#and it says i’m 212 pounds

[buttergirlepic]

rant time

#okay massive massive trigger warning here #for weight + weight loss + disordered eating #basically i’m trying to be healthy again #and i weighed myself literally a couple minutes ago #and it says i’m 212 pounds #that’s the heaviest i’ve ever been in my life :/ #now i have to lose 60 pounds and not 40 like i thought #i don’t know how people keep a calorie deficit #how do i fit three meals into 1400 calories #i feel like just quitting whilst i’m ahead #i wish i was fucking dead #why can i not just be pretty

[boredzillenial]

Day 13: of @flightlessangelwings fawktober!!

You take a risk and try anonymous sex, but the man you meet is a little… off…

Themes: f!reader, anonymous sex, unhinged!Basil (honestly is there any other kind of Basil?), first time sex worker!reader, oral (m!receiving), a silly amount of commas and cum, refraction period who, Basil and reader both being clumsy/awkward, blowjob, cum swallowing, cowgirl, creampie (always practice safe friends)

You were doing this, you were actually doing this… Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as you took the elevator up to your first client’s apartment. You never expected your lengthy unemployment to drive you to this route but hey: you enjoy sex, you were paid in advance, you went about making sure you’d be safe, you’d be okay, right?

You adjust your mask and sunglasses as you draw your hood up over your head, you take a deep breath and knock at apartment 212. What you don’t expect was the immediate greeting by a brown paper bag with two uneven eye holes. “Uh… Lightningface?” You take a moment to do a once over and notice the tenting of his slacks. Your heart thunders faster in your chest as you work to keep your gaze on his haphazard ‘mask’.

“Yes - yep that’s me.” He stammers “come in.” He waves you in quickly as he nervously glances around the hall. You hear the crinkle of the bag as he turns and follows you inside. “Sorry about the mess.” He fumbles over his words and a random pile of things on the floor.

“Oh ah, no problem. My place isn’t much better.” You laugh awkwardly trying to break the tension. Looking around you notice the light fixtures are missing their shades and furniture is haphazardly tossed and pushed against the walls, leaving one lone grey sofa in the living room. Things were, messy to say the least, but didn’t seem unclean.

“So, I know we already exchanged money and everything but you didn’t tell me exactly what you’re into.” You sit down on the sofa and cross your legs, feeling small in the open space. “I mean besides the anonymous part.” You glance into the kitchen to see him struggling to get you both glasses of water.

“Oh ah, just the regular stuff I guess? I - ow!” He bangs into the kitchen counter as he makes his way over to you. “I uh, haven’t done this before I just, don’t want you to have to see this.” He hands you the glass and motions at his face.

“Seems like you’re having trouble seeing though.” You chuckle. “Do you, have something better to wear?” You pull your hood down as your heart begins to settle.

“No! No I - sorry I don’t.” He says, you could see the water trembling in his hand sending a pang of pity through you.

“How about this -“ you said softly. “If you’ve got ties or something, we can both be blindfolded so you can take that off.” He nods, the movement strange under the paper bag. “I’m honestly grateful for the work and the generous tip you already sent so, I want you to be able to relax and enjoy yourself.”

Another crinkle as he nods again“Yeah? I’ve got ties.” His voice hitches in excitement as he gets up and rushes down the hall, slamming his shoulder into the doorway as he goes. You can’t help but giggle at the soft “fuck” that hisses from under the bag.

He returns holding his hand out, a couple of plain blue ties dangling from his grip. You gently take one of them, turning away to take off your sunglasses and blindfolding yourself. “Okay. Can’t see a thing.” A small smile broadens behind your mask. “Now what would you like to do?”

“I uh, we could-“ he stammers, you hear the bag crinkle again as he removes it. You can’t see it but his shaking slows as he waves a hand in-front of your face. He lets out a slow breath as he wrings his hands together. “I really don’t know I just, I’m so lonely and -“ he glances down at himself straining against the fabric of his pants. Just being near you already had him wetting his underwear.

“We could do something simple, you can just lean back and I can use my mouth?” You ask tentatively. You hear him suck in a excited breath and the shuffle of clothing.

“Yeah, yeah.” You hear the familiar metallic cling of a belt being undone as he struggles for a moment to get his pants down.

“Okay just, stay where you are. And uh, I have to take my mask off so, put your blindfold on?” It was suppose to be more of a statement but your returning nerves turn it to a question.

“Yeah- of course.” He fumbles with his own tie as his breath hitches. Once it’s secure he reaches for your hand as you move toward him. You scoot forward and down onto the floor, his knees bumping your breasts as you move to kneel between them. You could feel his muscles tremble as you smooth your hands up his legs. “I - I’m sorry I -“ his voice shakes as he grit his teeth.

“It’s okay, just relax.” You coo, your hands slowly running up the chords of muscle in his firm thighs. You find his thick weeping cock and grip slowly around his base. He groans and shivers as you stroke up and ran a thumb over the tip, gliding easily across it with his precum slicking your skin. You bring the already slick tip to your tongue. It took one turn around his sensitive head for him to explode across your tongue. You jump for a moment before quickly taking him deeper, sucking him gently as his orgasm sent him into a shuddering and whimpering mess. The taste of him sent your mind reeling and your core aching. “So sorry, I’m sorry I just-“ he blubbers.

You pull away a bit with a smirk. “Shhh hey it’s alright, is that all you wanted? I can keep going, if you want?” You say softly.

“Yes - ohmygod yes please.” He whimpers.

“Just lay back, keep that tie tight.” You put a reassuring hand up his quivering stomach and chest, lightly raking your nails as his trembling slowed. Your other hand still wrapped around his base as you hold him a bit firmer to keep him hard. You drag your tongue up his length, earning you another groan that shot straight to your core.

“Feels so good - too good.” He writhed as his trembling hands ran through your hair. “Too good oh god.” He whined, his grip beginning to tighten. Your hum of satisfaction sent him quivering again as he pushes his cock as far as he could down your throat, mouth so full of him his cum skipped past your tongue. You cough as you slowly pull back and wipe tears from your cheeks. “S-sorry, are you okay?” He shutters.

“Better then okay.” You smile, your ego blooming slightly with your arousal. Your first client and you managed to make him cum twice in less than a few minutes. “Look, I - this is my first time doing this and…. Well, I really wanna feel you.”

“Y-yeah I’ve got condo-“ you cut his sentence short with a firm lick up the base of his still hard length. He bucked up against the pressure as a whine broke his train of thought.

“Can I feel you… without it?” You’re voice waveres as you pussy clenches around nothing, ached for him to fill you. You know you shouldn’t but…

“Yes! Yes please.” He pulls you a little too eagerly up onto his lap, knocking your heads together in the process. You both groan and grip your foreheads, but a laugh bubbles up in your chest to break the awkwardness. “Sorry -“ he groaned.

“Don’t be.” Your laugh twisted to a soft groan down as you sink onto him.

“S-shit, you’re so. Feel so-“ his voice is absolutely wrecked as he stretches you. You move to begin rolling your hips till he lurches forward, locking his arms around your waist and slamming into you to the hilt. “Fuck! Fuck fuck I’m sorry.” He groaned into your chest as thick white ropes fill your cunt. You can practically feel the blissed out smile on your skin as he clung to you. “So soft and wet, I don’t know whether it’s you or me. Feel like I came so much.” His breathy chuckle warms your breasts.

“I’ve got no other clients today. You fill me up as much as you like.” You return his laugh with one of your own as you run your fingers through his curls and tighten his blindfold.

———

Taglist: special thanks to @melodygatesauthor for introducing me to this chaotic portion of the Oscar-verse!

@lunar-ghoulie @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#fawktober2023 #lightningface #basil stitt #oscar isaac characters #Basil stitt fanfiction #Lightningface fanfiction

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 3 Available Now!

Tagging: @lemonlyman-dotcom and @kiwichaeng

Carlos is an IDIOT. He’s never listening to his sisters again. He’s never texting again. He’s going to become a monk and live a life of solitude.

He stares at the photo on his screen that is decidedly not Deacon from the bar. Deacon’s eyes didn’t sparkle like that, his smile didn’t look like literal sunshine, and his hair definitely wasn’t perfectly tousled in a way that makes Carlos’ fingers itch to run through it. 

This guy looks vaguely familiar, but the name T.K. doesn’t ring a bell. Maybe he’s seen him at the grocery store? Or they go to the same coffee shop?

However he does or doesn’t know him, Carlos ha never felt more embarrassed in his entire life. His fingers fly as he types out an apology.

Carlos

[8:53pm] Oh my god. I’m so sorry.

Not Bar Guy

[8:53pm] No worries.

Did Deacon give him a fake number? Carlos gets up and searches his mail bin for the cocktail napkin he’d brought home from the bar. The number is still legible and Carlos’ eyes scan it quickly. 512…

Carlos checks the number he’d typed into his messages. 212.

Whoops.

How had that happened? Where the hell is the 212 area code even from? Definitely not Austin. Carlos sighs and shakes his head. Whatever. It’s done. He’ll just…text the right number and try again. 

Maybe. 

Or maybe not. 

He flops back onto his sofa, his head a little swimmy from the whiskey. What a fucking mess. He lets his eyes slide shut. Maybe he’ll just go to sleep and when he wakes up this will all have been an alcohol induced nightmare.

His phone buzzes and he reluctantly opens his eyes to find another text message.

Not Bar Guy

[9:02pm] I definitely would remember kissing someone like you. I hope Deacon appreciated it.

He jerks upright, his heart pounding. Is this guy, T.K., is he…flirting? 

Something about the words and the screen and the whiskey and the calming sound of British bakers in the background emboldens him and he types back.

Carlos

[9:03pm] I like to think he did. I’m a pretty good kisser.

Not Bar Guy

[9:04pm] I’m sure you are. Did he give as good as he got?

Carlos huffs out a breath of surprise, the pounding in his heart easing into a more relaxed sense of fun.

Carlos

[9:04pm] He was all right.

Not Bar Guy 

[9:05pm] Just all right? That was a pretty hot pic for just all right.

He flushes. Yes. Okay. He’d been trying to make a little bit of a point. And maybe it was a tiny bit desperate. But he doesn’t want this guy, T.K., to know that.

Before he can formulate a good response another text comes through.

Not Bar Guy

[9:06pm] Just saying, you look like you deserve a little more than that.

Carlos snorts as he types back.

Carlos

[9:06pm] You’ve decided that from one picture?

Not Bar Guy 

[9:06pm] What can I say? I call ‘em like I see ‘em. It’s a very convincing picture.

Carlos

[9:07pm] Thanks. Yours is pretty good too.

Not Bar Guy- T.K. 

[9:07pm] Just pretty good? Ouch.

Carlos

[9:07pm] Ah I knew I could see a sensitive ego in those green eyes. How would you like me to describe it?

Not Bar Guy- T.K. 

[9:08pm] Charming, captivating, endearing…

Carlos

[9:08pm] Pushy? Forward?

Not Bar Guy- T.K. 

[9:08pm] Forward? Says the guy who sent a thirst trap to a complete stranger…

Carlos

[9:09pm] I thought you were Deacon!

T.K. doesn’t respond for long enough that Carlos wonders if he’s finally gotten tired of the conversation. It’s crazy how disappointed that makes him. He’s just about to call it a night and go to bed when his phone lights up once more.

Not Bar Guy- T.K. 

[9:15pm] Sorry, call came in. Gotta go. This was fun though. We should do it again sometime.

A call? Carlos frowns and pulls T.K.’s picture up again, zooming in. He’d been so surprised and embarrassed he hadn’t even noticed the AFD logo on his shirt. This guy is local? Even though his number is clearly from somewhere else?

That’s probably why he looks vaguely familiar. They’ve likely been on some of the same calls. Big ones, obviously, otherwise he would have gotten a more decent look at the guy. There’s no way he would have forgotten those sea green eyes if they’d ever locked on his in person before. 

The whiskey is making him sleepy, pulling his eyes downward so he drags himself upstairs and readies for bed.

If T.K.’s picture is the last thing he looks at before he closes his eyes…well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Carlos arrives for his shift the next day in a good mood. A really good mood.

“Morning,” he says, setting a coffee from the place down the block on Lexi’s desk. 

“Morning,” she says, looking up in surprise. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Carlos says, sitting down at his desk and booting up the desktop. 

She eyes him suspiciously. “You look perky. More perky than usual.”

Carlos shrugs. “I had dinner with my sisters last night. We had a good time.”

“Mmm….no,” Lexi says. “This isn’t sisters happy. This is something else.”

“Okay, well if you figure it out, let me know,” he tells her. He pulls up his email and then tries to keep his voice casual, as if he hasn’t been planning his next words since the moment he woke up. “Hey, you don’t happen to know a firefighter named T.K. do you?”

It’s the first time he’s said T.K.’s name out loud and it makes his heart flutter. The letters feel familiar in his mouth and send sparks through his stomach. It’s stupid, but this is the feeling he was trying to convey to his sisters last night. Which is dumb. Because he literally knows nothing about this guy.

“T.K.? As in Strand?” Lexi asks.

“Um, yeah?” Carlos hedges. How many T.K.’s can there be in the AFD?

“Isn’t that the firefighter that got shot a couple months ago?” she asks. “Out of the 126?”

Oh. Oh. 

That’s why he looked familiar. His picture had been on every news network, the talk of the department for over a week. Firefighter shot on duty. Crazy stuff.

“Right,” he says. “Now I remember.”

“I think his dad’s captain of that station,” Lexi says. “Why are you asking?”

“His name came up when I was out with a couple of the guys,” Carlos lies. “I couldn’t place him and thought you might remember.”

“That whole house was killed in that big explosion too, remember?”

“Right,” Carlos says, remembering it all too well. He knows people who’d gone to the scene that night and found total devastation. It was awful.

He waits for Lexi to go back to her work and then Carlos does something he promised himself he would never, ever do. He runs a background check for personal reasons.

T.K. stands for Tyler Kennedy. Carlos thinks of the picture he saved to his phone. T.K. is definitely a better fit. It’s fun and cute. Tyler Kennedy is…a little too stuffy for that rumpled hair and cheeky grin.

The shooting pops up obviously, but it’s not the only thing. Carlos clicks on a file from six months ago. T.K. was brought in for drunk and disorderly as well as assault and battery, but he blew a point zero and no charges were pressed. Huh. Interesting.

He clicks on the report of the shooting. It’s grim. Carlos feels sick as his eyes scan the words. Point blank range to the chest, a kid was involved…T.K. is damn lucky he survived.

He can’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. They head out on patrol and he can’t help secretly hoping they’ll get rolled to a fire call somewhere. Then he realizes how stupid that is. Fire is a twenty-four hour shift. If T.K. was on last night, he’s probably off the rest of today. 

Carlos hits the gym after work and then the grocery store. Usually cooking puts him in a good headspace, but tonight he’s a million miles away. He can’t stop thinking about their conversation. Or the shooting. Is T.K. okay? Does he have permanent damage? He’s obviously back at work since he went out on a call last night, so does that mean he’s okay now?

This is so stupid, he doesn’t even know the guy. He shouldn’t care this much. It’s just, the thought of that beautiful face no longer being in the world isn’t sitting well with him.

He settles into bed intent on reading, trying to take his mind off of things. But his eyes keep drifting to his phone. 

He should not do this. You don’t text random strangers out of the blue. That’s not normal. It’s not okay.

He picks up his phone and then almost drops it when it buzzes in his hand.

T.K.

[9:13pm] So. Did you get in touch with “Deacon”?

Carlos stares at his phone like it’s some kind of poisonous snake. Did he make this happen? What are the chances T.K. would text him at the exact moment he’d made up his mind to do the same?

Carlos

[9:14pm] What’s with the quotes?

T.K.

[9:14pm] I’m not convinced Deacon is a real person.

Carlos

[9:14pm] You think I kissed an imaginary man in a bar?

T.K.

[9:15pm] Alcohol can make you believe a lot of things…

Carlos

[9:15pm] I’d had one beer!

T.K.

[9:15pm] You’re avoiding the question.

Carlos

[9:16pm] I was at work all day today. There wasn’t time.

T.K.

[9:17pm] No time like the present. Do you want help? I’m very good with words.

Carlos snorts and types quickly.

Carlos

[9:17pm:] I’m not going to text him. That ship has sailed.

T.K.

[9:17pm] Good.

Carlos

[9:18pm] Good?

T.K.

[9:18pm] I feel a sense of responsibility now that I’ve seen your abs. Those deserve to be protected from the average Deacons of the world.

Okay this guy is straight up flirting. They’re about three texts away from a booty call. Which is not something Carlos does. But the shiver dancing up and down his spine whispers at him to make an exception. 

He decides to change the subject before he does something stupid. 

Carlos

[9:19pm] So you’re AFD?

T.K.

[9:20pm] Yep.

Carlos

[9:20pm] But you’re not from here.

T.K.

[9:21pm] Not even a little.

Over the next half hour Carlos learns that T.K. came with his dad from New York to rebuild the 126. And not just New York, but like New York, New York. The kind of New York that Carlos has only seen in movies and on TV.

Even through the phone Carlos can tell it wasn’t an easy move. T.K. seems to be glossing over the finer details, but he does talk about his dad’s cancer and how hard it was to leave his mom.

Carlos can’t even imagine uprooting his entire life to move to somewhere so different. His family is here. His entire life is here. 

Carlos

[9:47pm] That must have been really hard. To leave your whole life behind.

T.K.

9:48pm: I needed the change. My dad saw it. There was nothing left for me there. But yeah. It wasn’t easy. Why does everyone here smile all the time? What’s with all the friendliness?

Carlos

[9:50pm] Well you never know when you might need to borrow somebody’s tractor or an extra pair of hands for calving season. You have to be nice to your neighbors so they’ll return the favor.

T.K.

[9:51pm] Ah, see. I knew that niceness didn’t come honestly. It’s all a ruse.

Carlos

[9:51pm] You got us.

Carlos glances at the clock and sighs.

Carlos

[9:52pm] Hey sorry, I have an early shift again tomorrow. I should probably call it a night.

T.K.

[9:52pm] A shift? At the…hospital? Coal mine? Car wash?

Carlos

[9:52pm] Those might be easier. I’m APD.

T.K.

[9:53pm] Wow you really withheld the evidence on that one officer.

Carlos

[9:53pm] Well I can’t tell you everything all at once. Where’s the fun in that?

T.K.

[9:54pm] I look forward to continuing to play detective.

Carlos sets his phone down and heads into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and pauses. He’s smiling. A lovesick, dreamy smile. The sight makes him laugh at himself. He’s an idiot. 

#Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #Thirst Trap Thursday #911lsfic #911 Lone Star

[eazy-group]

Clarissa lost lover 268 pounds

New Post has been published on https://eazydiet.net/clarissa-lost-lover-268-pounds/

Clarissa lost lover 268 pounds

Transformation of the Day: Clarissa lost over 268 pounds. Her motivation: The fear of not being able to be an active mom for her son. She took action and changed her life with weight loss surgery, portion control, Zumba, and other helpful tools. Now, she helps other women on their health and wellness journeys.

Social Media: Facebook and YouTube: Clarissa Young Instagram: @Clarissayoung85 Amazon: “Finding Acceptable Balance- To change the scale is to change your mind.” by Clarissa Young “90-Day FAB Transformation Program”

What was your motivation? What inspired you to keep going, even when you wanted to give up? I was terrified of being unable to be active in my son’s life. I weighed 515 pounds and was imprisoned in my own body. 

For as far back as I can remember, I wanted to have kids. I wanted kids that I could love and who would love me back. I didn’t see my son loving a mom who was not active in his life. 

Is weight loss surgery part of your journey?

Gastric Sleeve – Feb 2012

Tummy Tuck – Jan 2022

How did you change your eating habits? My journey started with me preparing for the gastric sleeve surgery. I learned portion control, how to read nutritional labels, and how to swap foods. (Example: I swapped spaghetti squash for pasta) I don’t believe in telling myself I can’t eat certain foods, but I strongly believe in portion control. 

What is your workout routine? I love Zumba. Before Zumba, I thought I was lazy. I would start a workout routine and quit within a week. Many people would say to walk, but I have bone on bone arthritis so walking hurts.  

But Zumba! I get lost in the music. I go about 3-4 times during a good week. I do yoga about once a week.

I’m also a “Chair Cardio” Instructor. I love modified movement for those with injuries, ongoing health conditions, or new to fitness.

What was your starting weight? What is your current weight?

Highest weight: 515 pounds

Starting weight: 485 pounds

Lightest weight: 212 pounds

Current weight: 247 pounds

Goal weight: 199 pounds

When did you start your journey? How long did your transformation take? This is a lifestyle change for me. I have noticed that the closer I am to maintenance, the more work I have to do to retain my success. We must make changes we are willing to make part of life. This has been a 12-year journey for me.

What is the biggest lesson you’ve learned so far? When I needed to lose 300 pounds, I thought it was easier for others to buckle down and lose 40 pounds or so. However, we all have to work hard to be healthy. 

What advice do you have for women who want to lose weight?  Start today. There will always be a party, family problems, and the in-between. 

Give yourself grace. We all go up and down on this journey. 

Get you some type of accountability system. We all have moments when we lack motivation and need that extra encouragement. 

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[news4usonline]

Chargers nab TCU wideout Quentin Johnson

LOS ANGELES (News4usonline) - The Los Angeles Chargers like their wide receivers to have some size on them. Across the board, the Chargers wideouts are big, sturdy and have a motor on them. Mike Williams. Keenan Allen. Joshua Palmer. All big and fast. You can now add TCU standout wide receiver Quentin Johnson to that mix. According to the TCU 2022 roster sheet, Johnson measures in at 6-foot-4. Another pre-draft analysis has Johnson's height at 6-3. In that regard, it's semantics.

Draft night for TCU wide receiver Quentin Johnson. Johnson was selected with the 21st pick in the 2023 NFL Draft by the Los Angeles Chargers. Photo courtesy of TCU Athletics/Football/FB The bottom line is that Johnson is a target that is hard to miss. The Chargers took Johnson, who recorded 1,069 receiving yards in his final season with the Horned Frogs, with the 21st pick in the first round of the 2023 NFL Draft.  “I’m excited.” Johnson said via Zoom.”I wasn't really sure who I would be picked by or where I would go. All I knew was that I wanted to go to a team as soon as I can and get to work. I'm very happy and I'm very blessed." After the first round of the draft had concluded, Chargers head coach Brandon Staley shared his enthusiasm for Johnson and his potential with reporters. However, Staley wasn’t ready to say if the former TCU star would be a contributor right away or if he would be brought along slowly.   "We're very excited that we drafted Quentin Johnston,” Staley said.  “As for his forecasting and where he is going to fit in, I know that we are really excited to have him. He comes into a wide receiver room that as is as good as any in the NFL. There are so many good mentors for him in that room with two of the best receivers in the game with Mike Williams and Keenan Allen.  “Then, a young receiver, Joshua Palmer, who we think is fantastic. All Quentin needs to do is come be himself, that's why we drafted him. We're excited to have him. The big thing is just getting him in our building and having him be a part of the team. How that takes shape, there is a lot of time between now and when we play to define all of that. But, we're super excited to have him."

TCU wide receiver Quentin Johnson going through drills at the 2023 NFL Combine. Photo courtesy of TCU Athletics/Football/FB When you look at their roster, the Chargers have an infinity of big receivers. Williams comes in at 6-foot-4 and 218 pounds. Allen measures out at 6-foot-2 and 211 pounds. Palmer, whom the Chargers drafted in 2021, sits at 6-1 and 210 pounds. And if you want to throw Jalen Guyton into the mix, the fourth-year player shows up at 6-foot-1 and 212 pounds.    All four of these wide receivers have proven to be excellent targets for quarterback Justin Herbert during the last couple of seasons. That position just got a little bit deeper now that the Chargers have decided to go out and get Herbert another offensive weapon in the same mode as Williams, Palmer, Guyton, and Allen. "That's a great receiver room,” Johnson said. “It's going to be good for me. I can go in early and pick up a lot of knowledge from those guys and apply it to my game." With the Chargers seeking out another wideout who would improve an already passing game. That’s really a scary thought for opponents. The Chargers had the No. 3 passing game in all of the NFL in 2022.  Herbert, who has broken or established many passing records in just three seasons, was the No. 2 quarterback in the league, right behind Super Bowl-winning signal-caller Patrick Mahomes.  Nabbing the first wide receiver taken in this year’s draft was simple enough for Chargers general manager Tom Telesco.  "He's big, strong and fast,” Telesco said. “That's a good way to start it off as a player. Great work ethic that we love. We know all of these players that are drafted. They're all talented, but once they get in this league, it takes a lot of work to get to where you want to go and keep improving.  “He has some physical characteristics that we think he can add to our offense in a different role,” Telesco added. “We're trying to give Justin , our whole offense and Kellen Moore a lot of different styles of players to use in different situations. We think he can fit that." The lead photo of Quentin Johnson appears courtesy of TCU Athletics/Football/FB Read the full article

#Chargers #NFLDraft #QuentinJohnson

[420hamlet]

DUFF - Mar Garcia (31)

DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend

I always knew there was something wrong with myself, I wasn’t even overweight I was just catalogued that way since I was 12 years old, I’m the background, forgotten, unlovable, unthinkable, unappreciated.

And I want to apologize, I was okay, is just this ED that ruined my life, I bet my dad wouldn’t be so proud. I want a flat stomach, a thin waist and smaller thighs, I’m just so sorry Mar, you didn’t deserve so much hate, I am trying, believe me I am, 212 to 162 pounds it’s a lot but I still feel like I am undeserving, I have to hide, be behind, to edit and crop, chop and edit who i am, can’t show the unedited version, would be cancelled or praised for the bravery of my actions. My belly pouch and heavy core would be deemed as an act of bravery, not as who I actually believe I am.

I have gone through so many stages, denial was one of the most difficult to accept. I still don’t know if I’d be loved fully, but I am trying, I swear I am, by every broken bone, by every hatred word, I just wanna look at myself and say I am pretty, I am okay, I am beautiful and I will be more than enough.

Mar, I am sorry, you’re almost 23 and I promised you would be okay, I am trying, believe me, it’s hard. But I love you, I love you and I just hope it’ll be enough.

#escribir #writing #420culture #shakespeare #hamlet #challenge

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 324: Is There a Force Field Around Him??

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal was all “please tell Midoriya that I spent a concerningly small amount of money upgrading U.A. into a wacky physics-defying funtime grid so as to make the final battle much more confusing for everyone.” Present Day!Mic (or Present!Mic, if you will) and Jeanist were all “if only somebody could deescalate this dangerously unhinged mob, we’ve tried nothing and we’re all out of ideas.” Ochako was all “LISTEN UP PEOPLE.” The mob was all, “god??” Ochako was all, “NO, IT’S ME, OCHAKO. I’M REALLY HIGH UP ON THIS BUILDING AND THE VISIBILITY IS LOW DUE TO THE RAIN, SO I CAN SEE HOW YOU MIGHT MAKE THAT MISTAKE. ANYWAYS, DEKU WAS OUT THERE RISKING HIS LIFE FOR YOU CLOWNS EVEN THOUGH HE’S JUST A KID, SO I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU COULD ALL REMEMBER HOW TO BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS, THANKS.” Let’s see if her Big Scolding Energy has any impact.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so I have this speech planned out, and it’s really good, but it also only really needs about 6 to 8 pages, but I’m gonna see if I can stretch it out to 17 pages so I can kill time before we get to the next volume cliffhanger two weeks from now.” Anyway but it really is a good speech though. There are feels, and tears, and more talk about how Deku is so in need of a shower that just looking at him requires a tetanus booster, and more feels, and more tears, and bonus ship drama, and an iconic callback to the very first chapter which reframes the entire series in a new context in a totally epic and moving way, and it’s all very good. Except that Horikoshi is determined to never let anyone actually give this kid a hug. Who hurt you, dude.

omg we are opening on a callback to chapter 212, a.k.a. the chapter with by far the cutest flashback that doesn’t involve any baby Todorokis

baby Ochako is lethally cute. she could literally murder someone with her cuteness. I just want to scoop her up and play airplane with her until she accidentally activates her quirk while we’re spinning around and we both helicopter up into the air never to be seen again

“a child’s insistence” huh well that’s all well and good, but I sure hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to drag out the whole “sternly lecture the obnoxious citizens” plot for another whole chapter. no offense but I think we’re good

so page 2 is just continuing the whole happy/worried faces monologue, which of course is very important to Ochako’s character as it provides the context for why “who protects the heroes” ended up becoming her thing. and this is making me think we actually are in for a whole second chapter of this sob. when will my boy finally get to rest

OH MY GOD SUDDENLY THESE PEOPLE HAVE EYES IMAGINE THAT

HORIKOSHI: [reaches for a box of tissues while tearfully penning an homage to his beloved Spider-Man 2, specifically the train scene where the crowd sees Peter without his mask and they suddenly realize just how young he is]

HORIKOSHI’S HOMAGE SCENE: “COME TO THINK OF IT, I GUESS IT WAS KIND OF MEAN FOR US TO PICK ON THIS TEN YEAR OLD KID WHO WEIGHS 75 POUNDS AND LOOKS LIKE HE LOST A FIGHT WITH SATAN’S MOLDY OLD BASEMENT”

lol at this one guy who can feel the mood of the crowd shifting and is all “WAIT, NO, I WANTED TO KEEP BEING AN ASSHOLE DAMMIT”

as many pointed out last week, this man is wearing an All Might shirt. that’s some fantastic irony there

-- SDKFJWIGKS

“LITTLE GIRL, I HOPE YOU’RE NOT SUGGESTING THAT WE SHOULD ALL BE WALKING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A SOVIET-ERA BUS STOP.” heh. last week I said I was ashamed of BnHA being my favorite manga. that was a lie, actually

(ETA: in the original Japanese Ochako’s next two lines are basically “the only ones covered in mud will be us heroes!” followed by “please give us some time to get rid of the mud”, with that second line basically being the single funniest thing I’ve ever read rdslkjl. Ochako thank you so much for supporting my running gags. “YEAH WE KNOW HE’S DIRTY. WE ARE GONNA TRY AND CLEAN HIM UP, BUT IT MAY TAKE A WHILE, I’M JUST SAYING. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM. HE LOOKS LIKE AN ASBESTOS COSPLAY.”)

doesn’t the megaphone kind of look ever so slightly like an axe that she’s wielding maniacally here

easy there Lizzie Borden

also that’s a really bold claim to make there. and not one she necessarily should have to make, either. but as we all know, there’s nothing that shounen manga likes more than having its heroes bravely hoist heavy burdens of responsibility like good self-sacrificing citizens

p.s. lowkey loving how Kacchan is positioned here standing slightly behind Deku. not presuming to stand in front of him all overprotectively (because he would hate if anyone ever did that to him), and kind of being unobtrusive and letting others take center stage -- but still being close enough to Deku that he can catch him if he stumbles or passes out again

(ETA: or maybe not lmao.

DEKU: [falls to his knees]

KACCHAN: [glancing up from his phone a few minutes later] “someone just sent me the stupidest meme about milk crates -- oh. uh. you good...?”

really, son. “the burdens you can’t carry, we’ll carry them for you. ...later, I mean. right now it’s late, and we’re all cold and wet.”)

also lowkey loving this OchaTsu moment here

I was going back and binging Ochako chapters this past week for reasons, and I gotta say it really stuck out to me just how often these two are paired with each other. they do everything together. it’s a really sweet friendship that often goes unappreciated but it’s very cute

meanwhile, not to be outdone by the OchaTsu, Iida is staring at Ochako with open admiration talking about how she’s fighting too. it’s been so long since we’ve had any IidaRaka you guys. I was starving and I didn’t even know it

oh my lord IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING

THE LIGHT IS BACK. he finally looks like him again. what a cathartic fucking moment omg

ffklkdw

“I KNOW YOU ARE ALL SCARED, BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS, WE DEFINITELY CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY AND WE ARE ALL SCARED TOO!” good pep talk there kiddo

BUT, jokes aside, truth be told this is the exact right approach to take imo, and something that’s long overdue. I’ve said this before, but this new generation of heroes is shaping up to be much more transparent than the All Might generation. they’re basically abandoning the almighty, untouchable Superman “heroes as gods” concept in favor of the more nuanced “heroes as people” concept instead. and that’s a good thing. seeing their heroes as humans, with human limitations and weaknesses and flaws, will hopefully not only lead to more scrutiny and accountability, but also more awareness of how hard some of them are working and how much they’re sacrificing. that’s something All Might never quite grasped back at the start of the series -- that the weak, vulnerable, injured him could be just as inspiring as the mighty, invincible him -- perhaps even more so. there’s a power in seeing otherwise ordinary people show extraordinary bravery and compassion. it inspires others to try and do the same

SSDLHK AIZAWA SIGHTING AAHHHHHH

so he was still back at the hospital this whole time?? smdh at this disrespect. that feeling when your sexy self-insert character’s powers of rationality are too strong, and so you have to nerf him so that he doesn’t ruin your Deku Angst arc twice over by (1) immediately talking some sense into Deku and making him come home Right This Instant Young Man, and (2) not allowing him to leave U.A. in the first fucking place. excuse me, you want to do WHAT now, Midoriya?? that’s it, go to your room

also living for Katsuki and Hawks’s soft expressions. Shouto’s too, although his is tinier and harder to see. and Jeanist’s 12-foot-long neck. imagine Jeanist’s head with Mic’s hair. maybe Jeanist had a mohawk back in the day and that’s why U.A.’s doors are so big now

speaking of soft faces, Enji’s is also excellent

what could this random close-up possibly imply?? hell if I know. but Horikoshi truly fears no discourse and that’s what I love about him

OMGGGG

“smh my child is so dumb.” poor Ochadad. your child is cute af count your blessings

SDOFFHSMH

I’m telling you guys. lethally, catastrophically cute

this speech is still ongoing lol. Horikoshi you’re doing so good but I think we get the point now my dude. you gotta learn how to transition out of these things

UNEXPECTED TOGA WHAT

“there we go” Horikoshi says, crossing off the last line on his list of Ochako ships. “that’s all of ‘em”

poor Ochako is just repeating the same “LET HIM REST, PLEASE, WITH EVERYONE’S COOPERATION, IF YOU DON’T MIND, WE APPRECIATE IT” talking points over and over again hoping someone will throw her a bone and acknowledge her already. SOMEONE PLEASE HELP HER

literally they’re all just staring up at her silently omg. work with me people!!

now she’s saying it for the 56th time but more dramatically all of a sudden

they got so dramatic that for a minute I thought she had suddenly leaped off the building or something

look, not to rush you or anything Horikoshi, but I’m starting to get the feeling that this is yet another one of those “the volume is ending soon so I need to either hurry things up or slow things down in order to make sure we end it on my perfect cliffhanger ending” chapters where you go to ridiculous lengths to drag things out much to the exasperation of your week-to-week readers

(ETA: ftr, volume 31 ended on chapter 306, and I’m predicting that vol. 32 will end with chapter 316 (a.k.a. “you’re next!” [explodes]). I’m guessing vol. 33 will follow suit and likely end on chapter 326, so keep your eyes peeled for a big cliffhanger in two weeks’ time. Deku’s dad?? All Might in peril?? U.A. traitor at long fucking last?? we shall see.)

is Deku straight up falling in love with Ochako right on the spot lol what is happening

I know I just said that I enjoy when Horikoshi gives zero fucks about discourse, but shipping discourse is a whole different beast lol. I hope he’s prepared

(ETA: and for the record, I have no interest in shipping discourse either, as always. and I think this scene can be interpreted as platonic, tbh, with the context being that Ochako was literally introduced as someone who was willing to help him so casually without a second thought, and now here she is saving him again.

I don’t think it really fully hit Deku until this moment how much he needed saving. like I said in another meta somewhere, selflessness is basically just selfishness on behalf of others. and Deku is selfless to a fault, but that’s okay, and it doesn’t mean he needs to change -- he just needs friends who are willing to be be selfish on his behalf in turn. and I think the full emotion of what it means to have friends like that just hit him at last. everything his friends have done for him, how much he needed it and didn’t even realize, and how grateful he is. anyways what a terrible day for rain.)

-- son of a --

is he apologizing?? or pleading?? please tell me that’s not the case, because what the actual fuck. Deku you beautiful precious radiant selfless child, this is the exact opposite of how this should be. all these motherfuckers should be on their knees apologizing to you

DEKU WHY

I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS FREAKING BOMBARDMENT OF EMOTIONS GODDAMIT. OUT HERE ARMED WITH YOUR FREAKING TREBUCHET OF FEELS TO LAUNCH AT ME UNPROVOKED. WHAT’S WITH THAT

FREAKING CHRIST. THIS BOY IS CRYING HIS EYES OUT AND HORIKOSHI IS JUST ZOOMING IN WITH THE CAMERA, LIKE CAN WE JUST CUT HIM A BREAK ALREADY. ENOUGH OF THIS. HE’S SO YOUNG AND HE TRIES SO HARD AND I JUST NEED HIM TO FEEL SAFE, HORIKOSHI PLEASE CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME THAT ALREADY WHAT IS THE FREAKING HOLD UP!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY!!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY PLEASE BE MY HUGGER BY PROXY!! SERIOUSLY GIRL IF YOU JUST HOLD YOUR UMBRELLA OVER HIM OR SOMETHING AND DON’T GO THE EXTRA MILE I’M ABOUT TO LODGE AN OFFICIAL COMPLAINT. THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS NOW

!!!!

A KOUTA IS GOOD TOO!!! oh my god if Kouta hugs him I will seriously 100% straight up cry. go on and test me

FOR THE LOVE OF --

is this man expressly forbidden from drawing hugs in his contract or something. DO YOU DO IT JUST TO SPITE ME?? this is tyranny, sir

AND I KNOW, THIS PAGE ACTUALLY CHALLENGED THE VERY PREMISE OF THE SERIES ITSELF, AND HERE I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT HUGS, OR THE LACK THEREOF. “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes.” and just like that, he waves a polite middle finger at all of the Strongest Greatest Chosen One shounen protags of old, in favor of something much less conventional, much more interesting, and much more suited to Deku’s character. because if that one sentence doesn’t just sum up Deku to a T. he gladly relinquishes his Greatest Hero status in favor of acknowledging the hero in everyone. what a class act. that’s my protagonist

I love this kid so fucking much I swear. only just PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. GIVE HIM HIS HUG

#bnha 324 #uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[meep-morp-s]

Febuwhump 28- presumed dead, Cody

Cody’s coughing before he’s even fully conscious again. His ears are ringing, the breath’s been knocked out of him, and his body feels as if it’s been pounded by an oversized meat tenderizer. Standard aftereffects of standing too near an explosion.

Seems like everything is going according to plan. The next step is to regroup and head for the now unshielded Separatist base. Cody puts his arms underneath himself to sit up…

And falls right back down. He tries again to no avail. His legs are useless. Something or a lot of things feel sprained, and he would never be able to keep up with the others. He sighs and opens his comm to let the others know.

“General Kenobi,” he calls. No answer. His brow furrows and he tries again. “General Kenobi, can you read me? Any 212 forces, are you hearing me?”

“Cody? You haven’t reported in. What’s your status?”

Cody leans back in relief. “I’m fine, but–”

“Commander Cody?”

“Yes, I’m here–”

“Cody, can you hear me?” Obi-Wan’s voice is becoming desperate. Cody opens up the panel in his vambrace where the comm controls are and tries to find the problem. As more worried calls come in, he discovers the transmitter signal is broken. A look over his shoulder at the antenna on his pauldron confirms that it’s broken off in the explosion, too. Nobody can hear him.

“General, the Commander’s last known location is filled in with rubble. He might be trapped, or, or…”

“Sir, report from the scouts! The Seps are bringing in reinforcements!”

“Understood. We need to get moving,” Cody has been looking for an opening or a large enough piece of shrapnel to support his weight while listening to the communications, but pauses when his General speaks again. Anticipation at what he’ll say, what decision he’ll come to makes Cody’s stomach flip. “I can’t… I cannot sense Cody from where I am. That doesn’t mean he’s dead, but I could see the explosion from here. We will have to redistribute our forces to compensate. Move out!”

Cody sighs and takes off his helmet. They think he’s dead, and he might as well be as useless as he is to the mission now. He’s confident in the 212th to save the day without him, though. With a leader like Obi-Wan they’ve accomplished what Cody once believed to be the impossible.

The air is still dusty and he coughs again. It goes on longer than he would like and scratches his throat harshly. He goes to wipe some spittle off his lips and does not expect his hand to come back bloody. It’s bright red and almost glowing in contrast to the fine grey dust that cakes the rest of the sealed in room.

He holds back another fit of coughs with a grimace.

-

Coughing wakes him up, again. This is the third time, becoming consecutively worse as more microscopic shrapnel fills his lungs and the air in this hole gets thinner and thinner. The second time it woke him up it was dark out. It still is, but now there’s a beam of moonlight shining down from above him.

A head pokes through. Cody’s vision is darkening, but it looks like it has red hair.

“Commander, you’re alive! Good to see you!”

“General,” he wheezes back. Even getting one word out is a challenge that uses up too much oxygen, and he slumps to the side.

He wakes up in The Negotiator’s medbay, a familiar sight. The cooling sensation of bacta wrapped around his legs is pure bliss, but his throat still feels shredded to ribbons. He reaches for a cup of water on the bedside but it doesn’t help much. Cody frowns and looks around, glad to see only a few other dozing casualties. One familiar thing is still missing.

Luckily, he walks through the medbay door before Cody can even finish the thought. His hair and beard are still growing back in and he holds two mugs, careful not to spill.

“Here you are,” Obi-Wan hums. He hands Cody one of the mugs. “Careful, it’s still hot.”

“Tha–” Cody tries to speak but it hurts. He settles for a thankful nod which Obi-Wan smiles at.

“This blend is called ‘throat coat’. It should help.”

It really does. The sweet stuff washes down a lot easier than icewater and feels like a balm on his vocal cords. “Ah, thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Cody gives him a more meaningful look as Obi-Wan settles in the chair near his bed. “Thanks for coming back, too.”

Obi-Wan frowns. “You think I wouldn’t have?”

“If it would have compromised the mission, put other men in danger, if you needed to retreat quickly,” he lists. “Then yes. And I would have understood.”

“But there was time to search and find you, plenty of it.”

“I’m lucky.”

“You are,” Obi-Wan agrees, looking into his mug. “Your presence in the Force was so dim I was worried in what condition I would find you.”

The conversation trails off at such a dim topic. Cody is determined to make it lighter. The mission is over, they’re all fine, and they need to return to the normal state of things when there isn’t imminent danger.

Cody laughs as he thinks of something. Obi-Wan looks interested to hear what it is. “I was just thinking, now you know what it feels like.”

“What what feels like?”

“Thinking someone’s died. When they haven’t.” Obi-Wan’s eyes blow wide open, like he’s been punched in the gut. “It’s a relief to know they’re alright, yeah?”

He gets no reply to his joke and way too many seconds late he realizes how inappropriate it was. Cody’s own eyes now match Obi-Wan’s and he opens his mouth to apologize but Obi-Wan beats him to it, standing up abruptly.

“I am so deeply sorry for putting you through that,” he pushes out. He turns away and a rueful almost-smile comes to his face. “I’ve been told that… an apology could never do any good. That it won’t change what I did or how it made you feel when you did believe I was gone… but I am sorry. Please believe that. And believe me when I tell you I would never do it or anything like it again. I won’t. I understand the consequences.”

Cody can hazard a guess at who told him that. “Obi-Wan…”

“And I don’t need you to accept the apology,” he adds, turning back to face Cody earnestly. “I’m not apologizing so you can forgive me. I don’t need forgiveness. I just want you to know that, simply, I am sorry.”

He blinks. “Okay.” All he can do is acknowledge what his General has said for now. He hadn’t expected him to say that, or anything at all. He’s been so silent about the whole ordeal since coming back, almost pretending it never happened. Cody wishes it hadn’t taken another life-threatening situation to finally bring Hardeen up.

“Your tea must be getting cold, I’ll go reheat it.”

Obi-Wan grabs the mug and heads for the door. “Wait.”

The Jedi stops and half-turns back to him. There isn’t fear but something like anticipation in his eyes.

“I forgive you,” Cody says.

“You don’t need to–”

“I don’t, but I am. I already have,” Cody says it again just so it get through his thick skull. “I forgive you.”

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, he must have been holding it, and nods. He turns and continues on with his task, leaving Cody alone once again. The clone relaxes into the pillows behind him, much comfier than the rocks he had slept on earlier. He feels his body mend itself. The pain is still very much present but going away bit by bit. Slowly but surely, he will heal from this.

#AAAA THATS THE LAST ONE #i cant believe i did the whole month. wack #febuwhump2022 #febuwhump #whump #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #codywan if you squint #angst #thank you to everyone who has been reading! i literally love you

[mrstaeminlee]

Mission Complete Ch 2

You had two goals in life. One: Complete your squad training without dying. Two: Fuck Levi Ackerman

Pairings: Levi/f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, eventual smut, lmk if I need to add anything~

Seven months later

Training under Captain Levi was a bitch. Rewarding as hell, but a fucking bitch. To make it worse, your time with the man was making your seemingly one sided thirst turn itself into something more, which you were absolutely unprepared for. It almost made you miss your training under the commendant, nasty death breath be damned.

You found that while it certainly drove you to your physical and mental limits, you genuinely liked the man you had spent the past few months trying to impress, even if he made your life a living hell by constantly asking more of you than he did any of the other prospective additions to his prestigious team. Wondering why, you briefly entertained the thought that maybe he held some sort of physical or emotional attraction towards you, but as you reflected on your interactions with the captain the past seven months you couldn't pinpoint anything that would be considered fanfiction worthy. There had been no lingering touches, no longing gazes from across the training grounds, not even so much as a wanting glance at your breasts that you tried so desperately to flaunt as naturally as possible when he would observe you all sparring. No, all you had to show for the past 212 days was having your face slammed into the dirt more times than you cared to count and an intimate connection with somehow always getting punished to deep clean the mess hall.

When some squad member whose name you couldn't be bothered to remember dropped by to give you a notice to be on the training grounds three hours earlier than normal, your best guess was that you had found some way to fuck something up without realizing and you would get to clean that fucking hall - again.

Unable to sleep for more than a few hours, you decided to forget trying to sleep, and a couple of orgasms courtesy of your well used friend later you decided to say fuck it, and got out of bed, grabbing your things to shower and get ready for the day even though not even the fucking sun had decided to grace the compound with it's presence. After cleaning yourself up and making sure all of your straps were secure you made your way to the training grounds, making a side trip to steal a thick chunk of bread and some cheese for your breakfast. With still a half hour to spare before the time you were supposed to be on the grounds by, you took your time making your way there, appreciating the empty halls and the quiet. Between training, having roommates, and a shared mealtime, quiet wasn't really something you got to experience anymore. Even your showers were normally noisy since private shower stalls appeared to be out of the military budget. Figures, a government run by men, you bet they thought about you hot female scouts showering together all the time. You took in the smell of the early morning air and took a hearty bite of the bread, shoving the thought of perverted and corrupt old men out of your mind and grabbed your water bottle to wash it down as you made your way across. Deciding you'd had enough sightseeing of the place you had literally spent over half a year you decided to just wait for whoever was supposed to meet you and you quickened your pace to get to the training field, chomping down the last of your breakfast.

After you arrived and had verified no one else was there you plopped down angrily onto a grassy area, figuring at least one other person should be there by now. Looking back, you didn't recall anyone else receiving any type of notice after dinner. You groaned loudly, running your fingers through your still damp hair. "Mother fucker, if one of those fucking fucks tricked me into waking up early I swear to-"

"You have quite the mouth on you, don't you Scout? I don't recall hearing you speak like that even after getting pounded into the ground by Reiner."

Choking on your spit from surprise and also wondering why the fuck he decided he had to word it like that you sprung to your feet, turning around and forming a proper salute. Oh Jesus.

"I-I'm sorry sir, I thought for a moment that someone had pranked me. I won't swear like that again, sir!" I swear to God if you make me clean the mess hall one more time I'll-

Levi smirked.

Holy shit.

"Relax, Scout, we both know you're lying about that. I'm the one that sent the notice for you, did you even bother noticing my signature at the bottom?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over those deliciously strong chest muscles.

Your eyes widened. To be honest, all you had seen on the notice was the time and place to be, you hadn't even thought of looking to see who had sent it. "You...you sent for me, sir?" Your confused tone seemed to amuse him, if his cocked eyebrow was anything to go by.

"Yes, you dumbass brat. You need to start reading things thoroughly," he frowned then, "I didn't take you as the type to be so thoughtless. Now, do you have any idea why I would have sent for you so early?"

Because clearly if you don't get to sleep none of us fucking do.

"No sir!"

"Put down the fucking salute, Scout, it's just you and me here."

You obeyed immediately, shifting into a more relaxed stance as you crossed your arms under your chest. You were almost positive you imagined him glancing down for the briefest of seconds but just as quickly brushed off the thought. You could only be so lucky; this wasn't some badly written fanfiction, after all. "No offense Captain, but I have no idea why I'm here. Did I do something to piss someone off? Did I piss YOU off?"

Levi rolled his eyes. "No. I want you-"

Holy FUCK-

"-to join my squad."

Oh.

Was it the moment you'd been training for for almost 3 years?

Yes.

Was it something you ever thought would happen?

Not quite.

Were you a little (okay, a significant amount of) disappointed when he continued to speak after the word 'you'?

Absolutely.

You grinned anyway.

"I thought you'd never ask, Cap."

Tags: @levisbebe @dannylothbrok

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan fanfiction #Shingeki no Kyojin fanfiction #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #Shingeki no Kyojin x reader #captain levi #captain Levi ackerman #Levi ackerman #Levi heichou #Levi x reader #Levi Ackerman x reader #Levi smut #captain Levi smut #Levi Ackerman smut

[kyber-queen]

Equilibrium (Kix x Reader)

Summary: This is pure softness. Kix doesn’t take his own medical advice. Kix and Jesse dynamic duo vibes. Jedi!reader is in LOVE. Lotsa cuddles, this is capital f Fluff

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Mentions of injury, mentions of death

Author’s Note: This one’s for the lovely and talented @morganas-pendragons, Kix’s actual wife !! Please enjoy !!

***

“Commander, are you in here?” Jesse called from the hallway outside your quarters.

You looked up from the water you were boiling. Was that a trooper? You had no clue how or why he had swindled his way into the Jedi temple—the only clone that knew where your quarters were was Kix, and he was supposed to be deployed for two more rotations. You shut off the heat on your stove and made your way over to the door, the metal floor cold against your bare feet. Your hand rose to the keypad. A second voice grumbled from the other side of the door, piquing your interest. Was that Kix?

You slammed the button to unlock your door. The durasteel slid open to reveal Jesse, propping Kix up with one of his arms as Kix attempted to squirm away in protest. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sorry, Commander, he—”

“Tell her I headbutted a droid’ika, Jess,” Kix interjected. His speech was slurred slightly, and he wobbled into his brother’s grasp. Was he drunk?

“As I was saying,” Jesse punctuated his words with a harsh glare at his brother, “he fell down the stairs on his way off the ship. He didn’t sleep much this mission—no time. The 212th medic checked him out and said he’s got a concussion. He’s been asking for you—d’you mind if I hand him over to you for tonight?”

“Not at all,” you replied. Maker, that man was going to be the death of you. Kix broke away from Jesse and stumbled into your quarters, making a beeline for your bed.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you added.

Jesse nodded before turning and walking back through the hallway. You made a mental note to ask him how exactly he got into the temple later. For now, you needed to make sure that Kix was resting and comfortable.

You turned back around into your quarters. Kix had collapsed onto your bed, still in his armor. You sighed and shook your head.

You knelt down to his level, and began to strip his armor off, piece by piece. He grumbled in protest.

“Sarad, I’m tired. Come to bed,”.

“I know, Kix. Just let me get your armor off, first,”.

With effort, Kix hauled himself into a seated position to remove his chestplate with fumbling fingers. Next came the pauldrons, and then the vambraces, and finally all of his armor rested in a messy pile on the floor next to your bed.

He curled in on himself, gripping his head in his hands and taking a sharp inhale. His head pounded as his face screwed up in discomfort. Your brow furrowed—you’d ask one of the troopers working in medbay for more bacta in the morning. With a flat palm to his bare chest, you gently pushed him back onto the bed. He needed rest more than anything, now.

You crawled onto the mattress, your weight depressing the foam as you melted into his side. He rolled on top of you, resting his head against your chest and pulling your blanket over your intertwined forms. You pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head as he nestled his body in between your legs, wrapping his arms underneath the small of your back. He was heavy, his warm body molding against yours. He hummed contentedly.

You turned your gaze to his face. He buried his nose into your chest, inhaling deeply. He had missed you. You would talk tomorrow—tonight, all he needed was sleep. Even in the dim light of your quarters, the dark circles under his eyes were difficult to miss.

“You need to take care of yourself, Kix. I worry—”

“I know,”. His voice was soft. He sounded almost apologetic, and your heart broke a little.

It wasn’t his fault that he came home exhausted and falling apart at the seams half the time. He was a clone medic—his life was war and death and pain, and yet somehow, he was still the kindest person you had ever had the privilege of knowing. No matter how many dying brothers he had to comfort, no matter how much violence he had to experience, he always found the space and time to come home to you. He was soft and kind and gentle and so full of love it made your heart burst.

You held him just a bit tighter.

By now, his breathing had slowed and mellowed, his weight pressing comfortingly into your chest. You scratched your nails lightly over the skin of his back, leaving little goosebumps in your wake. You stared at your ceiling, and blinked back a tear. Maker, you loved him.

You worried for him, all the damn time. His life was dangerous, and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it. Here he was, after what was supposed to be a low-risk mission, chronically sleep deprived and concussed.

Your hands smoothed pathways over his skin. You channeled as much serenity as you could into his body. Maker knows he needed it. You breathed deeply—he must have showered in the medbay. He smelled like soap and bacta and something uniquely him that you could never get enough of. You sighed. He was safe in your arms, now, and you didn’t have to worry. Loving him was terrifying—and yet you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the galaxy.

He pressed a sleepy kiss to your chest. Your hand trailed up to cradle the back of his head, and you let your eyes flutter closed.

Your breathing synched with his. He was asleep soon after, his little snores vibrating against your chest. In the morning, you’d find some way to escape the comfort of his grasp to allow him a few more precious moments of rest. For now, you were content to remain in this equilibrium—it seemed as if your bodies expanded out for miles, painting the night sky with the picture of your intertwined forms.

You loved him, and it broke your heart and stitched it back together every day.

#kix x reader #kix x you #clone trooper kix #clone trooper x reader #the 501st #clone trooper jesse #my fic

[backburnerdio]

Fictober – Day 1

Original Fiction: Time Borrowed Prompt #11: I Swear, It's Not Always Like This Word Count: 871 Words Warnings: Language

Like with anything else, I can't go in order when it comes to the prompts, but drabbling with different bits trying to figure out things for this new WIP in prep for NaNoWriMo! Trying to get back in the swing of writing and just trying to have fun

“Welcome aboard, B-0. I’m sure you’ve been briefed on how things run here, so I won’t waste time repeating it.” Captain Hadrian Ryker had been at the station for thirteen years after eight years in the military. Forty-three years old. Awarded on several occasions for his service, including being one of the first to successfully acclimate an A.I. to Human conditions. The list scrolled on through B-0’s HUD.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Why don’t I show you around, uh… B-0? Do you go by B-0?” There was a level of discomfort in Captain Ryker’s voice saying this, crossing his arms.

“I am marketed by my model number, but you may address me however you like, Captain. If it would be simpler to give me a callsign, feel free to do so.”

“A callsign, huh? Around here, we name our A.I.s. How about Beau?”

“I can calibrate to whatever you would like to address me by.”

“Alright, let’s go with Beau.”

“Yes, sir.” He submitted the process, taking only a moment to have it rewritten. “I will now respond to Beau.”

“Alright,” Ryker chuckled, body language relaxing as he stepped towards the door. “Why don’t I introduce you to some of the squad? I think there’s a few of them in right now.” Beau turned to follow, hanging back at his shoulder as to be able to listen while maintaining proper etiquette as to not take up excessive space in the hallway. They entered another door into a larger space where a number of short cubicles and desks stood in rows.

“I don’t give a shit, quadrangle! This was your Ops, you deal with it.” The officer shouting from a desk lacked the physical strain for his heart rate to be as high as it was. Ninety beats per minute and climbing. Whom he was shouting at was an officer as well, but not Human.

“Garnet, I was instructed to get this report to you—”

“By who?”

“My supervisor.” An A.I., not exactly new, but not outdated.

> Six Foot Three > 212 Pounds > Black Hair > Blue Eyes > Model GW-IV

The folders they held were slid onto Officer Garnet’s desk causing the man to leap to his feet. His blood pressure shot up, face flushing, pinching his thick brows together. “You smartass! Do I look like your secretary?!”

“Is there a problem?” Ryker spoke up, “What are you two arguing about?” Garnet started to shout again, his venomous stare blanking as his black eyes took notice of Beau. Again his heart rate climbed, mouth agape with his struggle to speak.

“Lieutenant Royston asked me to bring these reports from the Hemingway incident over to Garnet for completion,” GW-IV explained. After a simple identification search, Beau discovered this was the A.I. Ryker was known for acclimating.

An alert came through his point-to-point communication, GW-IV asking for permission to connect. Beau accepted.

|Use caution around this one.| He warned, eyes darting to Garnet.

|Is he dangerous?|

|Hardly. The noise is the worst part.|

“Garnet, you worked that case. It’s one report.” Ryker went on.

“W-what the fuck is that?” Garnet pointed at Beau.

“Watch your mouth, Garnet,” Ryker warned, “If you’re going to be in a mood like this all day, why don’t you head home? Take some time off?” Garnet wrinkled his nose, crooked and swollen from being broken –perhaps once or twice. Most of his face was harsh from previous injuries, looking similar to the face of a professional boxer. An unsuccessful one.

Beau started forwards, offering the customary handshake in greeting.

|I wouldn’t just yet.|

“Is this your new partner, Captain?” GW-IV asked aloud, changing the subject. Garnet remained speechless.

“It is. This is Beau and he’s going to be joining our squad to better understand how things work.” Ryker hardened his tone, directing it towards Garnet before turning to Beau. “This is Ives, part of our Breaching Unit and a former partner of mine.”

|I assume he’s nicknamed you after your B Model.|

|Correct.|

Ives rolled his eyes. |Sounds about right. He’s original that way. Ives, from I-V.|

|I see! Very clever and efficient.|

“And that walking trash can is Garnet.” Ryker continued, motioning away from Ives towards the seething officer. “As you can probably tell, he isn’t exactly friendly.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Garnet burst, yanking keys from atop his desk and storming past Ives. Beau offered a hand to shake, nearly losing balance as Garnet shouldered him aside. “I’ll take you up on your offer, Ryker. See you tomorrow.”

|Give it time.| Ives assured.

The door slammed behind Garnet, Ryker drawing in a deep breath through his nose before looking back at Beau. “I swear, it’s not always like this. He’ll settle down. Just give him time and maybe some space for a while.”

“Have I upset him?” Beau asked, searching for information on how to avoid doing so in the future. Ryker’s expression wrinkled into a cross of disgust and indifference, head tilted and shrugging.

“Garnet’s just like that. He’s an ass.”

“An ass.” Beau parroted.

“Oh God, no! Don’t repeat that.” Ryker grimaced, “Whatever you do, don’t call him that.”

“You can. Once.” Ives chuckled. “But if you’d like to remain online, I’d suggest not to.”

#amwriting #writeblr #Fictober21 #original fiction #writing #AI WIP

[cockasinthebird]

Prompt 212! I hope it's a good one, but it's your writing so I'm sure it'll be fantastic! Congrats again on 500!! 💕😊💖 -opaldraws

@opaldraws yeah I’m also tagging your other blog, what about it 😌💕

212. “Did you just call to get off to my voice?”

Now, I haven’t written it a lot, but I absolutely L O V E phone sex fics, and for the sake of it, I’ve written this a bit into the future; not quiet a modern day au, but more of an... early 2000′s au, because I wanted them to have phones, but not something modern and smart, so for the sake of the prompt, imagine that they both have that super iconic Nokia 3310, you know exactly which one 😂😂🤣

Also this includes mechanic Billy, another of my favourite aus

Thank you again so much for prompting me, babe!!!! I think it’s fantastic, so, for your pleasure, 1.7k words, enjoy~

-

Steve rolls around in sheets that still smell of Billy. He stretches out with a grunt, naked and lazy blissful, the clock on his side of the bed says 10:13 am, on a typical Tuesday morning. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and stares at a water stain in the corner of the ceiling, one which Billy claims that if you squint, it looks like a voluptuous woman. 

To think, three months they’ve lived here now, a shitty little one bedroom apartment down on mainstreet, walking distance from the workshop and Family Video, yet Billy insists every day on driving the camaro, revving the engine and showing off in front of his envious coworkers. 

Three months since they became official, three months since Neil kicked Billy out, three months since Steve’s father cut him out of the will. 

Three months they’ve spent every night together, yet, as Steve presses his face into Billy’s pillow, inhaling the musky scent of his sweat, he still yearns all the same as he did back in high school. The same old desperation and neediness fills him just at the mere thought of his boyfriend. And he’s hardly to blame, being naked in their bed, in their apartment. 

He breathes in deep again and sighs contentedly into the fabric, raising his hips to allow for a hand to slip beneath, fingers grazing gently across hardening flesh.

Their schedules don’t always align, Billy being off on weekends, Steve on, leaving the poor brunette home alone Tuesdays and Thursdays. And he misses him already, as needy and pathetic and clingy as that might be, making him anxious and doubtful, but Billy calls it cute and sweet and that, “I miss you, too, baby,” so maybe someday Steve will learn that this kind of behaviour and thought is ok when you’re in love, and won’t get pushed away for it.

Billy never pushes him away, no he holds him, kisses him, loves him. Tells him every day with the sweetest kisses. In the mornings when they’re rushing off to work because they stayed in bed for too long. In the evening when they’re cooking dinner and eating together by the little round table. In the night when they’re pressed together soft and slow, rough and fast, skin on skin on skin.

Steve closes his hand around his full dick and strokes at a far too slow pace, enjoying the pleasant sparks that spread around his lower abdomen and thighs, not enough for release, but enough for him to moan lightly into Billy’s pillow. He runs his other arm beneath it to hug it tighter against his face, wishing to be as close to Billy as he can right now.

God he really needs Billy right now… Billy Billy Billy… If he closes his eyes and focuses hard enough, he can almost imagine that it’s Billy’s hand stroking him now, calloused and worn from work, strong and firm, he tightens his grip, thrusting into his fingers with jittery and impatient hips.

He turns his head to look at his phone on the bedside table, thinking, tempted to call. And he only really wastes a few brief seconds convincing himself, before he’s reaching for it with his free hand, the motion of his other hand becoming lackadaisical as he finds Billy’s phone number on his phone.

The ringing like a drum solo, his heart beating hard and loud in tact. 

“Hey honey,” Billy says with a voice pure with adoration, and Steve’s heart calms down immediately, feeling his dulcet tone embrace his heart.

“You’re up early,” he teases.

“Yeah, I…” Steve trails off, not really sure what to say, just really wanted to listen to Billy talk. “H-how’s work?”

“Oh you won’t believe what I’m looking at!” the eagerness in his voice palpable, “This old couple comes in with the most gorgeous Cadillac from the 70s! Says they’re taking retirement ‘on the road’, but it’s been sputtering an awful lot lately, so now,” he pauses for the sake of dramatic effect, “I get to clean this old gals engine! New spark plugs, cleaning the carburetor, and an oil change on the house.”

Even if Steve doesn’t know what any of that really means, he gets a near second-hand thrill from how excited Billy is. Also it paints a perfect picture, Billy with his jumpsuit tied around his waist because he loves to show off those arms, covered in oil and grease and sweat, the dirty, white tank top, hair tied back.

There’s a longer pause before Billy asks, “What are you up to?” something in his tone that might imply he knows exactly what Steve’s doing.

“I-I’m still in bed,” Steve responds with all the self-control he has, albeit not a lot of it.

“Oh yeah?” Billy’s voice deep and raspy all of a sudden. “And what are you doing in bed? Because it doesn’t sound like you’re sleeping.”

Steve rolls on to his back and looks down at where his prick has started leaking; the pre helping with the dryness as he swipes his thumb over the head. 

“Come on, princess,” Billy drawls when there’s no response, “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I-I- ahh…” Steve moans gingerly before biting down on his lip. “I’m touching myself.”

“Thinking about anyone in particular?”

The obvious answer being, “You.”

His phone nearly vibrates when Billy chuckles like rolling thunder. “So… did you just call to get off to my voice?”

“Yes,” Steve says without a filter, lust slowly pulling him apart as he jerks a bit faster to the sensuous tone of Billy.

“That’s awfully naughty of you.”

A breathless, “Fuck,” escapes him as he screws his eyes shot to picture Billy again.

“Calling me like this, in the middle of my work day… Do you know how hard that makes me? Listening to you pant and moan like that? Making it impossible to focus on my work, baby.”

He leans into the phone, moans a bit louder, unadulterated, let’s out a slight, “Billy…”

And Billy laughs. “Oh that’s so unfair, you saying my name like that when I can’t do anything about it. When I come home later, I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The echo of a lock comes through the phone and Steve blinks open.

“What are you doing?”

Next he hears just a light clink of a belt.

“I’m in the employees bathroom, taking a break. You didn’t think I’d just let you get off on your own, did you? Don’t be so selfish.”

“Billy, are you-”

“I am,” he sighs with satisfaction - a roughness to the edge of his voice.

A sigh and insinuation that gives Steve all the right clues for the perfect picture of Billy, sitting with his legs spread out, cock out through the hole in his boxers to stroke it, making Steve’s own kick and drip more. He slides further down their bed as he raises his hips into his fist, closing his eyes again to focus on Billy’s breathing, his words.

“Mmmh, when I get off from work, when I get home in 4 hours, you better be naked, waiting for me as I step through the door.”

Steve imagines it just so, listening to Billy like he’s being told a story- a promise. 

“We won’t make it to the bedroom - I can’t wait that long to touch you again.”

“Billy,” he whines and runs his hand a bit too fast, chasing an all too soon release.

“I’m gonna have you bent over the dining table, eating you out till you’re begging me to finger you open. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, pretty boy?”

“Yes, yes, oh fuck-” 

Each word sending static shivers through his entire being, making him buck his hips harder, thrusting with abandon into the whimsical motion of his hand. He presses the phone between his face and the pillow, to allow his left hand the freedom to go down, squeezing his balls tenderly, pressing and massaging his taint beneath.

“God, shit- arrh- listen to you, princess, so obedient and willing… Getting so wet just from my voice, hmmm…” his deep, carnal humming vibrates through the phone. “And once you’re all stretched out and ready from four of my fingers, I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll be on the verge of tears, all sensitive from my big cock.”

“Please, Billy,” he whines, oh so close, the fuse burning quickly at the speed of his hand.

“Fuck I love it when you say my name like that, all needy and horny and pliant, begging for me to pound your ass, fuck- ah-”

“Billy,” Steve whines and really milks it for all it’s worth, drawing it out into a full moan. “Billy I’m so close.”

“Let me hear you cum, baby,” Billy growls out, rugged with laboured breathing.

“God, fuck- fuck, a-ah-” And Steve doesn’t keep quiet, opens wide as he arches his back, lifts his hips high into the air as he pumps himself with fervor, cum spurting from his throbbing cock and onto his chest, a splash reaching his throat from the raised angle. Billy has, on numerous occasions, called it “pornographic,” says that Steve gives a better performance, riding on his dick, than any of the actors on tape.

Billy grunts and groans on the other end, struggling to keep his own euphoria down no doubt, but it is clear to Steve that his boyfriend is right there with him, and listening to him cum gives him a deep rooted thrill, an incredible sense of satisfaction that can almost rival his own orgasm.

They pant and gasp for air together, Billy sounding more like he’s been diving too deep for too long, but chuckles all the same.

“Mmmmh glad you called, bambi,” he hums deep and satisfied and happy.

A joy that brings such elation to Steve’s own heart.

“Me, too,” he laughs back, short and utterly exhausted. He could absolutely go for a nap now.

“Now, you have…” a pause as Billy no doubt looks at his wristwatch, “three hours and about twenty minutes to get cleaned up, regain your energy, and drink lots of water, because when I get home, I’m gonna have to punish you for this.”

#Harringrove #My Writing #Lemon #500 Followers #Mystery Prompt #Mechanic Billy #Opaldraws #trashycatarcade

[jacepens]

Imagine this conversation between Laf and George in a cab: 11. -And what do you do for living?/-I work...with people./-What, like a social worker?/-Like a prostitute./-Oh./-But you won’t be able to afford me./-How would you know?/-Oh, please, you’re a cab driver. Only the most successful businessmen can afford me. And just so you know, I have a knife. Just in case./-Then I’m really lucky that I’m not just a cab driver but an owner of a billion dollar corporation./-Yeah, right, tell yourself that

Hahaha! Oh my gosh I love this idea too!! xD And honestly, I don’t know if you wanted George to be 100% serious or not so oops I went the serious way and have a million questions for the billionaire driving the cab around NYC for fun xD. Up until the end you could still say he’s joking if you want! Honestly both are very good choices. But I hope you enjoy and thank you again for sharing!!! 

Enjoy!! <3 (I think I actually got a consistent tense this time! Yay! Lol) And yeah, you know how there’s like the iconic yellow taxis but then also those black SUV cabs that are nicer but still NYC cabs? Yeah, that’s what George drives. (If that’s even the type of car it technically is...I’m so bad at that) His also has a sunroof because he’s pretentious like that and it gets him like $1 extra

***

George watches as the stranger climbs into the back of his cab, grabbing and adjusting his crossbody bag as he settles into the seat opposite of George in the back. He turns around to give him a little smile, gauge the stranger’s personality and interests as well as he could, but the man didn’t seem to care much about him, looking instead in his purse.

“Where to?” he asks that same old question.

“Could you take me to 212 Fifth Avenue?” the man smiles as the words come out in a sweet, French accent.

George does not mean to be so openly interested, but suddenly, the whole of his lovely smile is pinpointed at him and it is far too dashing, even more so when paired with his gorgeous accent. George swallows and adjusts his grip on the wheel- deciding looking away from him might be best.

The nervous words sputter from George’s mouth before he can hold his tongue. An old habit, the way he gets better tips and learns more about the hundreds of people that pass through his SUV. “You don’t live there do you?”

The man laughs, a joyous and endearing thing that forms a lump in his throat. He glances at his mirror to better study the attractive man and for a moment almost forgets he is supposed to be driving.

“Oh, non, monsieur,” he purrs, “I just have some work there, is all. Well, not at that building exactly, but close enough and far enough that we can have deniability.”

George tries to push that sweet noise and accented words to the back of his mind, turning on his blinkers as he gauges an opening in the traffic. When there is the slightest hint of opportunity, George pushes his way in between the cars, settling still against his seat once more.

He glances up in his mirror to see the attractive man has pulled out his phone and is tapping away at something. The pale white light so perfectly reflects the man’s cheekbones and nose and jaw and- George slams on his brakes when he barely notices the stopped car, heart pounding in his chest.

The man jumps, and looks up in alarm only to settle back down once he sees it’s fine. Really, George isn’t even the worst driver in the city, but it seemed that it still frightened the mysterious man now looking out the window to watch the setting sun peeking through tall skyscrapers.

George clears his throat, trying to make sure he can still get a decent tip. “So then, what kind of work do you do?” he asks, innocently enough.

The man frowns a bit, his brow furrowing as he seems to consider his answer. “I work...with people,” he pauses.

“Oh! So like a social worker?” Maybe some kind of nanny hired by a rich family that’s too ‘busy’ to deal with their rowdy, normal child and shucking it off on someone who could help while they vacation in London or Hong Kong. It’s awful of the parents, but there could be good money in that.

George sees the man shake his head, biting down on his lip before hesitantly continuing. “Non, like a prostitute.”

Oh. And it is then that his mind very conveniently replays what the man said earlier and- oh. Yes, well that was nothing new to George, just simply unexpected for a prostitute to look so, well...put together.

It was not everyday that George saw a prostitute with perfectly manicured nails, sweeping and soft curly hair, only maybe a bit of natural makeup to hide blemishes. Really, he just looked like an everyday person to George although- that’s all any prostitute was, ‘put together’ or not. That didn’t make it any less odd though.

“But don’t worry,” the man giggles, breaking George from his thinking, “you couldn’t afford me if you wanted to.”

George stopped and suddenly grinned, looking in the mirror to catch the man’s playful smirk. “And how do you know that?”

The man snorted, undignified and probably meant to send daggers at him, but George could only keep smiling at him. “You’re a cab driver. And just because you have the nice, SUV one really won’t make that much of a difference for me.” The man sits up straighter, his legs crossed at the knee as he continues spouting about his value. So he was a prideful and trying thing was he? “Only the most successful businessman can afford my services, oh and, if you’re curious- I am not unarmed,” he smirked, it turning into a wider grin.

The man’s uppish behavior should not make his blood sing and warm with thoughts of taming the bratty thing- but, it is too late now it seems.

“Well then.” George adjusts the mirror to ensure the man can see his face. “I must be extremely lucky to not just be a cab driver, but the owner of a billion dollar company here in the city,” he announced with some pride. Billion dollar was an underestimate- multi-billion was more accurate, but he wouldn’t brag more than necessary.

This time, he is waiting for the man’s charming laughter. He buzzes through traffic as his sonorous laugh pulls his own lips upward. “Oh, yes, keep telling yourself that,” he giggles.

“Really,” he teases, “I mean it.”

“Oh and so then what is the name of this company, hm?”

Stopped at a red light, George turns to look him in the eye. “A name for a name?”

The man considers him, an amused smile lighting up his face. “Alright, a name for a name.”

The light turns green and George is finally able to move again, stepping on the gas to reach as far as he can before being stopped again.

“Washington International Realty,” George pipes up before the man can and he sneaks a glance up to watch his face drop for a moment before setting back into the amused smirk.

“Yes, ok, very funny, sir. Drop the biggest realtor in the city and I will not be suspicious of you,” he grins. “Gilbert du Motier Lafayette, but you can call me Lafayette.”

“Lafayette, then it is a pleasure to meet you.” George pulls up to the building Lafayette told him.

Lafayette smiles and starts rummaging through his bag. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Washington,” he chuckles, and it still makes his heart sing.

Lafayette hands him a business card and a hundred dollar bill.

“Here, you might as well start saving now, handsome boy. And, tell your friends,” he says with a wink George knows means call me. No promises, but I kind of like you.

And just like that, he watches Lafayette get out of the car and make his way down the street. George reaches up and turns off his light just for a moment so he will not be disturbed by another busy New Yorker.

Lafayette, just a bit taller than others around him and with the aura to make him stand out is quite easy to watch and see slip past a large, elegant doorway and likely to his client. Glancing at the number, George takes note of the property, jogging his memory for information and remembering only details about the architect and types of glass used in construction.

He knows that he absolutely should not go digging through his files to get a list of names of people who could be living in those apartments and penthouses right now, but curiosity pulls at him. There are always a large handful of people who might not be living there right now, choosing their summer home in Paris or whatever it might be.

Curiosity and interest rap at the door, and George turns on his light to let the next person- a couple this time- inside and drives them down the too-crowded streets of New York City.

*** Can I just say I adore Lafayette in this?

#snippet #request #washette #mariiamo27

[authorialarcanist]

Gracidea Blossom Chapter 1: It All Starts Naoe

(Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum x Little Busters!)

Mirror Links: AO3, Pokécommunity, Spacebattles

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Previous - Next

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Gentle strains of music float across Hearthome. Kricketune are singing on Route 212, and the music drifts in to harmonize with the chirping of Starly. This is what every morning sounds like in ‘the city where hearts touch each other.’

Sunlight filters through the window of an apartment at the southern end of town. Within is a bed, with a boy curled up in it. At his bedside is a small potted plant, a miniature tree with three yellow spots in front. It tapers off to three small branches on top, each sporting a green sphere on its end.

When the sunbeam crosses Riki’s eyes, his face wrinkles up and he blinks himself awake with a yawn.

A few minutes later, Riki steps through an open doorway into the apartment’s combination living room/kitchenette. He pulls a frozen breakfast out of the freezer, and it’s just as he’s finished setting the microwave to thaw it that the potted plant walks into the kitchenette on stubby brown legs.

“Morning, Sly,” Riki calls back to his Bonsly as he sets out a bowl of food for it. He turns back to the microwave to wait.

He’s halfway through his breakfast when he hears a noise pounding on the apartment’s door. Leaving his food at the counter, he opens the door to greet his best friend.

Masato Inohara is a tall, buff young man with blue eyes and spiky black hair. He’s wearing a red T-shirt and jeans, and a red bandanna is wrapped around his forehead.

“You’re finally up, Riki! Kengo and Rin have already gone to the park!”

“Already?” Riki glances at the clock hanging on the wall. It’s not moving. His face falls. “I forgot to set my clocks after yesterday’s power outage, didn’t I…”

“Ah, well!” Masato grins. “No use crying over a tipped Miltank!”

Riki pauses midway through throwing on a blue jacket. “…What?”

“It’s an idiom!”

“Masato, that’s crying over *spilled milk!*”

“What? When I asked, Kengo said I could use it that way! That bastard, he’s probably thinking ‘ha, that idiot Masato was stupid enough to think people cry about tipped Miltanks, and besides, he already makes a fool out of himself in front of everyone every day,’ isn’t he!”

“No, no, no, he probably just thought you meant spilled milk and told you what that meant instead…” Riki sighs as his friend works himself up into a misunderstanding. Well, that said, every day is certainly energetic…

Forgetting his half-eaten breakfast, Riki grabs a small cooler and calls for his Pokémon to follow him. The two humans and one Bonsly make their way out through the hall to the elevator. Buildings in Hearthome are built with ramps and elevators in place of stairs wherever possible, to make sure they’re accessible to wheelchairs, strollers, and small children and Pokémon alike. By the time they reach the ground floor and step outside, the sun is already high in the sky. The breeze is pleasantly warm as they make their way through Hearthome and to Amity Square’s eastern gate.

Masato pulls out a Pokéball. “Go! Biceps!” With a flash of light, a Machamp is filling the available space of the passage. It’s a large, humanoid Pokémon with grey skin, yellow frills on its head and a yellow beak, a championship belt around its hips, and four muscular arms. “You ready to take a walk?”

*Fweeeet!* A whistle blows, and the gate attendant steps in front of them. “You know the rules! Machamp isn’t a permitted Pokémon in the square!”

“That’s unfair! Amity Square is for cute Pokémon, and my Biceps is plenty cute!” At that the Machamp strikes a pose, one arm up on either side and the other down, muscles bulging. “Look, Riki! Don’t you agree? Aren’t those the cutest muscles in the entire world?”

*No, by all accounts, you’re the one who’s being unreasonable…* Riki chuckles sheepishly, sweating under the attendant’s disapproval. “Masato, you know that’s just the phrasing they use… Biceps is a big Pokémon, you know? Even though he’d never hurt anybody, the park still has to make sure that only small and weak Pokémon are around, in case little kids provoke them…”

Man and Machamp sigh in unison, and Masato withdraws his Pokémon with a flash of red. “Ugh… Why do you have to be so reasonable, Riki? Fine! We’ll just have to get in our exercise later, I guess!”

Riki bows a hasty apology to the attendant as they pass into the park. Amity Square’s eastern entrance leads up to an elevated rocky area looking down on the western half of the park. Several small structures modeled after ancient ruins are available for children to play in. Up a few ramps at the far side of the area, a young man in a blue hakama is making training swings with a bamboo sword. He has white hair and a serious expression. Several children are watching him, fascinated.

“*KENGOOOOOOOO!*” With a roar, Masato runs at him, Riki following behind in a panic to stop his friends from fighting. “You told me I could use ‘no use crying over a tipped Miltank’ to mean that what’s done is done! I just made a fool out of myself in front of Riki because of you!”

“Hmph.” Kengo plants his training sword in the ground and turns to face Masato. “I thought you meant ‘no use crying over spilled milk,’ so I just told you what *that* means.” Riki sighs in relief. “But I suppose you really are stupid enough to think people cry over tipped Miltanks. And besides, you already make a fool of yourself in front of Riki every day, don’t you?”

“*THAT’S IT!* I thought you’d say that, Kengoooo! Why don’t you say it to my muscles?”

“If it’s a battle you want, it’s a battle you’ll get!” Kengo pulls a Pokéball out of his hakama, but before he can throw it a shrill whistle pierces the air.

“*Kengo Miyazawa, Masato Inohara, you two KNOW no Pokémon battles are allowed in the park!*” The gate attendant glares at them from her post, a megaphone in her hand.

“…Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” Abashed, Kengo turns away from the gate to resume his exercises.

“Tch. I guess you get to put it off this time. But next time we battle, I’m gonna take you down for sure!” Masato grunts in acquiescence, then drops to the ground and starts doing situps.

“You said that the last time you challenged me, too.”

Satisfied that his friends have been defused, Riki looks around the park. “Hey, Kengo? Have you seen Rin?”

“Hm? She’s down on the east side, like always.”

“Ehehe, of course…” With a sheepish chuckle, Riki waves goodbye to the pair of muscle idiots, and ducks into the nearest ‘ruin.’ In the back, there’s a ramp leading down into a series of small tunnels which connect all of the structures. Riki turns left, and makes his way to a ramp leading back up to a hut on the western side of the park. As he emerges, he hears a girl’s voice seemingly holding up one end of a conversation.

“Oh! Are you trying to learn Copycat? You can do it, Tezuka! Audrey is showing you how!”

Meowww.

“Wait… but… You’re already a cat, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you know Copycat already? You probably copy other cats all the time…”

Meow?

“Do you actually know it? Have you been holding out on me?” The voice takes on a shocked tone.

Meow…

Quietly, Riki peers out of the stone hut. A short ways away, playing with a multitude of cat Pokémon, is Rin Natsume. She’s a girl with red eyes and a brown ponytail. She’s wearing a pair of jeans ripped off at her calves, and a white shirt with pink striped sleeves. A small bell is attached to the thin white ribbon holding her hair back, and it jingles softly every time she moves her head. Perched on her shoulder is a Chingling, a round yellow Pokémon with a growth like a striped rope on top of its head. Rin makes a suspicious face at a Meowth crouched on all fours in front of her.

“You would tell me if you knew Copycat, right?”

Miaoww…

Evidently satisfied, Rin peers into the gold coin on the Meowth’s forehead. “Are you proud of your coin? Do you polish it every day?”

Meow.

“Woah! That’s amazingly dedicated! Super… no, duper-duper dedicated!” Rin scratches the Meowth behind its ears, making it purr. A Skitty nudges its head into Rin’s arm, and suddenly cat Pokémon are climbing all over her. “W-woah! Hold on! I can’t pet all of you at once!”

*I’ve probably waited long enough…* Smiling to himself, Riki steps out of his shelter.

“Are the cats happy?”

“Wah! Riki! I’m— I’m not playing! I was… scolding these cats! Yes, Tezuka, you’ve been very bad! (whew, that was a close save!)” Although Riki can hear her muttering to herself, he decides not to press.

“Right… Well, I brought sandwiches, so I just wanted to let you know where to find them once you get hungry. I’m going to go sit by the pond for a while, okay?”

“Mm.” Rin nods and turns back to the cats. At this point, Rin is such a fixture in Amity Square that Riki wouldn’t be surprised should it turn out she’s disrupting natural migration patterns. He’s pretty sure that Espurr were an invasive species in Sinnoh before they started flocking to Hearthome…

Leaving Rin and the cats behind, Riki and Sly cross a wooden bridge to the small island in the middle of the pond. He gives Sly a boost, straining to lift the Rock-type, and then sits down next to it on a raised stone outcropping. He looks across the water at Rin, then raises his gaze to watch Masato and Kengo trying to outdo each other in their respective martial exercises. He smiles. As long as he has this, he’ll be okay.

—-

Years ago…

…Riki’s life had been clouded in shadow. After the accident that killed his parents, he had retreated into himself, giving up on the outside world. If living meant feeling this loss, then he would rather close himself off and not feel anything. If remembering his parents meant sinking into this pit, he would rather know nothing at all. He’d spent every day trying to hide from the pain, without the will to move forward. His guardian had moved to Hearthome with him, hoping the city would help him open back up, but even then he still spent every day in a haze.

And then, one day…

…A boy had appeared in front of him, and reached out a hand to pull him up.

“My name is Kyousuke Natsume. What’s yours?”

“…Riki Naoe…”

“Come with me, Riki! We need you to add your strength to ours!”

“Huh…?” Riki had raised his head, confused.

Kyousuke had pulled him to where three other kids were waiting; Rin, Masato, and Kengo. He’d explained that they were trying to capture an invasive hive of Beedrill before it could damage the local ecosystem.

“My teacher said if Beedrill get a foothold in Sinnoh, they’ll drive away Combee hives!”

“But— what are *you* going to do about it?”

“Don’t underestimate us!” Kyousuke had thumped his chest with a grin. “The four of us are allies of justice who fight evil - we’re called the Little Busters! Together, we can take on any opponent!”

The children gathered and threw Pokéballs at the hive until a swarm of Beedrill finally came out, yellow bee Pokémon nearly as tall as they were, with black stripes on their thoraxes and massive stingers on their arms. It was then that Masato had made a desperate play, smearing himself with honey to lure them away from the hive. “The rest is up to you!”

Realizing the danger, Kyousuke’s Pichu had jumped off of his shoulder at the swarm and shot sparks all around it, electrocuting the pursuing Beedrill… and Masato with them. “Gaaaaah! That’s not the help I wanted!” Watching as a scorched Masato berated Kyousuke, Riki had finally broken down and laughed - and found the other Little Busters laughing with him.

In the end, they had weakened the Beedrill enough for adults to notice and come remove the hive. What’s more, one of the Beedrill had attached itself to Masato after eating the honey off of his shirt, and he’d been allowed to keep it - with a strict promise to never train it without supervision.

Since that morning, every day had been filled with life. The Little Busters came up with all sorts of tiny adventures, from cleaning a pool in return for a day of sole access, to climbing the spire of Hearthome’s cathedral. Laughing and playing together with his friends, the pain in Riki’s heart had become more bearable, until slowly, almost without his realizing it, it had vanished behind the boisterous fun of being with them.

Now…

…Riki Naoe’s only wish is for these days to go on forever.

——

“Yo, Riki.” A familiar voice breaks Riki out of his reverie. It’s already dark out. He looks around before finally catching sight of Kyousuke standing on the island, his hand raised in a lazy wave. Riki’s face splits into a wide grin.

“Kyousuke! Your trip is over? Oh, wait, I need to go get the others!” He turns and runs deeper into the park. “Hey! Masato! Kengo! Rin! Come on, Kyousuke’s back!”

“Kyousuke’s back?” Masato looks over with a grin, and hops down the short cliff dividing the east end of the park from the west. Rin stands up, sending a rain of cat Pokémon tumbling off of her, and Kengo emerges from a stone ‘ruin’ a few moments later, having chosen a more dignified method of transport.

Masato pumps his fist. “Good to have you back, Kyousuke!”

Riki nods. “Yeah, we’ve missed you! How was your trip?”

Kyousuke chuckles and gives a thumbs-up. “Mission Complete!”

“So what’s next, then? What should we all do this week?”

“Ah…” A bead of sweat runs down Kyousuke’s face. “About that… I can’t actually stay for long. I have to go on another trip in a couple of days.”

Riki’s face falls. “Again? But Kyousuke, you were gone for a month already!”

Kengo puts a hand on Riki’s shoulder. “Riki… being Sinnoh’s Champion is a big responsibility. You know that Kyousuke can’t blow it off just to spend time with us.”

“But…!” Riki looks between Kengo and Masato, who doesn’t meet his eyes. “Why aren’t either of you backing me up? He’s your friend too…”

“Riki, you didn’t let me finish.”

“Huh?”

Kyousuke fixes Riki with a serious gaze. “I have to go on another trip... but this time, I wasn't planning to go alone."

"Oh..." Riki shrinks in on himself. "So... You need Masato and Kengo to go with you too, this time...?"

"Not just them," Kyousuke cuts in before Riki can continue. "I want everyone to come with me - you and Rin, too."

“Eeeh? You... really want us to come along?” Riki glances at Rin, who looks as uncertain as he feels. “But you've never taken me or Rin with you on Champion business before! I mean… If it lets us all stay together then of course I’ll go, but… won’t we just slow you down?”

Kyousuke shakes his head. “Not necessarily. I believe that you and Rin can become capable Trainers.”

“Trainers? Wait, no, we could never be as good as you, Kyousuke!”

“Riki. Even with me, Masato, and Kengo protecting you, accidents can still happen on the road. If you and Rin want to come with me, you have to be able to take care of yourselves. Your Bonsly and Rin’s Chingling won’t be enough on their own. Rin, catch.” In a smooth motion, he tosses a Pokéball at his sister in a gentle underhand. Rin scrambles to catch it with a yelp, but when she glares at him he just grins. “In that Pokéball is a cat Pokémon from Alola called Litten. Your big brother crossed oceans and mountains to secure it for you, facing down giant Pokémon and inhospitable—”

“Shut up, idiot, you just called in a favor or something.”

“Gkh—!” Kyousuke flinches.

*Looks like Rin got it in one. Well, even so…* Riki glances at Rin, who is clutching the Pokéball protectively despite her harsh words. *At least she seems happy.*

Kyousuke rallies. “As for Riki, I have a choice of Pokémon for you.” He takes out a pair of Pokéballs this time, holding one in each hand. He raises the Pokéball in his left hand. “First is Piplup, the Penguin Pokémon. It’s a fast swimmer, and evolves into a Water and Steel-type Pokémon which can slice apart ice floes with its wings.” He lowers his left hand, and holds up his right instead. “Your other choice is Turtwig, the Tiny Leaf Pokémon. Its shell is made of hardened soil, and it evolves into a Grass and Ground-type that shelters smaller Pokémon on its back.” He makes a grand sweeping gesture with both arms, or at least as much of one as he can manage while gripping a Pokéball in each hand. “The adventures I went through to retrieve these Pokémon are too grand for—”

“You told Professor Rowan it was for Riki, so he handed them over,” Rin retorts. Riki looks away at the mention of the Pokémon Professor.

Kyousuke droops, an aura of gloom falling over his eyes. “…Right. That.” For such a competent and energetic Trainer, he can be surprisingly childish when he doesn’t get his way…

“W-wait, no! This is just what I wanted!” Riki rushes up to Kyousuke and grabs a Pokéball out of one hand, throwing it in front of him. The Pokéball bursts open with a loud noise and a flash of red light, which resolves into the shape of a small tortoise on all fours. The light clears to reveal that the Turtwig is covered in green scales, with yellow splotches on its feet and a yellow lower jaw. It has a brown shell on its back, and a sprout with two leaves grows from another patch of soil on its head. “See? I’m really happy to be given a Turtwig!”

“Really? Even with what Rin said?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Then you’ll go with me?”

“I’ll do it!”

“Yahoo!” Any trace of his former sulk is gone as Kyousuke shouts with a boyish grin. “Alright then, you should get to know your Turtwig while Rin meets her Pokémon. Oh, by the way, Turtwig is a girl, while Litten and Piplup are boys.”

Riki crouches down to pet the Turtwig while Kyousuke moves on. Its scales are cool and firm to the touch, and when Riki experimentally pats its shell, he’s surprised to find that it feels moist. He looks up while Turtwig headbutts his palm affectionately. A short ways away, Kyousuke is showing Rin the proper form for releasing a Pokémon. She nods with a quiet jingle, winds up, and as her arm sails forward to release the Pokéball, the ball vanishes.

There is an “OWW!” and the sound of a Pokémon leaving its ball, and the group all turns to see Masato lying on the ground with a Litten standing on his face. Unlike most of its species, the Litten’s fur is white except for its whiskers and lower jaw, rings around its legs, and a vertical stripe in the middle of its forehead which branches into two horizontal stripes, all of which are red.

Kengo speaks up, impressed. “You got your hands on a shiny one?”

“I *did* say I went to lengths,” says Kyousuke, preening. “That said, Rin, we’re going to have to work on your control.” He turns to his sister, but she’s not listening, already following the Litten as it hops off of Masato’s face and trots a few paces away.

Rin sits down and offers her fingers for the cat Pokémon to sniff. After a moment, it rubs up against her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, um…” She looks up, uncertain. “He needs a name. What to call him…” Riki turns back to his Turtwig as Rin considers. He should probably give this one a name, too. He watches as it and Sly investigate each other, and pats the base of the sprout on its head, feeling the dampness of the soil.

“Alright, then. It’s nice to meet you, Terra.” The Turtwig looks back at him and cocks its head. “That’s your name now, okay? Terra.”

“Kyousuke, help… I can’t think of any more names…” Rin’s voice makes Riki look up again. She seems genuinely distraught. Well, that’s only natural, when she’s named every cat Pokémon she’s come across for as long as Riki’s known her…

“Hm… Well, a proper name for a Pokémon is important. Alright then, I’ll name him for you. Litten, from now on you’ll be called…” Kyousuke makes a dramatic flourish at the cat. “…Lennon!”

Riki meets Kengo’s eyes as the latter suppresses a groan. For all the fuss he’s making about names, Kyousuke always just names his Pokémon after famous people.

“Now then, let’s get back to business.” Kyousuke clears his throat. “I’ve also brought some empty Pokéballs for you. You should make sure you put Santa and Sly in the first ones. Most of the time, you’ll only want to have one Pokémon out when traveling, and sometimes it’s better to have all of them in their balls.” He hands Riki and Rin five Pokéballs each. Rin holds one up to her shoulder, and after waiting a moment to see that Santa doesn’t back away, she taps the Chingling with the button on front and it disappears into red light. Riki does the same for his Bonsly. “And finally, a Pokédex for each of you.” He opens a slim black bag and pulls out an orange rectangle with a clamshell design. The left side of the Pokédex has a round protrusion coming out of the side, with a camera in the center. He hands it to Riki before pulling out a second one and giving it to Rin.

Riki flips his Pokédex open, revealing two screens. A D-Pad sits in the middle of the round protrusion on the bottom half, while the top half has a speaker in the same place. He presses the power button next to the bottom screen, and the screens light up. A smaller protrusion pops out of the right side of the Pokédex, with a rotary touch pad on it and a green circle in the center. The screen guides him through a setup process, then opens to a blank list.

“The Pokédex has a camera function to automatically record data on Pokémon you see, but you can also register one that you’ve caught for more information by holding up the Pokéball to that green lens.” Kyousuke shows Riki how to line up Sly’s Pokéball with the lens, and Bonsly’s information fills itself in on the screen. Riki withdraws Terra and registers its information while Kyousuke moves on to help Rin with the setup. “When the Pokédex is closed, it will turn off the screens to conserve power, so you should be able to maintain the battery life as long as you don’t forget to charge it whenever you’re sleeping indoors. As long as the camera can see from wherever you keep it, it will still register the Pokémon you encounter.”

Riki flips the Pokédex closed and pushes the protrusion with the lens and touch pad back into its protective casing. After a moment’s consideration, he slips the Pokédex into a breast pocket, with the camera just sticking out on top. “Then… When will we have to leave?”

“In two days,” Kyousuke says. “I was figuring tomorrow we can just relax and do something fun, and then we’ll help the two of you prepare for the trip before we set out.”

“Alright, then!” Masato slams his fist into his palm. “Now we get to the *fun* part! You two ready to start training?”

Kengo looks from Riki, stifling a yawn, to Rin, staring at her Pokédex like it’s a foreign language, to his Pokétch, proudly displaying the time as ‘12:00’. He puts a hand on Masato’s shoulder. “Maybe that should wait for tomorrow.”

By now, the park is totally empty except for them and the night-shift attendants. Kyousuke chuckles sheepishly. “Ah… right. Then let’s reconvene in the morning.”

As the friends file out of Amity Square, Riki glances back for a moment. It’s looking like he might not see it again for a while, but that’s fine. Where he is has never been what’s important to him. He looks at his friends again, Masato and Kengo playfully arguing over which will be the better teacher as Kyousuke and Rin stride ahead. As long as he can stay with the four of them, that’s all that matters.

#Little Busters! #Pokemon #fanfiction #Naoe Riki #Natsume Rin #Natsume Kyousuke #Inohara Masato #Miyazawa Kengo #Sinnoh #Gracidea Blossom

[mothmoira]

I just want to say that i think that you will do very good a the solangelo fan fic and even if it not the best i will still read it.

thank you anon!!!!! this one is for you :) sorry it took me so long, I've been really busy. I hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~~~

“No, I’m not the witch, he lives over there.”

 For what seemed like the hundredth time that week, Nico di Angelo was having to explain to yet another ailed villager that despite the dark appearance of his home, he was not a witch, and that the blonde haired blue-eyed ray of sunshine with an herb garden was the one they needed.

“Him? He’s the witch? Are you sure?”

The villager was looking doubtfully at William Solace, who was waving enthusiastically about ten feet away with a huge, dorky grin on his freckled face.

“Yup. I’m sure.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Nico went back inside, shut the door, and sighed. It had been six months since William had moved into the cottage next door. Every day since then, the locals would follow the signs William had put up in the village square.

                                       MEDICINAL WITCHCRAFT

 PINE TREE FOREST, 212 PACES AFTER REACHING CENTRAL       CLEARING

Due to the dark aesthetic of his house, people always thought that Nico was the witch.  Which he of course wasn’t. He knew nothing of magic or herbal medicine.

Nico was considering asking William to put a description of what his house looked like in his advertisement, but he didn’t want to have to go through the awkwardness of having to talk to him. Something about William always made his heart pound and his palms turn clammy.

Nico’s grey cat, Small Bob, rubbed up against his legs and meowed. Nico sighed again. He would have to go, as soon as he saw the villager leave the house. 

An hour later, the villager left.  Nico stared out of the window, waiting for them to walk out of sight. As soon as they were gone, Nico put on his grey cloak and stepped into the snowy outdoors. He reached William’s butter-yellow cottage and knocked on the door. It opened to reveal William, grinning as usual.

“Hello! You’re Nico, right?”

Nico was taken aback that William knew his name. “Erm, yeah. You’re William, right?”

“Yes, but no one calls me that. Just call me Will.”

“Ok…um, I was wondering if we could talk about the signs you’ve put up in the village?”

“Of course! Please, come in.”

Will let Nico inside. The house was cosy, with a living room that had a roaring fire in the fireplace, three soft armchairs, an absolutely huge bookshelf, and a knitting basket in the corner. There was kitchen with herbs hung from the ceiling to dry, a small table with chairs surrounding it, a hutch filled with teacups and teapots, and a bay window. “So, what was it about the signs?”

Nico turned his attention to Will. He was bustling around the kitchen, putting a kettle of water on the hob and placing biscuits on a plate. 

“Oh! Right, the signs. Well they, um, are not very specific, and the villagers keep coming to my house instead of yours, and, well, um…”

Will was looking at Nico, listening closely. It made Nico’s heart flutter to look into his eyes, though he had no clue why.

“Well that’s no good. I can change them tomorrow, but why don’t you come and have a cup of tea and a biscuit? We could talk for a bit. Its strange that we’ve been neighbors for six months and we still haven’t had a proper conversation, isn’t it?”

 Nico accepted the offer. Soon enough, Nico and Will were talking like they had known each other their whole lives.When Nico left, many hours later, he was smiling for what felt like the first time in years.

                                                        FIN

sorry its so short!!! it feels a little rushed to me, but again, I really hope you like it!

#solangelo #solangelo fanfic #will solace #nico di angelo

[clonewarsreturns]

-Broken-

Part 1

Good soldiers follow orders.

The jet trooper stood like a statue at the cliff side, slowly regaining consciousness. He could hardly remember what had happened. Buddies from the 212 had comm’d him saying that general grievous was dead and he remembered running up to tell Taya. To celebrate with his friend. What happened….He recalled Jace...right beside her.. something happened...what did he do…thumper stepped closer to the cliffs edge searching for a clue.

He remembered hearing something before losing himself….some order coming over the coms. The jet trooper tried to think of what it might’ve been but was interrupted by his stomach retaliating. Pulling off his helmet, the jet trooper emptied his stomach as his body shook vigorously. What happened...what happened to them…

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as flashes of memory filled his brain. Order 66. Jedi. Treason. Jace. Jace no. Please help me. Please. Taya-

The gun shot echoed in his mind as he saw the memory of Jace being pulled over the edge of the cliff. Thumper gasped in distraught as he scrambled to the edge of the cliff. He stared wide eyed in disbelief at the rapids below. The rocks were sharp and jagged. His eyes darted all over the murky water for any sign of life. All he could see was the blood stained rocks below. His stomach turned again as he let out an agonizing cry.

Stumbling toward the base, the jet trooper wore a blank stare. He saw his brothers in a confused daze falling into line as they awaited new orders. Thumper started towards the line as if on command. But as he walked, his mind was in pieces.

-Sprinter, Scanner, Hops, Taya was murdered by...Jace...my last pieces of family.. gone.-

Thumper froze. He stared through his visor breathing heavily as he looked at the clones. These weren’t his brothers. Jace was his last just as Hops was his first. What’s the point of this?

The trooper shook as he removed his decorated helmet. The diamond insignias pierced his heart as he thumbed them one last time. Thumper dropped the helmet on the muddied earth before turning away from the troops. He forced his feet forward one step at a time, body trembling with each step.

Shouts from some officer were nothing more than a muffle to his ears as he pressed forward. He struggled to breathe as he waited for the inevitable blaster to penetrate his body. He was a deserter. A deserter from the grand army of the republic. He was to be shot on sight. But frankly he didn’t mind. It would mean he was a step closer to his family.

It wasn’t until he entered the jungle before him that he realized he was free. But was he ever truly free?

The trooper walked for hours, ignoring the pain in his legs. He didn’t know where he was going but just that he knew his time in the grand army was done. It died with his family.

Thumper couldn’t recall passing out but he hated being woken up. The world was fuzzy before him but the rain tried to clear his senses. A throbbing sensation spread through his leg as he laid at the bottom of the ravine. He didn’t move to adjust the pain, he didn’t care. He thought that in some cruel way he deserved this. All the headaches he’d given Jace, the scoldings from Hops, he couldn’t help but chuckle at what Hops would say if he saw him now. A rain drop hit his eye causing the trooper to sit up from a past memory. Force.. thumper cursed himself for moving but the memory was forever a part of him.

-The SCARIFF mission-

The LAAT’s took off in pairs of two. Intervals to keep from minimal casualties for the Seppies tried to cut them off from the cruisers. Thumper joked with a terrified Sprinter in order to calm his nerves but a hit to the LAAT door caused it to swing open. The jet trooper-in full equipment- was forced out of the ship. He remembered Sprinter’s hand reaching out as he plummeted to the surface. Thumper prayed to the force that the hit wasn’t going to hurt but before he could finish he had hit the watery surface.

The pain from the surface tension was barely an issue for Thumper had worse problems ahead. His ears rang violently as his helmet filled with water. He tried to hit his jet pack to get working but it had been damaged. Kriff! He choked on the water as it filled ever crevice of his weighted armor. The jet trooper tried desperately to fight the pull but it was no hope. Force he didn’t want to die-not like this.

Just as water filled his lungs he saw a shadow plunge toward him.

A moment of consciousness came over him as Thumper violently sprung to life. The red lighting of the LAAT illuminated the fear stricken faces of his brothers. Before fading again, he saw General Natali soaking wet as she argued with her Captain. Heh...marital disputes….

The jet trooper had thought that was the end of his worries but was met with a grave reminder in the refresher that evening. He turned on the faucet but the instant the cold water hit his face he blacked out.

He woke to Jace barking orders to nearby brothers who quickly threw on what they could before running.

Breath Vod, I’m here.. you’re okay. You’re okay.. it was then he realized he hadn’t taken a breath in a while. Jace squeezed his hand as he struggled to do so. It’s alright, Vod. I’m here.. He could hardly tell through his own tears if Jace’s eyes had them as well.

Before long, Hops came skidding into view with a small medical kit. Thumper felt awful seeing the disheveled silver hair since it meant he had been woken. Hops took Jace’s place but he could still feel his brother’s hand.

Force he missed them…

The triggered memory caused the jet trooper’s stomach to lurch in pain as he let out a sob. He didn’t ask for any of this..

-months later-

The former trooper didn’t recall what he had said to piss off the Zabrak before him but to be honest he didn’t care. The hit to his stomach caused the alcohol to turn in his bruised stomach. The rodian had a tough grip on him, not like he would’ve fought it. This wasn’t exactly how he imagined dying but with no war or family to leave behind, what’s the point of a glorious outing? He faded in and out of consciousness, something he had grown accustomed to in his depressive state. There have been so many instances since the fall of the republic that Thumper thought it was the end. But every time some not so Good Samaritan would come along and pull him back to life.

The Rodian threw him hard against the pavement. Thumper spat out the blood filling his mouth as the world spun around him. A cold blade was pushed against his throat. Finally.. he thought as he braced for the end.

But to his dismay the Zabrak turned their attention to something else. Thumper laid still anticipating the finishing blow. He squinted through swollen eyed for his attacker but was startled by a third entering the fray. The figure had knocked the rodian out clean with a pipe and held a pistol to the Zabrak. Thumper’s curiosity outweighed the depressive tendencies he had so he tried to roll onto his side. A stinging sensation spread across his neck as he held it tight. The blade had made a small wound but it hurt nonetheless. Thumper didn’t want to be saved again so he tried to crawl away from the attacker. He had been the victim of a not so well intentioned rescue before and was not looking to be saved that way again. But before he could get very far, he felt a hand in his. He froze at the sudden weight in his own. The words spoken caused his entire world to collapse.

“It’s alright vod… I’m here.”

Thumper stared at the masked man who shared his eyes. The man pulled down the mask revealing the mirror image he knew far too well.

“Oh force...I really am dead..” thumper muttered in shock causing his former captain to crack a smile. He had some new scars but Jace’s kind eyes stayed the same.

“Not yet, Thumper..” hearing him speak these words caused thumper to break. He fell into his brother’s arms for he was too weak to hold himself up anymore. He squeezed his arms around Jace as he cried into his chest. Jace rubbed his hand on the shivering trooper’s back as he hushed his brother. “Im bringing you home..”

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