#maybe gio knows how to fight

[barbwalken]

Day 22

Like any of the bosses can knock-out Cyrus and Maxie with one punch, but can they defeat the nerds that seem to walk all over their respective regions mountains and land in a pokeathlon?

[aheathen-conceivably]

In light of today’s update, I come bearing music vibes as fuel for the fire and to ask the question…

Jealousy is a real ugly bitch to be playing power games with, ain’t it? 😬

And I see it now, you're there in his room With all of the things I told to no one but you When you said they were safe, you said so was I It was no leash for your wandering eye Oh, and nobody cared, and it was just us Down in the dirt, in the drugs, in the dust When you called my name, all the night It was no leash for your wandering eye

[goodlucktai]

Sorry to bother you but it’s been killing me. I was reading “raised on a little light” again and I’m so freaking curious. Who told Gio in the neutral timeline that Leo was a bad patient and all the little schemes he would do to get out of the medbay? Was it Mikey? Or April or Casey? How did it even come up?

I’m totally obsessed with this au if that isn’t obvious yet lol

@morrigan-cotk95 this ask inspired me to write a little something, so thank you for that ! also i was listening to this on loop the entire time and suffered immensely 🥲

the archer au

x

Something makes April stop on the way home. Her walk slows until she’s standing motionless and Casey turns back when he realizes she’s not in step with him anymore. 

“What’s up?” he says. 

“Not sure,” she replies. “Kinda want to check on the guys.”

It’s a credit to those people who raised him after the end of the world, she thinks, that his knee-jerk reaction is still one of concern, even now, after everything. 

“Did something happen?” he asks. 

“Just a funny feeling,” April tells him. 

But she’s learned to trust those funny feelings ever since a night several years ago when she tossed and turned in bed for an hour before giving into the unexplainable urge to march herself down to the lair. 

April had found Raphael near catatonic, tears dripping down his face and familiar baby blue stuffie in his hands. It had tumbled out of a box that fell in the storage closet he’d been rummaging through. Sometimes the grief jumped out at them like that, in places they least expected to find it, like it was brand-new. Sometimes the sight of a stuffed unicorn, worn and misshapen from being loved so much, was enough to sucker punch the air clean out of your lungs and make it hurt to breathe in again. 

And if April hadn’t come by, no one would have known. Raph wouldn’t have said anything. He would have sat alone through that pain like he was paying penance.   

That’s why April only lingers for a moment before making her decision. It’s late, she has work in the morning, but she knows she won’t be able to sleep until she makes sure everyone’s okay. 

There’s a hidden access hatch a few city blocks away, tucked into an easily-overlooked sidestreet. The old tunnel it opens into is one lined with Genius Built motion sensor lights all the way home. Casey follows April underground and walks the track with her until it forks off in two directions, and then he hangs back to wait there. He’s not willing to test his welcome tonight, equally as unwilling to start a fight. It’s the end of a very long week. 

Maybe it’s nothing, April tells herself. Then she rounds the corner and comes face to face with her littlest sibling, sitting on the edge of the platform, just outside what amounts to the lair’s front door. 

Gio blinks at her, eyes deep and dark, no hint of brown in the low light. His resting expression is as inscrutable as Donnie used to wish his was—as Donnie’s is now that all things sweet and curious and eager have been threshed from him, now that the whole of him is half what it used to be—but his face is turned towards her. He’s watchful, waiting to see what she needs, wanting to be needed by any of them in any way that he can. 

And he’s bleeding right through an old dish towel. The blood is dripping from the meat of his thigh, plopping soundlessly into a small puddle on the ground. 

“Hi, April,” he says when she only stands there gaping at him. 

“Hi yourself,” she replies tersely. It’s about one-tenth of the reaction she’d like to have, but she knows better than to raise her voice at a traumatized teenager. She has an unfortunate amount of experience with those, having been one herself once upon a time. “I’m gonna need an explanation for this one, babe.”

Gio looks down at where she’s looking, the red smeared across his fingers and the sodden terry cloth stained well past repair. 

“It’s not that bad,” he has the audacity to say to her face. 

April steps on her first, second and third impulse to rattle Gio like a snowglobe. Instead, she texts Casey, a quick ‘your EMT services are needed ASAP’. 

Then she hikes up her shirt and unbuckles her belt, sliding it out of her jeans and kneeling next to Gio to wrap it around his leg instead. She waits for his permission to touch, and he moves his hand out of the way when he realizes what she’s doing. April cinches the belt tight, keeping the towel in place and consistent pressure on the wound. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she says, elevating his leg carefully with both hands. She knows this much, at least. “Let’s start with what happened. Specifics. Details. Exposition.”

Eye contact is off the table, Gio’s shoulders straightening to attention instead of hunching up by his ears the way he’d probably like them to. 

His stress responses are so backwards. When he looks the most like he’s ready for a fight is when April knows he wants to turn and run.

But he didn’t flinch when April approached him, and he didn’t go statue-still beneath her hands. Progress, best measured in baby steps, but she’s proud of every deliberate, hard-won inch. 

In a quiet, measured voice, Gio tells her that he had been on his way home through the Hidden City—and of course it was that fucking place, April thinks—when he walked into the middle of a robbery. 

“Not really the middle,” he corrects himself. “It was mostly over. The shopkeeper’s daughter stabbed me by accident.”

“She stabbed you,” April says, fury and disbelief fist-fighting for first place in her tone. “By accident.”

“The police brought the real thief over and the shopkeeper started yelling at her and she started crying. She kept apologizing to me.”

Left unsaid is the obvious and it made me uncomfortable so I left.

“And the reason you didn’t wake anyone up when you got home and continued to bleed?” April presses. She can hear pounding footfalls behind her, echoing dully through the tunnel, as Casey eats up the distance between them at a steady run.  

“I didn’t want to bother anyone,” Giorgio says. April could set the clocks by this kid’s anxiety about taking up space anywhere. 

Sometimes, she thinks, it seems impossible that Gio hasn’t been here all along—growing up with his big brothers, learning all of their bad habits firsthand, following in their crooked footsteps. 

Since that obviously isn’t what happened, the only other possible explanation is that all five of them inherited that same ridiculous stubborn streak directly from their dad. It makes April want to march up to Splinter and give him a good shake. Knock the fog and cobwebs from his head and make him look. 

Look at your baby, she’d say, before you lose him, too. 

“Aw, Georgie,” Casey says when he gets there, all sympathy. He’s not even winded as he boosts himself onto the platform and takes a knee on Gio’s other side. He peels back a corner of the towel for a brief look at what he’s working with. “Gimme a number on a pain scale of one to ten.”

“Four,” Gio says.

“So an eight,” Casey replies, sounding so much like Leo it makes April want to laugh and cry at the same time. Gio’s brow twitches, as if he’d like to scowl but he’s too polite to. She’s seen him mean-mug total strangers, so it must only be his family that he tiptoes around. “Up you go, kid. The infirmary should have what we need.”

Between the two of them, April and Casey get the spotted turtle on his feet. He’s so small, it makes April want to march into the Hidden City and pick a fight with whoever so much as looked at him wrong, let alone stabbed him in a fit of mistaken vigilante justice. 

He doesn’t sway or even seem lightheaded as they make their way through the quiet lair toward the medbay. But Gio would straight face his way through just about anything, so April keeps holding his elbow. If he passes out or tries to pull a fast one on them and make a break for it she’ll be ready either way.

But he walks obediently where he’s led, with one nervous sideways look in the direction of his brothers’ bedrooms. Probably hoping that they can keep from waking his self-appointed guardian if they’re quiet enough. 

There’s no way in hell that Mikey isn’t waiting up for him to come home, April thinks, but she’ll let Gio figure that out for himself. 

April thinks, for the one millionth time, that Leo would have adored Gio. He would have gotten this kid out of his shell faster than any of them. They’d be thick as thieves, Gio the straight man to Leo’s wise guy, and Leo would finally have to cope with a sibling who could outstubborn him any day of the week. 

“Over to the sink,” Casey says, flipping the lights on with his free hand. “We need to flush it out first. April, could you—”

“On it,” she says. “This isn’t my first rodeo,” she adds for Gio’s benefit, sparing a second to pinch his cheek because it’s her god-given right as his big sister. He looks like he has no idea how to feel about that and she quits while she’s ahead. 

Casey scrubs up and gets to work. He hasn’t driven an ambulance around Brooklyn for the last five years for nothing. April moves around the room and gathers everything her roommate will need for some DIY sutures and Casey irrigates the puncture wound in Gio’s thigh with saline solution and a plastic syringe until he’s satisfied that it’s clean. 

Gio doesn’t know what to do with this amount of attention, eyes moving from Casey to April to Casey’s hands and back up to Casey again. Like no one has ever done this for him before, despite the dozens of pale, faded scars littering his arms and legs. If it were up to him, he’d still be back in that tunnel, bleeding through a towel, as unobtrusive and unlikely to make a sound as an unwanted dog. 

He’s been here nearly half a year and he still doesn’t understand that home is where you’re allowed to get blood on the floor and wake people up in the middle of the night. You’re allowed to make a mess and be a bit of a burden. Some burdens are a privilege, and life would be entirely empty without those things in it that were hard to carry, those things you clung to and carried anyway. 

But how is he supposed to know that? Only half of his family is even trying to teach him. 

“Alright,” Casey says, catching Gio’s eye, “this will hurt. I want you to tell me if I need to stop.”

“And absolutely no Leo-isms,” April says without thinking. “Or I’m liable to scream.”

As soon as she says it, she wishes she could take it back. She’s waiting for that knee-jerk reaction that Leo’s name always causes, the immediate flinch from it like brushing against the hot elements of a stove, his memory burning to the touch. 

But Casey’s mouth only quirks in a half-smile, fondness beating sadness by a mile. And Gio’s expression is openly curious. 

April is a Hamato by adoption, by choice, and so she lacks the self-hatred that runs rampant in all the others. She knows that she loved Leo with every inch of her, and she knows that he knows he was loved by her. She told him all the time, she hugged him every day. If she could go back and relive the whole thing, there’s nothing she would do differently. Maybe she would cling for an extra minute or two there at the end and ultimately have to be wrestled away, but who wouldn’t?

She’ll never stop missing him, but the love is so much bigger. April hates that she can’t talk about her obnoxious, smart-mouthed, surprisingly sweet little brother as much as he deserves to be talked about with the only other people who knew him. 

Mikey is trying, April has seen it for herself. He lights up a little more every day, the way April didn’t know he could anymore, ever since Gio moved in. He plays music in the kitchen and bakes cookies and coffee cake. He burst out laughing at April’s stupid impression of her coworker last week, sunny and lively and perfect, and it felt like a miracle. It felt like being fifteen again.

If Gio asked him, Mikey would tell him anything he wanted to know. But Gio is as careful with Mikey as Mikey is with him. Neither of them is willing to do anything that might hurt the other. And Gio would sooner eat his bow than ask Raph or Donnie. 

But none of them are in the room. And Casey is smiling, and April has never given Gio any reason to flinch away from her. So he dares to venture, overly-careful, “Leo-isms?”

Casey starts the first stitch and Gio goes stock-still, face tightening with pain. April leans in until he’s looking at her, ready to play distraction for as many stitches as it takes to make him whole again. 

“Have you ever heard that saying about medics making the absolute worst patients?” April says. “Because Leo proved that true every time he so much as sprained his ankle.”

“He never grew out of it,” Casey adds. “It was impossible keeping him in the medbay for longer than five minutes, especially after—especially when the best people at bossing him around couldn’t do it anymore.”

Gio doesn’t say anything, hands gripping the edge of the counter he’s sitting on as the suture needle goes back in. But he’s listening, absorbing every word. 

“He started teaching himself medicine when he was a kid,” April says. “Donnie hates blood and bodily fluids and would sooner peel his own skin off than handle any of that stuff. Mikey and Raph—they’re the toughest guys you’ll ever meet, but also the squishiest, and they’re sympathetic criers. It’s a whole thing. So Leo figured it had to be him.”

“He was smarter than he let most people think,” Casey says, eyes flicking up to check Gio’s expression as he works. “But it got him in trouble a lot.”

“That boy could talk circles around everybody. He’d get you arguing about something completely unrelated to the original point you were trying to make, or agreeing with him just to shut him up. Smug little asshole,” April says with whole-hearted affection. “And when all of that didn’t work, he’d pout. It was unbearable and he made himself everyone else’s problem until we gave in.”

“Plus, he could literally teleport.” 

“He could literally teleport!” April reiterates, widening her eyes to impress upon Gio the absurdity of attempting to wrangle a teleporting turtle. “We lost every fight to keep him in this goddamn infirmary before it even started. I don’t know if we’re painting a clear enough picture for you. He was the worst.”

“The worst,” Casey agrees, taking his hands away and sitting back. “And you’re done.”

Gio blinks and looks down at the row of neat stitches in his leg. He seems surprised to find them finished already. 

Casey packs a bandage there carefully and wraps it with gauze to keep it in place. He unthinkingly brushes his thumb over Gio’s knee while he works—it’s an act of comfort he learned directly from the man he learned everything else from, and it causes Gio’s expression to do something tender and flinching. It hurts April to watch. 

“Keep it bandaged for the next couple days, and change it if it gets wet,” Casey says. “And—actually, I’ll text you some instructions.”

“And you’ll follow them, or else,” April says, and follows the command with a kiss to the top of Gio’s head that he sits completely still for. “Now scoot. You’ll have to face the music in the morning when Mike sees that leg.”

Gio slips off the counter and lands solidly on his feet. He reminds April of a little terminator turtle, steady and relentless, because he was never taught the fine art of making his trouble someone else’s problem. Of making a mess, making his needs heard. 

It’s not too late to teach him. All they need is time. 

“Hey,” she says to Casey, when Gio has slipped out of the room and the two of them are left to clean up and return the infirmary to dormancy. “Thank you.”

It’s not easy for him to be here in the halfway home he was soundly rejected from. Donnie’s grief was vicious and toothed in its infancy, and dug into Casey as the one to blame, and neither of them ever really came back from it. 

But Casey gives April a rueful look, shrugging one shoulder, as if to say what else could I do?

Casey didn’t question her last-second detour, because he gets it. That sixth-sense.

He used to get lost in the city, he told her once. There were a few instances when he got so mixed up he didn’t even recognize the street he was on. But every time that happened, every time the panic started to crest inside him like a living, gnawing thing, he’d find himself turning, almost automatically, almost as if someone had called his name. And there was never anyone there—and almost everyone who knew his name in this timeline wouldn’t be willing to call it anyway—but if Casey walked in that direction his heart had turned him in, he would always get home sooner or later. 

April thinks of a reckless, lionhearted boy who loved his family to death. Mischievous and sarcastic and charming and always looking farther ahead than the rest of them. Always looking out. 

For better or worse, April has picked up that mantle. She doesn’t know how well she’s doing half the time. She’s pretty sure she failed Donatello completely, but if he thinks for one second that she’s going to let him slip through her fingers, he’s not as smart as all his PhDs would suggest.

She doesn’t think Raph still trusts her the way he used to, but he still folds himself down into her arms when she hugs him like it’s the one place he’s allowed to be small. And Mikey, the miracle himself, the one she secretly worries about the most, is making friendship bracelets again. 

It gives April hope. Bruised, knocked-down, never-knowing-when-to-give-up hope. 

Leo, she says inside her head, just in case he’s listening somewhere, I meant what I said. You were the worst. Figuring this shit out without you is hell on earth. I wish you were here, baby. Love you forever. 

She remembers the sound of his laughter so clearly that she almost actually hears it. He would have thrown his arm around her, smushing himself against her side, all bratty and little brother and certain of the space he was allowed to take up. He would have said something like, April O’Neil herself. Just what the doctor ordered. We’d be lost without you.

The irony would go right over his head.

April walks with Casey back through the lair—dark and sleeping and only half-lived-in anymore—and thinks it’s clearly the other way around.

[victoriadallonfan]

Could the Wildbow Protags Survive Oculus (2013)

Spoilers for the film Oculus by Mike Flanagan under the cut!

Taylor Hebert: 4/10. The mirror eats the vitality of plant life and animals (including eating entire dogs off screen), and with how it influences perception, Taylor wouldn't even know that her swarm is vanishing. Her one saving grace is that she knows PRT Master-Stranger protocols and that her sensation filtered through her bugs MIGHT act similar enough to a lens that she might realize something is wrong. But that is a thin maybe at best.

Blake Thorburn: 6/10. Practitioner Sight and wards should allow for him to see the spirits around the Mirror and want to avoid being in its reflection. He has some experience with that due to fighting the Barber as well. As the Thorburn Bogeyman, he likely fights the Mirror's various souls inside the spirit realm, and the only reason I can't say he'd win is because it has a ton of dead souls to use as ways to attack him.

Sylvester Lambsbridge: 0/10. Suuuper dead. Mind and sensory altering evil Mirror against a devastatingly intelligent but unstable person who speaks to the manifested people inside his brain? At best, maybe Sylvester notices things not adding up subconsciously, but by that point the Mirror has already won and claimed him.

Victoria Dallon: 7/10. Her history of using Master-Stranger Protocols, Shard instinct, and noticing when she's being mastered is a huge boon for Victoria. Ditto if she just closes her eyes and lets the Fragile One smash the mirror. The big issue, however, is that a sentient haunted mirror is sooo outside her expertise. I don't doubt she'd realize she was being influenced, but the issue is that would she realize its the mirror?

LVA - 9/10. They lock that mirror the fuck up and throw away the key. Maybe just outright purify and destroy it for good measure. They have too many abilities to ward off manipulation, possession, and spirit fuckery. The sole point from a perfect score is that perhaps the Mirror is so powerful that it could potentially overpower any protections they pull up.

Mia/Carson/Gio/Natalie/Ben - 0/10. Bro these people are fucked.

Basil(A)/Winnie(Toby)/Orion - 9/10. You might be shocked, especially since SEEK has no magical or supernatural stuff, but hear me out. The one consistent thing we know about the Mirror is that it cannot full artificial lenses/cameras. It can only attack the natural senses. All of the protags have lenses due to Onboards (or are Onboards), meaning they would have protected sight. They can also access all the other senses to defend against the mirror. The big issue is again, determining that the mirror is the issue in the first place. Orion also would have issues since his Onboard is dumb and he needs to manually activate it's various defenses.

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 7: Help the Bear

From: The Rainmaker Series

Pairing: Mob! Steve x Forensic Scientist! Reader

Summary: “If you ever see me fighting in the forest with a grizzly bear, help the bear, cuz that bitch gon’ need it.” Usually, you’d say this phrase describes you. You’re tough, and your enemies are the bear, but you might be more fragile than it seems. You might have to put aside some of your issues for the night, in favor of helping a friend.

Word count: 6,722

Content/warnings: Swears, punching, anger, deception, mob themes, crying, yelling, broken promises, mood swings, pet and nicknames, nice Bucky???, everyone lowkey walking on eggshells around decks, high stress, kidnapping, a bar fight, mentions of knives, misogyny

Author’s Note: I feel like this is a long awaited climax which lines up with Ch. 10 of YCMBWH and Ch. 3 of Handiwork. Anyway, I’m very excited for you to read it. I’d appreciate your feedback in all forms!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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It was early Saturday morning when you stood outside of your apartment building, waiting for Gio to pick you up like you had instructed Steve. He’d sent you several calls and texts since, but you stayed radio silent, until finally, it all stopped. You didn’t have doubt, though, that he’d come through, and you wouldn’t have to drive that distance in your current state. The chance of a crash was far too high. Hm, maybe you should’ve taken Steve’s car then. No, no, you weren’t that mean. You shamed yourself for even having the thought.

The sky was full of nice shades of pink, orange, and purple, the air lacking the humidity that usually came with the rising sun. It was the rainy season, and had been for the last month, but for some reason, the conditions seemed almost drought-like, since Tuesday. How uncharacteristic.

You were pulled from your thoughts by a black SUV pulling up in front of your building, and tried to squint to see who was in the driver’s seat. You had only seen Gio once before, so you assumed it was him by the dark hair you could just barely make out through the tinted window. Good, that meant it wasn’t Steve, even though the vehicle had an eerie resemblance to his. The trunk popped open and you threw your bag in. You weren’t going to be there long, anyway. All you had packed was a change of clothes for the game tonight, pajamas, and clothes for when you left in the morning. Simple as that, and it meant you could wear whatever you wanted right now, which was the comfiest thing you had: sweatpants and your old hoodie, despite the uncharacteristically warm weather.

You closed the trunk and hopped into the back seat, barely having the time to get buckled as the car lurched forward and started on its way out of the city. You looked through the window at the passing buildings as they turned into trees, on the route that was becoming familiar once again.

Bucky grumbled as he tossed and turned in his oversized leather desk chair, arising from the short sleep he had found there after a late night of business dealings designed to be front loaded for him to have this weekend open. He moved to stand, only for his feet to be met by something soft, that was definitely not the hardwood floors, under his loafers.

“Ah, fuck! Steve? What are you doing down there? Why didn’t you fall asleep on the couch, like a normal person?”

Steve groaned, rolling over just enough to look at his best friend above him. “Couch is too comfy. Floor keeps me on edge, just barely asleep. I deserve that. And now I’m up so we can go immediately. You’re welcome, I did this for you and your future wife.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and stepped over the lump of blond and muscle on the floor, creeping towards Sam, who actually was on the couch, while grumbling, “We don’t know if she’s my future wife. We hardly have a label.”

Bucky flicked Sam’s ear for him to rise, met with an, “ow! I’ve been up since you have, boss man!”

Bucky rolled his eyes again, walking over to the closet in the corner of his home office and grabbing his and Steve’s go bags that they had packed the night before.

“Okay, we’ve gotta get there soon. Sam, you still good with holding down the fort here?”

Sam nodded, having sat up fully, unlike Steve, who was still laying on the floor, face down. “Yeah, although, I’m not sure about our buddy over there. Stevie, rise and shine,” he sang out softly.

Steve stood after taking a sharp, deep breath, his eyes red and face puffy just barely, that it looked like allergies from sleeping on the floor. “Okay, I’ll drive my car, and Bucky, you’ve gotta go get Decks.”

Bucky stopped all movement, going still as a statue from where he was double checking the contents of his bag, before turning around slowly. “I’m sorry, what? You want me to go pick up Decks? No. Your girl, you pick her up.”

Steve’s head dropped as Sam let out an audible wince at the whole thing, before explaining, since he knew Steve had very little desire to be verbal right now. “Boss, Decks hasn’t talked to Steve since Tuesday. Steve can’t go pick her up, I think it’ll just make her more mad. And look at him,” he gestured to Steve, hair in a mess and head still pointing towards the floor as he rubbed his eyes, “poor puppy is gonna be broken if he has to see her this early in the morning. She’s gonna eat him alive. At least you’ve got Honey waiting for you on the other side. Steve sure as hell doesn’t.”

The help from Sam had morphed into something a little hurtful, albeit true, but Bucky still huffed. “If Decks doesn’t want to see you, why’d she agree to a ride from us?”

Steve shook his head, finally looking up. “She didn’t. She agreed to a ride from Gio, who’s in Italy currently because you were trying to be a nice boss, or whatever. So you’ve gotta drive her.”

In an instant, Bucky’s features grew soft. He switched from boss mode to friend mode. “Okay, okay. Just…get going so you can start talking strategy with Bee and Peter early. I’ll pick up Decks and meet you there.”

Steve gave a short, grateful nod and grabbed his bag, heading out.

So Bucky found himself driving you like a chauffeur out to the farm as the early morning sun was lighting up the landscape. He was used to being up this early, and he was sure you were, too, but just in case, he’d brought some breakfast.

Once he’d gotten far enough from the city that he knew you wouldn’t try and escape once he revealed himself, he rolled down the partition. He could see you curled up in the corner of the backseat, almost cuddling, clinging to the hoodie you were wearing. It was all too familiar, as Bucky knew Bee had the same one, but the last time he had seen one of them was that time he was at your apartment and Steve had worn it. And that’s when Bucky caught a whiff. Unmistakable with how often he was around it. Steve’s cologne. The corner of his lip upturned slightly. Maybe there was still a chance for the two of you.

You were pulled from your daydream by the sound of the partition lowering, but didn’t move your gaze from the passing scenery. Maybe Gio was going to ask you if you needed a bathroom break in the long drive, or to make sure the air flow and temperature were alright, but you were surprised when you heard the voice in front of you.

It was deep, and a little familiar. “So, uh… you want a croissant?”

It was Bucky. You watched as he fished around in the passenger seat, grabbing a bakery box and handing it back to you, shaking it as a signal when you hadn’t grabbed it after a few seconds. You pulled it into your lap before looking into the rear view mirror and catching his slate eyes, watching you expectantly, yet cautiously, for a response.

You looked at the label on the box. It was a French bakery. One you’d never heard of before, especially not from the list of businesses Steve had rattled off to you when you asked what all he owned. Good.

You spoke up softly, not one much for words so early in the morning. “So’s this place yours?”

Bucky looked between your image in the mirror and the road, trying to figure out what you were referencing. “The bakery? Yeah, one of many places. And one of my favorites. Try the chocolate croissant if you haven’t had breakfast yet. It’s good.”

You nodded, sighing and gingerly opening the lid to be met by one of the best smells probably ever. You carefully pulled out a chocolate croissant and took a bite, holding in a moan at the deliciousness, but Bucky could see the enjoyment on your face, no matter how brief, due to the overwhelming weight of today sitting on your shoulders.

“Told you.”

You simply hummed in response, setting down the pastry and waiting to swallow to speak up.

“So, Bucket. I thought Gio was supposed to pick me up, but it looks like Steve lied again. Why you? Don’t you have better shit to be in charge of?”

Bucky was changing highways, so he kept his eyes on the road. He had half a mind to defend his best friend, but he didn’t want to open up that can of worms when you still had a couple hours of driving left. Plus, he knew it went farther than that, and it wasn’t technically his fight. Touching on your self-deprecation probably wasn’t a good idea, either. He’d leave that to Honeybee, much better versed in seeing you like this, he assumed. But from what he could tell, this seemed far from your normal self-assured, resigned state that he quite appreciated. He opted to comment on the dissection of your sentence that mainly had to do with him. That was probably a good domain to stay within for now. “You don’t have to call me that, y’know.”

You took another bite and shrugged. “What am I supposed to call you, then? James?”

“Bucky is fine.”

You let out a dry laugh. “No, that’s weird, what are you, a hick? -wait, actually, no. Forget I said that.”

Definitely not a good idea to make a distasteful joke such as that with where you both were going right now.

You shook your head looking down at the box. “But you still didn’t answer my first question.”

Bucky spun the wheel around the clover leaf and effortlessly merged on the open roads. “Gio’s on vacation in Italy, so you’re stuck with me. But don’t worry, Steve’s already on the road ahead of us.”

Well, he did what you asked, but you left his answer unacknowledged, besides a huff as you set the box aside. So much for trying to tread lightly.

“What? Decks, sweetheart, are you mad at me for bringing up Steve?” You crossed your arms and legs, glaring at Bucky and hoping it would set him on fire, sadly unsuccessfully, through the mirror. It was a good thing you weren’t a witch, anyway, though, because Bee would’ve killed you if it had worked.

“Ugh! What is up with that!? Everyone calling me ‘sweetheart?’ You, Sam, Steve! I’m not some little token helpless woman.”

Bucky opened his mouth defensively to reply, before closing it and furrowing his brows in thought at your full statement. “Wait a second, Steve called you ‘sweetheart?’”

You rolled your eyes yet again, and decided you weren’t done with that croissant quite yet, so you grabbed the box from your side and took another bite, not bothering to swallow this time before talking with your mouth full. “Yeah, like a few times, and then Sam did when he drove me home, and you did just now. What’s the deal?”

Bucky wished you weren’t sitting directly behind him, because he would’ve fully turned to look you in the eyes for this. He didn’t realize how serious it all was between the two of you, but he should’ve, considering how enamored he was, too, with his own girl. Obviously Steve was capable of the same thing.

“Swee- Decks. For Sam and I, that’s just how we were raised. I mean, Steve was raised the same way, but…” He stopped to think for a second so it came out the right way.

“Sure, you’re right, ‘sweetheart’ is a term of endearment for anyone in our community. Any guy will call pretty much any woman that, but not Steve. Ever since we were young, he refused. Said he was saving it. That it deserved to be used for someone really special. Someone with the sweetest heart. At least for him.”

You scoffed and questioningly shook your head. “Bucket, that is not me.”

He shrugged once again. “Maybe. And maybe that’s what you try to show, but to him it is. That’s you. He doesn’t take those things lightly.”

You grumbled, taking the last bite and licking your fingers before Bucky handed you a napkin. “I had it under control.”

He smirked, catching another whiff of Steve’s cologne when your arm reached up towards him. “Sure, ya did. Hey, when’s the last time you washed that hoodie? Surprised you wouldn’t wanna use that old thing as a napkin,” he said in a playful tone, laughter almost emerging from his voice.

Evidently you didn’t want to wash it. You wanted to keep it clean, let it have this scent as long as possible. After you crumbled the napkin, you threw it up towards him in the front seat before pulling your hood up.

Bucky swerved slightly, but not enough to cause concern. “Hey, watch it. I’m in charge of your safety up here. I’ve gotta deliver us both unharmed. It’s paramount.”

You’d just about had enough of this oddly chipper attitude from him. Bucky was very obviously excited to see Bee again and you couldn’t blame him. Their relationship was honest from the start. The small tinge of normalcy you’d had for a second started to wear off again, though, as that weight began to sink back onto your shoulders. You pulled your hoodie strings tight around your face, letting the smell and the comfort fully engulf you, and hoping to catch just a little more sleep before the long day ahead.

“Okay, whatever. Fuck off, Bucket.”

When you pulled up to the farm, you were gently shaken awake by someone who had climbed in the back seat with you so that they didn’t open the door you were leaning against and make you fall out. When your eyes fluttered open, though, you were met with a face you hardly recognized, causing you to spring into action and punch him right in the nose, not that hard, but also not that lightly.

The young man in flannel in front of you clattered into the back of the passenger seat, holding his nose, when you finally recognized him. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! You’re that kid who works for Bucky. Are you okay?”

He nodded, backing away and out the other side of the vehicle, scrambling to get away quickly, not sure if you’d hit him again, just based off association. “Yeah, yeah, all good.”

You could hardly hear him, voice fading as he ran into the house.

You took his words at face value, finally reorienting yourself to where you were now, seeing the green and gold landscapes and red barns outside your window. Right. Bee’s farm. For the bet. With the mob bosses. Gone was your concern as your angry face, or really more of an attempt of a flat affect came back.

You slid across the back seat, empty of the bakery box that was once there, and moved to get out of the door that was left open. When you emerged, you were met with the sight of Bee and Cherry picking through the pastries you had left behind, their nervously smiling faces lit up by the mid morning sun.

“Decks! Good morning! It’s so good to see you.”

Bee gave you a side hug you didn’t return and Cherry gave you a little wave before giving Curtis a little bite of her croissant. Gross.

Curtis thanked her with a kiss on the cheek before coming over to you and giving a bear hug, despite the way you tried to push him off. Eventually, you relented, relaxing in his hold, that of a long-time, good friend. He rubbed his hand against the top of your hood, messing up the hair underneath, before returning to Cherry’s side, grabbing his own pastry out of the box.

A small “hi” was all you could muster up to use to greet the three of them, but it was enough. You pointed over your shoulder to indicate you were going to grab your bag from the trunk, finally pulling the hood off your head and turning around. When you pivoted, though, you were only met with Steve there, your bag over his shoulder like it had been so many times before, his glassy eyes taking you in.

His voice was small and scratchy like you’d never heard it before, like he’d been silent for weeks, as he mustered up a, “Hey, Decks.”

You promptly spun back around and stomped into the farm house and up the steps, passing Bucky on the way to your usual room. When you opened the door, though, you were met with the sight of a young man sitting on your bed, ice against his face and a jolt when he saw you bust in.

“Uh, hi Miss Decks. Can I help you?” You groaned at the weird formality, but were in no mood for something like this to throw you off on such an important day.

“Yeah. You can get out of my room. You’re gonna share the other spare with Steve. No questions, okay?”

He simply nodded, beginning to grab his stuff as you stripped the bed of its sheets. He was actually complying very nicely, so you felt bad for being so assertive with him…and punching him in the face.

“So what’s your name and what’s your job?”

He stopped and looked at you, confusion and fear riddling his face. “I-I’m Peter, miss. I was assigned to stay here to help with shipments and watching over miss Honeybee. I just go wherever they say. Sometimes do tech, sometimes intelligence. Really anything.”

You nodded and hummed, pulling a new set of bedding out of the top of the closet. “So what exactly does that make you, Peter? Fourth in command?”

He cocked his head to the side, zipping up a bag, before helping you put on the new sheets. “I guess I never thought about that, but no. Technically I think I’d be fifth at least.”

You nodded along, grateful for the acquiescence that seemed to run through this organization and his kindness you were evidently not returning. With all the stress, though, you didn’t even really have the time to wonder who was number four. He finished gathering everything in his arms and sprinted out the door, across the hall to Steve’s room, before realizing there were three guest rooms and he might be able to take the last one, depending on where Bucky planned to stay. Out of indecision, he just dropped everything at the end of the hallway and went back downstairs, leaving you to lay over the comforter in contemplation. Peace wasn’t something that would come to you today.

It was early afternoon when Cherry finally came up to find you, not the person you would’ve expected to do so. She knocked on your door with a sweet smile.

“Hey, Decks. I know you’re probably in game mode, but Bee thought it might be a good idea for you to come over to my place. We can pick you out a nice outfit for tonight. Eat something, maybe? It’s my understanding you haven’t had anything since early this morning and apparently, from what I’ve been told, ‘the good stuff’ is waiting for you at my apartment. And it’s no boys allowed for this afternoon. You get to do whatever you need to get in the zone without distraction. How does that sound?”

You groaned before you nodded, launching yourself up out of the bed quickly to a seated position. “Yeah…that’s good. I mean, I already have an outfit, but that’ll be good. Let me just hit the bathroom real quick and I’ll meet you in the driveway, okay?”

She nodded with another soft smile and went back down the steps.

Soon after she was gone and you’d gathered what you needed, not even bothering to consider how your bag had made it to the corner by the doorway of your room, you shuffled over to the bathroom in your socked feet and washed your face. When you were all dry, you looked at your reflection in the mirror. It was you, but it was different. Not unrecognizable, but maybe barely.

Exhaustion laced your features. Dark bags had settled under your eyes from the lack of sleep. You were in a perpetual state of puffiness from all the crying you’d kept to yourself, yet everything just looked…sunken. Like, saggy with sadness. You smiled, trying to boost your mood, make it feel like you weren’t going through hell. Trying to put on a brave face for your friend and her world. Everything this whole week was a lot, and as much as you were trying to ice out the terror, you could feel it seeping through the cracks. One final smile and one final wipe of your nose, and you were ready to go, galloping down the staircase and out to Bee’s truck where she was already waiting for you. You slid up in the seat, squeezing Cherry between the two of you, and went on your way towards town.

When you got to Cherry’s apartment, there were bowls of pasta sitting on her small dining room table that must’ve been for you. Ah yes, that was probably ‘the good stuff’ she was referring to. Cherry immediately went to the kitchen to grab bowls and utensils, handing them to you and Bee, as you took in the scent of the the still-steaming arrangement.

Despite your feelings toward everything Steve lately, the gesture and nostalgia still warmed you. The three of you sat, as you savored every bite in silence, Bee and Cherry holding soft conversation on the side and respecting your wishes until the meal was done and you felt just a little bit better. A little bet fuller in your heart and your stomach.

You didn’t have to worry as Bee and Cherry assured you that they’d clean everything up, directing you towards the bedroom where you’d found something else sitting there, waiting for you to find it. It was a record player, just like the one in your apartment. The one you’d promised Steve you’d play the song on before you’d fallen asleep to that old movie. And next to it was a stack of vinyls, some you recognized as the same as your collection, plus some new ones you’d mentioned you liked before, but never got the chance to acquire. On the stack was a small sticky note that said:

“You got this, Decky. -SR”

You couldn’t help the way a smile crept onto your face at his thoughtfulness. Sure, you were mad at him, but this was far from a cheap gesture. It was just what you needed to fully lock in, and maybe raise your spirits to get through tonight and do this for someone besides yourself. You put on a record, mood brightening by the minute, and began swaying through the room until Cherry and Bee came in to meet you.

Their faces lit up seeing your slightly improved mood, this moment acting like a brief reprieve from a day constantly growing in intensity. The two of them began rifling through the closet, pulling out a bunch of outfits for you to try, and throwing them into a pile on the bed. At least you had your music.

When Cherry’s shift at the bar was set to start, the three of you drove over, you wearing a short, flouncy tennis dress that was far from what you were used to. The clothes you had packed for this evening were just jeans and a tee, but according to your friend, that wasn’t good enough, so here you found yourself in something completely out of character. At least it had shorts underneath.

You were about an hour early for the match, but the bar was already buzzing with patrons. As Cherry went to clock in, you could see the group of guys already sitting in the booth, talking in hushed whispers until you and Bee approached. Bee instantly gravitated towards Bucky’s lap with a kiss, and you were going to sit next to Curtis, but he stood up, passing you with a nod and heading straight for the bar with Cherry. So much for having a buffer.

You were left to sit next to Steve, your already nervous state making you shake and avoid eye contact, whether you wanted to or not. Bucky sat up, saying something about checking with guards and Bee followed him, leaving the two of you alone, sitting too close for how much room the booth had now gained.

You took in a shuddering breath, looking around the crowded room, seeing the pool tables and envisioning the event that was about to go down. You felt so isolated in that moment, before you felt a large, warm hand on your thigh.

“Decks, sweetheart. You there? You alright?” You looked up and to your side at Steve, the seclusion of the tall seats allowing him to be the only one who could see the tears in your eyes. Here you were, all dolled up at the hands of Cherry, about to ruin it, but that was the least of your worries. The pressure was about to crash over you and Steve needed to seal those dam walls before a flood broke out.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Why don’t you and me take a second to go into the break room or something? We have the time.”

You simply nodded and scooted out of the booth. Steve grabbed the hat off the top of his head, placing it on yours to hide your distraught face from any possible prying eyes before grabbing your hand and rushing the two of you across the dance floor.

He’d seen most of your range of emotions. He’d seen you playful, he’d seen you focused, he’d seen you happy, he’d never get enough of that, he’d seen you mad, probably more than enough for a lifetime, but he’d never seen you quite like this, with tears threatening to spill over.

Before you knew it, you were on an old couch in a back room you had never seen before, crying into Steve’s chest as he held you closely, hand rubbing your back, and shushing you gently.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You got this. Hey, look at me. You can do it.”

You pulled your hands up to wipe your eyes as Steve searched the room to find you tissues, dabbing away the wetness as you sniffled.

“Tell me what’s going on, sweetheart. What can I do to help? What’s on your mind?”

You tried to speak, but you were gasping for air. The farthest thing from your mind was anger at him, or the pet name. You just wanted comfort. Steve began demonstrating deep breaths in front of you, helping you to calm down until it worked. He started to blow a cool stream of air towards your face, drying more of the wetness, and rubbing his large, warm hands up your arms, redirecting your focus to the gestures. Finally you were almost fully settled and ready to talk.

“I’m just so…scared. Sure, I’ve dealt with things that were high-stress before, but never with this high of stakes. I didn’t ask to be dragged into all of this, but now the whole mess hinges on me. This entire thing. Legitimate lives are riding on me. That’s a lot.”

Steve nodded along. He got it. This was hard, and it was a lot of pressure, especially since it all came crashing towards you at once. He wished there was something he could do to fix it, to take some of that off of you, but he couldn’t. He felt like he was the reason it was all hitting so hard in the first place. All he could do was try and keep you pumped up, and ready to go for tonight. He knew you had a game face, maybe he could help you put that on so you could beat these pricks once and for all. Maybe that would be enough for him. He knew you were giving him a chance, just for tonight because Bee was mostly what mattered, and he was going to make the most of that opportunity while it lasted.

He ran his hand over your hair, pulling you close one last time and planting a kiss to your hairline before sighing and slapping his hands on his knees to get up.

“Alright, up we go. C’mon.” He held out his hand for you, but all you did was sit there and look at him confused.

“Unfortunately, you don’t have all night, Decky. Stand, or I’m dragging you.”

You must not have moved fast enough, because before you knew it, your floppy body had been pulled to its feet and Steve was slowly manipulating each part. He kicked your one foot back, widening your stance, and bent each arm, curling your fingers into fists. He moved in front of you, holding up his hands, flat and open, just like boxing practice. He bounced between his feet on the ground, shifting back and forth.

“Alright, go for it. Let’s see what you got.” You huffed, landing a weak punch against his palm, and Steve laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Let’s go, Decks. I know you’re better than that. Harder. Get angry.”

And you did, you punched harder, you punched faster, and you were relentless, raging in a rain of fists, jitters long gone and replaced with a fire of fury. Fuck Cole. And fuck Lloyd. And fuck this whole fucked up mess of misogyny that threatened the livelihood of an innocent woman.

Steve grabbed your fists, snapping you out of it as you stood there, chest rising and falling with deep breaths. “There it is. Use that.” He looked at you intently, imploring you to be yourself, the confident, driven, capable woman he knew. You were back, if only for a few hours, but that was all he needed.

You settled yourself with a single breath, hands falling to your sides after you smoothed your dress and grabbed Steve’s hat back off where it had fallen onto the couch when you threw your head at his chest. You stood there with your eyes closed for a second. “Steven, do I still look okay? Bee said I have to look hot to distract these pieces of shit, and I’d hate to know that I’ve got a hair out of place. Please fix it before I go back out there.”

Steve smiled, just a little one he knew you couldn’t see, as he took a walk around you, tugging down the back of your dress and gently combing his fingers through your hair, taking his thumbs to swipe over your cheeks and fix the slight run of makeup from your tears. He gently grabbed the hat out of your tight clutch, playing with the brim. “You, uh…you want my hat? Would that make you feel better? Preserve an air of mystery and make you not have to look directly at the ‘pieces of shit?’”

You revealed a small, soft smile he thought he’d never see again and nodded, opening your eyes as he placed it back on your head, straightening it just so. He smiled just as sweetly when he saw you, actually saw you for the first time in awhile. Then, you weren’t sure what was happening as he squatted down in front of you, closing his eyes just like you had before.

“Okay, now it’s your turn to fix my hair before we go back out there. You messed it up when I gave you my hat.”

You strutted back out into the bar, face stoic, and stride powerful, your skirt flowing from the speed. Steve was a few steps behind you, surveying the area to see Bucky and Bee had returned, chatting with two men by the pool table.

You clocked them as well, not recognizing the two, but seeing one in an oddly crisp brown jacket, common for the area, but usually more beaten up on the folk around here, and the other in a knitted, collared shirt, nose pronounced by the neatly trimmed mustache underneath. Far too fancy for a place like this. These must be the men.

You walked up to Bee’s side, noticing her tight-lipped smile. “Decks, this is Cole, and this is Lloyd. He’ll be playing against you.”

You simply nodded, taking a step back. These men obviously had no desire for handshakes, only giving you a curt nod as well, as Lloyd stepped away, pulling a pool cue out of a case.

You rolled your eyes under the brim of the hat. Of course this rich prick had his own cue. You walked over to where Steve was at the rack of cues on the wall, looking at each and evaluating which one looked the best after years of wear and tear in the old joint. He pulled one down, wordlessly asking if it worked and you nodded, handing him a little block of chalk.

“Will you hold this for me throughout the game? And a glass of water please?” He nodded and headed to the bar, ready to be at your service.

When you returned to the table, negotiations had already been made and Lloyd was starting. That already put him at an advantage, but it would be fine, as long as he couldn’t get all the balls in on the first try.

His break was successful. Sharp, forceful, and precise: something that seemed mimetic of his pristine and obnoxious appearance. With two striped balls in the pockets, he went for the next one, and the next one, of your favorite suit. It was bad enough that you had to play solids, but he was surprisingly doing well. On his attempt for a sixth sink, though, he missed, giving you the chance to step in.

You took a sip of the water in Steve’s hand, rubbing the tip of your cue with the chalk in his other. You took a deep breath, leaning over the table for your first shot. It was the furthest thing from your mind, but Steve, and hell, everyone around, took notice of you bending over for it. Steve’s eyes quickly averted, though, going straight to Lloyd and Cole, as they were shamelessly gawking, doing what you’d said they would, and hopefully losing their if focus because of it. Your jaw ticked. You were angry, and you were focused, and you were fed up, and you were ready to go. There was no way you were going to mess up. You took your shot. Sunk.

That was followed by four more, easy angles, at least for you. You didn’t even look at the two men your were competing against. The only other person you could see in your zone of focus was Steve, if that, mostly because he was holding the materials you needed to win. Anyone else, anything else, was the enemy. Blocked. This was about winning, just like the years of swindling this game had set you up for. Seven hits, seven successes, one left, so you called the pocket. It was intense, and your face was unreadable. You took the shot, not even looking to see it go in, because you knew it would. Instead, your face was turned towards the two out-of-place men, your lips slowly growing smug as small crowd that had gathered around the table erupted in cheers.

You dropped your cue on the table, waltzing up to Lloyd as Bee stood in front of Cole.

You pointed a finger into the expensive fabric on the man in front of you and looked up into his eyes, dark like the deepest, deadest ocean.

“A deal is a deal and you just lost. Now hop off from my friend’s and all the other businesses I hear you’ve been harassing. Aren’t you guys all about your word?”

You were taken aback by the dark chuckle you were met with. “Oh, cupcake, that’s cute. You think I got this far on my word? No way. You may have won this fool’s game, but you all have yet to start mine.”

After gesturing over to Cole, he put his hand over his chest, dramatically gasping in a mocking manner.

“Oh no. Where’d your precious cheese curd go?”

Your head whipped over to the bar where you’d last seen him, but were met with the sight of an empty stool. Curtis was missing.

At this point, you didn’t care about the scene you were about to make, because that crossed a line. Curtis hardly had anything to do with this entire situation and they kidnapped him? Fucking why? Before you could even register what was going on, you lunged for Lloyd, trying to punch and scratch at him, but only hitting air. Something had caught you in the middle of your movement, picking you up, leaving you kicking and clawing at nothing, but you still had your voice. Curtis was innocent, and like a brother to you, and he didn’t deserve whatever this was. So you screamed, flailing in Steve’s arms, you’d know his arms and the smell of his cologne anywhere, but that wasn’t really what you were focused on right now.

“FUCK YOU, LLOYD! FUCK YOU AND THAT UGLY ASS MUSTACHE!! FUCK YOU FOR BREAKING A PROMISE!!!”

Out of the corner of your eye, even as you were backed away, you could see Cole shift and hold his hands up. “I swear. This wasn’t part of the deal. I was just doing what I was told. I didn’t know about any of this.”

You knew how much it sucked to be left out of the loop, but you still didn’t feel sorry. Cole was literally trying to commandeer the farm. He was far from innocent. You wiggled and turned as much as you could in Steve’s tight hold.

“And fuck you, too, Cole!! You ruined chocolate milk for me!”

The last thing you could see before the crowd descended was Bucky delivering a swift blow to Lloyd’s jaw, followed by him grabbing Cole by the collar.

Your attention was pulled to something else, though, by Steve’s hands on either side of your face once he had set you on a bar stool. “Decks, Decks! I need you to look at me.”

His nose was almost to yours. “I need you to watch Cherry. I have to go and check on the guards. See what happened out there and if Curtis is really gone. You need find out what happened in here. Take this.”

He slipped something in your hand that you had no idea how he concealed in the simple button-up denim shirt and jeans he was wearing. “Take out anyone who comes at you that you don’t know.”

You looked down at what was in your grasp: a small throwing knife. Without waiting a second, you snapped into survival mode, jumping behind the bar with Cherry. No one was around the two of you right now, luckily, as a full-on bar brawl had broken out.

You turned your body towards Cherry, but your head was on a swivel watching your surroundings. “So tell me what happened. When did Curtis disappear? Did you see anything?”

She frantically shook her head. “No, a-all I know is that some girl asked me to pour her a drink. She had a bunch of specifications, and when I made it and turned back around, Curtis was gone, and so was she.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What did she look like?”

“I don’t know? Kinda short, dark hair? Annoyingly fit? Now that I think about it, kinda like the female version of the guy you were playing pool against. That’s not a coincidence, is it?”

You threw your head back. It definitely wasn’t a coincidence. It was probably Lilian.

“Ah, shit.”

Next >

Bonus A/N: The moments between Decks and Steve here were much softer than I’d anticipated them to be, but there are so many different ways to act under stress, and I think it means a lot that she’s not necessarily able to stay in her normal cold manner of upsettedness when there’s so much at stake beyond just her. Things change when others are depending on you.

Taglist: @evie-119 @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @thedonswife13

[gl1tchy-4rt]

Awrroooooooo~! (This Post in not canon!)

Soooooo do you all remember @frostinepac3's Werewolf Peppino?

Cause i do :)

Aaaaand i couldn't help myself

Wolf Gio and Wolf Vale🐺

They are now Werewolfs!

How did this happend? i don't know, maybe they both got bitten by a "stray pup" the month before and that's why they became werewolf cubs themselfs.

So originaly i had planned to do some Angst/Confort regarding the nature of Werewolfs and such...

But then i found this video:

Ye i had to do it XD

They Playing/Fighting >:)

If you are wondering ye... im still sick but i'll eventually get better :)

Anyhow take care...

And See y'all later!!

[chil-aglia]

(Gotta listen to this because this is gonna be intense)

https://youtu.be/qsyMS3YoYHY?si=5LsTwYYKx8tnWB_a

Leo wasn't in best condition. How things went go wrong. Oh right. He knows why. The reason is right front of him.

Bishop.

The chief of EPF.

The man who kidnapped him. It's started normally like every night. Hanging out with brothers, having pizza, mainly making a new addition, their new brother Gio, feel like home. They got a call from April that night telling them she has pizza for the first one arrived at her home helping her clean room. Leo smiled as it reminded it brought back nostalgia. But unlike last the last he won't end up accidentally in Paris (even though he enjoyed those croissants there). He wasn't a portal screw up anymore and he was ready to win free pizza. And maybe also gonna try to win a title of the Gio's favourite. What? He can't help himself to be awesome and he has right to earn it (not the mention it's fun to see their pouty faces on his brothers). He gave his brothers heads up and was about to portal to sister's apartment, but suddenly felt chills in spine.

Someone was watching him.

And that's when he saw a red light on blade's reflection. He reflected a dart with sword and was about to portal away. He didn't notice another one from other direction hitting his thigh. Suddenly everything was spinning, or maybe it was as he felt himself Falling from rooftop (what is with him and falling from roofs?!), he felt pain as landed on dumpster then on ground (thankfully it wasn't bad as he got caught by clotheslines softening the fall). Last thing he saw was a man in black suit with sunglasses (in the middle of night? Really?) looking at him both surprised and annoying before everything went dark.

When he woke up he soon found out he was in room strapped table similar from Frankenstein movie. They took his katanas, his pouches, even his wraps, when his communication device was. The only thing they let him kept was his blue mask. Great, just his luck. Everything still hurt, he felt tired, weak... almost helpless. Almost.

If they think he won't go without fight they have an another thing coming. He first needed a weapon. Anything pointy could be enough to make a sword. Even a nail. However it was hard to focus as he stinging pain in right hand. He noticed bandage on right wrist that was little red. Must have accidentally cut himself during the fall. Great, just what needed. A blood loss, he thought sarcastically...

...wait. Blood? Of course!

The 70% of blood is mostly iron! Images of Gram gram's sword form crossed his mind and when it hit him. Anything can be weapon, his body is a weapon. Literally. It was an insane idea, but it was worth a shot.

He reopened his wound to led bleeding freely and then used his ninpo hoping it would work he passes out. And thank god it worked as he held a red tanto, cutting off his binding. He was free and he's ready to busting out by himself. (Not that he wouldn't want his brothers by his side right, but he rather not wants them to get involved in this whole situation.)

First he went to retrieve katanas for portaling (he didn't want to try it with tanto made from own blood as he already felt weaker from using it.). Everything went smoothly as he went to the room where his belongings were only to be greeted by none other than man in black with sunglasses, introduced himself as Bishop.

Normally Leo would handle a guy, but this one was tougher than he realized. No matter what he did Bishop always deflected his attacks and even hit one or twice. It didn't help that his hand was still bleeding making his bandage almost red.

Bishop: Will you calm down and stop resisting? I mean no harm.

Leo: Yeah right. Could've fooled me after kidnapping me.

Bishop: Yeah that. I want to apologize for that. We thought you were someone else. Someone we thought was dead.

Leo🤨: What are you talking about?

Bishop: (😏😈)...😮‍💨Ten years ago we found a way that could open a portal to a dimension that we discovered. We send our best candidate to check that place, to see any changes. However due to... unfortunate circumstances we had cut some losses. Including our testing subject.

Leo: Yeah yeah, but what has to do with me? And what do you mean by testing subject?

Bishop: You should know. You look kinda similiar. Expect two things.

Leo: And that is?

Bishop: You eyes don't have heterochromia, nor anisocoria. And last time I checked our testing subject wasn't red eared slider, but a yellow bellied slider.

Leo suddenly felt cold after hearing it. There was shock, horror, nauseousness battling inside him, feeling he might throw up.

Yellow bellied slider. Eyes with heterochromia and anisocoria. There's only one fitting description. But that means...

Leo: It was you. You sent Giovanni into Prison Dimension. YOU SENT MY BROTHER AWAY!

Bishop: Giovanni huh? Interesting. And you are correct about the location as it was confirmed to me by-

Leo: How could you?

Bishop: It wasn't planned as I said earlier but it was inevitable. He was a perfect candidate,

Leo: He was a child. You said ten years ago and you thought I was him, by that logic he was an eighth years old when you send him into that place.

Bishop: You are surprisingly correct, however I don't see why that matters.

Leo: Are you shitting me right now?! Do you have any idea what you did?! What you put him through?! You sent a innocent child to dimension with those monsters that destroyed New York! You let him suffer in that horrendous place over a decade! How can you feel no remorse?!

Bishop: It was necessary sacrifice.

Leo: Sacrifice? Sacrifice?! He almost died because of you-!

Bishop: That was his mistake!

One line rattled everything. Leo felt that uncaring, downright cruel persona. It reminded of Draxum when he held him in his clutches ready to throw him off the roof.

Something inside blue masked slider snapped.

There was no cold dread anymore, only a boiling rage. It was burning like blue fire. Intense and uncontrollably. It wasn't like with Savage Raph. No, this was different. That anger within grew in any moment. It boiled everytime when he recalled those terrified heterochromatic eyes, those uncaring cold eyes in front him. Those moments when he faced that (when his oldest brother suffered because of that)... Monster.

He's never gonna forgive. He's won't forgive.

He has to pay. He's gonna pay. He will pay.

Pay. Pay. Pay. Pay. Pay. Pay! Pay! Pay! PaypaypaypayPAYPAYPAYPAY! PAAAAAYYY!!!

Bishop was unexpectedly punched in face by slider who suddenly appeared in front of him. He tried to deflect them but the turtle was faster than before. Something was different. His eyes... There was a tint of red in it. Almost murderousness. And that wasn't the only thing. He was portaling himself. He shattered his bloody tanto and send shards everywhere creating portals where he could appeared out of nowhere. Bishop was beaten up severely. Leo stopped and then snapped fingers shutting immediately, portal chopping everything around. He had one left and transformed into red sword. Save it for someone who does not deserve to live. Someone who made his brother suffer all those years. Bishop knew at at moment that there's no escape. This is his execution. Leo raised his arm, ready to decapitate that man, when a green hand stopped. It finally snapped out the slider from murderous fog and when he looked back he saw brothers, including Giovanni who held Leonardo's hand saying gentle yet pleading voice.

Gio: Don't do it. Please.

(Don't worry Leo didn't kill Bishop they portaled away and then Leo passes out from mystic overuse and small blood loss. But he's fine. Sorry if this is extra long. I just imagine Leo being this furious for learning something like (it was also based on my emotions that I felt same) and wanted to show a skill Leo could do if he use any metal to create a sword with his ninpo (including the metal in his bloodstream a.k.a. the iron, though not highly recommended) and it got little detailed than I planned.😅

And yes this dark portal/sword ability was inspired from Karai's sword transformation, ability from Omega Replica Christmas comic special (when Donnie has AI named Omega that has his face and persona after his death in apocalypse, and Katara's blood bending.

Soo what do you think?

My honest reaction to reading this

I love it! The way Leo is ticked off. The pleading voice of Giovanni who stops him.

ARGHHH I love my boys. Your brain for thinking of this is amazing—

[gremlinaristocrat]

Overthinking Sylvie’s Strategy

So, I know the Gio&Molly vs Sylvie fight in Ep2 was mostly about getting the protagonists to show off their personalities and powers . . . but I think if you read (way too far) into the strategy Sylvester uses it tells you a surprising amount about him.

Start at the start. Sylvie overhears our heroes talking about how they’re villains. Instead of sneak attacking them while he has the drop on them, he starts a dialog, to confirm they’re actually bad guys (and maybe to satisfy his own desire for drama and/or indulge in his sense of invulnerability). Gio responds by confirming he’s a criminal, calling Sylvie a kid and initiating combat.

It’s kind of overshadowed by what he does later in the fight, but the doc is pretty reasonable early on; I get the feeling he’d have been even more willing to talk things out if dealing with Indus’ stupidity and Mera’s manipulation hadn’t shortened his already-short fuse and made him Done with Trying To Talk To People.

Sylvie’s first move is to use sleep pollen like he did with Indus earlier; unlike all his other attacks, he doesn’t call its name when he uses it, probably to minimize the chances that his targets will figure out what it does in time to stop it. This is a 10/10 opener, with the potential to harmlessly incapacitate enemies and end fights before they start.

When that fails thanks to Molly’s quick thinking and Gio’s creativity, he follows it up with Counting Sheep. This is another solid decision, and unlike the last one, it actually works out for him: his minions swiftly swarm and overwhelm his opponents.

Pictured: Flawless Victory.

Note that – as far as I can tell – Sylvie has basically won at this point. Molly and Giovanni have no way to stop the sheep before they nibble and poof them into unconsciousness; all he has to do is stay the course.

And then our boy screws up. He banishes his own army – or maybe incinerates them, the animation isn’t clear on that point – in order to confront a twelve-year-old girl with her worst nightmare, while having no idea what that nightmare is or how he’d be able to use it.

He also picks this point to sacrifice his vantage point, achieving no obvious gain. I don’t think Jello did this on purpose, but it fits very well that Sylvie literally gives up the high ground for no reason – while forcing his opponents onto a different patch of high ground – at the same time he’s metaphorically doing that.

Let me psychoanalyze the psychoanalyst: what the hell is the good doctor thinking when he unleashes (almost literal!) hell on the adorable cosmic brownie? What’s going through his head when he passes up sure victory for the chance to re-traumatize a child?

Well, it’s possible that Counting Sheep drains stamina faster than it appears to (though he doesn’t seem winded after using it). It’s also possible that he’s worried about one of them using ranged attacks on him, and feels the need to end the fight ASAP. The magic system in EE is intentionally kind of loose and vibes-y, so there’s an endless list of possible excuses.

That said, I think the most likely answer to “what was he thinking?” is “absolutely nothing”. This whole thing looks like a (legitimately!) clever synergy-exploiting strategy he thought up a while back, rarely or never got to see in action, and is just unreflectively executing on even though a more humane approach would have straight-up let him win.

I didn’t notice this until the Youtube comments pointed it out, but I think it’s neat Gio never calls Sylvie a kid again after he finds out the doc has issues with it (except that one time he does it to signal that he’s putting on a show for the cops). He’ll mock you mercilessly, and maybe steal your stuff, but our glorious pink-haired overlord will not use That Word You Dislike to describe you once he knows you dislike it.

Anyway, back to the fight. Sylvie tries to negotiate with his prisoners in the Flame Vortex, since apparently his Psychology PhD never taught him that confronting people with their literal worst nightmares might make them unreasonable and/or push them to extremes. Gio escapes with Molly; Sylvie doubles down on the Nightmare Fuel; Gio responds by thwacking a ball of yarn at him.

This is another point at which – again, as far as I can tell – Sylvie has basically won. The fact that Giovanni resorted to such weird and desperate measures suggests Gio & Molly don’t have any better ways to attack or escape from their current position. All the alleged genius needs to do is take cover behind an exhibit and let his summons finish the criminals. Instead, he cancels his own winning move (again!) so he can summon Dr Beefton, escalating (again!!) in a way that doesn’t actually help him (again!!!).

Like, seriously, what was the plan here? There are a lot of words you could use to accurately describe Sylvie’s colleague/alter-ego/fursona, but ‘agile’ and ‘nimble’ aren’t among them; if Gio and Molly had decided to hold onto their high ground on general principles after Sylvie (apparently) fainted, or if they’d sprinted off in different directions instead of trying to stand their ground, what would he have done then?

From here on out, the beef revolves around Beefton. This tells us very little about Sylvie, except maybe in terms of how much frustration he’s repressing, and what being powerful means to him.

Pictured: What Peak Performance Looks Like

So, what does all this say about Sylvie? He’s clever, willing to hear people out, and merciful when he can get away with it; however, he makes dumb or pointlessly cruel decisions under pressure, and follows a prescribed plan instead of adapting to the enemy; will escalate when surprised or provoked, even when it’s counterproductive, choosing moves which feel strong instead of ones which make sense. In summary, he’s the world’s smartest dumbass, and (at least in this part of the story) acts more like a stereotypical cop than the actual cop character.

He’s getting better quickly, though. I think a lot of this is symptomatic of him being new-ish to fights, and especially new to fights where people get hurt and/or which last more than one move . . .

Yeah, it shows, and not in a good way.

. . . since he gets more flexible and responsive when fighting Mera . . .

Pictured: Character Growth

. . . though, uh, apparently not enough for him to realize that he could demoralize her and/or broker a truce by offering to remove her Epithet with the amulet if he wins.

Out-reasoned by the tweenager; that’s embarrassing.

[sweet-hearts-and-destiny-knots]

While outlining the Kalos arc, I fell into a new Leaf ship by accident 😭 It made me think about your quote about Pokemon being an otome game, which is funny bc I don't often meet people who are so chill with shipping as a concept lol, I'm not even a shipper in writing, more of a ship teaser but sometimes its just fun to discuss and imagine you know? I remember you saying you had multiple routes, but the guys we know were the "main boys" I'm curious to know what other rare pairs you like! And then while catching up on your blog, I saw you listed some out, "a vast assortment" 👀 are there more you're holding back on sharing? It's no trouble, we'd be happy hear them out! What kind of ships did you have the honor of bestowing a name upon :D My newest Leaf ship is x Alain. Still looking, but I've considered ship names like...BlueLuster, Solstice, Equinox...trying to go for that subtle symbolism. Steven references him in ORAS as an easter egg if you show him a shiny Beldum I think, so I'm like...lmao, what if I give game!Leaf her Kalosian boyfriend too (joke joke, but 👀) funniest thing to text the Kantrio gc. The boys will flip. There's not a lot of eligible bachelors in Kanto huh? I've only seen Leaf ships with Brock and Bill for the guys, Misty and Erika for the girls. Been slowly finding out how much ship teasing is in ScarVio, how lucky for the self-shippers XD they should do that more :3 Also aw man 😔 yeah the girls and the region locked Pokemon. I've seen someone HC that Galar has a rule banning entry of certain Pokemon into the region to explain the lack of a National Dex. Does your AU have anything like that? If they'd given us Alolan Leaf </3 she'd at least see something...I also saw what you said about naming Gloria's Intelion "Julian" and lol, I feel that, before their names came out I was thinking OOOH TINKATON. I'll customize the player as Steven's lil sister <3 and name her Josee <3 but before that, I was like, if regular custom, then maybe Julie? So her canon name was a surprise XD Ooh, and about Silver. While nostalgia might definitely play a role, the Silver fans I know like him bc of the plot potential of him being Giovanni's son and the subtle character arc he goes through. He never abandons his Pokemon despite calling them weak, gets the classic Golbat friendship evolution, his arrogance reads more like trying to prove a point to himself bc of Gio literally leaving him in a random parking lot at age 8-9. A lot of his speech actually mirrors what Rocket grunt NPCs tell you in-game. The switch from saying "I" to "we." The Dragon's Den, Dad Lance adoption speedrun everybody likes. I suppose there's also the potential "Red/Leaf are related to Gio" theory with the Scientist Gideon mistaking us for Gio's kid, until remembering the red hair bit. I always assumed it was bc we shared those facial features, or the eye color. Another possibility is that Silver was on that island and we were the only kid the scientist ran into, which raises the theory that he's been watching the player hiding in Gio's office somewhere the whole time. If you're a Chikorita!Silver truther, its evolutions pokedex mimics him too. Meganium, the final evo, releases a soothing scent. Bayleef, the midway journey, releases a scent that makes you want to fight. I know there's a lot of analysis ppl have done, but this is all I can remember off the top of my head. Now I'm wondering how the relationship between the KanJoh generation is written, how does their story play out? Is it just like the games, with Green going @/Lyra like he did with Red, "you look kind of like her...just a bit."

Oh, what a detailed message! But I believe the reason why I seem so "chill" with shipping as a concept is due to the fact I haven't forgotten this is meant to be a fun activity. Certainly there are some pairings as well as dynamics I deeply despise, however I prefer to place my focus on what brings me happiness.

All the pairings I've accumulated thus far involving the protagonists are listed in a past post, which you seem to have read. The ones I've bestowed a name to are:

LeafStoneshipping (Brock x Leaf) Barriershipping (Avery x Gloria) Wieldershipping (Volo x Akari) BrilliantDiamondshipping (Adaman x Akari) CandyTruffleshipping (Melli x Akari) Tracksuitshipping (Drayton x Juliana) SnowQuartzshipping (Grusha x Juliana)

Additionally, no, there is no such rule in place which prohibits certain Pokémon not native to Galar or Paldea. At some point Akari, or rather Hikari, visits the latter with Sariel, her Alpha Togekiss, who very much enjoys the vast varieties of food available!

I personally perceive Silver as a fascinating character for all the above reasons and more. Nostalgia also doesn't exactly affect my view of him since I didn't have the opportunity to play HeartGold and SoulSilver until relatively recently.

But with how strangely members of the fanbase behaved towards Kieran before the release of The Indigo Disk, as well as Volo in ways I don't even want to discuss here, I couldn't help wondering if Silver is lucky enough to escape that sort of discourse simply due to the time period he was introduced to the series.

It's actually interesting you ask about the relationship between the Kanto and Johto characters in Sisterhood, because I wrote a post just the other night involving Leaf, Green, Kotone, and Silver which I intend to share sometime soon.

Thank you for showing such interest!

[knowledge-paradox]

Honestly ion know where to start either ?? Maybe tell me about Matteo and Luca it doesn't matter how disorganized it is just ramble away ig

OKAY OKAY SO

this might be . very long I'm sorry

also I recently posted their family tree and here are the characters sheets of Luca and Matteo if that can help you :33

SO. they're cousins- that's the first major info honestly

Matteo and Luca pretty much grow up separated- Matteo spends his (very traumatic) childhood in the colonies while Luca grows in a pretty luxurious house in London. the main reason why they grow so apart is because of Lucia (Luca's mother) who was terrified of her brother (Gio, Matteo's father- that guy is an insane mess of a human being) possibly hurting Luca, so even if she could have reached out more she decided to not do so

Luca pretty much grows hating on Matteo, thinking that he was the reason his mother was so distressed every time they visited... and because Lucia told him to keep distances since Matteo is also a "bastard child"

when Matteo leaves to attend college in Venice Luca was already (even if pretty recently) married, and when Matteo's father died- since both his "mother"(they're not related) and younger sister Marinella weren't actually able to like . work since both of them were illiterate- Luca stepped in and help for a few months until Matteo had to abandon his studies for "an inconvenient event that happened back in Italy" (aka he was almost hanged for sodomy)

basically the fact that Matteo was going to abandon his remaining family (especially his sister who Luca was very attached to) gave Luca an extra reason to hate him. which is kinda hypocritical of him since he'll then leave his recently discovered pregnant wife to join the army 😭

Then the war starts, and these two are at the opposite sides of the war- Matteo's a bluecoat (even if he wasn't much of a patriot himself, he was mostly fighting for his own reasons) and Luca's a redcoat. They do meet during the war, Matteo was captured by the redcoats mid September 1777 and was prisoner for basically two whole months- where Luca wasn't so kind to him (and Matteo gained more major trauma from that) until the man escapes on November and they don't have another proper conversation until 1781 where . Matteo gets injured by cannons and he kills Luca while trying to escape

SO THIS IS THEIR WHOLE DEAL VERY SUMMARIZED

(a lot of things that go into the depth of the characters are either into my amrev oc tag or on discord but I can't bring myself to find more stuff rn sobs)

I HOPE THIS HELPS THO :333

[bunnygirl678]

I must know your silver and gold head cannons!! Spe and game verse 👀

Oh man you’ve just activated my trap card, I’ll try not to type your ear off (see what I did there) I have a ton so this is just a sampling

Let’s organize a bit (also I know you put gold/silver but I’m adding Gio cause I love him and I love to explore their relationships)

Games:

-gold is the sweetest and most naive little cutie, silver is a spoiled brat who pretends to hate his daddy but really misses him,

-Gio had to leave silver because gio’s enemies were going after him and he’d rather have silver hate him and be alive than have had him come along only to not make it out alive

-gold is a history nerd who loves dragging silver to every museum where he has to read every placard, when they explore a new region together gold takes multiple history lessons and reads a ton of books before, silver puts up with it because he loves him but he hates school type stuff, even as an adult

-Gio is also a history nerd (think your uncle who always has a historical documentary going in the background), once silver forgives him, he often pawns gold off to his dad so they can watch whatever boring historical education show they find

-gold eventually gives up his title for silver, he knows silver wants to be reunited with his father, and he really isn’t too worried about good versus evil, his focus is silver

-gold runs every morning, silver has gone once and never went again (although he does like looking at gold’s ass in those cute running shorts)

-gold comes from an impoverished or lower middle class background, silver is used to having maids, even after roughing it for those years, silver easily falls back into his old lifestyle, gold is always a bit more uncomfortable, he’s always extra polite to the staff (it makes up for silver who is just always an ass)

-gold confesses first (obviously this depends on the au) but after that silver takes the lead in the relationship

-silver has a tendency to be overprotective of gold, gets jealous easily, has gotten into plenty of fights cause some guy was walking too close to gold, gold is super naive and can’t tell when someone is flirting and he’s so friendly they read it as flirting

-gold is… extremely kinky, he is a natural sub, definitely pushes silver to try/do things he’s not super comfortable with, but silver can’t help but indulge him

-gold stops battling shortly after they get married (or even before) not just his title, but he’s not really interested in training, he keeps his team of course but they’re more like pampered pets than elite fighters

-silver didn’t really want kids but gold (and Gio) talked him into having an heir, silver is wrapped around the little finger the first moment he holds the baby, he is much softer with the kids/gold than he is anyone else, they only have 1 maybe 2 kids, he stays a dick his whole life lol

Manga:

-ufhhh they’re such sun and moon characters, hot and cold, but really it’s opposite what they look like on the outside

-silver is the only person gold feels comfortable enough to relax around and not have to put on a fake machismo act (it takes a bit but he gets there), he’s actually rather maternal (come on he’s the hatcher!!), enjoys tending to the home, wants to raise kids, loves cooking/baking

-which brings me to one of my favorite and I need to write this more into my fics but gold is the reason silver gets healthy. Gold saw his too skinny bff and knew he needed to learn how to cook to help him beef up (especially after learning who silvers father is, Gio is a man’s man)

-Gio feels incredibly grateful to gold (and his mom depending on the au) for taking care of silver, he also finds that gold somewhat resembles a younger version of himself (headstrong, passionate, loves silver)

-Gio uses gold to get in silvers good graces

-silver has a lot of scaring all over his body (hence the gloves/jacket/pants, even in the summer) he hates them and thinks theyre ugly, gold kisses them daily, puts special lotion on them, tells silver how handsome he is, how they’re a reminder that he’s strong and can survive

-gold has problems with his self esteem, he throws himself headfirst into danger, willing to die for other enough that it seems he has a death wish, and silvers the first person to ever pick up on it and actively work on helping gold overcome it (I have a fic where golds gonna get punished but instead of spankings it’s writing a list of all the things he likes about himself)

-silver wants a huge family, gold does too, tons of pets, lots of kids, they don’t care if it’s in a shack or a mansion as long as they’re together, they end up having at least 4 kids, gold is a fertility king so their surrogate does great (or him if it’s omega)

-gold grew up well off, not as rich as Gio but very wealthy, one of the richest families in the small town

-silver is very soft, doesn’t like to hurt anyone, golds morals are a lot more loose. It would be fun to have gold an executive for TR and silver is the prince in name only lol

-they get married ridiculously young (honestly same for both games/manga) even if gay marriage isn’t legal they have a ceremony and to them it’s a full wedding (also sexy if Gio bribes some officials to allow them to get married ridiculously young like too young, idk I love them being freaks)

-they are ostracized by the town for being gay, they become menaces

-gold teaches silver how to relax and have fun, he also works really hard to give silver all of the experiences he missed out on

-the reason gold had such a hard time learning the move from ultima is that he wasn’t sleeping or eating (neither was exbo) because silver was not around (and for exbo, gatr)

-their teams pair off in relationships, they borrow blue’s ditto a few times because certain team members (exbo) get depressed over not having eggs with their chosen mate

-they die moments apart

-gold is bottom boy (manga and games, although I still read top gold, I just only write top silver lol)

-I have some darker hc that I can tell ya in a dm but they’re pretty dark

-gold hides his accent, it comes out when he’s drunk/tired/around other hicks, silver loves his accent and melts when he gets called darlin’

-silver has night terrors due to his childhood abuse (for the record pryce was wayyyy worse to him physically than he was blue), he’s scared about attacking gold on accident when they first sleep together, but to his surprise, he doesn’t have a single nightmare, and when he occasionally does, they fade quickly and gold is always there to hold him and reassure him

-silver is a dork, gold is not, it’s pretty much the honor student and the delinquent jock, if silver had never been kidnapped his only friend would have been his daddy till he met gold, and gold would have never been able to be himself until silver (gold gets into fights a lot too)

-gold is super athletic (not an hc, canon) he has lithe muscles, silver enjoys watching him train for his pokathalons,

-idk i have a ton more but i am sleepy haha

Sorry if these aren’t what you’re looking for!

Happy new year!

[anotherwvba]

Family Matters, pt. 4

Part 4 - Dreams

It was late. Really late. The Omni was empty. No fans, no fighters. No crew, no staff. No one, seemingly, but a lone I.T. tech turned boxer. Niki Binary walked the concourse toward the food court, a piece of paper in her hand. Emergency lights lit her path as she walked with purpose, a look of confusion on her face.

As Niki continued at her steady pace, she looked down at the paper again. It was a torn and crumbled slip of paper with words written in a rough and heavy hand. It read, “Trouble sleeping lately? 1am by Gio’s in The Omni.”

My luck, it’s a serial killer, Niki thought to herself as the food court slowly came into view. Her heartbeat quickened as she spotted a silhouette at one of the tables. It was a large man and a t-shirt and jeans by the look of it. Please don’t be a serial killer.

“Ah,” a deep voice with a thick accent rumbled low. “You made it. Scared you wouldn’t take my note seriously. That or show up with baseball bat.”

Niki’s confusion only grew when she recognized the voice. Moving closer, eventually taking a seat at the table opposite of the man confirmed she was right about the voice. “Bull? What’s with all the Scooby-Doo stuff?”

Bald Bull, the Major Circuit Champion, smiled slightly. Reaching down beside him, he pulled a cooler up to the table and pulled out two cans of Liquid Death. “Boo. Orange or melon?”

“Orange, I guess?” Niki relaxed a little as Bull opened the can and slid it across to her. “Thanks, but seriously, what’s this?” Holding up the note, her question was obvious.

A deep breath. An exhale. A slip of sparkling melon water. Then, Bull spoke. “How your fight with Dream go?”

Orange water went spraying to the side and Niki choked a little. “How… how did you? I didn’t tell a soul about that.”

“Most people would think you crazy,” Bull smiled. “I know better. Imagine you got knocked out. What round?”

Niki was stunned. She didn’t know Bald Bull overly well, but she knew him and his reputation well enough. Bull wasn’t prone to practical jokes or teasing, but he wasn’t a severe personality either. In his younger days, he was known as “The Turkish Mad Man”, which he came by honestly. But now, that was more a persona for the crowd and less the man himself.

“Third.” Niki took a sip of her water and looked down at the tabletop. “How did you know?”

“I recommended you to him, or her when she fought you,” Bull seemed to muse on that for a moment. “Maybe I say, them. Pronouns difficult when can change form at will.”

This drew a slight chuckle from Niki, “You. You’re the one that told Dream to come to me? Why?”

“Before why, I have question.” Bull took a long draw from melon water. “How much Dream explain about what they are?”

It was Niki’s turn for a deep breath. “We talked for a while. Dream was the first WVBA Champ, not that anyone remembers it. The title match with Mr. Sandman’s what killed them. Somehow, they became some kind of strange ghost, made a wish, and everyone forgot. That’s the gist of it.”

“So, little more to it than that, at least I think.” Bull pushed an empty chair out from the table and propped up his feet. “Traditional Turkish belief called Tengri. Says there are many spirits that roam Earth. Called Körmös. Many different types. One kind called Ozor. Are souls of ancestors come to help and guide.”

“And you think Dream is an… Ozor?” Niki’s eyes narrowed. “Look, Bull, I’m not trying to be disrespectful about someone’s beliefs, but this is a little far-fetched for me. I mean, I believe in what I can touch and see.”

Bull retorted, “Dream punch you in face?”

Niki blinked and shook her head. “A lot. Fair point. Okay, let’s say Dream is an Ozor. I suppose as one of the founders of the WVBA, they are sorta an ancestor of anyone that fights here now. But, why? Why are they here? And you still haven’t told me how you know Dream?”

Bull smiled, “Second round, right before bell. Uppercut hit me just as I made charge inside. Out like light.” His hand unconsciously rubbed his jaw as if he was massaging out the pain of that punch even now. “Had long talk after. And I remembered everything.”

“What do you mean?” Niki leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“Remember night Dream died.” Bull’s face softened. For the first time since Niki had known him, Bald Bull looked every bit of his 45 years of age, like a man who’d spent 27 years in the ring. “Was hard night.”

“I can imagine,” Niki leaned back, sipping her water.

Bull’s gaze fixed on her, “No. You can’t.”

“Sorry.” A chill ran down Niki’s spine, but she pressed on. “I gotta know. Why me? And what do you think Dream is doing?”

“Why you?” Bull smiled. “Good heart. Determined. Hard work. This,” he gestured wide to encompass not just the arena complex, but the whole of the campus, “you dreamed of, then you made happen. People meet you, want to be better. Inspired. Not great boxer—yet—but great person.”

Tears welled in Niki’s eyes, “Thank you, Bull. I never knew you thought that much of me.”

Bull tipped his can to Niki before taking another sip. “What Dream doing? Don’t know. But trust is important. Dream like, how you say, ‘guardian angel’? Ozor step in when needed, not when feel like. Don’t know what is need. Not sure Dream know. But, know there is one.”

“Until then,” Niki asked.

“Until then,” Bull put his feet back on the floor and took a deep breath, “we look for others. We go about life. Be ready. Is all I know to do.”

Niki drained the last of the orange water from her can, “Do you really, honestly, truly believe that Dream is some spirit come to protect or prepare us or something? Really?”

“Don’t know.” Bull finished off his own drink, crushing the can in his hands. “But do know, four years ago, when WVBA reopen, I fought ghost. Ghost beat me like rookie. Only person ever beat me like that was Dream. Not devout man, but some things can’t explain another way.”

Both Bull and Niki stood, pushing chairs back into place. As they started to walk back toward the locker rooms and, from there, to the apartments, Niki looked over at the big man. “Bull, I watched you growing up. Read articles, saw interviews. You were the ‘Turkish Mad Man’, feared, angry, and reckless. Not saying that I want to hang out in a dark hallway with that guy, but… what happened?”

An honest, genuine laugh rumbled from Bull’s stomach. “Four years ago, got ass beat by ghost.”

[aheathen-conceivably]

It was well past sunset by the time Josephine went to look for Gio. She was used to him staying out after dark; when they were in their cabin together it was constantly filled with tension, although the variety of which changed nearly every hour. She figured he did it for the same reasons she went out driving most afternoons, with some intention to either escape the next looming fight or to finally provoke it. But now, with the stars fully shining in an inky blue sky, she had begun to grow worried. 

Out on the porch she looked toward where his truck usually sat parked, unused and forgotten. She didn’t know what she had expected to see, but when she realized that it was there her heart skipped a beat like she had been afraid that it would have been gone. 

From inside the other house all the lights were dimmed except for a single lamp upstairs where Zelda was no doubt still reading. Jo’s gaze shifted rightward toward the corn field where somehow, she already knew that’s where he was.

A full moon above was conspiring with the stars to illuminate his face, although he seemed to be trying to hide it amidst the shadow of a hundred dead leaves. His hands and his legs were fully one with the red dirt below, like he had long ago stopped caring whether the coarse grains got into every fraying hole in his pants. It was hard for her to imagine what he could have been doing motionless and morose for so long, but then she felt the heavy weight of an aging quilt beneath her and saw a pile of dying flowers at her bedside; and then, she knew exactly what.

“I know it's all dead. You don’t have to remind me.”

She walked up to the haphazard hole in the fence, seemingly there more due to the fact that someone had run out of wood rather than to make the whole thing a proper enclosure. She stopped before walking past it, just as unnerved by the dead corn as she was by Gio’s posture on the ground. “I wasn’t. I came to ask you to come inside. Its freezing.”

He didn't seem to hear her request, or if he did, he simply didn’t care enough to answer it. “Zelda was here earlier. Found me a job. A Works Progress Job. Roadwork. Something. I don’t know.”

He picked up a handful of dirt which looked dry even in the bright moonlight. Good! For fuck’s sake stand up. You aren’t defeated. Stop acting like it. Stand up, have a drink, and move the fuck on. Instead she chose her words carefully, conscious of just how much he must have spiraled sitting out here alone for hours. Neither was it lost on her just how patient he had been when she had done the same. “I know it's not what you wanted but at least it pays, right? I - you know we have another payment and this won’t sell…”

Like sand in an hourglass the last grains of dirt fell from his clenched fist. “So that’s what you’re here for, is it? To kick me when I’m down? Skim another twenty five percent while you’re at it?”

She had brought up the topic dozens of times before, always aware that there was another deadline looming just over the horizon. But that hadn’t been her intention. Not this time. Not here. Something about the corn was making her uneasy. There was no breeze in the air, but the stalks still seemed to sway; or maybe it was just that she owned the majority of this dead ground now. 

“Oh for God's sake. Must we do this? I’ll pay it if I need to. You know I will. But then you will get the job and it will become something and it will all be better. Now can we please go inside?”

“Of course you will. What’s the cost this time?”

“Do we really have to do that now? Here? Gio, I’ll pay it the way I’ve always paid it. In return for half your share. I mean must we?”

“And then what happens after? Will you sell me back my shares? A loan, Jo. You said it was a loan.”

Something snapped inside of her and the sympathy that had been staying her hand melted away. “After? Do you seriously want to do this now? I only asked for the same thing you offered Antoine and you goddamn well know we would be fucked if I hadn’t. Every last one of us would be on the street without me and yet you want to run this race over and over again every time I bring it up. After!” 

A cruel laugh escaped her lips, like she was losing control of her perfectly pointed insults. “You don’t even know what after means! Some job. Fucking roadwork. At least I know where my next paycheck is coming from and I can promise you it's enough to pay for this shithole three times over no matter how many times this goddamn corn dies.”

Dry, red soil rained down around him as he slowly raised himself up off the ground. Surrounded by corn stalks standing beside him like sentinels, he looked her dead in the eyes, every last insult seemingly deflected from his dirt stained pants except for one. 

“Antoine's not my wife.”  

“I’m not your wife either, Gio.” 

A breeze must have come down from the far reaches of the mountains, because all around them the soft sound of dry leaves rang out. She knew that she had gone too far for seemingly no reason at all. That fight had been long settled, and she knew what he had meant. He’s not my partner. He’s not supposed to trust me and rely on me the way you are. The way I rely on you now, for everything.

The look of hurt in his eyes radiated across the field and she glanced down at the red dirt just past her feet. She had stayed on the other side of the fence almost subconsciously, not even realizing just how much she didn’t want to take even one step inside. But burying the unease in her chest, she walked into the rows, conscious that if she so much as brushed one of the dead leaves it would fall to the ground in noisy protest.

As she reached him, the pain written on his face twisted deep inside her stomach. She hadn’t wanted him to fail. Jesus Christ, especially not like this. She could still see him a decade before, lying in their bed half-clothed and wide eyed, rambling of his plans and his dreams that would never come to fruition. She was thankful that foresight hadn’t imagined this; and that that boy couldn’t see himself now, stained with defeat like the red dirt covering him from head to toe. For once in her life she wanted to break her back and scrub her fingers raw over the wash tub, cleaning every stain off of his clothes until they were fresh again.

“Listen I’ll go with you to the WPA office as soon as they need you to, alright? Before my next tour we can go together.”

The pacification in her words only seemed to partially thaw his anger, made deeper and colder by every dead stalk surrounding them. His placid silence was somehow just as unnerving as the corn, like they were linked somehow, and maybe the passion that her insults would have usually elicited had died with the leaves too.

She brought her hand to his cheek, and when she felt him lean into her touch, relief flooded her body. “You need sleep, okay? Let’s go inside. It will be better in the morning.” 

He nodded subtly, although his feet stayed locked in place. She ran her thumb back and forth along the line where his beard met the softness of his skin, watching as his eyes closed at the touch. She wanted bring her lips to his eyelids and both of her hands to his chin. Then she could cover the exhausted defeat on his face with her own skin, taking it from him little by little until he was himself again.

When he still didn’t move she ran her hand down the length of his arm, interlacing her fingers with his. “Come on. You can do this. I’m here with you. We'll do it together.”

Finally he lifted his leaden foot, both of them leaning onto the other’s shoulder as they left the dead corn behind them. But buried in a shallow grave between the rows was a question still hanging over their heads like an axe. Will you sell me back my shares, Jo?

Previous / Next

[hexclaimed]

@hexfcrged: "You're the only one who's ever been able to make me feel this alive. And that's why it hurts so much. I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me, but I know it wouldn't change anything." from gio, full of pain and sadness. <3 perhaps mid fight. giopara angst?! its more likely than you think!

it was like clockwork. their impending interactions were always laced with quips that could sway into something far more venomous than the last time, edging towards it becoming worse and worse and worse each altercation that came forward thereafter. the clashing of metal on metal would be painful to hear for most, not him. it was loud, sheering, until fists were involved.

then, it was intimate. the bubbling hatred they both held onto came out beyond just simple words into the way flesh hit metallic outer shell or his own fingers clawing and grabbing onto the other to wrench him away. and yet, hatred was such a strong word. while Viktor would know its there, burning and fueled each time they came together, lit in his chest as if a fan was feeding it to grow and grow - there was something else. something he didnt want to feel. didnt want to experience.

     or, maybe he did, but hes lying to himself.

the whole goal of his operations was to rid the impulsive emotional being from ones body, and in truth, Viktor had succeeded in many ways. the only thing that left festering within the mostly automaton created man was vengeance and a idealistic vision of separating those sensations from action. it was almost hypocritical in Viktor as in this moment, he was feeling so damn much.

maybe it wasnt even really feeling and more of the ghost of such reminiscing at what would blossom within the metal husk of his chest. 

     he thinks, that is just as much of an issue, too.

but, it didnt matter. every ounce of such thing was ignored until he had Jayce pinned beneath him. his arm was torn to shreds by the other, inky black liquid dripping as if it were bleeding along the wires and broken bits that hung carelessly above the other all whilst his working on clung around the thick part of Jayces neck with a tightening grip. mechanical arm latched from his back was weakly pointed down at Jayce, a pathetic beam of light ready to burn a hole down through the thickest part of Jayces skull. do it. do it.

he pauses.

     and Jayce speaks, albeit quite terribly from his position.

Viktors fingers wanted to tighten his hand more, to cut off the mans airway, to cease any sort of possible influence Jayce may have over the machine. instead, they loosen. he stares down upon that of what he claimed to be his sort of nemesis in object horror, hidden behind the busted mask that covered altered features. the claw behind him even dims until it fizzles out, nearly retracting as if it flinched on Viktors behalf.

he didnt like that. he didnt like this. the after effect of such a statement and how those words held such a deep rooted emotion that, frankly, Viktor thinks Jayce would be better off without. but he could hear it. every remorse and pain and sorrow that clung to each word. as Viktor stared down upon the bloodied mess of chiseled features, he noted something that made the ticking of his mechanical heart stutter.

     Jayce was being genuine.

metal digits slide from the grip around Jayces throat to grabbing the man by the face, wrapping along his jaw tightly, digging finger tips into fleshy cheeks. he leaned down. just enough that the others ragged breaths misted upon the grim covered mask upon his face.

          ❝ you are correct that it would not. ❞     comes forth, warped by the mechanical voice box that was damaged in their altercation.     ❝ if this is your piss poor way of a last ditched effort, then it was not worth wasting your final breath on, Defender. ❞     the struggle and grasp Jayce had upon his arm, the other pushing at Viktor as he flailed beneath the amalgamation of metal and remaining human bits, it was for naught. the claw reared back into place, nearer to Viktors head, taking aim once again.

but it doesnt spur on. instead, it narrows its phalange like claws together to pierce the ground deeply right next to Jayces head in a quick jab. it was pure, obvious frustration. no sound of such escapes Viktor, however, as he merely uses the hand along Jayces face to push it to the side and away from him. all before he pulls it away and lays it flat on the ground on the opposing side where his claw was, using both to heave his wrecked body up and off of Jayce.

he stands there over Jayce for a moment, forcing bright beads away from the man to stare upward towards the grey smogged sky above them. and then, he laughs.

its a single noted sound, lacking any sort of humor or enjoyment, as it was mostly a disbelief in himself and the fact that Jayce had hit a sore spot within Viktor. a part he seemingly hasnt altered to rid this of.

he steps over Jayce without another look at the other, a few steps off from their fall upon the ground where he pauses once again, his back facing Jayce. he couldnt do it. he couldnt do it. not yet, at least. what Jayce said rolled around in his mind, over and over, only fueling his irritation even higher as the span of silence rests over them, only interrupted by the heavy breathing of Jayce and the world around them alike.

he turns ever slightly, those eyes peering over shoulder at Jayce, the burn of malice no longer evident and replaced with something else. something unreadable.

          ❝ this will not be the last of this, Defender. next time, i will not stop. ❞

he was giving him an out. to leave, to live.

     one day, Viktors hesitation would be the end of him.

[gio-goose]

Okay so I read the Sin dustloop n all that but I don't know how I can convert all the words that are saved upstairs to things I do in an actual match. Urbrhfhjg I need to fight more and maybe have someone coach me. But also that requires motivation and I don't have any rn. I've only just been fighting friends 😭😭 someday, gio, someday you'll get the confidence you need to go into tower

[new-royston-cursebreakers]

OC Deep Dive Tag

I was tagged by the lovely @eli-writes-sometimes! Check out its post here.

I'll be answering this for Gio from The Curse of New Royston!

--

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Gio gains a fear of wasps during the events of the story. Local bug enthusiast Cricket refrains from telling him that the Wasp Incident could've actually gone a lot worse. I honestly regret writing writing the Wasp Incident since wasps already have so much bad PR but I can't think of another bug that would fill the need DX

Also some mild scopophobia but its not as bad as the wasp thing

Do they have any pet peeves?

Gio doesn't like being held to a standard that others are not.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Tons of books, his little family lapel pin, and, well...his clothes. He doesn't keep anything that his parents wouldn't like that he has, which leaves his room pretty bare-bones.

What do they notice first in a person?

Where their eyes go. Are they looking for his judgement? Scrutinizing him? Do they fear him or detest him? Or, even rarer...do they just look at him like they would a friend?

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Maybe around a 3 or 4. He's kind of a squishy boy

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Definitely flight. Though giants aren't very good at flight, so he more often goes into a sort of pseudo-fawn response in which he tries to talk his way out of the situation.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

His family history is large, but nowadays, it's a pretty small family. He's an only child. He has two uncles (one not by blood), an aunt, and a cousin. He's not a very big family person, especially not after he finds out about the ghost.

What animal represents them best?

Whale. Large, gentle, social, playful at times, ornery at others, would much rather prefer to be in the water than out despite needing to breathe air.

What is a smell they dislike?

He doesn't like how his church smells. Which is pretty much just old carpet and people smell. He also doesn't like saline or bleach.

Have they broken any bones?

Never, never, never. If he ever broke a bone, it'd be a much worse medical emergency than it would for a normal person. Giants have to be careful.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

...Off-putting. But polite. If they got to know him better they might describe him differently, but he's cold to strangers.

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

He's lucky if he gets any sleep at all. He prefers the night and its quietness.

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Loves butter, especially on cooked green veggies like brussels sprouts. Likes savory things in general. Hates grape

Do they have any hobbies?

Swimming and reading are the big ones. He's big into classical mythology too

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

Instantly acts like he's been shoved out on stage unwillingly. If his friends surprised him he's tolerate it. Most of his surprises come from his family, who expects to React the Right Way so he focuses in on that and does not have any actual fun at all.

Do they like to wear jewellery?

Not really. Not a lot of jewelry fits his size, and the only pin his parents let him wear pin represents something that he does not like about himself. Once he's out from under them, he'll probably like wearing some simple rings, maybe a masculine necklace once in a while.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Very neat handwriting, both print and cursive. Frequently complimented by his teachers. But after he drowned, it changed and no one really noticed.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Tired and dismayed. The insomnia gets to him and he's more often than not in situations that he does not want to be in.

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Silk. Only the real stuff.

What kind of accent do they have?

Typical upper-class New England accent.

--

And I'll be tagging @fiercely-raging-writer, @asher-writes, and @karkkidoeswriting, if you'd like to participate!