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attllhak · 3 years

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Adoption AU - Wild and Warriors: The Epic Quest For Taco Bell at 3 am

@tortilla-of-courage so you mentioned you’d be interested in my Adoption AU one-shots, and now that things have calmed down in my house a bit I figured I’d post the first one-shot I wrote; the one about Wild and Warriors going for a Taco Bell run. Theoretically, I was going to do a one-shot for each grouping of boys, as an introduction, but I don’t think that’s happening anymore. Either way, here’s the first thing I wrote!

(And, anyone else who would like to be tagged if/when I post more for this AU, let me know here and I’ll make a list or something)

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“anyone know any good substitutes for love and personal fulfilment?”

Warriors sent the tweet without much thought. He didn’t actually care about an answer, he just felt like venting about his most recent break up in a vague way, and thought he was being funny. He could already see Legend rolling his eyes.

His phone dinged a few times, one reply from Twilight, asking why he was up so late (which he’d responded to with the same inquiry, which had Twilight going silent), one from Legend mocking him, one from Hyrule trying to actually help. He was surprised how many of his brothers were up at this hour.

He dropped the phone on his bed, rubbing his eyes. He wasn’t actually all that tired, probably a consequence of having all afternoon classes and a habit of leaving his work to the last minute. Eh, the first year was supposed to be mostly parties anyways. (Not that Time would ever find out he said that.)

His phone dinged again and he groaned, eying the clock and the small bottle of melatonin next to it. 2:43 am. He should sleep. He didn’t have anything tomorrow, he finished his last final earlier that afternoon, though, so a few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

He picked up the phone and woke it up again. He blinked a few times at the new reply.

“crunchwrap supreme from taco bell”

He ignored Twilight yelling at Wild for being up, as apparently Wild did have a final tomorrow still. Not that Wild was paying any more attention.

He snorted, hitting the like button on Wild’s tweet and clicking off his phone. He reached up to stretch, yawning as he did. He eyed the melatonin bottle again. Technically, he didn’t need the supplements to sleep, but with how messed up his sleep schedule was, they did help him knock out when he planned on sleeping at a reasonable hour. This wasn’t a reasonable hour, but sleepiness hadn’t set in yet either.

Before he could decide, his phone lit up with a text notification. He tilted his head back and pointed his phone down to look at instead of dropping his arms.

Gordon Ramsey 2:44 am

lets go

Warriors blinked once. Then again. He unlocked his phone to type back.

what?????? go where?????

A second passed when he got a reply.

taco bell

for your substitute for love

since you got dumped and need something

oops was that too soon

sorry

Warriors blinked at the screen again. Wild lived twenty minutes away from the university Warriors was attending, and the nearest Taco Bell was no closer. Plus, Time had revoked Wild’s driving privileges after he crashed his bike into the barn and broke both and his arm. There was no way Wild was getting to the university, much less a fast food joint. Especially at this hour.

and how do you plan to do that? You aren’t allowed to drive yet Mr. Broken Arm

you have a care

*car

That was a very good point.

you are suggesting that I drive 20mins outside of town to pick you up, drive another 20mins back into town, then drive around downtown until we find an open taco bell, at 3am on a school night before you have a final?

There was a few seconds pause, just long enough for Warriors to consider that he’d given up on it.

we wont be driving all over town

i googled it and found one

its like 10mins form your collage

*from

*college

Warriors considered that.

twilight won’t be happy

only if he finds out

Wild made a very good point.

how do you plan to get out of the house without him noticing?

i have a window war

The response was so immediate, and he was probably sleep deprived enough, that he burst out laughing when it sent.

20mins

He clicked his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket, grabbing a jacket and his scarf on the way out of his room. He was struggling to shrug them both on at once when he realized his roommate was still up too. There was a tense staredown as their eyes met and they both froze.

Volga broke the standoff by closing his book. “And where are you going at this hour?”

Warriors considered that. “My brother bribed me with food to break him out of the house,”

“At,” he glanced at his watch, “two forty-nine am?”

“Yes,”

The silence was tense.

Volga sighed and opened his book again. “Don’t crash and die, I’d hate to have to get a new roommate when I’ve finally gotten used to you,”

“Don’t burn the dorm down while I’m gone,” Warriors joked back, finally getting the fabric to work with him.

“It happened once, and it’s not like you’re any better at cooking!”

“I don’t set what I make on fire, and then freak out and throw it when blowing out that fire doesn’t work,” he grabbed his keys from the dish by the door and waved behind him.

“It happened once, Link!”

“And it’s why we order out now,” he grinned, ducking out the door. “See you later, Volg, be back in an hour or so,”

He could hear Volga’s angry shout through the door, so hurried down the stairs to the ground level as quickly as he could, before Volga woke their neighbor again.

He was still giggling when he got to the parking lot. Volga was just too easy to rile up.

The cool night air woke him up a little more so, and he took a deep breath as he located his car. A hand-me-down vehicle, he inherited it from Time when he was old enough to drive. Mostly this was so he could stop asking everyone else for their cars when he wanted to go somewhere. A little elbow grease however, and no one could tell it was at least 20 years old and not fresh off the lot. He made sure none of his brothers were allowed to drive it, especially after Wild got his bike stuck in a tree, or Legend crashed into a lake, or Twilight picked up drag racing, or Wild got his bike stuck on the roof, or Hyrule lost his car, or Four rolled his truck, or Wild and the barn literally last week. A lot of the crashes in the family came from Wild going ‘oh yeah? Watch this!’ now that he thought about it. It was a miracle he still had the same bike.

The twenty minute drive to the farm was pretty boring, nothing of note really happening.

He turned off his headlights as he pulled into the drive, not wanting to wake anyone, especially Time, up. He shot off a quick text to Wild when he parked.

A window opened and Legend’s head poked out to glare at him. His phone dinged.

Royal Pain 3:12 am

what are you doing here?

He glared back at Legend and typed out a response.

taco bell run

Legend glanced down, presumably at his phone, then back up a Warriors with an incredulous expression.

at 3am????

and if so why are you /here/????

Warriors pointedly looked around the house where Wild emerged from the bushes. Said brother grinned and popped open the passenger door to climb in.

“Hey,” he grinned. His hair was a mess, with at least two visible sticks stuck in it, and he was still in his sleep clothes. Despite this, he seemed fine.

“Legend has us made,” Warriors nodded to their brother, who was still glaring with his head out the window.

Royal Pain 3:15 am

twilight won’t be happy about this

Warriors frowned, trying to shield his phone from Wild as he typed back.

twilight won’t know

Warriors did not like the look in Legend’s eyes as he got the next text.

unless i tell him

Warriors glared up at his brother, working his jaw.

what do you want?

He hated the pleased grin Legend shot him.

the most expensive thing on the menu on your dime

fine

Warriors shoved his phone away with a growl, flipping off the overly smug Legend as he put the car in gear. “Asshole,” he muttered.

“What was that about?” Wild asked.

“We’re buying him food too now,” Warriors growled, flicking back on his headlights.

“Oh, cool,” Wild leaned back into the seat and pulled out his phone. “So the Taco Bell we’re going to only has the drive thru open, and it’s just off main street,”

Warriors nodded, focussing on the road and not that Wild had found the aux cord.

About thirty minutes later, as Wild finally turned down the music to provide directions, he snapped and turned to Warriors mid direction. “Do you want to sign my cast?”

Warriors blinked. “Maybe when we stop, I’m not crashing to sign your cast right now.”

Wild nodded, and pointed across Warriors at the street they had to go down.

They pulled into the drive thru and ordered, then had to wait for the very expensive thing Legend wanted. Warriors turned to Wild as the car idled.

“Do you have a marker?”

Wild blinked at him, then brightened up and offered out a sharpie and his right arm. The cast, under the signatures and well wishes of their family and all of Wild’s friends, was painted in very poorly drawn flames. Warriors raised an eyebrow as he searched for a clear spot to sign.

“Hyrule painted it for me,” Wild explained with a grin.

“Ah,” Warriors hummed as he finally tracked down an empty space by Wild’s elbow.

He scrawled out his name, not much room for anything else, and then handed the capped sharpie back to Wild while he twisted around to accept the food from the drive thru worker.

He shot off a text to Legend to let him know they had his food, alongside an upset emoji. Legend sent him a devil face emoji back. Wild dug through the bag for his food, sharpie stuck in his hair alongside the twigs, which seemed to be multiplying.

Warriors rolled his eyes and pulled back onto the road.

At some point, Wild pulled the wrap out and handed it to Warriors, who ate one handed as he drove. Wild was right about one thing, the wrap did taste very good.

He pulled into the drive of the farmhouse, headlights off, just as he finished off the wrap. He phone dinged the second he put the car in park.

Royal Pain 3:58 am

where’s my food bitch

Warriors looked up to the window where Legend was leaning out and glaring at him.

Wild laughed at the surly look on Legend’s face, climbing out and taking the bag with him. “I’ll feed him,” he promised, grinning. “Thanks for the trip, War!”

“No problem,” Warriors grinned back. “Just make sure you get to bed once you’re inside, so Twi doesn’t suspect in the morning,”

Wild gave him a thumbs up. He shut the door a little too hard, making Warriors wince, and bounced up to throw the bag up to Legend. Legend caught it the second time, when Wild opted to use his not broken arm to toss it, and disappeared inside again. Warriors’ phone dinged again a few seconds later.

Royal Pain 4:00 am

thanks pretty boy

your secret is safe with me

for now

Warriors rolled his eyes and sent him a thumbs up back, then pulled out of the drive again to head back to campus. He was actually starting to feel tired now, so he figured he’d get home and just crash. It’d be like, 4:30 in the morning by then, and he was pretty sure Volga would be asleep. And if he wasn’t, they had a rule that after 4 am until 7 they were allowed to ignore each other, so it’d be fine.

Volga was asleep when Warriors snuck in, passed out in a chair with the book on his chest. Warriors took the sight in, then sighed.

He dropped his keys in the dish, then pulled off his jacket and scarf to hang in his room. He grabbed a bookmark off his shelf and wandered back out to pull the book off of Volga’s chest and set it down so the spine wouldn’t crease. He left Volga like that, however. He didn’t want the books to get damaged, but if Volga was dumb enough to fall asleep in the common room without a blanket, then he deserved what he woke up with.

He was very lucky that Warriors was too tired to find a sharpie.

He fell asleep before remembering to take off his shoes.

(---)

The next morning, so about noon, he was woken by Volga pounding on the door to put his phone on silent.

His phone buzzed on the desk next to him and he pulled it off and up to his head, hitting answer before looking at the contact.

“Hullo?” He slurred, still half asleep.

“Twilight knows,” Legend greeted him.

“What?” Warriors sat up, groaning as his back complained from sleeping on his stomach all night. It took a second for his brain to catch up.

“Twilight knows,” Legend repeated. “Hyrule sold you out, unintentionally, and I can hear him selling you both out to Time,”

Warriors blanched as the words registered. “Oh shit,” he threw himself out of bed, hissing as he realized he slept fully dressed, and scrambled for the things he’d need in order to flee. “How long?”

“Twenty minutes if you get lucky and Wind pulls through, less if not,”

Warriors cursed under his breath as he changed his shirt and tried to make it look like he hadn’t been sleeping in what he was wearing. “Thanks for the heads up, I’d say I owe you but,”

“You’d rather not owe me,”

“Yeah,”

“Look, if you get caught and cave, I go down too. This is self-preservation. Don’t cave and we’re even.”

“Got it, I won’t,”

“You better not,” Legend hissed. “Good luck,”

“Thanks,” Warriors nodded, even though Legend couldn’t see him.

He tossed the phone on his dresser as the line went dead and he went about trying to comb through his hair so he looked presentable.

A hard knock on his door came a few seconds later.

“I put my phone on vibrate, Volga!” He shouted through the door. “You can drop it now!”

“Link?”

Warriors paused, then opened the door. Lana, Impa and Artemis waited on the other side, Volga glaring at them and hovering behind them.

Warriors blinked dumbly at them. “Uh, hi?”

“Hi Link! Good morning!” Lana grinned and waved at him.

“It’s noon,” Impa reminded the group, eying Warriors up and down.

“Oh, right,” Lana nodded, then went back to grinning at him. “Good noon, Link!”

He snorted and shook his head to clear it. “Good noon to you too, Lana. Can I ask what you’re all doing here?”

“We were hoping you’d join us for something,” Artemis smiled at him, also looking him over, trying to find whatever Impa had picked up on. “We’re going on a small road trip since all our finals are over, and we were planning on hitting a few different cities over the week,”

“Mhm,” Lana nodded quickly. “We’re leaving today, and are taking no calls until we get back, and we’re camping in the car, which is why we’re using my van, and we were hoping you’d come with us,”

“I’m in,”

The three girls blinked at him. Maybe he answered too fast, but taking no calls, meaning no contact with his family, for a week gave them time to move past this, and he really didn’t want to deal with a lecture from Time. His friends just offered him asylum, whether they knew it or not.

Impa narrowed her eyes. “What happened with your family?” She asked, already onto him.

“Nothing that’s my fault,” he responded, ducking back into his room. “What should I bring with?”

Lana listed off what they figured they’d take and he pulled out a suitcase, nodding along as he started packing. He fired off a text to the group chat as he grabbed his jacket, tossed over one arm, and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

World’s Best Captain 11:39 am

Leaving on a road trip with some friends. Be back in a week, but I can’t take calls until I’m back. Don’t kill each other!

He put his phone on silent and slipped it into his pocket.

He might have a hellish text backlog when he got back, but it’d be better than the lecture from Time. And besides, he got to spend a week with the best girls he knew.

As far as he was concerned, everything worked out win-win for him.

Wild was right, the crunchwrap supreme from Taco Bell did work wonders in supplying love and personal fulfilment, even if not in the way he meant it.

He made a note to get Wild something as thanks while they were out. Maybe some crash pads. Goddesses knew that his brother needed them.

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elareine · 3 years

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Jaydick same age Robins: Prompts/AU Prompts 42 😊🥰

Thank you for your prompt(s)💙

This one turned out to be kinda gen and was kinda inspired by those posts about Bruce being in his early twenties when he took Dick in, so he’s still lacking dad instincts. There might be a follow-up tomorrow, though ;)

As soon as the words left his mouth, Bruce knew he had made a terrible mistake.

“Dickie, be reasonable.”

“I am reasonable.” Oh, that was the pout. Six months into this guardianship thing, Bruce wasn’t as susceptible, but damn the thing was effective.

His ward was standing in front of him, still clad in his Robin uniform, and behind him was the boy he’d dragged in with him. Into the Batcave, mind you. You know, the one place Bruce told him he really, really, really wasn’t allowed to bring friends. The other kind—Jason, a boy that seemed to be about Dick’s age, dressed in a sweatshirt and rather dirty jeans—looked around in awe.

He was being played, and that annoyed Bruce just enough to be stubborn. “You are asking me to take in a kid—“

“—Jason—“

“—a kid that I don’t even know, because you found him on a rooftop?”

“You did that with me,” Dick pointed out.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

You were about to kill a man. Nope, not a good option.

Your parents were dead. Unnecessarily hurtful, and Dick’s answer would probably just be ‘So are his, and yours!’

Bruce settled on: “It’s different. I can’t take in everyone.”

This was ridiculous. He couldn’t just—he couldn’t just go around taking in children and turn them into Robins! What would the press think? It would be laughingly obvious if there were, say, five Robins and assorted other young heroes, all corresponding in age and appearance with the Wayne family!

Or so Bruce told himself. The problem was that despite the façade, despite his masks and fists and anger, he was a kind man. He didn’t like leaving a kid in less than ideal circumstances. Already, he was promising himself that he would involve CPS, pay the family a visit himself, maybe. But he couldn’t just abduct the kid.

Right?

Dick’s jaw shifted forward. “You said I am Robin, and that no-one will take that from me.”

“Yes, exactly,” Bruce agreed, relieved.

“If Robin is mine, then I can give it away. We can share. You said I needed to concentrate more on school, right? That way, you never go out alone!”

Bruce drew himself up, intent on reminding Dick about how dangerous this life was, how he was already insane for letting one twelve-year-old out with him, never mind two—

There was the tiniest flinch from Jason, but the younger boy didn’t flinch back. No, he pushed himself in front of Dick—Robin, the boy who arrested grown men twice a week—and squared his shoulders, obviously trying to look bigger. “It’s fine. I’ll just go home. It was a stupid idea, anyway.”

Bruce expected Dick to be hurt by that, but the boy just shook his head. “No, it’s not. You can’t keep sleeping outside, Jason. It’s September. It’s gonna get colder.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jason said, and he wasn’t moving from his position in front of Bruce.

Jesus fuck.

Usually, Bruce would crouch down to talk to a scared child. His instincts told him Jason would resent that. Still, he deliberately shifted his posture, tried to make himself look as unthreatening as he could. “Tell me, Jason. Why were you sleeping on the rooftop?”

“The vents are warm.”

Bruce waited.

Finally, Jason murmured: “I had nowhere else to go.”

And just like that, Bruce Wayne was defeated.

“Then you can stay,” he told him gently. Dick visibly perked up but was wise enough not to say anything. “I won’t send you away. We’ll talk about guardianship and Robin and all that later, okay?”

Jason nodded. He didn’t look like he believed a word of it.

Behind them, Alfred cleared his throat. “I have taken the liberty to prepare the room next to Master Dick’s. If you’d like to follow me?” He smiled at the newcomer. “I believe it is time for tea.”

Et tu, Alfred?

“With chocolate chip cookies?” Dick asked.

Alfred nodded.

“Good.” Dick turned to Jason and grabbed his hand, foul mood forgotten. “They’re the best, you’ll see.”

Bruce watched them walk off. His pride bade him to sigh only when they were out of earshot.

Eh. He still had that social worker’s number from when he’d become Dick’s guardian. It shouldn’t be too much work to convince her to take in Jason Todd; after he’d done some research, of course. Some line about how Dick was feeling lonely in the manor after the circus, how he’d made a friend and Bruce didn’t want to separate them by abandoning kid to the system.

Bruce silently resolved to bring up some hot cocoa, himself, and get to know Jason. Correct the terrible first impression he probably made.

After all, he had a second Robin now. A second son.

…huh.

(I’m taking prompts until the end of the year.)

#batfamily #bruce wayne #elareine writes #jason todd #dick grayson #jaydick

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soranihimawari · 2 years

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¿Y cuando tu te vas a graduar?

Translation: and when do you graduate?

A sequel to ¿y tu novio? featuring our strangers -> lovers Kuroo Tetsuro & YN

Rated 17+ for kissing scene, one curse word, and suggestive comments from Kuroo

Category?: KTF (kuroo Tetsuro fluff)

Scroll to see some flash forwards

^and we’re gonna pretend this is what the date looks like in the theater of yn and Kuroo’s mind, especially since there’s a running joke of yn owing a “kiss for real” to Kuroo.

Your cousin’s wedding was just a few days ago and somehow you find yourself at a different district of Tokyo. Apparently, your partner whom you were paired with for the bridal party, had been taking you on several dates. Some would say Kuroo Tetsuro was just charming you into bed, however that would be far from the case. You certainly were no exception to his flirtatious compliments that makes you uncertain whether you would want to pursue a relationship eventually. Your parents on the other hand, were glad you were finally seeing someone outside of your friend group, who were a little jealous, but understood. There were plenty of opportunities for when you’;d be free (like the first Wednesday before you fly out when you go to Sanrio-land). Today though, you are seated in a tea house close to Nekoma High School where you find out a little more about the man sitting across from you.

“You must have been popular for being captain, eh?” Your voice is playful while you take the next sip or two from your lemon ginseng tea.

Kuroo sort of blushes at your deductions, but he sort of reassures you he was far from it. He explains how he couldn’t work up enough nerve to ask his lab partner for a date (and how he subsequently gained confidence in university).

“I see,” you muse, placing your cup on the coaster.

“Enough about me,” Kuroo leans back in his chair, casually crossing his legs looking at a casual catalogue model. The air vent above him allows his flyaways to dance in the air. “What about you?”

“You’re asking the ‘perpetually single’ girl in the LN-family tree about my dating life?” Your sarcasm is quite refreshing. “We’ll, for starters, my godmother recently asked me when I’m graduating and I don’t have the heart to tell her I was pushed back by a an extra year thanks to the delta variant of the virus…”

“Y’know I know you know what I meant. Besides, I want you to graduate me from ‘dance partner’ to ‘lover’ before you leave,” Kuroo reminds casually reminds you. This earns him a scoff and a rueful smirk. And with a quick witted recovery, the conversation goes back to focusing on you. “You’re uniquely you, yn-chan, and I plan on making you remember me. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He drinks the last bit of his tea along with you. Standing up first, he extends his hand and you smirk at his offer, when you hold his hand, he pulls you up to gently holds you near him. His cologne choice today reminds you of the beaches back home, including the sandalwood notes, drives you to pause for a few more seconds than necessary than required before Kuroo asks if you’re ok.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say as you catch Kuroo glance softly down at you. He leads you outside, interlacing your fingers as you head toward his car. In the car, you ask him where he’s taking you.

“My favorite place in the city,” he answers.

“Alright Captain Cat,” you jest, leaning against the window humming to the tune on the radio. You close your eyes for a moment, only to let go of Kuroo’s hand for a few minutes so he can control the gearshift a little better.

Kuroo wakes you up gently when the park he spends a majority of his mornings alone post-running workout.

“Hmm?” You groan, but your eyes flutter open when you feel Kuroo’s hand cup your cheek, tracing your chin with his thumb.

“We’re here,” his tone is warmth and filled with the gentleness of a summer breeze. “C’mon, princess.”

You nod, stretching a little bit, before you unbuckle yourself from the seat and join him outside on the hood of the car. He stands behind you, wrapping a protective arm around your waist, whispering to watch the lights to the east. You don’t mind the close proximity, however, Kuroo notices how you make an attempt to hide the blush that he helped put there. His nose nuzzles against your cheek, as you try to focus on the the streetlights now twinkling. There are a few neighborhoods lighting fireworks for their celebrations. You gasp when the lights continue to twinkle like the stars, making you wonder if this was why your date liked this place so much.

“It’s quiet here,” he says. “I like this place because I can forget the world for a little while…”

You nod agreeing. “There is a place near the Griffith Consveratory in L.A. I have too.”

You find yourself leaning back a little more, smiling enjoying the company you keep. Kuroo presses you more against him giving you an embrace of some sort, before he guides you to turn to face him. His hands remain on your waist when you finally face him, an eyebrow quirks up from you. You note the hooded gace his amber hazel eyes give you while reflecting the golden green flecks from the twilight hour.

“I’m going to kiss you now, is that ok?” His question dances in the distance between your lips. You’re not as far as you think when you nod, teasing him that you owe him one proper one anyway. He chuckles before taking a final look of your strawberry tinted lips through his hooded gaze; his kisses, you found out, are slow and demure at first (very much in the same way as when you test the waters at the heated pool of your university indoor one). When he pulls away, Kuroo notices your arms are pressed against the lapels of his long sleeve shirt.

“One more,” you miss the sensation of his lips and you find yourself smiling a bit more when he listens to your request. Kuroo kisses you honestly this time, because he thinks you ought to be kissed frequently by someone who knows how. You nip at his bottom lip sort of asking his persmission, which he grants a little too eagerly when you tilt your head more to the right to deepen this secondary kiss. You feel his hand rise away from your waist to support the base of your neck, losing his hand in your hair. One of yours also loops more confidently around his neck when he stands up straighter and away from the hood of his car. You taste of sunshine and as cliche as he would sound when he talks to Kodzume later, he’d compare it to a summer’s first love; the man is smitten clearly when you break apart for air. His eyes are closed still when you press your forehead against his. You caress the nape of his neck, sort of stunned his charcoal colored hair is softer than a feathered boa; your eyes also close while you two catch your breath until you breathe in rhythm with the other.

“Tell me you want to see where this goes,” Kuroo’s voice takes a boyish innocent quality. Instead of a formal reply, you in your kiss-drunk state, choose to slide your lips against his, more firm than before. You are stronger than you realize when you stand your ground in your resolve to make sure Kuroo knows your answer; kisses from you can be one of three things: first, a curious greeting; second, the feeling is mutual; and finally one of fiery assuressance this is where you choose to be. A newer emotion though emerges this time, as you feel Kuroo’s tongue swipe against your bottom lip and you respond in opening your mouth a little more: embers of a trial by fire (especially since maiming long-distance takes a lot of nerve). You may have known Kuroo for only a span of four days, but if you were to be honest with yourself, with every ounce of your being, you felt secure and equal in this liplocked embrace. You come to the conclusion that if Kuroo sensed summer’s kind warmth and stormy dreariness radiate from you, you’d tell him he tasted of autumn’s first cool breeze, his arms felt like the nuanced first cup of hot cocoa. He continues providing a kindling of your type of love and you realize together perhaps love is an open door as you find yourselves hopelessly falling through it. You don’t count the minutes when the kiss dies down this time since seconds later, Kuroo presses one final assured kiss on your forehead, he whispers, “Ok,” like it’s the easiest answer to his previous query. You glance up at his softened features to notice how flushed his cheeks must seem when the street lamps turn on. You suggest perhaps it’s time to head back to the reality of the city below, although both of you are very much wide awake.

The drive back goes by in a blur and as you sit in the same car in your own driveway, you clear your throat like you’re about to make a silly announcement. You press two fingers against your kiss swollen lips, pulling down the sleeve of your jacket to hide the last kiss bruised mark his lips left you, laughing quietly to yourself while he makes a snide remark about how next time you wouldn’t need cover-up as much because he plans on marking you in other areas. He laughs more animatedly when you utter a, “You’re fuckin’ shameless, you know that?”

“Can you blame me?”

“…no, no i can’t”

Kuroo extendis his right hand to poke your cheek when you pout, but before you bid him good night and say your thanks, your eyes dance from the left to the right of the driveway asphalt. You’re suddenly too quiet and before your date could say anything, you push the nervous thoughts to the forefront of your mind.

“Long-distance is going to suck,” you frown a bit more when you undo your seatbelt. You gauge Kuroo’s reaction as he takes a deep breath, a nod acknowledging your statement.

“If the fates allow us to be happy, we can make it work,” he says after a few beats of silence passes by. “Listen, I really, really, like you. I’m willing to give us a shot if you’re game princess.”

You don’t know if you;re more moved by his words or by his confession right then and there, yet you have this dumbstruck stare when you study his side profile. He turns to cock his yead back at you, facing you almost completely. The lackluster honey ocher eyes of his portrays an understanding of how much he knows it will drain him to keep up with your life in L.A. once you return home, but there is a quiet determination there too.

“For you, the world,” you say in a softer voice, kissing his cheek one las time, opening the passenger door. “Thank you for today, I had fun.”

“Me too. I’ll text you when I get home, don’t sleep too late though,” he sounds a bit more like his younger self when he would scold his best friend for staying up at all hours playing video games.

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—and the space between—

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #sora after hours #haikyuu x reader #sora scribbles

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aims-at-skies · 3 years

Text

HELLA LONG VILLANOS RANT PRO/CON

Anyone else tired of checking the villanos/villainous tag on here only to be met with unpopular opinions of it? Everyone has a right to their own opinion and on some things I agree. But HS, the criticisms boil down to a couple of things.

1. It wasn't what some people were expecting. Or rather it wasn't what they wanted it to be and are giving Alan and crew flack about it. (Its basically the WandaVision theorists upset that their predictions weren't canon)

2. Nitpicky stuff they dont like, like comparing characters' color tones from them and now, background shades, the insta story lines, parodying tik tok egirls, etc.

3. The misunderstanding of just how hard this project was hit to begin with, from it being made for CNLA (not even an American property, the fact that it got to be included in V&V and the CN Nexus special is huge for what they're working with), to not comprehending how economic situations are just flat out different in Mexico than in the U.S. and literally any job there is bound have something like that (even trying to explain they know better. They don't) not to mention the pandemic threw it all off schedule. The fact its still being worked on is a miracle at this point.

4. Ultimately it is a probs that they're just impatient at this point and just want to harshly criticize to distance themselves as publicly as they can and not set themselves up for disappointment.

This is not a hate post, in fact I'm just as impatient and agree on some points (particularly the length of time it takes and how the original crew was let go.) Theres a lot more stuff going on behind the scenes

But the two absolutely, most annoying things are the constant comparisons it gets to Vivziepop's works like they're a cut better in general or as proof that a series has to be like hers. To which can be easily argued that Helluva Boss is the equivalent of the Orientation videos. In which they're not the big BIG project, but a side thing meant to introduce the world at large for Villanos and Hazbin. I've seen people say that Villainous hasn't had any original footage which is total bs, because compiling all the shorts, pilot, crossovers, promotional material, secretive material, and the orientarion videos themselves clearly knock that point down.

And secondly that these criticisms have been used to turn speculations on the behind the scenes going ons into flat out lies, as if having parts of the story or even an idea of it and making it seem like the worst alternative is the only conclusion. There was an initial account, Nightfur I believe, that did the same thing except made themselves only making positive spins on the going ons which I admit is hella weird, but Petite is essentially doing the same thing on the opposite spectrum of it and honestly equally self righteous.

I'm not saying they don't have a right to their opinions, and to a certain extent, the fact that Petite's opinions are currently the what pops up most on the Villanos tag really speaks on the lack of Villainous content so on the time management she has point. I am just saying that she doesn't have to ruin it for everyone else with (my opinion) weak hot-take criticisms.

Honestly this rant comes from a place where I do enjoy what the series has so far. Not just in the personalities of the characters, but the comedy, the fact that its a Mexican made series (which one of this size has not existed on CN, idk what others they claim exist: El Tigre and Mucha Lucha were American Studio made), the little puzzles that can be deciphered in Spanish which I like that they were that way in the beginning but can accept its going to inevitably include English too. I like this phase of pre-series decoding and deciphering, and not having to full picture yet because I want to enjoy and learn about the lore in this story bit by bit. And many do to. Others don't like it thats fine and have every right to dislike the series and make their own conclusions on what happens behind the scenes.

The rest of us are just gonna keep vibin with clues, updates, and the existing content until the show drops. I have high hopes for it. I mean OTGW took a longer time to make and become what it ultimately ended up being and don't even get me started on the Gravity Falls and Steven Universe Hiatus'.

Other than that yea. This has been held in for a while but eh just had to vent and let it out. Feels better. Have a good one.

#villanos #villainous #rant #unpopularopinion #back to vibin #black hat #demencia #dr flug #505 #had the time and nothin better to do

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tippytopdays · 3 years

Text

Just a Typical Morning

literally slapped a fresh coat of paint on this little thing and did some proofreading, posting here because it's not really a story i feel like belongs on my Ao3

_____________________________________________________________

A snap. A small flare of light. A hiss. The light goes out with a brief spike of pain. The scent of nicotine filling his lungs, sitting there for a moment before being lazily huffed back out. He rolled the cig between his teeth, canines catching the paper.

For once, it was a slow day. Quiet too, if the silent city ruins said anything about it. No howling of some crazy Zed in the alleyways, no rushing of cars; nothing. Then again it’s probably something like, 6AM if he thought about it, since the sun wasn’t high enough yet to count as day.

Well as close to day as it could get, he assumed. It wasn’t like he knew anything else, anyways.

Deimos gripped the cig between his fingers, watching the flecks of tobacco sprinkle over the railing. The balcony was small, granted, but it was enough. Throw on a piece of metal or two along the railing and it even made for some quick cover if there was an attack. Overhead assault was harder to avoid, especially from so high up.

The end of the cigarette glowed dimly as he inhaled, smoke trailing into the air.

He didn’t like being up this early. It was too quiet.

Normally by now he would probably be going downstairs to fetch some grub from the cafeteria with Ford, talk about their evenings or whatever else would come up. Sometimes he’d be scrambling to get his gear on to check whatever combusted in the lower levels. Of course if it was the mercs just screwing around and breaking whatever had gotten mixed up with their roughhousing then he’d get upset. Fixing that shit isn’t easy you know, but it wasn’t worth straining his voice anyways; Ford could do that for him in spades.

He sighed in a soft plume of smoke. Really, what else can you do when the hired help has to be a bunch of knuckleheads, anyways?

Whatever it was, he definitely wasn’t throwing any parties for them that’s for sure. Last thing anyone needed was those guys keeping everyone up all night by being loud as fuck.

Another drag, a slight shake in his fingers as they met his lips.

His arms hurt like Hell from having to spend so long rewiring that at this point he was surprised they were even remotely steady at all. And when he thought about it him waking up at the ass end of dawn because the comms had crashed again was probably a good reason as to why he was up so early. Digging around in cramped crawl spaces was not how he wanted to spend his day; and being tossed into a late night mission on top of it was even lower on that list.

Damn his bed seemed real inviting, early morning or not.

When was the last time he’d slept in? Or just had a day off? Sure they’d had low days along with the high ones, but when did they get an actual break where they could relax? The last time there wasn’t some kind of emergency or chaos outside their doors was at least a decade ago at this point, maybe less. He didn’t really have it in him to care much, since he didn’t keep track of the days anymore. No point to it.

More smoke filled his lungs. He really should just get some extra shut eye, rest until he felt better.

But, for some reason, he couldn’t.

He’d snapped to awareness with a cold feeling of dread weighing down his stomach. It had been so strong he’d shot up, halfway reaching for the pistol at his bedside thinking someone was there. But there wasn’t. It was dead quiet, like the moments after a bad mission.

Maybe that’s why he was outside right now. The casual air helped to mask the intent in his eyes as he scanned the skyline.

A glint of reflected light from a nearby rooftop nearly made him crush the cig in his hands as he tensed. Eyes snapping upwards he focused, but relaxed when all he found was a few familiar faces among one of the many teams patrolling the area. He snorted, smoke curling around his face.

Another pull, the cold wash of nicotine a nice cleanse to the tension in the air.

He was overthinking this.

And after all they’d been through, who could blame him really? Being constantly on the run would make anyone look over their shoulder or keep a gun within reach. Still, it wasn’t like the Agency knew where they were this time. To add to it nothing could get through the blast doors even if it tried. They’d tested those well enough for him to be certain.

It was just a very quiet night and he wasn’t used to it. That had to be it.

The cig smoldered between his lips in one last drag before he flicked the used butt over the railing. Arms raising over his head he stretched with a groan, “Damn,” He muttered, wincing at the series of pops going up his spine, “Ya’d think I’m getting old with how I crack like a handful of spaghetti.”

He was done with his morning smoke anyways.

Mobility returned to his spine Deimos rubbed at his neck he turned his back to the city, meandering back inside. Hitting the switch beside the glass door to slide it shut behind him he glanced at the clock on the comically cluttered bedside table he owned. Yep, too early for him to be this awake, if the glaring red 7:37 was anything to go by. Well mostly glaring, since his cap was haphazardly draped over it when he’d tossed it there yesterday. Or last night, he didn’t look at it then because he was too busy flopping face first into bed.

A healthy gurgling from his stomach brought him out of his thoughts.

That’s right. He didn’t eat last night either. Not really any time to when you’re face first into the ugly end of some bastardized wiring job done nearly half a decade ago. He hummed under his breath.

Was it too early to get something from the cafeteria? It was still morning he supposed; maybe some breakfast sausage would be left this time since he’d be able to get there first for once. The thought alone was tantalizing despite the exhaustion tugging at the edge of his conscious.

Did he even change after all that sweatshop work yesterday?

Pulling at the hem of his tank top he took a whiff. Yep, stunk of old sweat and probably a hint of grease; he didn’t. Pants probably didn’t smell too great either but who would check those and not come off like a weirdo? A quick sweep of the cargo pants half hanging off his hips proved them to be good enough with no obvious stains or rips.

Deimos shrugged. It was good enough. At least he didn’t stink of blood or anything, otherwise Doc would be on his ass hard. Though it wasn’t like anyone would be able to tell the difference in this sausage fest anyways. He’d be fine for a quick early morning bite.

Just needed to grab his jacket and boots and he’d be good to go.

Deimos scratched the stubble lining his jawline while he scanned the room. He’d taken off his jacket somewhere mid collapse but he couldn’t place where. He wasn’t one to lose things—most of the time at least—but sometimes it felt like they just up and disappeared. With his luck it would probably end up in a really obnoxious place like behind the bed or something. Not like that would happen since the thing was braced up against the wall in the corner so it had to be somewhere around here.

He paused when he noticed the distinctly leather looking lump laying on the floor beside said furniture.

Oh. There it is.

Approaching the bed he picked up his jacket off the floor. It still had some dust from when he’d been crawling through the vents last night as he swiped a hand over the shoulder. He grimaced at the sticky webbing that stuck to his fingers; a few cobwebs, too. Gross. Shaking it to clear out any excess dust he threw it on haphazardly, adjusting his pants once it was snugly over his shoulders. Belt tightened up again he’d turned towards the table and nearly tripped over his own boots.

Welp, at least those weren’t far either. Glad he’d had half the mind to take those off before crashing.

Cursing a bit under his breath he snatched his cap off the clock. With a quick sweep of his hand through his hair to straighten it a bit he put his hat on and sat on the bed, scooting his boots closer with a foot. Once they were laced up and buckled he got to his feet, ready for the day—or at least, the really early morning.

He glanced at the clock again. It blinked lazily at 8AM.

Eh, early enough. But the call of some sweet breakfast sausage was not to be ignored.

The moment he turned towards the door there was a series of firm knocks. He jumped, nearly tripping again as he cracked out, “Uh, yeah?” Damn that cig wasn’t enough apparently because his nerves must still be fried from that morning.

“Deimos, it’s me.”

His lips quirked a bit, confused. Normally, Doc only went after him when something broke or got jammed up again but a glance at the tablet resting on the table face up didn’t reveal a blinking light for a missed message. Unless something went wrong in the handful of seconds he’d been standing there then why was he trying to talk to him now of all times, “Hang on.” Tromping across the room he swiped his code in, the door opening with a hiss.

Doc was standing in front of his room, arms behind his back and head turned away as he kept his focus down the hall before turning to face him. He scanned him head to foot, “You look like shit.”

Deimos rolled his eyes with a huff, “Good morning to you too, Doc.” Leave it to him to state the obvious. Not like he didn’t already feel like crap in more than a few ways. He propped an arm against the door as he nodded towards him, “What’s up?”

2B stood a bit straighter, and just by his posture alone he had a feeling that whatever he was going to say wasn’t good, “Boss called in this morning, we have another assignment.”

Well he wasn’t wrong.

Deimos sighed, traces of smoke licking at his tongue as he tossed his head back, “Seriously? Now? Doc I haven’t eaten yet.” As if to prove his point his stomach made yet another unhappy glug. Both men glanced down, the tech sweeping a hand towards it with brows raised.

“I can tell.” Doc merely returned his gaze placidly, “Have you seen Sanford yet?”

He shook his head, “Nah. Haven’t left until now.” Though if he were to take a guess, he’d say the demolition’s expert would be working out somewhere.

It seemed they shared the same thought as 2B nodded, “I assume he might be downstairs at this hour. I did hear some commotion from one of the training decks.”

He chuckled a bit. Typical Ford.

“I want you to be ready within the hour, Deimos. You’ll get to eat when you get back. I’ll tell the staff in the kitchen to keep something in the oven for you.” He turned around, fully intending to leave before adding, “And also, get some washing done when you get back. You smell like a corpse.” With that he took his leave while Deimos scowled at his back.

Great. Of course it would be doc who’d notice.

Still he only sighed, punching the code into the panel to lock the door behind him. Getting his gear from the locker he had downstairs would only take a couple of minutes, and Ford should already be up if he was taking up a training room.

Just another day in Nevada, per the usual.

Things never really change.

#madness combat #Deimos #2BDamned #my writing #fun

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gilly-bj · 3 years

Note

Sorry not to be rude ( I prolly worded this better in my head lol ) but when people say "isayama doesn't owe us anything" fr writing a bad ending or whatever, I laugh because he does??? ?? We are the audience , aot is source of income where do you think the money comes from? A fucking tree? It's a give & take relationship. As viewers we have the very right to criticize and ask for a better ending but in 139's case that's not even good enough, we need proper explanation for so many plot holes hello?? Even Isa himself believes that he needs to make the majority happy which is precisely why he went online searching for reviewed and comments from ppl. That's why it's a fan service ending bc the vast majority are either Ems who thrash ehs or ship em by default + ema Stans. And yes he did admit to making changes due to his editors in the past and if that ain't evident enough for the possibility that the ending in fact was charged last minute. Yes isayama can make mistake he is a human and he even said he regrets the ending which clearly tells us that it's the not the ending he wanted. Idk ppl be like "fans think as if they can make better ending" but yes it's true they can actually🤨 , if Isa himself isn't happy with it that means someone else CAN in fact make a better ending because surprise surprise Isa isn't the ONLY ONE with an understanding to his story and decent reading comprehension. It's okay to admit the ending was bad just because the entire series until that point has been a masterpiece, criticism isn't disrespectful it's having common sense to not blindly love what your favs puts out. Em Shipers are now screaming "y'all don't understand the interview" the fuck? How long are they gonna gaslight EHS even after continually getting what they want when are they gonna stop acting like it's not just EHs who didn't like the ending. Eh, Eren being the father made sense for the plotline, unbiased people can have no trouble admitting that. Em was picked up from the trash as a wallmart version of Romeo & Juliet ( even then they lacked "true love" concept by 100% ) at the cost of mikasa's character development. I remember defending 138 and I quote myself saying "isayama gave Mikasa the development of a lifetime" but now I can't even say that anymore because caniconally there is no evidence that supports that anymore. And I'm open to Mikasa critcisism bc i actually cared about her as an individual character. The way the news of Eren X Mikasa love comedy upseted me is because even as a joke we are gonna be stuck in that "Mikasa showed Erne how to love 😍😍💔" agenda with that collection 🤢🤢. Whatever the fuck I do not care anymore ( but I really do ) I just hope what we get for rivamika adds to the theory of Mikasa moving on and does not mess up our healing pace as fandom, I rest my case. 🕳️🏃‍♀️

Hi my dear @ackermanshoe and thank you for this looong ask!

Okay joking apart, I agree with you. “Isayama doesn’t owe us anything” doesn’t make sense; when you post something online, it isn’t yours anymore. AOT is famous worldwide, he hasn’t written it just to keep it in a drawer of his desk. He’s giving us something, which is the time and “effort” he puts in creating the story, and we are giving him something else, popularity and money, that obviously doesn’t make happiness but we must accept that it is important. I don’t think he’s the type of person that just cares about the money; if he was, he would have stopped with season 3 but despite the fact that he was tired he decided to give aot a conclusion with the last arc that unfortunately ended the way we know. So I think that something happened; for me, it’s both his readers’ and editor’s fault. He probably saw many of them disliking the Marley Arc and when the editor talked with him about Erem*ka and the other fanservice shits we got in 139, he just said “ok fine” since he was tired of everyone. Rereading 139, the Erem*ka scenes really look like some kind of sarcastic criticisms towards their relationship. It looks like he made fun of it since everything is really absurd and stupid. And even if he didn’t owe us anything, we would have had the right to express our disappointment; when you work with audience you have to be ready to accept compliments and criticisms. Those excuses to me sounds like the words of an e* that doesn’t accept others opinion about their “canon” ship ☠🤡 They don’t understand that it’s not about shipping, everyone who just looked deeper into the story and wanted and expected the best for the last chapter didn’t like it, even non shippers. Some say it’s fine because everyone is alive but i don’t understand how can you say they are alive when their characters were fucking ruined, they are physically alive but those are not the characters we knew, especially Eren. Even non shippers said that Erehisu made more sense than E*, their ship is completely baseless; we have not misinterpreted the story for 11 years it was just obvious that Eren didn’t love Mikasa; it was confirmed various times that he saw her as a mum and not as a lover and where’s this extreme care he felt for Historia. When did he show that care for Mikasa ☠🤡??? He was ready to kill all his friends, including her. And the “Mikasa taught Eren how to love” is so disgusting that i can’t believe someone actually has the audacity to say that. What love? Does it look like love to you? When you love someone you want the their happiness and Eren said that he didn’t want Mikasa to be happy. He treated her like an object and that’s not romantic, AT ALL. It’s not about shipping it’s just that you have a completely wrong mentality if you think that treating a woman, a man, or basically a breathing human being like that is fine. Mikasa deserves more than a man like Eren, she deserves someone that respects her and loves her. I can’t believe there’s someone in this world that thinks that it’s an healthy relationship. Look, if you are an Erem*ka shipper and you think that their relationship is fine you better leave my blog because, honestly, a person with this wrong mentality doesn’t deserve my respect. Now, I’m sorry for this long post, but I had to vent out my frustration about e*.

These are just opinions but I don’t regret a single word that is written here.

#gilly bj #ask me anything!#answering ackermanshoe

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seeker-of-the-stars · 3 years

Note

Can I ask for tfa bee meeting idw bee please

"C'mon, why don't we go for a bit of racing, huh? If you're really me from another dimension, I know you'll like that."

Bumblebee rose an optic ridge at his counterpart. "Didn't Optimus say those are illegal? And dangerous?"

"Pssh, Optimus says all kinds of things. I've been there dozens of times and I've never once gotten hurt."

Bumblebee let out an ex vent. It was already past midnight and he wanted to get a good night of rest so he could focus on finding a way back home in the morning. If he didn't get back to Cybertron soon, no doubt Starscream would find a way to undermine him and still his post...

"I'm sorry Bee, but I really can't. Why don't you ask Bulkhead to go with you? You guys seem close."

"Bulkhead?! You must be joking," Bumblebee said. "Look, I love the guy like a brother but he couldn't win a race if his life depended on it."

"Well, I need to get some recharge for tomorrow. Maybe some other time."

Bumblebee let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, I get it. You're like, the president of Cybertron or whatever back home and you think this whole thing is stupid. It's okay, everyone else does too, I should be used to it by now."

Bumblebee cursed to himself. He should know better than to fall for such cheap tricks by now, and yet...

"Okay, fine. I'll go with you."

His counterpart's optics lit up. "You mean it?!"

"Just this once," he emphasized. "Mostly because I'm hoping to get back home as soon as I can."

Bumblebee grinned. "This is going to be the most fun you've ever had in your life, just you wait!"

***

Bumblebee decided this was the most stressful night of his life.

Okay, maybe not the most stressful, he's had some doozies over the millennia. But this was definitely up there.

"Ow! Hey, watch it!" Bumblebee hissed as the black Ferrari beside him pushed him out of the way. While he wasn't able to see it, he could feel the giant scratch on his side.

"Sorry kid, you're playing with the big boys now," the driver on the other side of him mocked. His hair was blond and slicked back, and his eyes a dull green. He smirked in Bumblebee's direction. "If you can't handle it, then get out of the way." The man then pressed on the gas, zooming in front of the little yellow car.

"C'mon Bee! Are you just gonna take that?" His counterpart drove up beside him. "We gotta beat him for sure now, to show him who's boss."

"This was a terrible idea, I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Bumblebee groaned.

"It's not that bad, that guy's just a jerk. Now come on, I know you can do it."

"Bumblebee. I'm tired, and I want to go back home before I get my bumper knocked off."

"What?! You can't quit in the middle of a race!" his counterpart exclaimed. "We've only got a few blocks left, then we can go home. I promise."

Bumblebee sighed. "Fine."

"Great! Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a race to win."

With that, his counterpart shot off in front of him, whooping all the way.

Shaking his head, Bumblebee transformed back to his root mode and checked his side where he was hit. There was a surface level scratch and a bit of spilled energon, but luckily nothing he'd need Ratchet for. That didn't stop it from hurting like hell though.

He stopped when he saw the black car who had scratched him crash into his counterpart up ahead, running him off the road.

"Ahhhh!" Bumblebee cried as collided with the metal railing.

He heard the driver laughing as he drove off. "Maybe you should get a sturdier car next time. That little bug off yours can't take a hit."

"Bumblebee!" Bumblebee cried out. He rushed over towards his counterpart. "Are you alright?"

His counterpart transformed back into his root mode, and coughed up some energon. "I'll live," he gave him a weak smile. "But now that asshole is going to win."

"Maybe not," Bumblebee smirked. He transformed back, and looked at his counterpart. "Can you move on your own?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll meet you at the finish line."

***

Bumblebee didn't think he had ever driven so fast in his life.

A small part of his processor forced him to keep a look out for pedestrians and other drivers, but the bigger, much louder part was filled with an unbridled rage. If that stuck up, wannabe badass wanted to pick on his friends, he'd have another thing coming.

It wasn't long before he caught up to the owner of the Ferrari. Without thinking, he immediately slammed into his bumper.

"Hey!" he heard the driver yell from his window. "This car is worth more than your life!"

"Not mine, but maybe yours," Bumblebee slammed into the car once again, earning a squawk of outrage from the driver.

After a final hit, the black car pulled over to the side, and the driver stormed out. "You want to fight? Fine! Then get out of your little bug and face me on your own two feet."

"As you wish," Bumblebee transformed to his root mode, and smirked down at the driver. While he was a minibot and therefore shorter than most Cybertronians, he was still at least twice the size of a human.

"You still want to fight?"

"You! You're one of them!" The guy's eyes lit up with horror. "What are you doing here?"

"A friend dragged me out," Bumblebee said. "Speaking of my friend; when you were just messing with me, I was ready to let it go. You know, forgive and forget." He picked up the man with one hand, holding him like a child with a doll.

"But then you hurt my friend, and I don't feel so forgiving anymore."

"W-Wait, please!" the man pleaded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I'll give you however much you want, just don't eat me, or whatever you guys do with humans!"

"We don't-" Bumblebee sighed. What was he doing, threatening a human, even a human as awful as this one? If only Optimus could see him right now...

"I don't want your money. Just... get out of here and don't come back. He doesn't want to ever see you again, and neither do I. Understand?"

"It's a deal," the man said with great relief. He looked over at his half mutilated car. "But I think I might need a ride home. Do you think you could..."

"Absolutely not," Bumblebee said. He transformed back to his alt mode, driving off toward the finish line.

***

"Hey Bee."

His counterpart grinned up at him from his berth in the medbay. "Hey, yourself."

It took some convincing, but Bumblebee was finally able to allow Ratchet to look over his injuries. Luckily none of his injuries were permanent or too severe to be fixed, but he still needed a few days of rest to recover.

"Did you get in a lot of trouble?"

"Eh, nothing I'm not used to. Optimus gave me a pretty lengthy lecture and I'm only allowed out for missions for the next two weeks, but nothing too bad. If anything, he seemed more worried than mad."

"That's Optimus for you," Bumblebee said.

There was a few moments of silence before his counterpart spoke up. "Hey... I'm sorry I kind of put a dent in your plans to get home. I know you're really worried about Starscream, and well, who can blame you? I just thought it would be fun to have, y'know, a twin around for a bit. One I could have some fun with."

Bumblebee rose an optic ridge. "Is that what you think of me as? Like a twin brother?"

"I mean, I guess? I know we're not actually twins, but there really isn't a word to describe your relationship with yourself from an alternate universe."

"I suppose not," Bumblebee smirked. "Well, I'll leave and let you get some rest."

"You'll still be here when Ratchet lets me go right?" His counterpart asked before he left. "You won't leave without saying goodbye?"

Bumblebee smiled. "Of course not. Now get some sleep."

#tfa bumblebee #idw bumblebee #fanfic #drabbles #thanks!

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obsidiancreates · 4 years

Text

A Day of Unexpected Truths (Part Two)

Cavendish refuses to make eye contact as he and Dakota get out of the van to grab their gear.

“Are you feeling okay? You’re bein’ really weird,” Dakota remarks.

“I’m fine,” Cavendish says stiffly.

“... Yeah, I don’t believe you.”

“Well, that’s hardly my problem, now is it?”

“Come on,” Dakota says, dragging out the last word. “You know you want to open up, you always feel better when you vent.”

Cavendish hesitates. “Did you really mean it when...”

“When what?”

“... I mean, what possibly drove you to make those comments about my... appearance, in this jumpsuit?”

“Oh, that? I dunno, just said what I thought.”

“... So you meant it?”

“Course I did. You’re a good-looking guy, Cavendish.”

Cavendish pauses. No-one’s... ever actually said that to him before. Well, his mom would call him handsome when he was child, but that was more to encourage him to comb his hair and keep his clothes clean.

“Aww, hey, you’re blushing. That’s adora-”

Cavendish snaps out of it, sweeps up his equipment into his arms, and runs off. “Let’s get going, alien trash waits for no man!”

Dakota watches him, and smiles. Yup. That thing really flatters Cav’s frame.

After a moment he goes back to grabbing his stuff. Then throws on his tunes, and heads over.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dakota does a little shimmy-dance as he works. Cavendish can’t help but keep glancing at his partner.

Dakota hasn’t made any more... remarks, yet Cavendish still can’t seem to relax. He’s almost anxious about it happening again (if he didn’t know better, he might mistake the feeling for wanting Dakota to say something again).

Dakota’s eyes are closed as he works, and Cavendish can’t help but marvel at how... peppy, Dakota manages to be about this job. He just makes the most of it, hardly complains, always looks on the bright side...

Dakota catches him staring. Cavendish freezes.

“What, you think I look good in the jumpsuit too?” Dakota asks with a grin.

Cavendish splutters. “I- what are you- no! No, I-I was simply wondering how on Earth you can be so jaunty while picking up garbage!”

Dakota shrugs. “I’ve got my tunes, it’s not too hot, I get to spend a lot of time with you, some of this trash is kind of interesting... what’s not to like, you know?”

“The heat, perhaps?”

"Eh, not hot enough to ruin things.”

With that the conversation fizzles out, and Cavendish goes back to cleaning, making a point of not looking at Dakota.

That it, until he hears something unignorable.

“Hey hey! This one is one of my favorites, reminds me of you!”

Cavendish freezes in place, and whips his head to the side to gawk at Dakota.

“You have a song that remind you of me?”

“Yeah, I’ve got like a dozen of ‘em,” Dakota answers with a smile. “Wanna hear it?”

“...I suppose...”

Dakota unplugs his headphones, and the song begins to play aloud.

Cavendish finds himself bopping a little to it. It’s quite catchy, actually, a little faster tempo than he usually likes but the tune is good, and the singer’s voice is lovely. Though thanks to the background noise of the outdoors he does find himself having to get closer in order to hear the lyrics...

...

Wait a moment.

“Dakota, is that a-a love song?”

Dakota pauses his little dance, and listens. “I’d call it more of a pining song, but sure. I mean, when I think of love songs I usually think of the classics, you know, like Gitchee Gitchee Goo, but I guess this kinda counts-”

“And it reminds you of me?!”

“Yeah. Why, do you not like it? I saw you bopping your head, you like it.”

“But- the sound is not the issue here, Dakota!”

“Sheesh, no need to get so worked up. Look, I can plug my headphones back in if you want-”

“Yes! Please do so immediately!”

Dakota does, and goes back to humming along as he picks up trash.

Cavendish tells himself that the heat is in face is simply a mixture of mortification and possible sunstroke (and not at all being flattered, heaven’s sake no, not possible) as he too goes back to his work.

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(What? Me, updating a fic the day after posting the first chapter? Inconceivable...)

#milo murphy's law #dakavendish #vinnie dakota #balthazar cavendish #fluff #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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terreisa · 3 years

Text

Love Down the Line: Chapter 10

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch. When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept. Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones. With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, AO3

~*CS*~

On the road between Oakland and Portland, May 27th

Emma felt the mattress dip slightly behind her. She curled in on herself but there wasn’t much room in the bunks of the bus for her to completely avoid whomever it was. It didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try though, stubbornly keeping her gaze fixed on the wall and not making a peep.

“I’m not going away until you tell me something,” Ruby sighed. She shifted and Emma felt her stretch out next to her, “You can’t avoid it forever. It might help to talk about it.”

“What’s there to say?” She asked dully. “It’s all over the internet.”

From the moment she’d stormed out of the office building she’d been hounded by paparazzi. Her Instagram was full of comments that ran the gamut from cussing her out for kicking Killian off the tour to cussing her out over the leaked, and very edited, audio from her ranting at Walsh. Will had informed her with an impressed grin that she’d been trending on Twitter for two days along with the hashtag MissHighandMighty. The only good thing that had happened was Regina was too busy putting out fires to rail at her in person over what she probably saw as her failings and shortcomings. Instead she’d received and ignored multiple texts that clearly communicated Regina’s increasing frustration with her. She’d blocked Killian’s number completely.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Ruby chided. She paused, “He’s been calling me, asking what happened. I’ve been letting them go to voicemail, mostly because I don’t know if you want me to answer or what really happened actually, but even if I did I wouldn’t say anything. Chicks before dicks and all.”

Emma felt herself smile, her first real one in three days, “Yeah, but that’s how you like it. Dorothy okay with you being out here?”

“Eh-” she could feel Ruby’s shoulders lift behind her in a shrug, “She knew I’d be touring when we first hooked up. We just got a few extra weeks before it actually happened. She wasn’t too happy with the drop everything and catch a red eye to LA part of it all, though. We were about to go on a date, by the way, so thanks for that.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, feeling a bit guilty.

“You can make it up to us later,” Ruby said matter of factly. “Nice attempt at a deflection by the way.”

“Thought I’d try,” she muttered.

“And if I was Tink it might have worked but I’m not so it didn’t. Time to spill.”

She closed her eyes. It was just one of the many moments she’d been dreading since seemingly everything in her life had imploded. In a sort of grim twist of luck it was going to be one of the easier of the conversations she knew needed to happen. With a resigned sigh she opened her eyes and turned onto her back, though she kept her gaze trained on the underside of the bunk above her.

“How much did you know?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the accusation out of her voice. “Did Regina tell you I’d only go for it if you were the one to bring him in? Did he flirt and flatter his way into getting you to agree to helping him re-jumpstart his career through me?”

Ruby let out a harsh burst of air, clearly surprised by her question. She could almost feel the glare aimed at her but kept her eyes focused upward.

“If you really thought that you wouldn’t have made me fly all the way out here to replace him,” Ruby said harshly. Then she sighed, “I didn’t know what plans Regina had for him or his career but I did know that he’d signed with her. It’s why she didn’t put up a fight when I suggested he take my place on the tour. I thought you knew that.”

“No. I clearly didn’t,” she said shortly.

Ruby sighed again, “Okay, but to be fair it also wasn’t this big secret. He was just a substitute guitarist, you even told him that.”

“Yeah, well, he turned out to be more,” Emma muttered, hating the catch in her throat.

“Emma-” Ruby lifted herself up on her elbow and hovered over her, her eyes wide, “Did you fall for him?”

“No. We were just…”

She couldn’t force the words ‘having fun’ off her tongue. Instead she gave a one shoulder shrug, hoping Ruby would get the idea. That Ruby’s first instinct was dead on wasn’t something Emma wanted to dive into.

Ruby narrowed her eyes and studied her before smirking and flopping back down beside her, “Whatever you two were ‘just’ doing it definitely wasn’t ‘just’ fucking.”

Emma couldn’t help twitching at Ruby’s matter of fact statement. She hadn’t known that Ruby was a goddamn psychic. Looking over at her suspiciously she was annoyed to see Ruby looking like a cat that got the canary.

“What did Tink tell you?”

“Oh, it wasn’t Tink,” Ruby said with a sing-song tone, “Will has been complaining non-stop about having to share a room with Tink. Apparently glitter ruins a man’s reputation.”

“He’s with Belle, he shouldn’t be worrying about his reputation,” Emma grumbled. Then she sobered, “He’s not telling everyone about that is he?”

Ruby’s grin faded, “You know he wouldn’t do that.”

“I don’t know what anyone wouldn’t do anymore,” she whispered.

“Emma-” Ruby turned onto her side and grabbed her hand, squeezing it, “I’m on your side, always, but you haven’t even given Killian the chance to explain himself.”

She scoffed, “You haven’t heard what Walsh actually told me. He said that Regina was the one that told him to bring up Killian getting back into music. She had to have planned it all out with Killian at that goddamn lunch, gotten his okay to do it that way. There’s fucking pictures of them shaking on it right before Regina came to the studios.”

That had been the final blow. She had been in line at a grocery store the day after the disastrous interview, waiting to buy emergency Milk Duds and microwave popcorn. Killian had been calling and texting her with increased frequency and she’d ignored them all. Her phone had started buzzing in her hand again and in her fumbling to pull it out of her pocket she’d dropped the Milk Duds. When she’d bent to pick them up her gaze had caught on a tabloid with a blown up picture of Killian, Regina and Robin seated on the patio of a restaurant, the remains of their meal strewn across the table. Killian and Robin had been shaking hands while Regina looked on in satisfaction. Emma had dumped the candy and popcorn into a basket of french bread and fled the store, blocking Killian’s number as she did.

“There’s pictures of them sharing a meal,” Ruby said, being annoyingly pragmatic, “And that was a paparazzi shot, so you don’t know that they were plotting anything.”

“He never told me Regina was going to be there,” she said harshly. “I was almost willing to hear Killian out, eventually. He kept calling and texting and I thought maybe I should give him a chance to explain. Then I saw that fucking picture. I asked him what he was going to do that day and he lied straight to my face. He said he was hanging out with Robin and his son. No mention of Regina or lunch meetings or that he had even started recording again. He’s lied to me at least twice that I know of and I have no idea how many more he’s told me since we met.”

She was breathing heavily and as much as she wanted to yell, scream out her frustrations and heartbreak, she was all too aware of the others on the bus waiting for her to do just that. Tink and Will had been watching her closely for days and while deep down she knew they’d never blab to reporters or post anything on social media they also weren’t the ones she wanted to talk to. Ruby had been her friend the longest and should have been the perfect person to unload on but Emma still felt like a powder keg, ready to explode. With a heavy heart she realized that the one person she wanted to vent to was the one person she wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

“So you’re just going to ignore him? You never want to know what was really going on?” Ruby asked incredulously.

“I can find that out from Regina. She’s underhanded and does things on her own terms but she never lies about it. At least not when you ask her straight up,” she said bitterly.

“And don’t you think Killian would too?”

A week earlier she would have been absolutely sure how she would have answered. Instead she felt as though the rug had been pulled out from beneath her and she’d yet to find her footing.

“I’m just not ready to talk to him yet,” she hedged, knowing Ruby would keep at her like a dog with a bone. “Can we just… not talk about it at all anymore?”

“Okay,” Ruby acquiesced after a small pause where she’d merely looked at her, “but can I ask one more thing?”

Emma rolled her eyes and huffed, “Fine. What?”

“Were you happy?”

Her breath hitched in her throat and her heart clenched in her chest. She thought back to the couple of times that she’d woken up before him, able to look at him without a suggestive wag of his eyebrows or salacious twinkle in his eye. There were the nights they stayed up too late, either on the bus or in their room, talking about everything and nothing. He’d made soundchecks less of a chore as he joked around with Will or teased Tink about the romance novel that was always sitting on top of whatever flat surface was nearest. Then there’d been the moments when she’d look at him only to find him already watching her with a soft smile that she was helpless to return.

The memories only made the sting of his betrayal hurt all the more.

“I really, really was.”

For the first time since her world came crumbling down she let herself cry. She’d held herself together with nothing more than stubborn will and ignoring everything that didn’t have to do with the next show. As she curled into Ruby’s arms with heaving sobs she vaguely realized it might not have been the best strategy.

Slowly, and nearly a whole box of tissues later, Emma regained control of herself. Ruby was still curled around her, gently rubbing her back. She was vaguely aware that at some point Ruby had been whispering to her but she had no idea what she’d been saying. It didn’t matter much, not when just being there meant more to her than anything Ruby could have said.

“I’m sorry,” Emma murmured, her voice wavering and her nose sounding stuffed.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Ruby said, tugging on a lock of her hair, “You’re just lucky this was a tour shirt you ruined with all your snot and tears.”

Emma snorted and pulled back but only got an inch away before Ruby crushed her back to her. She sighed in annoyance even though she hadn’t really wanted to leave the comfort of her embrace.

“You’re going to have to let me go eventually,” she said, even as she relaxed.

“Eh, there’s still a few hours until it’s absolutely necessary,” Ruby said, squeezing her harder.

“What if I have to pee?”

“Babe, you just cried out all of your bodily fluids. If anything you’ll need a Gatorade but I’ll just yell at Will until he brings it to us-” Ruby scoffed. Emma felt her tense slightly before she asked quietly, “Do you want me to block Killian’s number?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to say yes. She felt like she should want to cut Killian out of her life completely. To make him feel even a sliver of the hurt and uncertainty she was feeling. However there was something deep inside her that recoiled from that idea, that despite the hell she was going through she still cared enough about him to want to minimize his pain.

“No,” she sniffled, “He’s your friend too.”

“Not right now he’s not. I mean, I still think you should hear him out but maybe he kinda deserves the cold shoulder for a week or two.”

She shrugged, knowing that Ruby would probably ice Killian out for a month instead. Which, of course, meant that after that she would most likely put all her energy in encouraging him not to give up. Then Ruby would simultaneously be wearing her down to get her to call him. Even thinking about that probable future had her wanting to delete Killian’s number completely, if only to stave off the inevitable.

She fished her phone out from under the tangle of blankets. While she hadn’t turned it off completely she’d put it on silent and had pretty much ignored every text and email notification since the Walsh audio had leaked. Regina had told her she’d take care of it and Emma trusted her just enough to believe that she would.

After unlocking it she was greeted with the continued barrage of messages she’d been expecting. Unable to hold back her frustrated sigh she gave up the pretense of trying to hide what she was doing and pulled out of Ruby’s arms to prop herself up to deal with the never ending tidal wave of texts and emails. She could feel Ruby’s gaze over her shoulder but made no move to hide her screen, even in the best of times it was hard to keep her from snooping.

Scanning through the emails first she was glad to see that most of it was spam. A few were from Mary Margaret or David and she suspected that half the texts would be from them too. There was only one from Regina, though it had been sent at the beginning of the shit hitting the fan telling her to keep a low profile while everything was dealt with. With grim satisfaction she proceeded to delete the spam, glanced over the ones from Mary Margaret and David with a touch of guilt at their concern and her lack of communication with them.

The texts were another matter completely. She had been right in thinking that half were from Mary Margaret and David, reiterations of the support and concern from their emails but a touch more frantic as they progressed. After sending them a quick message that she was alive and would call them once they got to the hotel she grimaced at the ten unread messages from Regina. Having one message go unread from her was bad enough and Emma knew that when she finally responded Regina would probably reach through the phone and rip her heart out.

The first couple were innocuous, more warnings for her to lie low and to ignore whatever reporters might show up at her hotel or the venue. Several were updates on how things weren’t progressing with the fight against Walsh. Then there were the admonishments and disappointment at her continued insistence to keep Killian off the tour. The final text was a directive: Answer your goddamn phone, that had Emma wincing and noticing for the first time the little indicator that she had voicemails to listen to. Throwing Ruby a worried glance she tapped on the icon and prepared for the worst.

You have six new voice messages. To listen to your messages press one-

Message one:

“It doesn’t look like we’ll need to take legal action but be prepared for the possibility that we will. We also need to discuss the Jones fiasco.”