I honestly can’t wait for Birdie Joe Bryan-Bella to win the Women’s Championship at Wrestlemania 54 and retire the 28x champ Charlotte Flair whispering “I’m sorry, I love you” before the final Bella Buster into Yes Lock.
Characters - Reader x Dean, Sam. Word Count - 354 Warnings - Mentions of hospitals.
Walking through the hospital halls your nose scrunched up when a new wave of bleach and antiseptic cleaner hit you, your hate for hospitals had been blooming since you were 7 and had surgery after you fell from a tree whilst playing with your sister. As you rounded the corner the room to Dean’s door was shut, just how you’d left it. From outside the room, you heard a thud followed by a groan. Securing the tray of coffee cups and bag of food you opened the door, as you assessed the room you looked at Sam who was still in the spot where you’d left him, yet the bed was empty.
“Where’s Dean?” You asked as you placed the food and tray on the small table in the room. As you spoke Dean’s hand rose from the other side of the bed.
“Down here,” Dean announced with a wave.
“What the hell are you doing on the floor?” You questioned as you rushed around the bed to help him to his feet.
“I wanted to get up but they gave me morphine, a lot.” Dean looked up at you as he explained.
“Sam, why did you let him get up?”
“He told me he’d shoot me if I stopped him so I let him fall on his ass.” Sam laughed as he looked down at Dean.
“Would you just help me get his dumb drugged up ass up off the floor and back into bed.”
“I’ll get in bed if you come with me.” Dean smiled as he made grabby hands at you.
Leaning down you attempted to move Dean up off the floor, his dead weight was too much for you to lift. “Sammy please help me.”
“Hey you married him, he’s your responsibility.”
“Don’t even start with me, Winchester.” You warned as you glared at him. “You’re the reason his leg is broken in the first place.”
“I tried to stop him.” Sam defended himself as he pulled Dean up off the floor and almost threw him into the bed. “Tried and failed.”
Whatever your opinion of D&D may be, just remember one thing: they still have to stick to GRRM’s endgame. The story won’t end with something as predictable as the two main heroes of the story having a baby and living happily ever after. The following GRRM quote has nothing to do with Jonsa, but I do hope that it gives you guys some peace of mind and hope for the future of GoT:
“I’ve wrestled with [the issue of fan speculation online], because I do want to surprise my readers,” [GRRM] said, according to The Telegraph.
“I hate predictable fiction as a reader, I don’t want to write
predictable fiction. I want to surprise and delight my reader and take
them in directions they didn’t see coming … At least one or two readers
had put together the extremely subtle and obscure clues that I’d planted
in the books and came to the right solution. So what do I do then? Do I
change it? I wrestled with that issue, and I came to the conclusion
that changing it would be a disaster, because the clues were there. You
can’t do that, so I’m just going to go ahead. Some of my readers who
don’t read the boards, which thankfully there are hundreds of thousands
of them, will still be surprised and other readers will say: ‘see, I
said that four years ago, I’m smarter than you guys.‘”
ROLESWAP BETWEEN HUEY, DEWEY, LOUIE AND SCROOGE, MATILDA AND HORTENSE!!!
Little bit o’ background and info!
Huey, Dewey and Louie grew up close together before Louie decided to seek his fortune in America. After years and years of greed, Louie grew distant from his two brothers after a fight in his Money Bin.
Years later, Donald and Della, Dewey and Webbigail’s children began adventuring with Louie until one adventure goes wrong. Donald is then left to care for Scrooge, Matilda and Hortense, Della’s triplet children. Then Ducktales plot resumes as normal!
INFO ABOUT THE KIDS
Scrooge: “Adventuring isn’t about planning, it’s about doing!”
Taking on the role of Dewey
The oldest of the three, takes on the role of leader in almost everything they do
He’s extremely smart and ambitious, wanting to prove himself in almost every way
Has an ego the size of Mount. Everest
He brags about the dime he keeps in his pocket almost everyday, he claims he earned it himself, but no one really knows where it came from
Sometimes makes up stories of what he’ll do in the future “I’m going to wrestle lions and hunt for treasure!” Which worries Donald a lot
The problem child™ and usually gets all three of them into trouble, but will take all the blame
Matilda: “There’s always another way around!”
Taking on the role of Huey
Extreme worrywart, sometimes very over protective of her siblings
Super smart! Prefers to solve the mystery in things. Likes puzzles and equations that make you think.
Makes everyone travel scarves
Leader of her Chickadee Scouts troupe
Hortense: “Lying! It’s the responsible thing to do.”
Taking on the role of Louie,
Too cool for a nickname
Hortense is the youngest of the triplets and is often referred to as the ‘evil triplet’
Acts lazy but is actually depressed
Get her angry and all hell is going to break loose, she gets it from Donald
Doesn’t really like to do work, but likes to run and play around
Ludwig Von Drake: “I’m va’ BEST at fun!”
Taking on the role of Webby!
Mrs. Beakley’s foster child
Has a coat that’s much too big for him
Moved into Louie’s Manor when his parents “left”
Whatever happened to his parents affected him in such as way he now has a bit of a screw loose in his brain
Researching Lou’s family is a hobby, but Lud’s real passion is inventing!
He’s got nuts and bolts and scrap metal scattered all over his room, as well as lab equipment
When they first arrived, the triplets trigged a spring trap and were locked in a metal cage
The first time he saw Matilda he was silent for a good few seconds bC VERY PRETTY GIRL!!!!
He’s not much of an adventurer, and pretty much holds onto Matilda when he’s in a dangerous situation.
He’s aware there’s something ‘wrong’ with him, and tries not to bring it up
I love Japan. I love the atmosphere. I love the culture. I absolutely love everything about the wrestling promotion that they have there, NJPW. The promotion has built a platform for many wrestlers and they are creating future legends in the pro wrestling world and its amazing to witness that. Not only that but they also let wrestlers express their creativity and not shut down anyone’s ideas which is beautiful. So when Adam Cole and I finally got the opportunity to go with The Young Bucks we didn’t second guess it. We wanted to experience what past and present Bullet Club members experienced.
We had finally arrived and even after the long exhausting plan ride I still felt this high from excitement. We were finally in this beautiful country and I couldn’t help but have this joyful bounce in my steps as I walked along side Adam. Gazing around the beautiful airport I started sipping on some water when a camera was suddenly shoved towards my face causing me to momentarily stop walking. Focusing my attention to the person who was holding the camera I noticed it was Matt. He had this expression on his face that I had grown all too familiar with. He was about to be a little shit and it was going to be on tape. Closing my bottled water I waited on the older Jackson to speak.
“-Y/N how does it feel to just be a few minutes away before you are face to face with the love of your life Tammma Tongaaa!!” Shit. Fuck! I was so caught up in the excitement of going to Japan that I forgot about that insufferable man. I am fucked.
“Hey Matt! Maybe we can save the teasing for later? It is waaay too early for this shit! How about you film something else?” Thank you Adam you beautiful beautiful human being. Matt letting out a soft laugh and a quick apology decided to catch up to Nick who had slightly wandered away from us.
I started to panic. How was I going to survive a week with the man that got under my skin instantaneously. He was rude. Being the only female member in the Bullet Club made me a target for his crude remarks. He was cocky. Fuck was he cocky! He believed he could get any woman to get on their knees for him. He was the bane of my existence. Yet I was stuck between wanting to hit him as hard as I can or just fuck him to oblivion. Yea I was soo fucked.
My thoughts started to drift and I was starting to get hot when I pictured having my way with him in the middle of the ring. Or maybe in the BC’s locker room. Better yet it should be in Los Ingobernables de Japon locker room just to fuck with them further. God I wanted to do many many many things to that insufferable man. But I can’t…he is an absolute vile man to me. I refuse to be another notch in his belt. He has to earn me. Show me that there is more to him and that his crass behavior is merely a facade. Feeling an arm around my shoulders caused my internal battle to cease. I tilted my head up and noticed the sly smile on Adam’s face almost as if he knew what I was just thinking. I wouldn’t have doubt it either; he was my best friend after all. He has heard numerous rants and conflicting thoughts that I would spiel about our fellow BC member. He has heard it all. He made a slight tsk sound muttering how I needed to just make a move already. Giving him a slight shove and ruffle to his tied up hair I started to relax under his arm as we started walking again trying to catch up to the Jackson brothers.
Japan please be good to me because I know that Tama Tonga will not be.
As always for @svu-stories to make her smile!!! Part of the Charity Event Challenge suggested by @yourtropegirl!!! Enjoy, everyone!!!
“They’re not done.”
“I know. I can explain.”
“They’re ice cold!”
Tossing a towel to the floor, you sighed at the sight of the
bacon wrapped dates stuffed with blue cheese and charged past Derek in search
of the oven. The dial showed that it was set to 375 degrees, but you could
stick your arm in the stove without the threat of a burn. Falling
to your knees with no care as to whether you stained your crisp black slacks,
you peered behind the appliance and realized that the damned thing was unplugged.
“Heat makes food edible,” you groaned. “A fucking caveman
figured that much out when he clubbed his meal to death and shit his loin cloth
for two days straight with prehistoric salmonella. Because he didn’t build a
And it wasn’t just the appetizers. The crowned rack of lamb
looked as if it was still packed in ice, and your eyes shot daggers
at the staff as Derek simply scratched his head.
“I… the guy in charge said it just needed some time to warm
“Great! If we were hosting a breakfast benefit we’d be right
on schedule,” you scoffed. “But I’m pretty sure the invitation read dinner at
7:30. So unless every man, woman and child on the guest list is about to take
fashionably late to a new level, we are screwed with nothing to show for it!”
Which in some ways was the story of your life.
Kicking the stainless-steel counter, you winced in pain and
ignored Derek’s attempt to massage the moment. Not that you ever wanted to come
up short when it came to a gig. But of all nights… this event was designed
to raise funds for seniors in need of in-home caregivers. The cause was close
to Rafael’s heart for reasons that still made him toss and turn and bolt awake with
tears in his eyes. Soon he would arrive so that no other grandchild, present or
future, would ever have to wrestle with the idea of letting their loved one
down, and you wanted to put your best foot forward, to do right by the cause…
…and him above all
How the hell were you supposed to make that happen with uncooked
fare? Not to mention the cookies that were little more than slimy batter. Maybe
you could serve it with spoons and call it an innovation destined to take the
culinary world by storm. If everyone drank enough champagne and chased it with
tequila that might fly.
Who were you kidding? There wasn’t enough liquor in the
world to mask your gross incompetence.
“Ah the calm before the storm.”
Startled while you looked out a long window, you caught sight of Rafael sauntering towards you
in a sleek silver suit paired with a light blue tie. Of course he had to be the first to guest to show
up, and you shook your head when he clasped your arms and placed a quick kiss
of your brow.
“I know, I know,” he said. “Pay no attention to the goddess
working her magic behind the curtain.”
“When did I ever say—?”
“The first time was when you wagered you could cook a tuna
melt that would make me rethink the merits of fish and cheese,” he reminded
you, and a picture from the past filled your mind. He mentioned sandwiches after
you spent a lazy Sunday afternoon watching old movies and smiling as he told
you that he remembered the first time he saw Bette Davis in this one or Cary
Grant in another. Every viewing at his abuelita’s
knee. So sweet to imagine him as a little boy getting a grand education in old-fashioned
romance. And the quiet secret they shared, that wherever life took him, any
time he viewed frames made more beautiful by black and white, his abuelita would also be watching and
thinking of him.
How he had believed that she might accept the assisted
living facility simply because they promised movies and they could stay connected
“I wish you hadn’t said that,” you muttered.
Biting down on your lip and blinking back a few tears, you
turned towards the kitchen that might as well be a walk-in freezer and wondered
if there was some way that you could escape out the back. Because wherever that
sweet old woman was now, she wasn’t watching a movie. Only a farce that negated
your ability to fashion that simple tuna melt when a banquet was about to come
“What’s all this about?” he asked.
Stepping swiftly to cut you off at the pass, he centered his
palms on your shoulders. You avoided his eyes and focused on the fact that your
knees looked as if you had crawled through flour with not even a slice of bread
to show for your efforts.
“It’s already a disaster,” you said. “The food’s not ready.”
“Well I am early.”
“The oven was never turned on, Rafael! Cheese and crackers won’t bring the donations in. I… I wanted to get this right.
Why hadn’t you double checked? Better yet thrown in the
towel altogether and let someone else write the menu. Cracks in your facades
were showing from the moment the Georgia Peach passed on your cuisine, and soon
the word around town would be that you were all washed up.
He waited, tightening his grip until your reluctantly found
“I know what you’re going to say.”
“Oh?” he challenged. “Then tell me.”
You released a heavy sigh.
“That it’s not a big deal. That I can still fix it. God, I
swear sometimes you must get so sick of telling me that I’m not a failure.”
Because it wasn’t just the meal. It was the fact that your
application to adopt a child had yet to give Jingles a playmate. Even the kitty
cat seemed down these days.
“I don’t think I can get sick of that,” he started.
“Wow,” you said, pulling away from him and finally meeting
his eyes. “What’s that? Just haven’t
said it out loud? Has it been playing over and over again in the dreams you don’t share with me?”
Maybe that was a low blow, but you were too tired to care
and ready to leave Derek holding the ladle and passing off pink bacon and lamb as
fine food when Rafael seized your waist and buried his head in your hair.
“I can’t get sick of it because I would never say that to you,” he murmured. “Don’t you know that?”
“Yes,” you meekly replied.
“I didn’t quite catch—.”
“Yes,” you repeated, your voice a little louder as you sank
into his chest and found his fingers, locking your hands in his as your head
came to rest in the crook of his neck.
“I wouldn’t care if you brought out a bowl of chips tonight,
mi amor. I just want you with me so I
can keep it together.”
His voice hitched on the last word, and you looked up to see
him fighting back a few tears. Softly stroking his face, your sense memory took
over. On the nights when he sobbed and woke with a start, kicking himself for
the idea that he had let his grandmother down, you cradled him until his head came to rest
in your lap, combing your fingers through his rumpled locks until he found
sleep, hoping that some higher power could answer the smallest of prayers and
bring him sweet dreams.
“I’m here,” you assured him, instantly rethinking the idea
of running away. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank you,” he said, lightly kissing your lips. “I need you. Forever.”
He fell into your arms, and you rubbed his back, wondering
what his abuelita would do with a
busted oven and guests already en route. You’d heard the stories of other ovens
on the fritz. Rafael left in the other woman’s care, Lucia sick in bed on account of being
smacked around when she’d fashioned an amazing dinner for a man who needed no
excuse to form a fist. Abuelita rarely
ventured out of her railroad apartment, but the woman worked wonders and always
found ways to make little Rafael smile.
“I think I know what to do.”
Kissing him again, you started to run back to the kitchen
when you whipped your head over your shoulders, stretching to the tips of your
toes to claim his mouth and caress his cheeks.
“You’re really okay with chips?” you asked.
“I told you. I just want you with me.”
“Give me twenty minutes, and I’m all yours.”
The kitchen was in chaos, the oven finally plugged in as you ordered
Derek to make a run to the convenience store on the corner.
“But they charge an arm and a leg for—”
“I’m about to be on a roll! Do not argue with me.”
He came back in record time with rippled potato chips and
peanuts. Add that to the chips of the chocolate, peanut butter, and butterscotch
variety, the cookies forgotten. Melting the sweets in a sauce pan and adding
the salted savories so you could pour the concoction into a muffin tin, you
peeked out to see the other guests arriving. At least there was an open bar, and Rafael saw you and
rushed to your side.
“Do I even get a hint?” he asked.
“No. Not until it’s ready.”
Suddenly you were thankful for the chill. Derek was doing
his best to right the lamb so that there would be something in the way of a
“We’re starting with dessert?” he asked, wiping away a few
beads of sweat as you smiled at your surprise.
“We’re improvising. It’s what she would have done.”
Arranging the treats on a silver tray, you took a deep
breath and returned to the main room flooded with guests. Rafael was in the
midst of a deep conversation with a couple and their daughter.
“I know,” he said. “If I had it to over I would have hired
people around the clock.”
“But the cost is—”
“That’s why we’re here.”
He looked so sad again, smaller, and you cleared your
throat. Fighting to still your trembling hands around the edges of the tray,
you saw his eyes light up when you presented your grand idea and spoke slowly.
“I… I wan to thank you all for coming. Dinner is delayed. But tonight, I was reminded why we’re all here. We want to make this… every
day a little brighter.”
You focused on nothing and no one but Rafael.
“See my… my husband knows how to do that. Because he learned
from the best. And he lives those lessons every day. So in her honor… in his…
these are Abuelita’sAppetizers.”
Everyone moved as if they were walking under water,
surveying the strange sweets and sharing a few confused glances before tucking
in. For one second your still feared that it would be a bust, but as soon as
your attempt at Cuban lunch candies hit their tongues, far more than the chocolate
melted. The room was awash in smiles and stories of similar treats courtesy of
other abuelitas, of nonnas and jaddahs. Like the best food, like the movies that were meant to tie
an invisible string from Rafael to his grandmother through the whirlpool that
was infinity, the dead came back to life, assuring the survivors that no one
was to blame, that fate had worked its course and they understood. It wasn’t as
if they were looking down from above; they were in the air to make everyone
remember, to know that no one ever really left if the recipe was right and all
souls stayed strong.
Your tray was almost empty when Rafael guided you into a
quiet corner, his face unreadable until you touched his cheek and let his tears
stream between your fingers.
“She would be… she is
so proud of you, Rafael,” you said. “Lots of love here tonight.”
Ever so slowly, his lips curled into a smile, and he kissed
you, his tongue sweet with memories, his grin broad with the idea of tomorrow as he ended the kiss but
still held your hands.
“Thank you,” he said. “For never letting me down.”
What do you think Kenny would be like when you told him you wanted kids vs how would be act when you're actually pregnant?
OK SO. This is actually something I’ve been thinking about because I had a dream about having Kenny’s baby the other day. I was planning to write it into a fic at some point but I may as well share the jist of it all here!
Telling Kenny Omega You’re Pregnant
So, Kenny really. really. really. wants kids. He really wants a legacy to carry on his name (and share his vision for the future of pro wrestling) and he also totally wants to create a The Elite 2.0 with Nick & Matts kids somewhere down the line. King Maxel vs Baby Omega? Book it in advance, Vince! The idea of his son or daughter inducting him into the Hall of Fame warms his heart.
I think when you tell him you were pregnant he’d initially be quite cautious because he would want to know your reaction before offering up his own. He’ll, of course, be THRILLED but he knows that you’re gonna be scared because it wasn’t planned and you wanted to do so much more with your career before the two of you had kids.
After a while when he’s reassured you that everything will be fine and no matter what happens things are going to be OK. You’ve always been OK and you’ve both been through so much together. Then his heart would swell when you tell him you’re so happy that he’s going to be a Dad. He’ll get all babbly and nervous telling you how much he loves you and how excited he is.
He’ll stroke your little bump and tell you, “From now on it’s gonna be me, you and this little one.”