpful. Not sure, though.”
“Yeah, I’ll get a last-minute ticket to that and haul the keynote speaker off the stage in front of ten thousand hyped-up nerds?” Wyatt looks at the ceiling, then blows out a breath. “Not like I got anything else to try. Thanks, buddy. Hope they let you out of the doghouse soon.”
With a quick hand-shake and bro-hug, he lets himself out, gets back in the car, and drives to the packed convention center, which involves subjecting himself to I-10 at peak evening hours and thus takes approximately eighty-one eons. It takes him several more after that to find a parking space, which is practically in Chavez Ravine, and he heads to the door and asks to speak to the security staff. It takes (more) time, but he finally gets the head honcho, introduces himself quietly as Delta Force, and says there may be a security threat that he needs to speak to Mr. Mason about. Yes, he knows that Mr. Mason is scheduled to give the kickoff speech at 7:00pm, which is nineteen minutes from now. It’s urgent.
The security guys look at each other, but after Wyatt repeats “credible security threat” a few more times, one of them slopes off to get Mason. He arrives fixing his cufflinks and the microphone pinned to his lapel – twelve minutes to go – and clearly angry at the interruption. “They said there was some bloke who wanted to talk to me? Now?”
“That’s me, Mr. Mason.” Wyatt clears his throat, with a significant look at the others ordering them to scuttle off. “This won’t take long.”
“It better not.” Mason is a bald black British guy in a very expensive suit, who has not gotten to the level of success that he has by tolerating fools. “Well?”
Wyatt checks that they’re alone. “Do you know a Garcia Flynn?”
It’s a good thing Mason wasn’t trying to take a drink, otherwise he definitely would have done a spit-take. He takes half a step backwards, as if Wyatt has turned radioactive. “I’m sorry,” he manages, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “Who did you say you were with, again?”
“I didn’t.” Wyatt takes a step of his own, in case Mason tries to bolt. “You’re the one in the hurry. Tell me what I want to know, we can make it quick. Well?”
“You’re… not…?” Mason’s eyes search Wyatt’s face, as if trying to uncover a mask, a sudden reveal. “Is this some attempt to punish me for not attending the…? I’ve told them, many times, that the work is on schedule, and…”
“What work?” Wyatt asks. “On schedule for who? Not attending the what?”
Mason’s eyes flick from side to side again. He scrutinizes Wyatt carefully, then asks all of a sudden, “Scientia potential est?”
“Is that Latin?” Wyatt is more baffled than ever. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“So you’re not.” Mason seems to have been checking something. Rather belatedly, he hitches his professional, P.T. Barnum smile back into place. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. …?”
“Smith.” Wyatt is pretty sure Mason is lying out his ass, but he’s not sure how to force him, short of tackling him and dragging him off to a broom closet for the old shock-and-awe routine Bam-Bam recommended – and that is definitely a bad idea. “You really sure you don’t know anything about Garcia Flynn? Really sure?”
“Absolutely.” Mason almost sells it, too. There’s a moment more in which they stare at each other, and then there’s a harried knock on the door.
Mason turns away to open it, and a young African-American man in a MIT sweatshirt sticks his head in, looking frazzled. “Mr. Mason, what the hell? Your cue’s in five minutes!”
“Yes, Rufus, of course. My apologies, I was unavoidably detained by G.I. Joe here.” Mason tweaks his cuffs, stares back at Wyatt, and turns on his heel with a slight, sarcastic flourish, marching out after his – assistant, aide, graduate student, whatever Rufus is. Wyatt has about five seconds to decide if he is in fact going to throw his weight around – he’s not a cop, and if he’s going to hold Mason for questioning, he needs something to, you know, actually question him about. Mason seems like a smarmy dick, but that’s not illegal. But who the crap do he and Rick Baumgardner both know that makes Garcia Flynn a potential problem for them? They’re both rich, successful corporate types. Bam-Bam said that Flynn’s in the NSA. Has he gone black hat, exploiting security loopholes in their servers and threatening to hold their trade secrets for ransom? Sophisticated cybercrime? But then why wouldn’t Mason want him taken down? Or does he, but he doesn’t want to tell Wyatt how he knows him?
Yeah. There’s something really fucking fishy going on here, it’s not just Wyatt’s imagination. As Mason and Rufus vanish down the corridor, he blows out a breath and tries to work out what to do next. He can’t tap Bam-Bam for any actual action, he’s still on leave, and that would land Wyatt’s ass in hot water right next to him. And yet again, the question remains. Action against who? It feels like kickboxing with your own shadow.
Wyatt thanks the security guys, assures them the threat has been dealt with (which is a lie, but he doesn’t know what else to say), then hikes back to his car, pulls out his phone, and scrolls down to the encrypted numbers, the ones you don’t call except on (hopefully) rare occasions. Once it’s been picked up and he’s gone through the various steps of verifying his identity, he is finally transferred to whatever Lovecraftian horror that is the NSA switchboard room, insists he has the proper clearance to three different people (you’d really think the U.S. government would be better at sharing intelligence and coordinating between departments, but nooooope) and finally, finally gets someone to tell him that yes, Garcia Flynn is an agent on active roster. As far as they know, he still is, but he has missed a scheduled check-in and reassignment. That was supposed to take place today. This afternoon, at the Tom Bradley International Terminal in LAX. At the Burberry store. He didn’t show.
At that, Wyatt feels a goose walking over his grave, as the saying goes. What the shit. He was sent to arrest – as far as Flynn’s bosses know – an agent still on his regular assignment, a fellow high-level, elite operative, but why? Someone who has been, apparently, making trouble for Rick Baumgardner and Connor Mason’s chummy corporate buddies? Mason assured Wyatt that the work was on schedule – what work? Did Wyatt just stumble into the middle of an attempt to whistleblow a whistleblower – stop Flynn before he can pull the clothes off whatever emperor he is trying to disrobe? What. The fuck.
It takes Wyatt several more minutes of cajoling, but he finally convinces the NSA lackey that he’ll try to get in contact with Flynn, put him off his guard, and see if there’s anything he can extract about this very, very puzzling situation. The lackey gives him the company phone number that they have on file for Flynn, and Wyatt jots it down on his hand. He thanks the guy, then hangs up.
Wyatt isn’t nearly stupid enough to call a potential hostile on his own government phone, especially since that could lead to him getting tracked. So he starts the car, wearily girds his loins for his – what – fourth go-round with L.A. traffic for the day, and drives off to the kind of totally reputable establishment on Sepulveda Boulevard that sells burner phones that can be bought with cash. By the time he’s done that, it’s getting quite late, and Wyatt is starving, so he makes an In-n-Out run. He scoffs it down, buys a second burger for the road, and sits in the restaurant until he’s pretty sure the traffic will only be mildly exasperating rather than hellmouth terrible. Then he trucks out, gets back in, and drives off to a deserted high school parking lot. According to the dash clock, it is 11:23 pm.
This is probably a horrible idea. The guy could be full-on, off-the-ranch insane. Or – almost more frighteningly – he couldn’t be.
Wyatt checks that the number on his hand hasn’t gotten too smudged, and dials.
Lucy is getting changed into the Walmart pajamas when she hears Flynn having a terse conversation through the door. He’s keeping his voice down, so it’s hard to make it out, but it sounds like it’s important. God, not something else, not now. This has already been the absolute hell of a day, and she just wants it to be over. Please no more.
She combs out her tangled hair and brushes her teeth with the toiletries he also got, which was nice of him. So was the rescue, if that’s what Lucy wants to call it. She had everything under control, or so she would like to think. Told Cahill five minutes, and then… well, then she was somehow changing for an evening party with his serried social set, they were telling her how great she was, and she kept swearing that she was about to make a run for it somehow. And then out of nowhere, dragging her back into the library with its mounted deer head, scaring the life out of her and yet making her never so grateful to see anyone, Flynn. He keeps doing this. Turning up, and saving her. The last several times, from situations he put her in in the first place, but still. And that car with Benjamin Cahill and company, that wasn’t him. That was something else entirely, and Lucy didn’t like it.
She clenches her hands,which briefly seem inclined to tremble, and looks at herself in the mirror. She is a little pale and wan, dark smears of washed-off makeup lingering beneath her eyes, but she still seems like her. She waits until Flynn has finished his conversation, out of her usual polite instinct not to interrupt someone else’s private business, then steps out of the bathroom. “Who was that?”
Flynn jumps, then puts down the phone, which he has been glaring at as if expecting further information, or just because he’s annoyed. “You should probably go to sleep.”
“Maybe.” Lucy folds her arms. “Who was that?”
Flynn considers her, then gets abruptly to his feet, which is a fairly imposing thing for him to do. “You aren’t working for Rittenhouse,” he says, half as a statement and half as a challenge. “Are you? Some play-pretty-and-ignorant act, some very deep cover?”
“I am not working for Rittenhouse!” Lucy bristles. “Didn’t we settle that? Would I have left with you, or just gone to take a shower, instead of – I don’t know, calling someone and tipping them off where we are?”
“I was gone for a good twenty minutes or so,” Flynn points out. “I don’t know that you didn’t call someone.”
“I didn’t. Here, check my phone if you like.” Lucy thrusts it at him. “Besides, if you really thought I might be some kind of deep-cover agent, why did you rescue me?”
Flynn opens his mouth, realizes he doesn’t have an answer, and shakes his head brusquely. He takes her phone and scrolls through it, tosses it down on the bed, and finally says, “That was a Wyatt Logan. Friend of yours?”
“For the last time, no. I have no idea what is going on with any of this!” It’s close to midnight, Lucy’s exhausted, and this day has been, to say the least, a bitch. “Do you have anything else to interrogate me about, or can I go to sleep?”
Flynn briefly looks chastened, mulls another response, and jerks his head at the bed; apparently the Emperor has given permission. Lucy marches over, turns the covers back, and crawls beneath them, determined to put up a brave front but feeling shaky and small. Why, why has her mother kept this from her? Was it for her safety? It must have been for her safety. Realized that Benjamin Cahill was up to his eyeballs in whatever bad news Rittenhouse is, and cut Lucy (and later, Amy) off for their own good. It still hurts, but at least that way, Lucy can make sense of it. When she gets back to Palo Alto, hopefully soon, she’ll call her mom and clear the air, see if there’s anything else Carol needs to tell her. Maybe she can even help Flynn with this hell-bent investigation of his. Must know firsthand how sketchy they are. Maybe put him onto a few leads.
That is Lucy’s rational historian brain at work, the part that wants to cycle the kaleidoscope pieces together and see the big picture, the best outcome. And yet, all she can think of is Henry Wallace, all the times she called him Dad, and he never gave her any reason to think that was anything but the truth. How much did he know? All this time raising another man’s daughter – did he ever resent her? Did he truly just love her that much? Lucy wants beyond anything to see him again, to know. And yet obviously, she can’t. Lucy the historian understands all this, but Lucy the daughter is broken-hearted.
She sniffs, once and then again. Can feel a wetness soaking into the pillow under her cheek, and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. There can’t be many worse places to have this breakdown. Not yet, not yet. But another tear escapes, and a third.
Lucy thinks she hears an uncomfortable cough, and isn’t sure if she wants Flynn to notice this or not. She’s not really sure that he’d have anything particularly comforting to say, since his whole attitude about this seems to be “I told you so.” Why the hell did he come after her, then? Track her all the way out to the literal Rittenhouse in the middle of nowhere, but still won’t entirely relinquish his belief that she might be in with them somehow? Ugh. What the hell. This man is beyond frustrating.
Despite herself, Lucy slips into an uneasy haze, seeing as Flynn has apparently decided that the best strategy to deal with this is to sit very still and pretend he’s a tree. Yet again, if she was thinking that he might offer any comfort or …comfort, she’s mistaken. It’s really a good thing that she didn’t actually kiss him that first night.
Satisfying as this may be, it’s still hollow, and since Lucy doesn’t have Amy’s lap to put her head in, she could at least do with some brief moment of human connection or support. But if Flynn’s not offering, she’s not asking, and pulls the covers up tighter. If Rittenhouse comes barging in here during the wee hours, it is decidedly not her fault.
When Lucy opens her eyes again, the light is grey, the room is quiet, and the clock on the bedside table reads 6:43am. Flynn has dozed off on the other bed, still dressed, the same way he slept on her shitty couch back in her apartment, and nobody has been murdered, so there’s that. Lucy still feels like she’s been hit with a hammer, and could probably sleep another six hours at least, but she’s not sure if they’re going to have to pick up and bugger off somewhere else. It’s Sunday, maybe that will help with the traffic. It’ll still be at least two hours back to the Bay Area, though. If that’s where they’re going.
Lucy groans, closes her eyes again, and steals another forty-odd minutes of precious slumber, before she’s woken by the sound of Flynn moving around. She lies still and pretends to be sleeping, until he says gruffly, “Lucy, I know you’re awake.”
Ever the charmer, her knight in shining armor. Lucy sits up slowly. She has not had a ton of time to go to the gym recently, and yesterday was the most workout she had in months; she can feel it down to her toes. “Other people say good morning.”
Flynn’s mouth twitches, as if he’s almost about to smile, until he catches himself. “You should probably get up.”
“Oh? And what have you been doing all night?”
“Thinking.” Flynn pulls off his shirt, wads it up, and tosses it on his unmade bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Lucy was about to shoot back some remark about how she can’t see that going well – if he’s going to prod her, she’s going to prod him – but she’s momentarily distracted by the sight of his torso. Broad shoulders, heavily muscled arms, and several rugged scars – whatever the majority of this man’s career has been spent doing, it is not just annoying nearly-completed PhD students in California hotel rooms. There is a small, puckered, pinkish circle that looks like a bullet wound, and a few others that look like knives. She doesn’t know how old Flynn is – maybe mid-to-late thirties, seven or eight years older than her – but he’s clearly lived a hard life. Unwelcomingly, unnecessarily, her fingers flex, and her breath hitches.
Flynn catches her looking, and his tongue flicks out briefly to touch his lips. “Yes?”
“I thought you were taking a shower,” Lucy says, as coolly as she can. “Or are you still afraid that I’ll call Rittenhouse if you turn your back on me?”
Flynn arches an eyebrow at her. This man does have a remarkably expressive face, even if it mostly is employed for various permutations of smug, sass, smirk, and son of a bitch. “What, were you planning to come in? Only room for one in there, I’m afraid.”
With that, he strides to the bathroom and shuts the door, for all the world as if he just virtuously turned her down from making a move on him – which, obviously, did not actually happen. Lucy rocks back and forth on the bed, fighting an urge to scream, then gets up, gets dressed, and wonders if she can go down to the continental breakfast by herself, or Flynn will come tearing in and terrify some yuppies. Which might be amusing, at least momentarily, but will then result in even more headache and hassle to sort out.
It takes a while, but they finally eat (though Flynn, to judge from his dark looks at the buffet tables, doesn’t think much of Holiday Inn Express’s culinary selections), check out, and head back to the car. Lucy is not enthused to see it. “Are we going home yet?”
“No.” Flynn gestures her to get in, but she doesn’t. “I couldn’t keep you safe there.”
“Who said that was your job? Can’t you call someone? Whoever you work for?” Lucy folds her arms. “Get me a protection detail, so I can go back to my life, even if someone has to babysit me? However this is ordinarily handled?”
Flynn looks frustrated that she isn’t just taking his word and following his orders. Finally he says, “It’s… last night. When Logan called. There’s been some kind of complication. He said he was supposed to arrest me, at LAX. I don’t know what’s been decided on, but first they ordered me to drop the investigation and now Rittenhouse is trying to – ”
“What? Your bosses ordered you to drop it, and you didn’t see fit to share that with me?” As if he was going to share anything. “So what, we’ve been off the grid and against orders for at least the last twenty-four hours? It was one thing to be on the run with you when you were working on some official government business, now you’re off that too, and – what? I’m supposed to just trust you and get in the car?”
“Lucy – ” Flynn looks exasperated, as if he has genuinely never considered how insane he and all his plans sound. She’s gone along with it thus far, because she didn’t really have a choice, but before they head any further away from home, off into whatever planet he lives on, she needs solid answers. “Don’t make this difficult, just – ”
“Oh, me? Me? I’m the one who should not make this difficult?” Lucy catches sight of a nice retiree couple eyeing them from the hotel portico, and waves reassuringly. She might try to run for it right now, but all her books and her computer are still in the car, and it does not seem beneath Flynn to hold them for ransom. “Either we go home, or you explain a hell of a lot more about who this Wyatt Logan person was and what he told you.”
“He – ” Flynn rolls his eyes viciously. “It’s not a conversation for right here. Get in, and I promise – I promise – ” he repeats, seeing her look deeply dubious – “we’ll drive around a bit and I’ll tell you. Yes or no?”
Lucy hesitates, then jerks the car door open and gets in with as much icy dignity as she can muster. Muttering, Flynn does the same, pulls out with only a slight grinding of the gears, and keeps to his end of the bargain in puttering around at 30mph on some residential streets. As he does, he provides her a doubtless still-very-abridged version of what he learned. Wyatt Logan is a soldier of some description, though he didn’t specify his exact branch of service. He was sent by person or person(s) unknown to arrest Flynn at LAX, which is where he was supposed to go instead of staying with Lucy. Given that Flynn’s boss told him to go there, either he didn’t know that the rendezvous had been compromised, or he did. In short, someone highly placed in the U.S. government has ordered Flynn taken off the Rittenhouse investigation, and has gone to the lengths of sending a fellow special-ops guy to apprehend him. In short, Flynn can’t trust anyone back at headquarters, or know who they’re reporting to. That’s why he can’t just call in for backup and let someone else take it from here.
Lucy stares at him. If Flynn isn’t lying about this – and lying isn’t really his way, rather brute-force application of the unvarnished truth with all the subtlety of a speeding freight train – then that, obviously, is worrisome. “Why would he call and warn you?”
Flynn shrugs. “Dumb decency. Some people have it. But he wasn’t told either, he smelled a rat, so he did some digging.”
“How did he find out it was you?”
“I’m not sure. Wouldn’t say.” Flynn flashes a grim smile. “Had to play some of it close to the vest, after all. Said that he asked a few people. I assume someone like him, it wasn’t just the local hot dog vendor. So then. Do you see the problem?”
“You’re not willing to just drop me off back home and…” Lucy has no idea what the ordinary protocol would be, it’s a little outside her area of specialty. She doesn’t want to be kidnapped by Rittenhouse again, obviously, but she also doesn’t want to be joyriding around with a possibly-ex-NSA agent who’s managed to push the envelope too far even for them. “They couldn’t have had some good reason for pulling you off the case?”
Flynn looks at her flatly. “You’ve met who I’m after. Do you think so?”
Lucy hesitates. Yes, Rittenhouse was obviously creepy, there was a Waco-compound vibe to the party, and to have all these powerful, accomplished, wealthy people suddenly swanning out of the woodwork and offering her a dream job clearly came with a major catch. But… political parties and lobbying groups and other business conglomerates might be distasteful or even unethical (shock, horror, politics are dirty) but that still doesn’t make them strictly or flagrantly illegal. “I don’t know. I need more evidence.”
“Need more evidence.” Flynn makes a derisive noise in his throat. “That’s a historian’s answer.”
“I am a historian, in case you forgot. And I need to be back to Stanford by Tuesday, I have a class to teach.”
For a moment, Flynn looks as if he can respect this commitment to professional responsibility, even if he has no intention of honoring it, himself. “Why did you want to be a historian?” he asks instead. It doesn’t sound entirely like pleasant small talk. “Though it’s better than dropping out of college to join a band.”
Lucy flushes. That is the first reference he’s made to the fact that he saved her life seven years ago. But as to his question, she isn’t even sure she remembers consciously choosing. Just that it was implicit in her mind ever since she was a little girl, that she was going to study history and follow in her mother’s footsteps. That time with Jake was the only time she came seriously close to deviating from the plan, and Flynn is the reason she returned to it. Well, indirectly, since if he hadn’t come along, she would have been six feet under for a while now. “I just… always knew that was what I was supposed to do,” she says, after a pause. “My mom was… well, she is very… she just wanted what was best for me. She pushed me a lot, and that time when… when you saved me, that was when I’d decided I was going to tell her that I could live my own life, and not just mimic hers. But when I almost died, it… it seemed like a sign. That it had been a mistake. So I continued.”
“Do you even like it?” Flynn asks. Bewilderingly. “Or is it something else she made you do?”
“Of course I like it.” Lucy stares at him. “Really. If I hated it, I wouldn’t have gotten this far, even for my mother.”
She isn’t altogether certain about that. Just because she’s not sure she could live with her mother’s disappointment, her constant remarks about how Lucy isn’t really doing everything she could be. And she – she does want this, she can’t think of anything else she wants to do with her life, and frankly, if you’d be happy doing anything else apart from getting a PhD in history, you should probably do that. But that’s odd to think about, almost unsettling. If Puff the Tragic Wagon hadn’t gone off the road, and she hadn’t almost died, and Flynn hadn’t saved her, would she have gotten to her mother’s house, told her the plan, and followed through on dropping out of Stanford and running off with Jake? Or would she have wilted at the first sight of her mother’s disapproval, called the whole thing off, and continued as normal anyway? Does she actually have it in her to defy Professor Carol Preston, who red-penned her homework assignments from the age of nine? Who used to open up her laptop and go through her college papers and just delete whatever she thought wasn’t strong enough?
Lucy starts to say something else, then stops. “What about your mom?” she says instead, not sure why she’s inviting more intimacy, but determined to learn something about this man, half guardian angel and half obnoxious, dangerous, stubborn liability. “You said she was American, but you were born in Croatia.”
“She was.” Flynn rolls to a precise halt at a stop sign, then continues. “From Texas. She worked at Lockman Industries in the aeronautics and engineering division. She was in Houston during the moon landing, actually. A very talented woman.”
Lucy glances at him. She’s always up for hearing more about talented women. “What was her name?”
“Maria.” Flynn’s mouth shapes around it as if he hasn’t said it in a while. “Maria Thompkins. She died a few years ago.”
It’s plain that he would rather not keep talking about the subject, and they drive for a few minutes, going nowhere in particular. They make a few loops around the Windsor main drag, until Flynn says, “All right, I’ll take you home. But if anything happens on the way, or when we get there, then – ”
He sounds so grumpy and yet so worried that Lucy can’t help but smile. Impulsively, she reaches out to put a hand on his where it grips the gearshift. “I’ll be fine, Garcia.”
He blinks. His fingers tense under hers, for a moment as if they might turn and take hold. She gets the sense that people don’t often call him by his first name; it’s either Flynn or Agent or something else curt and formal. He’s still looking down at her. The air feels thick. She hasn’t quite let go.
“Lucy.” It sounds half as if he was trying to say something else, and half as if it just spilled out, as if he wanted to taste it. It lilts on his tongue, he looks at her from under his eyelids, and – Lucy doesn’t know what might have been about to happen. And for that matter, doesn’t get a chance to find out.
She’s aware of a flash, a glint, from the car that’s just pulled up next to them at the stoplight. Is aware, in a horrible, too-slow way, of Flynn realizing what it is, and slamming her down. In the next, the entire world has exploded in Lucy’s ears.
Flynn spreads his arms, sacrificing the chance to go for his own gun in order to shield her, and she hears him grunt as he straight-up takes two shots. All she can think about is those scars she saw this morning, how there was at least one bullet wound, and –
At that, Lucy moves. Reaches over, half-climbs into the driver’s seat, and hits the accelerator, trying to steer with one hand and thinking madly that she has to get them to a hospital. She can barely spare a moment to look in the rearview mirror and see if they’re being followed; all her attention is for him. “Garcia?” she says frantically. “Garcia!”
He grimaces, pressing a hand to his side. It wells up red. “Shit.”
“Don’t talk. Don’t talk, all right?” Lucy looks madly from side to side. She can see a sign for an urgent care, but she isn’t sure how well-equipped they are to handle a drive-by shooting. There’s probably a proper hospital in Santa Rosa, but how bad are his wounds? She tries to look, then has to swallow hard and turn away; blood has never been her strong suit. And if they go somewhere that needs ID, if that’s the exact thing they don’t want to do –
“Lucy.” He sounds somewhat squashed; even aside from being shot, their impromptu driving arrangement is making it hard for him to breathe. “There’s… a kit. In the back. Pull over somewhere, I’ll – ”
“You think you’ll fish two bullets out of you by yourself?” Lucy snaps. “We are getting someone to take care of you!”
Flynn opens his mouth, grimaces, and stops. The left shoulder of his shirt is wet red. He looks like he might pass out, and Lucy decides to hell with it. The urgent care it is. She veers them into the parking lot, slams on the brakes, and hauls Flynn out with a considerable effort. Once she has gotten him inside to the very alarmed receptionist, Flynn is just in command of himself to grouch, but someone takes hold of him and he vanishes into the back. Lucy drops into a chair, covered in blood and shaking. What the hell. What the hell.
She doesn’t think she’s going back to Stanford today.
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Thoughts i wanted to unload xp
I understand the view points of many of those in america at the moment republicans and liberal alike but how is having trump any way helpful and is an actual ban on people from different countries or a wall between one neighbour actually that helpful i mean illegal immigrants arent good but a fucking ban a wall loud public statements That are controversial questionable can be taken offensively (dude come on if shoe was on the other foot a lot of republicans would have been offended and go on a gaint Facebook comment section war
Again )
But another question why has the rise of triggerers risen like
There are more republicans who would post or say something offensive just to plain see people react and act like a troll rather than defend their stance on the politcal matters
Which in my opinion the clashes wouldn't have happened if more people (democrats ) went forward with ideas and stances after making sure everyone was on the same page though because frankly if they did i think not everyone would be having so many disagreements
Sure its not offensive, illegal or bad for a guy to wear make up many men have been employed in cosmetics for years eventually they we're gonna wanna show off the skills on themselves for once instead of models or maybe a lot of people are coming out have every right to and but why not try and keep it pg or at least understand not every parent wants their children exposed to something thats hard to explain for a certain amount of time and later when the child is mature or adult enough to understand the topic give more info and allow that freedom so he or she can decide for them selves but at the appropriate age because frankly does anyone else not find 12 year old bisexuals weird
Dude come on this stuff needs a limit everything needs a limit and more education thats key but get on the same page and teach kids math and let them graduate at least before he or she decides to become a weed addicted demi sexual pan romantic traveling artist in Nebraska i mean like
YOU DONT NEED THAT SHIT TO BE SPECIAL
NOR TO BE AN ARTIST
OR ANOTHER SEXUALITY
AND IT DOENST MAKE YOU SUPERIOR OVER ANYONE NOR DOES TRYING TO BECOME A MINORITY
THE MINORITIES WILL ALWAYS NEED TO BE IMPORTANT SO THAT THINGS REMAIN FAIR
BUT MENTAL, PHYSICAL DEASES NEW SEXUALITIES AND GENDER IDENTITIES GIANT ARGUMENTS OVER WHOS WORSE WHOS BETTER AND WHY PEOPLE OF A RELIGION OR A RACE OR CAST SHOULD OR SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED IN A COUNTRY
for one sorry i was shouting but like
I am gonna bring up the stupid over used facts all Americans are immigrants and that not all of them had great lives back in europe which is why they moved isn't there hypocrisy in saying middle eastern people don't get to do that
But again some should stay but why not give elderly, parents and children a pass sure europe has many other options aswell but is it so awful some people choose America fine if its a ban And no dont we dont want more immigrants
Fine just be nice to the ones you have than frankly is that so hard
And dont start Ohhh but feminism is just bitchs wanting to be better
It isnt like that man i mean like moms should get maternal leave
And dads should have time off too to help out
If a woman hits a man or falsely accuses him of abuse or rape should get punished obviously but for God's sake if there weren't so many perverted idiots and guys who think its ok to just go invading a woman's personal space isn't cool and the fear of it is something that is a main reason that's basically help create the giant following
Is it unfair and used extremistly at times ofcourse everything and anything will be misused this is humanity we're talking about not saints or prophets those A**holes left a while ago
(Getting to religion)
But is it so bad to be a feminist really man
Come on for gods sake it isnt its just wrong when it turns biased and in the favour of the other gender which is basically just sexism not feminism
(Can we please agree on the fact there might be a fucking difference!)
And true western countries dont need it as much as middle eastern or south Asian African or south American even might need it but feminism isnt a bad thing (PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE IT NEVER STARTED AS A BAD THING IT WAS FAIR THEN AND THOSE WOMEN STARTED IT OUT OF JUSTIFIED REASONS AND IT DID BENEFIT BOTH GENDERS LOOK IT UP DO SOME RESEARCH MALE RAPE CASES WERE FINALLY OPEN BY THE FBI THANKS TO THE MOVEMENT IN THE 60'S ITS A THING THAT CAN BE BOTH GOOD AND BAD JUST LIKE REPUBLICAN IDEALS OR LIBERAL AND NEITHER STARTED AS BAD THINGS! )
As well for religion why must everyone use the term not all Muslims are terrorist but all terrorists are Muslims like the liberals have points for that thatsoffensive man seriously AND THAT IS SO NOT HELPFUL AT ALL MAN LIKE
I swear the amount of adults ive seen and met who think their religion is being destroyed and their customs as well because their children have become internet addicted assholes (like myself inculded ) who want to disrespect them their Morals and values and become foreigners and American ofcourse because theyre so cool blah blah blah
(Personally fuck it i kinda like being Pakistani but i do enjoy the internet ) which for some reason has become a the main reason why I get lectured more than i think i really need man i mean my language can turn vulgar and i can be socially a little awkward if uncomfortable but like why is me liking rock music and youtube and having a accent a reason to assume i would rather be American i do love my home and where i am from i am proud of my family and where we come from but why enjoy every thing else in the world aswell and not be considered a traitor or something
(Ok too personal )
Alright maybe what i am trying to get is how come no one can just elect a decent a leader or agree to disagree about things but still respect each other stay open minded but have your morals close by and principles uncompromised biasness is human but why no agree to disagree and leave it at that
The insecurity increasing and old facade of wanting to be rich and famous and not work for it has come back
Help me on patrion, like my video post photo blah blah blah dude just get a job why is it so necessary to work in entertainment for hells sake
I mean its valid you wanna sure go ahead maybe you are worthy but like stolen content and fake stories and new sexualities for gods sake please
(No longer about politics i suppose )
Here's my mind on it i guess
LGBTQA community has every right a straight white male or female would have no more no less but gender and sexuality identification maybe kept a simple (memorable and easier to define on fine paper and print during adoptions divorce marriage leavint the country or not etc ) and that being hetreo, homo, bi, A and pan because that makes sense
Its simple
And works
And as well for gender identification
On fine paper
if you are Male to female m to f
Female to male f to m
Something less explainable just keep it trans
Because frankly leave it at that why not just like why not?
Its simple makes sense justified fair and but isnt over done for some petty individuals looking for attention to take advantage of (ofcourse no guarantees but why not just keep some faith ? )
And no one gets to chose all on paper until after 18 because thats fucking fair
(Come on its not like its illegal to come out say it in public )
And yes none of that would be applied in most countries especially not mine but it would be a good start in my opinion
Any way i think i am done venting my thoughts anyone who is annoyed can ignore (why did you read this much of it and not justgo three lines and decide nah boring lets bail )
Anyone who has an opinion or would just like to talk is welcomed BUT CAN WE PLEASE KEEP THIS CIVIL I MEAN NO DISRESPECT TO ANYONE OR ANYTHING BY THESE STATEMENTS
i was just venting some thoughts
And not trying to force them on anyone or anything but i just wanted this out of my head and see if others agree or not (no not for the purpose to be right or wrong ) but because i can't be the only one who thinks all the political maddness right now was all avoidable and that people are becoming
Weirder
Not in a good sense
Not because of religion race or anything like that just like
Mind sets
I feel like its like the key to harmony and at least balance or peace is right there no one wants to take it
I am probably going to regret posting this but i am gonna anyway not like people actual read my blog or anything
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5.2.17
so apparently my school does this program where kids can head out into the woods for a weekend every once in a while and just… talk it out i guess. that was this past weekend, Ma (not my mom, a friend) told me to go. my old history teacher had been plugging for the trip for years, but id never actually gone. never thought id be able to explain wanting to go have a feelings jam with a buncha other kids in the woods to my dad. i didnt really until i came back and recapped a little (honoring the agreement i signed before going to not share anyones story from the trip).
on the one hand, i feel so fucking healthy!!! i feel like i have subsisted for the past year off of nothing but avocado smoothies and kale juice and like i have been doing yoga for 85 hours a day and like i finally met a person or two who i can actually speak my mind to and get more than just a “sure dude.” like, good lord does this feel good
i mean, thats what i told Ge and Di and i genuinely believe it. (both Di and i knew basically nobody other than eachother and we were alone in a sea of strangers for the first few hours.)
dont get me wrong, i feel lots better. i got a lot off of my chest. but there was also a lot left unsaid on my part. out of all the people there (about 90) there were two others who shared that they were genderqueer (and there were only like two other people who brought up the topic at all). one of them i had some p bad experiences with in middle school. the other was a student leader and facilitator of the trip, so Re (the leader) didnt really have a lot of time to talk, and in the discussions Re was mostly asking questions and… well, facilitating. plus, gender came up like once. and Re was not there.
but i was! it was nice to talk a little. i was in a meeting with the school principal about installing gender neutral bathrooms at the school a week or two ago and i talked about that with them, and i told them that being genderqueer goes waywaywayway back and lots of other stuff, i guess. but i didnt say anything about my experiences with being genderqueer, really.
and damn did i want to! idk if yall have picked up on this yet (all none of you) but talking to people about my shit is just so healing for me. thats why i have a public journal! like, talking to equals and feeling heard. i could tell my mom or the school therapist (and i do, often) about my shit and its cool, theyre supportive and shit, but since i started this class ive had no time to keep up old friendships that were based around hanging out. like, were still friends i guess, but… playing minigolf over text is just not the same, man.
there was this thing last night where from like, right after dinner until about 3 in the morning, we talked. people had seven minutes that they could use however they wanted in front of the whole group, and it was just their job to listen. and let me tell you, id been crafting my seven minutes for like, three hours before my name came up. the thing is, i planned like twenty minutes of monologue. i talked about a bunch of the family stuff ive got and that was real cathartic. i also got to talk about my struggles with depression, which was a real common topic. but… ive been thinking about the possibility of myself being a trans girl really, really hard over the past couple of months, and i still havent shared that other than with the people whove read this journal.
which is nobody, other than a couple people browsing tags when i talked about moana a little while ago. i havent told that many people i write this, but. i kinda trusted those who i did to read it i guess.
i dunno. i think im most afraid that im not going to have any healthy girl friendships. i see all these women and girls and they have such supportive relationships with eachother. i see it every day. holy shit, if you havent seen the rage and passion with which girls defend their true friends… Hoo Boy.
and im so worried i wont have that! like. i love being agender, and it’s wonderful to have the ability and the knowledge and the acceptance to be an out nonbinary person and not really have so many problems stemming from that in my life. but i have this fear that that ill be in this purgatory of a questioning period for just long enough that when i finally make up my goddamn mind and trust my conviction enough to come out as a trans girl ill have lost the opportunity to have these wonderful, girl-to-girl relationships. as an agender person i feel like so much of an intruder in these female spaces.
Like, Ha (who I met on the trip) was so wonderful and badass, especially considering the amount of shit shes had to go through. jimminy christmas, shes fucking strong. i try not to gender people here but when the topic is gender itself that kind of context feels crucial… but anyways. she came and sat with me when i was eating lunch alone in the corner and brought a couple other girls and. i mean, some of the body language of the others kind of told me they werent super interested in me being there but… it felt… so good. just to be in a female space, just to be included there for the most part, without cis guys around that i would get lumped with.
but then i think i had a panic attack like, near to immediately after that, because i felt like i was making them incredibly uncomfortable by being an intruder in their female space. and when my female friends were having a hard time during the trip (as often happened) i felt like it wasnt my place to comfort them and that as a natal male i would just make them more uncomfortable and they would doubt their friendship with me because so many guys just take advantage of women when they’re at their lowest emotional state and that’s the last thing i want to be seen as and i tried to hug a few women who were having a really hard time over the course of the trip but i just got this churning in my stomach because i might make it worse if i make them think i just want to hug them so i can feel them aginst my stupid fucking body and if i keep writing this sentence then im going to have another panic attack
i dont know what to do. i dont know who to talk to because despite the number of people who said i could come to them this weekend, nobody else talked about gender shit, and those genderqueer people who i do know have just told me to look into my heart and shit, which doesnt help because thats what ive been trying to do. i feel like i cant talk to women because to them ill just be another guy who’s venting because he feels like he can dump all his emotional shit on the closest woman (especially women i just met on the trip, i couldnt ask them to spend however long it takes out of their day to read this when i just met them). i feel like i cant talk to men because if theyre not transphobic to begin with, they either refuse to talk about emotional shit, or can neither relate to feeling like they wont have any healthy girl-to-girl friendships nor realte to being genderqueer. i know im going to send this little essay to somebody soon because i just need to hear at least one other persons thoughts but i dont know who its going to be
and on top of all of that i keep getting these stomach aches at mealtimes and no other time of day and i dont know if it was the confessions from people with eating disorders or something else but my stomach aches and then i dont eat and then it aches because im hungry until the next meal when it aches again and i cant eat and when youre choosing between not eating or eating and feeling like you want to throw up, do you have an eating disorder already? i dont know anything thats going on with my body and im depressed and i feel so ashamed because there were so many people who had stories that felt so much more real than just a pronoun and a stomach ache and they spent their seven minutes with what seemed like no regrets about not having shared things and here i am writing a fucking dissertation pity paper about myself because i feel like it wasnt enough time to talk about my dumb fucking problems even though what i have aint shit and if i fall into the spiral of ands i legitimately will have a worse panic attack and i dont know who i can comfortably ask to do the fucking weightlifting championship level shit that is required to do the emotional heavy lifting and read bullshit im putting on the page without feeling like im inconveniencing them to the nth degree
so i guess thats where im at
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Klance Fic Recs:
A mutual of mine @ichaotic-neutrali wanted some fic recs so here’s some of my favorites. If anyone has any recommendations please feel free to add on!
The Ultimate Wingman: by luna_fox
Summary: Lance and Hunk have moved in to the new student apartments at Garrison University called The V at Garrison. Living on their floor, they meet and befriend their neighbors: Pidge, a child prodigy in robotics. Matt, Allura, and Shiro, life time friends with the boys watching over their siblings. And Keith, the anti-social boy who hates change. As time progresses, they all become friends and Lance finally finds someone to help him explore his bisexuality - his gay neighbor Keith. They strike a deal = Lance helps Keith find a social life while Keith becomes Lance's wingman, but what happens when both men realize that their deal has become more complicated than they expected.
Words: 60,290 Chapters: 11/?
The Ties That Bind by: Smiles4Voltron, Weirdpersonhere
Summary: Lance fell hard at Garrison, unable to stop himself from adoring his rival. However, when Kerberos went missing Keith changed. Through time, Lance got over his broken heart, swearing to never allow himself to get hurt like that again. So how come he is falling for the same tricks a year later when he is reunited with Keith and the two of them get chosen to save the Universe through Voltron! Words: 71,750 Chapters: 12/?
Blueprints by: UnderTheSilentStars
Summary: "While soulmarks themselves were common, it was rare for someone to have anything other than the name of their other half...and Lance had a red paw print."
Soulmark Au
Words: 39,204 Chapters: 23/?
So Anyway, Here's Wonderwall by: fairietailed, themuffintitan
Summary: Lance can't seem to look anywhere but Keith as he performs. He doesn’t bother trying to hear the music over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.
--
In which Keith is a bassist and Lance is weak.
Words: 59,166 Chapters: 15/?
Ignorance Is Bliss by: YouAreInAComaWakeUp (Nikanaiko)
Summary: As it turns out, learning that your house is haunted makes the ghosts a lot more aggressive. Who knew? Ah, well. At least one of them is hot. And he's the less-evil one, too, so that's always a plus.
Words: 6,443 Chapters: 1/?
This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things by: Acequisitor
Summary: Wine Aunt: Oh shit
Hunkin' Donuts: Great googly moogly
Space Dad™: Well that's enough for today
Nigel Cornberry: I leave for 20 minutes and this is what I come back to?
Nigel Cornberry: Can you kids relax for just one minute?
Words: 18, 002 Chapters: 7/?
Lonely Will Wait by: ciuucalata
Summary: “I should get rid of these fucking stars,” he mumbles getting out of bed.
Like usually he opens his window blinds, letting in the warm summer wind and the light that steals the stars’ glow.
He put them up twelve- maybe thirteen years ago, when he first started to have the dreams(memories?) and when they still reminded him of a time when he was a hero together with a group of strangers that felt like family. They make falling asleep easier at night, just like they did back then, but the panic and the helplessness that he feels every morning are no longer worth it. (or the one with the reincarnation where Lance is the only one who remembers but doesn't let it get in the way of him finally having a normal life with his old family)
Words: 5,582 Chapters: 1/?
True Love or Something (series) by: DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Words: 84,347 Works: 20 Complete: No
The Volton Chat Fic No One Asked For by: fleep
Summary: dont hunk with my heart: did u really photoshop ur face over a man in a chicken costume running from the police
keith is fine: thats pidge hunk pidge is the police
dont hunk with my heart: howd u make that so fast
lancemememachine: ive had this saved up for an occasion like this
Nobody asked for this
Words: 15,039 Chapters: 13/?
legendary meme defenders by: Kitsune300
Summary: getting bi: gbfyhed guys Im dead
getting bi: you might as well plan my funeral
space dad: hello dead, I’m dad
getting bi: SHRIO STFU
smol and ready to brawl: lance that is no way to speak to your father
Words: 34,441 Chapters: 25/?
Power-kick by: Johnny_kun
Summary: “I am so sorry, you just fell so hard for me and I feel bad about it now.” Lance had to admit that his pick-up lines were getting better.
“Did you kick the ball?! Purposely at me?” The black haired man asked, voice laced with annoyance as he got up, ignoring Lance’s offered hand for help.
“It was an accident, really. I was showing my children how to do a power-kick.” Lance’s flirty smile didn’t change the unimpressed expression on the stranger’s face.
“You should show them how to apologize now.”
Words: 42,994 Chapters: 16/?
Spaghettification and Other Extreme Sports by: SociopathicAngel
Summary: During their final battle with Zarkon and the Galra Empire, Zarkon creates a black hole capable of destroying the universe. Lance sacrifices himself and Blue in order to stop it... and ends up in an alternate universe where everything is just a bit not right
Words: 17,978 Chapters: 4/4
The Quiet by: MilkTeaMiku
Summary: Does he not realise he's dead?
Keith can see ghosts. As a part of his Garrison training, he's sent to a hospital to do one year of medical clerkship - it's there that he meets a charmingly irritating ghost who definitely needs to learn what boundaries are.
Words: 34,500 Chapters: 17/?
Foreign Scenes by: bwyn
Summary: Lance has been dreaming of travelling since the first time he heard stories from his family as a child. Now, having finally the time and money to do it, he goes on a trip to Europe to see some of the most culturally rich cities on the continent. Except he keeps bumping into the same guy over and over again, in random cities, doing stupid shit, and ultimately dragging Lance into his trouble, too.
Basically an AU in which Lance and Keith become impromptu travel buddies and get into trouble.
Words: 51,334 Chapters: 7/12
If Fireflies Cast Shadows by: Sasaina_Ai
Summary: You'd think finding your soulmate would be difficult, since there's only one of them and over seven trillion people in the world. Thankfully, God decided to take pity on his creations, and gave each person the very first words their soulmate would say to them. It was always in their personalized handwriting and the color that best describe them, decorating the wrist of your dominant hand. And, if you touch it after you meet them, you can send them your emotions, even thoughts if your connection is strong enough.
And that's all fine and dandy - except it isn't.
Because Lance McClain, the fun-loving guy with groan-inducing puns and pick-up lines that never work, who's six-foot one with a good attitude and a hundred friends, has the words "Don't fucking touch me, asshole" scribbled in messy red letters on his left wrist.
Words: 50,378 Chapters: 3/?
Botched Ink by: Syremia
Summary: "Your soulmate is that who shares the same symbol on their skin as yours." Was all Lance had been teached since a young age.
He was the only one in his large group of friends to not have a symbol of his own. Just as he thought he was gonna live alone until he met Keith in a bar. The problem was that Keith already had a symbol of his own.
(Warning: Various mentions of heavy drinking ahead)
Words: 14,977 Chapters: 4/?
Kiss My Ice by: delictor
Summary: Lance hasn't skated in a year since the accident that cost him the Olympics. Keith can't skate for shit but that doesn't stop him from catching Lance's attention, even when he can't so much as stand up after falling on the ice. 'When a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream.'“Soon as we're off this ice you're dead.” Keith's threat is an empty one and he knows Lance can tell by the way he laughs at it.
“Serious question though, do you not know who I am?” Lance questions.
“Should I?”
“No, I guess not.” Lance shrugs. “I'm gonna twirl you, okay?”
“No, no don't—wait!” Keith cries out as he's suddenly viewing the entire arena and his legs go rigid before colliding into Lance's chest, his chest rising and falling with laughter, hands gripping Keith's upper arms gently. “Put me back on land.”
“Technically, we are on land.”
“We're on frozen water, get me off it.”
Words: 40,250 Chapters: 6/10
Entangled by: mackerelmademedoit
Summary: When Keith found himself mentally linked to Lance of all people, he never thought that it would end in anything but irritation and misery on both sides. He certainly never imagined that it would be a useful asset in team Voltron's fight against the Galra Empire. Now if he can just keep his feelings in check, they might actually have a chance at defeating Zarkon.Needless to say, when he'd wished for a 'bonding moment' with Lance, this wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.(Eventual romance and mature content for later chapters).
Words: 80,975 Chapters: 11/12
Crossroads by: manamune
Summary: When Keith crashed his Lion into a Galra warship in order to stop it from destroying a solar system, and more importantly, his friends, he was fully prepared to die for it.What he didn’t prepare for was to wake up in an alternate universe where he and Lance were dating.
Words: 106,833 Chapters: 25/25
Of booty shorts and Injuries by: Queerswimming
Summary: Keith is sure that he’s having a heart attack. Or that he hurt his brain when he fell earlier. Because it’s simply not possible that the boy who’s sitting next to him is not a hallucination. How could someone so gorgeous just sit in an emergency room at night?"Keith and Lance unexpectantly meet at the emergency room in the middle of the night.
Words: 19,220 Chapters: 3/?
Loving Him Was Red by: Resamille
Summary: Loving him was red, just like the suit Lance now wears in Keith’s absence.
Words: 4,135 Chapters: 1/1
Stowaway by: glubsauce
Summary: When Lance finds a handsome stranger hiding in the backseat of his Jeep on the way to Pidge's birthday party, he can't help but wonder what his story is. Luckily for him, after he drops him off at his destination, he quickly gets revisited.
Lance is a bi college student who lets Keith, a dfab genderfluid 21 year-old, stay at his apartment after Keith runs away from home.
Words: 27,109 Chapters: 9/?
you never stood a chance by: kagshina
Summary: lance to hunk ♡
>i’m gonna fukin die hunk oh mygod i sent
>keith a work out selfie that i wan supposed to fcukin send to you and you know what it said
>”BET YOU WANNA LICK THESE NIPS”
>HUNK I WILL NEVE BE ABLE TO FCE HIM AGAIN I WANT TO DI E(Or, Keith is beautiful, Lance has a crush, and there's lots of shirtless selfies)
Words: 12,221 Chapters: 1/1
little numbers by: ashtxns
Summary: brolance: keith is officially CANCELLED
Words: 22,202 Chapters: 23/?
Better than coffee by peralta
Summary: When Lance tries to curb his coffee addiction by replacing it with boba, he can’t help but linger around a perpetually grumpy-looking employee who works at the nearby teahouse. Keith, despite all the Yelp reviews, turns out to be surprisingly kind. Lance starts coming every day—although he insists it’s only for the boba.
And to complain about the customer service, of course.
Words: 14,805 Chapters: 3/?
nothing's quite as sweet by dimpleforyourthoughts, thebrotherswinchester
Summary: Keith is a barista who hates his job. Lance works at the cat shelter across the street.
Words: 50,370 Chapters: 1/1
Infection by: Talinor
Summary: "Citizens are advised to stay inside at all costs until the infection is under control," Nyma's voice was slightly stronger when she spoke up again. "And if you come across a possibly infected individual, do not- I repeat, do not- come into contact with them. This infection is reported to be highly contagious. If you see someone you believe is infected, stay away and report them immediately. Officers will come to take them to the nearest vacant hospital as soon as they can. Please try to remain calm, and lock your doors."
Words: 20,615 Chapters: 5/?
Six Feet Over by: freshia
Summary: "And, right, of course. He hadn't told Pidge—or Hunk, actually, who was sitting on the other side of the table from him—because somehow “I see dead people” just doesn't quite have the same effect that it surely had before 1999. Go figure."
Lance Sanchez sees ghosts. Lance Sanchez also tries his best to avoid ghosts, until he literally can't, because his new apartment is inhabited by one very confused ghost named Keith.
Words: 47,313 Chapters: 13/?
Sweet Tooth by: Huletty
Summary: Lance took a breath and walked forward through the swinging door. He kept his mind focused on one task. Get those damn pastries. Don’t look at anything but the pastries, don’t touch anything but the pastries, don’t speak to anything but the pastries. Don’t even glance at the kid with the mullet, who was currently putting frosting on a new batch of cookies, pink tongue slightly sticking out of his mouth in concentration. 'What I would do to have that tongue on my- The pastries!' Lance jerked his vision away and back to the cart full of stacked trays.
Otherwise known as the Bakery/Cafe/Pastry Shop AU this fandom needs but probably not the one it deserves.
Words: 11,175 Chapters: 5/?
Team Voltron: a group chat by: Castielwinchestar
Summary: This is absolute trash with a kinda-sorta plot it's so much fun and I'm basically writing my interpretation of the entire Voltron Team on crack so please read this I promise you won't be disappointed <3
Words: 21,602 Chapters: 20/?
Skinny band nerd takes it up the ass from the beefcake football captain (series) by: Lynn1998
Words: 42,730 Works: 6 Complete: No
To the Universe and Back with You by: manamune
Summary: Lance and Keith were friends with benefits slash tentative boyfriends when the Galra empire fell. And just when their real relationship was starting to begin, Keith took off without a word, leaving Lance with a broken heart and a whole lot of resentment.
Fast forward seven years later and Lance is the only paladin living on Earth, with his cat Peaches for company. It’s not perfect, but he’s happy.
That is, until Shiro summons them to form Voltron again and Lance has to face his greatest fear: the past.
Words:10,100 Chapters: 1/3
Nightmares by: Trashness
Summary: Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.
Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.
Words: 14,864 Chapters: 1/1
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