okay but Kat said Alec and Clary are going on missions together and Alec starts teaching her how to be a shadowhunter but then there’s something that will tear them apart but then bring them closer because they’ll bond over it. I am so here for this BROTP it’s not even funny!! Alec and Clary becoming friends will be super cool like imagine their friendship!!!!
A/N: There’s only the combo drabbles left. So those will be up soon enough! As for the one-shot native-snowflake I apologize! D: I really thought I’d be able to finish it today! I promise it’ll be up tomorrow! And due to an earlier mishap, there’s two for #46. My apologies!
41. (Thomas Hickey)
“I do-” His confusion was cut off by your lips pushing roughly against his own, both legs coming up to rest on the wooden chair so you could properly straddle him. He paused for a beat, overcome with confusion and amusement, before returning the kiss. His large hands rose, pulling you closer by the back of your thighs as his tongue left a trail of desire on your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning, body jerking as he pushed up to get closer.
You were too lost in the feel of his hands and his mouth moving in tandem, your mind addled from the lust. It wasn’t supposed to be this intimate and exploratory, but damn it all, it felt too good. Using the last bit of strength, you pulled away from him, almost giving back in when his lips chased yours like a thirsty man desperate for water.
“Now, I didn’t say I wasn’t enjoying it, but what the ‘ell was that?” A breathy laugh left your lips, your racing heart beginning to return to normal.
“A distraction,” you whispered lowly, his darkened gaze following your movements as you attempted to slide off his lap. He caught you in a strong grip, keeping you above him.
“Ah, don’t tell me you’re just goin’ ta leave me aftah that.”
42. (Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad)
Had you not felt the wet trail a single, bold tear left as it slid leisurely down your face, you might’ve believed you were numb. Your head rested heavily on your knees, both arms wrapped tightly around your legs. It wasn’t often you allowed yourself to cry, but when you did, there was always a damn good reason. And today, sadly, was no exception. You closed your eyes against the whirlwind of emotion, wishing for nothing more than it all to just leave you alone. But no, you sighed, the sound of footsteps drawing closer, you couldn’t just be left alone.
Altaïrsounded unsure and scared, reminding you of a child.
“Yes?” You croaked, cursing yourself when your voice cracked. The air was heavy with confusion,
Altaïr approaching you not unlike how one might approach a timid animal.
“I didn’t mean it.” He whispered, knowing he’d messed up. A ghost of a smile graced your lips, eyes once again opening to observe the man behind you. He was worried; hood down, hands fumbling, eyes shining, and lips pressed together. “Please don’t cry. It hurts me when you cry.”
43. (Desmond Miles)
“I told you this was the wrong way.” Desmond grumbled, his hand tugging you back towards the street you’d just come from. Despite the annoyance in his tone, he still had a smile on his face, his golden eyes completely focused on you.
“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “Let’s just hope this is the right way then.” You replied, a hint of teasing in your voice. He noticed it, a brilliant chuckle bubbling up his throat.
“Oh, it’s going to be the right way.” He stated firmly, the hand interlaced with your own jerking you into his chest. He dropped it, instead choosing to rest both hands on your hips. “And if it’s not,” he began, leaning down closer to your lips, “then we’ll just try another.” You managed a small smile before he closed the distance, his eyelids fluttering closed and his lips meeting yours sweetly.
You weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up this way, but you weren’t complaining in the least. Connor’s hands were spread out along your ass, pushing you closer to him, his tongue laving at the bare skin of your neck. Your legs were locked behind Connor’s waist, head thrown back and hips surging forward in the need for sweet, sweet friction. Breathy moans were escaping your mouth, both hands tangled in his dark hair.
Despite his obvious enjoyment of the situation, something was on his mind. Something that you were almost sure you knew. Every time a groan of “Connor” managed to tumble from your lips, he seemed to stumble. It wasn’t that he didn’t love this, he just wanted to hear his name roll off your tongue in ecstasy; his real name. So you delivered.
“Ratonhnhaké:ton.” Your voice was breathy and laced with desire. The brown eyes that you’d spent so long gazing into were swallowed by a sea of black, disappearing in the light of pleasure. “Ratonhnhaké:ton,” you echoed, sure to grind against him at the same time. A low growl was torn from his throat, his words dark and voice husky as he leaned forward.
“If you keep that up, we’re not making it to a bedroom.” A slow smirk formed on your face, his own mirroring yours with absolute wickedness.
45. (Shaun Hastings)
Normally you’d understand Shaun’s diligence when it came to his work, but it had been weeks since there had been any word on Abstergo and peace seemed to finally be here, if only for a bit. Unfortunately, Shaun saw that as all the more reason to work. It was frustrating you to no end, your head resting on top of your fists as you looked up to him with narrowed eyes. Honestly, it wasn’t like you were asking for a whole lot. You just wanted to spend a little bit of time with him away from the whole Templar/Assassin ordeal.
“I know what you’re thinking so just stop.” He grumbled, fingers moving along the keys gracefully without missing a beat. He could be so damn stubborn sometimes. You watched silently for a moment, the insistent sound of tapping as Shaun typed filled the void, almost taunting you to think of someway to get him out of there. And think of a way you did. Biting down on your lip, you suppressed a smile.
Schooling your expression into one of absolute innocence, you looked up at him, eyes wider than usual and sunlight shining off them like a beacon. Shaun wasn’t able to stop himself from looking, trying to figure out how he’d gotten you to be quite so suddenly. He pulled his gaze away just as quickly, trying his damndest to avoid your look.
“Don’t you dare give me puppy dog eyes.” He bit out, resolve wavering as his fingers slowed their pace. You smiled, already knowing that you won this round.
46. (Charles Vane)
“You alright?” Vane asked, his head tilted towards you. He couldn’t see much, the sun far too bright, but from what he could see, you didn’t look to be doing too well.
“Just keep moving.” You ground out, a palm pressing roughly into your side. That had been one hell of a fight, but you’d come out more or less unscathed. As for the others, well, they wouldn’t be bothering anyone else anytime soon. You couldn’t help but chuckle darkly, the action sending jolts of pain down your spine.
“That wasn’t what I asked.” He grabbed a hold of your arm, stopping you in your shaky steps. Despite the pressure of his grip, it wasn’t painful. In fact, his touch was quite comforting.
“I’m fine.” You whispered. “But we need to get out of here.” Maybe it was the ache laced in your tone or the urgency of your voice, but he dropped the topic, however reluctantly.
“I bloody well know that.” He grumbled, walking ahead of you. You smiled at the tense muscles in his back. Even if he didn’t admit it, he was worried about you, and that was something you’d never let go of.
46. (Benjamin Hornigold)
The silence was deafening, your head cast down as Hornigold looked to you expectantly. He’d just finished some lecture on how “just” the Templar cause was but you didn’t want to hear what he had to say, too angered by his actions. Why had he betrayed you?
“Will you join me?” He questioned quietly, the smallest twinge of regret in his voice. His hand reached up for you, stopping and dropping once again when he realized it might not be welcome.
“I hate you.” There was no malice in your tone, just you stating a simple, true fact. You thought you loved the man oh so long ago, but you could never think that now. You couldn’t even look at him.
“That wasn’t what I asked.” His voice was barely audible above the sounds of waves crashing against the shore outside. Your eyes slipped shut in a shoddy attempt to stave off the inevitable pain.
“I will never join you and I will never forgive me.” You didn’t need to look up to know he had dropped his head, hand going to his blade. You were a threat, one that he needed to take care of. Only, you weren’t a threat, not to him. But you had too much pride to tell him that. You held your tongue, waiting for death to drag you down in its tight grip, a tear slipping from your eye no matter how hard you tried to hold it in. You never thought it would end like this.
47. (Haytham Kenway)
You were careful to avoid any particularly small branches, knowing that should you hit one, he’d be more than aware of your presence. No, you couldn’t have that, so you continued forward, leaping gracefully to another, studier branch. You’d been following Haytham for a little under an hour, his deep blue cloak almost seeming natural against the solid white snow now. Just a few more minutes and you could strike; you could end this. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, nearly losing your balance in your cockiness of the moment.
So long as the cold winds were at your back, you were not out of the water yet. But, you were considerably closer to shore. Excitement twinkled in your eyes as Haytham stood exactly where you needed him to, your feet pushing you off the branch and towards him with a little more force than intended. A second of biting winds and you were on him, your hands pinning his arms on either side. For a full moment there was nothing but silence, his gray eyes betraying nothing as you stared into them. Ever slowly, your expression melted, a smile taking its place. His soon followed, adoration in his gaze.
“(Y/N),” he greeted, still sounding eloquent despite the fact that he was pinned beneath you.
“Haytham,” you breathed, wondering what it was he wanted. He’d left you a letter a few days ago, stating that he wished to speak with you. “What is it you wanted?”
“I think you know exactly what I want.” He growled huskily, eyes raking down your figure. You shivered, though it wasn’t entirely from the cold. You may have caught the Grand Master off guard, but he was the one that really surprised you.
48. (Jacob Frye)
Ever since you’d returned from America, Jacob had been acting different. You hadn’t been gone for very long, but the Brotherhood found it fitting that you spend a little more time amongst those who might be a better influence. Granted, Jacob and Evie weren’t necessarily bad, but you’d definitely gotten a little more aggressive since meeting the twins. You couldn’t complain too much, you’d only been gone for a few months. Not to mention, the trip wasn’t all that terrible. But from the day you returned to this very moment, Jacob had barely left your side. There were times when Evie needed to, quite literally, drag him away from you. Finally fed up with his incessant following, you turned to him with blazing eyes.
“What the hell is your problem? You’ve been following me like a lost puppy!” Immediately after your outburst, you felt a twinge of guilt. He looked so hurt, his head dropping in something akin to shame. He may have been annoying you the last couple of weeks, but that certainly didn’t give you a right to hurt him. He muttered something inaudible under his breath, top hot obscuring your view of him. “What?” You asked much quieter than last time, taking a step closer to the Englishman. A swallow worked its way down your throat when he looked to you, a strange look in his eye.
“I said,” he paused, sighing. “I missed you.” His stare caught yours, seriousness conveying in it. “I need you. I need you so bloody much.”
49. (Ezio Auditore)
Each breath sent a stab to your abdomen, the impending doom that had been looming above you for a while now, finally caving in. You weren’t going to last much longer. No matter how hard the doctor tried and no matter how hard Ezio begged, you were going to die. The thought made itself apparent in every scrape and bruise on your body. Time was dwindling with each passing second, the end presenting itself to you in the form of a bloodied sword and a scarlet stomach. The hand squeezing your own was pulling you from the embrace of death, steadfastly ignoring the beckoning of darkness. It was boldly keeping you from your own demise, guiding you back towards Earth. Only, despite its best efforts, it was only delaying the inevitable.
“Amore mio,” Ezio whispered, voice gravelly with emotion. His teeth were clenched, a clear effort to hold back his tears, to accept your fate. “I don’t ever want to live without you. Please, bella, please don’t do this to me.”
“Ezio.” His name came out like a sob, your body shaking in fear. You didn’t want to leave him, you wanted to stay. You weren’t ready to die. Your head fell limply in his directions, eyes attempting to memorize every detail of his face; from his brown orbs to the scar running through his lip, you wanted to remember it all. Your unoccupied hand reached out for his cheek, hoping to rub it along his familiar features one last time. The hope was snuffed out as your hand fell back to the ground, your eyes shutting out the world. With one last painful breath, everything disappeared. You weren’t there to hear his shouts, his cries, his pleas, his screams. You weren’t there to see his world shatter around him. And you sure as hell weren’t there to see him break.
50. (Ezio Auditore)
It was an accident, nothing more. One that most definitely could have been avoided, but an accident nonetheless. However, Ezio did not see it that way. He saw it as you being incompetent, perhaps even foolish, for attempting what you did. How were you supposed to know that there would be that many guards at a church? Honestly, what is with these people? It’s a church! There isn’t supposed to be enough guards to create a small army! Paranoia seemed to run deep in your enemies, some of them even going as far as refusing to leave their homes entirely. But bringing an army to a church was a little ridiculous. Besides, you were just using an opportunity presented to you, something that Ezio had taught you was important in your line of work. Unfortunately, that particular point doesn’t seem to extend to you trying to take out a leader of the Templar Order.
“Do you have any idea what could have happened, sciocca ragazza?” His voice was sharp, no humor present like usual. “Cosa diavolo stavi pensando?”
“It wasn’t that big-”
“Non era un grosso problema?” He laughed curtly. “It was foolish.”
“Ezio…” You tried, dropping your head to the ground. He may be mad, but he always had a weak spot for upsetting you. The guilt would just eat away at him until he caved and apologized. A few seconds ticked by, your eyes trained on the colorful carpet beneath. Just a few more minutes and…
“Mi dispiace, (Y/N).” He sighed heavily, his hand beneath your chin so you were forced to look into his eyes. “Just please,” he paused, adding to the effect of his tone, “Don’t ever do that again.” You nodded, smiling softly at him.
A short, bulleted essay about the effect of media on our thoughts and why Brooklyn 99 is a Very Important Show
Howdy folks. As you all are probably aware of by now, I started watching Brooklyn Nine Nine and it sort of … all spiraled downhill from there. No, kidding, that was a joke to break the tension. But yeah, I started watching and couldn’t stop. And, in trying to figure out why, I noticed something.
It didn’t chafe me. It didn’t set off alarm bells in my head.
Too often, I’ll start a movie or book or show that will be entertaining, enjoyable even - but then, there’s always a line, or scene, or character, or moment that has me doing a double take. That has me cringing internally. Something that’s wrong, something that’s off, something that I don’t think is necessary. It bothers me, it irks me, and it discolours the entertainment experience I’m having. And yet, every time, I push that feeling away because I’ve resigned myself to the fact that these things will appear in the media I consume, and I might as well take what I can get, because it’s either that little irk or a blatant, in-my-face smear of disgusting and (for lack of a better word) problematic attitudes.
But it didn’t happen this time. And I was so refreshed.
While the show itself can be pretty goofy, and at times even childish, I much prefer it to any of the other “more adult” media content I’ve consumed. Why? Because it didn’t have those little irks.
Not only did it not have irks - it had the opposite of irks. It had - has - anti-irks. It actually soothes the irks from the other shows.
That was partially in jest. But no, seriously. A while ago, when I’d first started watching, someone sent me an ask that read “aren’t there so many things to love about Brooklyn 99?”
And so, because you all know my love for lists, I decided to make a list.
Let’s start with the biggest one: its incredibly
diverse cast. We’ve got a cast of seven characters consisting of two black men,
one of whom is gay; three women (not counting secondary characters) two of whom
are Latina; and two white guys, one of whom is Jewish (Hitchcock and Scully are
mostly background, so I’m omitting them from the “main” cast. If their names
don’t appear on the little intro, they’re not major characters). Of the seven main characters, four of them are POC.
Two of those four are female. But here’s the thing – in each and every case,
the audience is aware of the characters’ background without it being a topic
that is either a) made the butt/punchline of a joke, b) blatantly mentioned and
brought up like it’s something unnatural or strange, or, c) completely ignored.
In all of these cases, the race, sexual orientation, ethnicity and culture of
each individual character is treated as something normal, natural, and respected.
It can be and is part of their motivation as a character, but it isn’t the
be-all, end-all of their personality (in the case of Holt, for example, the
constant discrimination against him as a black gay police officer is a driving
force in his decisions and attitude while not completely encompassing and/or
diminishing his complexity as a character in his own right). It is never seen
as unimportant, and yet simultaneously it’s made known in a gracefully,
bordering-on-subtle way that – and here’s the important thing – normalizes it. This show makes the
harmony and love between a precinct full of people from all different
backgrounds normal and natural and a good thing.
Obi-Wan Kenobi - “The Professor” - A powerful telepath with a
sheltered but tragic past. He seeks to gain knowledge and share it,
educating both mutants and humans so they may have a mutually peaceful
future. He stubbornly sticks to his idealistic beliefs and gets hurt
time and time again despite only ever trying to help others. Both of his
legs and arm are paralyzed during his parting with Anakin. (He can’t be
“Prof X” ‘cause he isn’t a Xavier see)