#And one which must be made between fatal injury and actual death

[factorialsotherfandoms]

*siiiiiigh*

Look I promise today's prompt was going to be cute, I swear to high hell it was. And no, this isn't going to be anything like canon, and yes, I don't care fix is for silly ideas and aus and dreaming.

So anyway today, instead of nosebleed, I'm writing alt prompt: begging. Spoilers for 22/12/23 streams~

TW: temporary major character death, possession, grief, suicidal thinking as a result of said grief, self harm

(Read all the way to the end for a happy ending still)

"Please!" Philza screams. "Please, give him back!"

The others at Spawn look nervously between them. Their weapons are still raised, their tempers sharp, unable to quite process that whatever is controlling Forever will not use his totems.

Philza pays them no Mind, gives no quarter to their words. Ugly sobs tear through his voice, tears dropping onto the moss and cobble that makes up Spawn. He cradles Forever's head in his lap, shields him with his body even as he runs fingers through white hair and begs a miracle from the sky.

Forever - the parasite within Forever - laughs, his whole body shaking as black blood spills from his lips and from the gaping wound in his chest.

"How quaint," the monster laughs. "Even now you still can't accept what's been done."

"Fuck off!" Philza turns down to look at the monster corrupting his dear friend's skin, snarling even as tears continue to pour. "Fuck the fuck off and give me my fucking friend back!"

"Ah but little bird," Forever's chest strains in a cough and corrupted blood splatters over Philza's cheeks. "Can't you see he's already dead?"

Philza leans further down, pulling his hands from white hair to press against the wound. There's only more gasping, cackling laughter as he bows his head and let's a few sobs pass. "No, no..."

"Let him go, Phil," a gentle hand hovers near his shoulder. "He might respawn yet - just let him go."

If Forever wasn't allowed to use a totem, Philza doubts he'll be allowed to respawn; he slaps the hand away and turns his eyes back to the heavens.

"Rose!" He screams. "Rose! Help me! Please!"

She's only promised to aid him and his children, though - Philza knows this, knows that so far across the worlds she must be weak.

"Please," he sobs again, quieter now. "Please, I can't loose him... I can't..."

The tears are no longer sobs, now just silent torrents dripping from his face. The hand comes back, resting on his shoulder as he cradles Forever's possessed, dying form, and rocks himself.

Someone strokes Philza's wings, and he almost - almost relaxes. But then there's hands on Forever- hands trying to pull him away - and he screams again; he throws himself forwards, clawing at whatever would try steal his friend.

The monster in Forever's skin laughs, but laughs as though it can no longer breathe.

"She'll help!" He begs the people around him to understand. "She- She promised... She'll help..."

Because no matter what, if he loses Forever, Philza doesn't think there'll be anything left of himself for Rose to save.

---leave off here for ambigious ending. Continue for things getting worse, and then better---

The laughter beneath Philza's chest ceases, Forever's corrupted body falling still. The form that had been taunting him goes slack, tension against pain falling limp.

Philza is intimately familiar with what that means.

Philza knows death in all its forms.

Philza turns to the heavens, and screams.

It is not the screams of before, not a begging, not a plea, not a blind hope within the world. It is a scream born of anguish, of a splintering mind, of something once great and terrible carved open and laid bare. The abyss yawns before him, the void open and wide. Once he'd skim its surface, dancing and laughing and free - now he seeks only it's embrace, the oblivion which it promises as a final, lonely embrace.

The spectators turn away, or watch, Philza doesn't know - he just screams and screams and screams, helpless to what is happening, helpless against the shattering of an already fractured mind. He thinks he might see Rose's frowning in the grass around his knees - too late, too late, too late, and he would curse them if he had the throat left to form words at all.

But he doesn't, and so he screams.

The darkness fades from Forever's body only now, only too late. It trickles into the earth, corrupting instead the concrete beneath Forever.

The moss beneath the pair of them remains pristine.

Someone tries to pull Philza away - he hears Etoiles say something about an explosion - but he refuses. He refuses, he refuses, you will carve him from Forever or you will not seperate them at all. Bury him in the grave beside his confident, burn him on the pyre with his friend, leave their bodies entangled and deep and dark their remains.

Tubbo and Fit will look after his children - they don't need a broken husk for a father, after all.

He bends all the way down, now, pressing his face to Forever's chest. The blood there is red, red, red - still trickling from his back, but only as gravity pulls it away. Philza pays it no heed as he presses himself as close as he can.

Distantly he is aware of people being shepherded away, of whispers around him - it's a curse, it's a curse that even now his mind notices the movements, the threats, keeps plotting to keep him alive.

He doesn't want to live, not in a world without the sun.

He doesn't want to live, but his chest keeps on heaving anyway.

He doesn't want to live, but suspects he might be forced to anyway; hands peel him from Forever and force him against a solid chest, and this time he is powerless to stop them.

They let him keep Forever in his lap, at least, now cropped blonde hair bloody and draped across his thighs. His own black hair is stroked, and what can he do but continue his sobbing against Fit's chest as the world caves in?

The world remains suspended in time, a frozen mess only beating by Philza's sobs and tears. It drags and it shifts, and he is too far gone to recognise the vines which reach up, entwining around his limbs.

It's only when he hears the waystone that he looks up.

Blue eyes meet brown, and Philza throws himself at Forever.

Even after a respawn fuck only knows where Forever is weak, so weak. They both tumble to the floor, Philza's quick twist putting himself below the only thing saving Forever's head from the grown.

"You bastard!" His throat is too raw to scream, his sobbing back with full force and distorting everything he says. "You fucking dumbass! You- You- You fucking idiot why did you tell me you were okay?!"

"Hi Philza," Forever's words are rote and his smile is confused.

There's footsteps, heavy footsteps, and a potato canon pointed at the pair.

Philza twists again, shoving Forever behind himself, protecting him come what may.

"Sorry, Forever, but just need to check. Clothes off, and we need to see you bleed."

"Fit!" Forever struggles the full laughter or fake scandal, seemingly too weak to do more than lean against Philza's back. "I didn't know you were into that!"

Philza hates the option, he hates it so much, but Fit's right, Fit's absolutely right - they need to know.

"It's okay," Philza keeps his body between his friends, tears still quietly pouring as he cups Forever's cheek again. "I'll help you."

The "and all I needed to do was die" isn't nearly as obnoxious as either of them want it to be.

Gently Philza helps Forever strip. It's cold, and he shivers, and there's ugly burns on one shoulder and and ugly death-scar on his chest, but not a hint of the black infection from before.

The buttons on Forever's clothes are too complicated to easily redress him. Philza slips off his haori, and wraps it gently around him. Tucks the belt in an approximation of tied, and pulls Forever properly into his arms.

"Blood too," Fit says. "I'm sorry, but..."

"No, no, I understand," Forever whispers, even as Philza hisses.

He scrapes his hand through filthy gravel, tearing the skin in an absolute mess; Forever bleeds red, and Philza grabs his hand, already pouring a splash potion on it and picking out the gravel.

He can do this, he can do this, even if it's all he can do.

Behind them, Fit takes photos, a d relaxes.

"I'll let the others know," he promises. "Why don't you two get somewhere warm, eh?"

"I don't-" Forever begins.

"Let me show you somewhere special," Philza says. "I think you'll like it."

Even in the depths of hating himself for things he cannot help, Forever has never been able to say no to that.

The children are asleep in Rose's Garden. Philza won't wake them now, and especially not with Forever in tow. Now yet - reintroductions... they'll get there, they'll get there, just not today.

But the children are in Rose's Garden, and so the nest is free.

It's a little exposed, but the hay is warm and the blankets and pillows and clothes that make it up... And it's so far away from anywhere, so far from anyone who might panic and hurt Forever before there's been time to spread the news.

It's also home.

Philza will have to put Forever back on the bunker's allow lists, but in his heart he knows Forever will always be welcome in his home.

[randompjofan]

pjo headcanons cuz im bored

•the hephaestus and hecate cabin convinced chiron to let them make demigod-safe phones

•the catch is calling people will attract monsters anyway, so they stick to iris-messaging

•the first app nearly everyone downloaded was insta

•the gods took notice and apollo immediately downloaded it as well to stalk everyone

•most of the gods followed suit

•the iris cabin started an lgbtq+ pinterest page (they go INSANE during pride month)

•nico and piper were the first one to follow them

•reyna's way of coming out as bi was following them

•the romans and the hunters threw a RAGER when she did

•the greeks gleefully joined in

•venus got angry but couldn't do anything about it because bellona threatened to stab her in the gut

•the gods HATE getting injuries that should be fatal because in those moments they always wish they could die

•frank was really confused about lgbtq stuff at first, but he's starting to understand it now

•one year after jasons death, on his birthday, nico asked if hades would be able to resurrect jason since zeus was jason's dad

•hades mentioned this to zeus and at first he said no, but here threatened to make him sleep on the couch for another decade. He agreed.

•the apollo kids have karaoke nights on thursday

•there's also a camp-wide movie night, but sometimes they dont do it because how it works is one cabin must pick a movie and all agree on it

•when it was the hades cabin's turn nico and hazel sparred for either Tangled (nico) or The Princess and the Frog (hazel)

•hazel won, but let nico choose tangled because that way he could make fun of will the whole time

•when it was the poseidon cabin's turn, Percy asked annabeth to choose between finding nemo and moana

•she stood on a chair so she could look down at him, looked him right in the eyes and said "no."

•he got her back later by repeatedly singing the "Where's My Dad" song from finding nemo

•i'll make more movie night hcs later

•reyna and jason act like nico's mom and dad

•the entire apollo cabin has basically adopted nico at this point

•chiron often mistakes nico and will for patroclus and achilles and it makes him so happy that they're basically reincarnated versions of them he's one of their biggest shippers

•chiron has also shipped percabeth since percy arrived at camp no matter how many times annabeth insisted she hated him and he has no regrets

•grover and chiron often argue who the biggest percabeth shipper is and once percy told sally about this she iris-messaged them both and showed them t-shirts that said "#2 percabeth shippers" then turned around to reveal her shirt, which said "#1 percabeth shipper"

•athena and poseidon have agreed to get along until percy and annabeth die

•hades and apollo have also agreed to get along until will dies, as nico has been promised a place in hades's palace already and plans to take will with him

•nico has the worst nightmares out of all the campers by far, but annabeth is a close second

•hazel introduced nico to sanrio and gave him a kuromi plushie

•he has it on his bunk

•frank will sometimes transform into a peregrine falcon so he can visit chb in a matter of two hours

•nico taught hazel how to shadow travel after the war with gaea so she can get to chb at any tima

•will gets mad when she shadow travels, but nico gets even madder

•calypso has major trust issues and she really does want to be close to leo but she has a hard time

•the aphrodite kids have made it their mission to help her out

•on meg's birthday, apollo teleported to her in Lester form to wish her a happy birthday

•meg cried because she thought that apollo had forgotten her

•the hermes cabin caught connor with malcolm pace while staging the rocky horror picture show prank on chiron

•they immediately told the athena cabin about this, and all they said was "we've known for a month."

•the athena cabin is actually really good at telling when people are in love, but the Aphrodite campers are a bit quicker

•ares brags about clarisse and frank ALL THE DAM TIME.

•hades brags about nico and hazel constantly, and many times restates that he actually tried to be a good dad.

•nico will visit the underworld a lot during winter

•persephone always asks him "is your boyfriend here?"

•will decided that since the underworld is nico's second home, he'd visit with him

•things got reaaaaally awkward when he saw persephone (tsats reference)

•one of the first things persephone told him was how she turned him into a dandelion

•percy and annabeth iris-messaged nico at this moment cuz they got bored and laughed their asses off

•While Jason was in Elysium, he met Esperanza Valdez and Emily Zhang. They were actually good friends. He looked for Marie Levesque as well, but Nico told him to stop, and didnt elaborate. He wondered why, but stopped anyway.

•when he told leo and frank about this, they started SOBBING.

•a few weeks after piper started dating shel, they were at a park when piper realized there were karpos in a nearby field. She tried to shoo them away, but Shel just said "oh, those dont really hurt you, its ok." Thats how they found out shel could see through the Mist.

•a lot of people have a crush on rachel at chb and even some at camp jupiter. Rachel knows and when she told annabeth annabeth said "wow, you sound like percy." They practically died laughing.

•nico is actually close to mr. D to the point where he's allowed to play cards with him and mr. D actually calls nico "nico"

•it drives percy insane

•clarisse is really good friends with will as her and her siblings often end up in the infirmary and she feels bad for being rude to michael yew

•she's basically will's mom

•both camps call reyna and clarisse "the in-laws"

•nico will rent out his cabin for group sleepovers and just sleep in the apollo cabin

•one time they had a sleepover with the seven, nico, will, reyna and clarisse (will made her come) and they watched scream 5. During each kill scene frazel walked out of the room, percy, leo and jason watched through their fingers, piper and annabeth made a face every time she was stabbed, clarisse subconsciously mimed each stab while staring intensely at the tv, reyna and nico watched in silence and no one could tell if they liked it or not, and will just sat there labeling all the ways they would probably die and how the hell did Tara carpenter survive

•Nico is actually TERRIFIED of lightning after what happened to his mother and Bianca

•nico still has the statue of hades that bianca gave him

•drew tanaka is actually a decent fighter

•lavinia eventually became immune to the rashes from Poison Oak after seeing her so many times

•the first time will plagued someone was when a hecate camper hid austins saxophone in the Mist out of spite and he had a mental breakdown

•lou ellen made that camper sleep on the lawn

•the archery range is actually for all projectile weapons and the last time the romans visited lavinia got a manubalista bolt lodged in the target

•the valhalla kids visited CHB once

•people could only tell mallory and rachel apart from clothing and voice

•they decided to swap clothes for a day and watch people spiral because they're cruel like that

•alex and nico made shirts that said "glow-in-the-dark boyfriend club" and gave it to will and magnus

•leo met alex. It was horrific.

•hearthstone got flirted with by 6 dryads

•blitzen got frustrated by that

•jack met nico's sword and fell in love

•nico was deeply disturbed by that

•the song Mama's Boy by dominic fike is LITERALLY NICO. FIGHT ME FUCKING FIGHT ME CMON LETS GO-

•the "percy isnt nico's type" jokes DO happen very frequently, but percy doesnt make them, the entire camp does MINUS percy. Percy's just clueless lol

•not a lot of kids in cabin 14 are part if the lgbtqia community, but they are ALLIES TO DEATH.

•the hecate and hermes campers are OBSESSED with halloween

•frank was really intent on getting nico to trust him after he started dating hazel

[engie-ivy]

A Far Cry From Perfect

New chapter: Impunity

Read on AO3

Charges Dropped Against Orion and Walburga Black due to Discrepancy Error

The Daily Prophet – March 1978

By our reporter

Months after their arrests, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has announced in a press release yesterday that the charges against Orion and Walburga Black will be dropped. The reason for this being a so-called Discrepancy Error in their file.

The suspected crimes of Orion and Walburga Black have attracted much public interest ever since the tragic events of last year. When their eldest son, the then seventeen-year-old Sirius Black, was to be removed from his parental custody, Orion Black stabbed him with a knife that later turned out to be a cursed family heirloom, before fleeing the scene together with his wife. With Sirius Black fighting for his life in the hospital, more shocking information came to light, painting a picture of the Blacks’ systematic abuse of their son.

The ‘Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’ has one of the richest family histories of Wizarding Britain. Being a prominent member of The Sacred Twenty-Eight (A disputed list of 28 Wizarding families who are supposedly still ‘truly pure blood’), the Black family has always taken pride in keeping their bloodline ‘pure’. As the reason for the violence and abuse targeted towards the Black family heir, appeared to be him not adhering to his parents’ blood supremacy believes, it caused a public outrage and placed scrutiny upon to the dangerous and toxic side of pureblood culture, that was previously mostly kept in the shadows. It made Sirius Black a symbol of the resistance to blood supremacy, and it even put pressure on the Ministry to come up with stricter legislation regarding the spread of blood supremacy ideals, and implement a zero-tolerance approach towards the worrying rise of You Know Who and his so-called Death Eaters.

Last November, to almost everyone’s relief, the Auror Office was finally able to arrest Orion and Walburga Black, after which The Department of Magical Law Enforcement collected evidence and pressed charges in preparation for the trial.

So what went wrong?

Well, in his statement, Mr Bartemeus Crouch, the Head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, named a Discrepancy Error as the reason for dropping the charges.

Back in the time of Grindelwald, when political tension was running high, corruption was prevalent within the Ministry, and corrupted Ministry officials would make up false charges when political opponents were arrested. After Grindelwald’s defeat, in order prevent this type of corruption in the future, the Ministry implemented a rule stating that the suspicions warranting arrest and the eventual charges must, at all times, match. This makes it impossible for Ministry officials to add false charges to serve their own interest. According to this rule, in case of a Discrepancy Error (i.e. a mismatch between the suspicions warranting arrest and the eventual charges), all charges must be dropped.

So, in the documentation made public simultaneously with the press release yesterday, we could see that the suspicions warranting arrest state ‘Attempted murder’, while the charges state ‘Murder’. Remarkably, it were not the charges that were incorrect, as Mr Crouch also said in his statement. The error lies in an old version of the suspicions warranting arrest being included in final documentation submitted to the Wizengamot.

So why did the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wanted to go for murder? Sirius Black has, after all, survived the ordeal and is currently attending his final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Well, the evidence included in the documentation, including medical files from St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, contains the shocking revelation that Sirius Black has actually been fatally wounded during the stabbing incident. The knife was not only cursed, it was also poisoned with something called Bloodroot Poison.

“Bloodroot Poison is a rare, deadly concoction,” Potions Master Peffault, specialized in lethal Poisons, tells us. “As the name says, it is rooted in the blood. When the white blood cells eventually lose their function, the victim becomes vulnerable to infections, but the worst comes when the red blood cells fully lose their function of providing oxygen to the muscles and organs, eventually leading to death.” According to Mr Peffault , there is no antidote available for Bloodroot Poison. “A combination of the general Antidote for Uncommon Poisons and regular Blood Replenishment treatments can significantly slow it’s effects, but once in the bloodstream, it cannot be stopped.”

This matches what is written in Sirius Black’s medical file, in which, upon discovery of the poisoning, the Healer treating him gave him an estimated life expectancy of two years. At the time of writing this article, Sirius Black is estimated to have approximately one year left, meaning he will inevitably pass away before his twentieths birthday.

It therefore makes sense that, upon learning this information, the Aurors who performed the arrest changed the suspicions warranting arrest from ‘Attempted murder’ to ‘Murder’. Even if he is still alive, Sirius Black will die an early death as a result of his parents’ actions, and therefore, it can be said that his parents have murdered him. But does a simple mess-up between two version warrant the Blacks getting away with murder?

According to Bartemeus Crouch, it does. “The law is the law, also in this case,” the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement said in his statement. “And the law is very clear on Discrepancy Errors. We can’t make an exception, however unfortunate the result is here.” ‘Unfortunate’ seems to be an understatement in light of the grave injustice being done to Sirius Black, but on the question what measures he will take to prevent this from happening in the future, and whether this might even have consequences for his own position, Mr Crouch won’t go further than ascribe the whole situation to a ‘human error’. “We can revisit our procedures all we want, but some things you can’t avoid,” he says, when pressed on the issue. “Human errors will always happen.”

After being let down by St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, who neglected to report the signs of abuse to the authorities, and Wellbeing Acquired by Rescue of Minors from Threatening or Harmful Situations (WARMTHS), who failed to act on the first reports of the abuse, yet another institution has now failed Sirius Black, and it seems like his heroic story, that managed to captivate the world, is headed towards a tragic ending.

(Sirius Black and the ones close to him were not available for comment at the time of writing this article. The editorial office of The Daily Prophet wishes them strength in these trying times)

Read on AO3

[kawaiiblue18]

Click for better quality Fun fact: Mothra’s theme song is my favorite of all the kaiju, it’s so majestic Once again, lore is below the cut!

Ight Mikey time! It is highly recommended that you read the lore I put in the comments on Raph’s post before reading this! So, in this au, Mikey takes place of Mothra. This was actually quite challenging figuring out how to blend box turtle AND moth anatomy but I’m pretty happy with the result. I made it so Mikey’s shell has natural holes where his wings connect to her shoulder blades. Some notes about design to add is that I based the wing design purely on Mothra’s wing design plus some tiger moth images (you do not wanna know the amount of moth references I have saved). Plus I made Mikey’s limbs more parallel with Mothra including the claws Mothra has on her front limbs but made Mikey’s front most limbs his usual hands.

Just to clear some confusion before I start lore rambling: like most kaiju in this au, Mikey’s species is intersex and reproduces asexually. She uses any and all pronouns in this au. Also, I know some people ship Mothra and Godzilla, but Mikey and Raph are still considered siblings here so please do not ship them (aka tc*st DNI), thank you.

Of his siblings, Mikey is smallest, weakest (physically), and youngest of the four kaiju turtles. But that’s not say he should be underestimated. Xe is still ancient compared to human civilizations. They are only younger than the twins by a 100 years and younger than Raph by 2,000 years (that’s not a lot considering titan lifespans). Mikey’s body was built for grace and speed while air borne, but not for front on attacks. Mikey’s wings or body could easily be torn or damaged in battles with other kaiju if she isn’t careful. Although, not to worry because Mikey sports Mothra’s signature ability: the ability to be reborn but in a more different way. Instead of Mothra’s ability to simply hatch from previously laid egg and go through larval plus cocoon stages (though they can lay an egg for his next of kin), Mikey has a phoenix regeneration ability. In the event that Mikey is severely injured or killed, xer body will burst into flames until she is a giant pile of mystic ash. During this period, Mikey’s soul is in a sort of limbo between life and death until they naturally regenerate enough mystic energy to reform himself from the ashes.

That’s another thing to note: that while Mikey may not be physically strong, he is the most connected to their ninpo powers than his siblings. Through her ninpo, Mikey has the ability to summon a numerous amount of mystic chains at a time, shoot mystic fire, reduce the weight of objects while chains are wrapped around them, and perform a “God Ray” ability. The “God Ray” ability (also affectionately dubbed “the living sun” by humans) makes Mikey’s wings light up to an extreme amount for a few seconds. It’s so bright that it would be the equivalent to staring at the sun. This ability is effective for blinding opponents temporarily so that the opponent will be rendered off guard to a following attack, but this move does take a lot of ninpo energy to pull off. 

Smaller kaiju, like Mikey’s species, have the special ability to create mystic symbiotic bonds with kaiju larger and physically stronger than them. A symbiotic bond means ninpo (which I should’ve probably mentioned before is mystical atomic power that all kaiju possess) and emotions can be shared between the bonded kaiju. This bond does come with the price though: the death of one bond means the surviving bond must live their life with the phantom pain. While Mikey can regenerate from fatal injuries (which does not count as death in the symbiotic bond because xer soul is still intact), other kaiju cannot. It is common for kaiju in a bond to simply off themself after the death of their bond partner to avoid this fate. Mikey’s parent and predecessor, Mosura, had a symbiotic relationship with Dagon (if you remember, this is Raph’s parent) and ended her life alongside Dagon. Mikey, soon after Raph dawned the title of alpha titan, created a symbiotic bond with Raph that Raph readily agreed to. Mikey would later extend the bond to Leo and Donnie.

As human civilizations started appearing over time, Mikey was the one who was the most involved with them. Xe was fascinated by the complexity of these small intelligent creatures and would sometimes communicate telepathically with humans through directing his ninpo to flow through the human xe was try to talk to. (All kaiju communicate telepathically. Humans just can’t understand them because they don’t have ninpo.) Because of this, ancient civilizations gave him the name Michelangelo which means “the messenger who is like God”.

When Mikey is awoken by Raph from hibernation in 2019 to defeat the Shredder, he meets April who is the daughter of one of lead scientists. Mikey attempts to talk to April telepathically, but the base is soon infiltrated by the eco-terrorist organization and Mikey flies away. She is surprised by the human developments during their hibernation, but more so amazed by human’s innovative inventions that remind him of Donnie’s ninpo. Mikey firmly believes in cooperative coexistence with humans where most kaiju, including her own siblings, are skeptical of humans. Once the battle with Shredder in Boston is over and Mikey regenerates, xe seeks out April through the small amount of ninpo he left on her. Mikey and April form a friendship to which April becomes a human ambassador to titans for Monarch.

Damn this section was longer than the first so hope you understood all that ahaaa. Again, I will add more lore as I finish more ref sheets.

[delimeful]

failed bounties and fresh bonds

commission for @the-panmixxia! thank you so much for your support! :)

warnings: fear/panic, unintentional child endangerment, pretty bad injury, hypothetical gore/death mentions, remus being remus

-

Virgil pressed his palm over his mouth, struggling not to make any noise even as his lungs strained for air. There was someone in his forest, and he was sure they were here to kill him or worse.

He should have left before tonight, gotten as far away as possible, but... He’d lived here for longer than any of the other temporary homes he’d found. It was the safest place he’d found.

The trees in the forest were old and huge, enough that they sheltered him from view. The mountain was even more so, with old dragon caves that he could spend hours exploring. There was a little town to the south, but the forest was big enough that no travelers stumbled across the part where he lived.

He’d only snuck down to the town because he’d wanted to see the lights that had been strung up in the streets. He wasn’t sure what they were for, but they were bright and beautiful.

He hadn’t meant to get so close. He hadn’t meant to be caught.

But between one moment and the next, there had been a tiny gasp, and he’d turned his head to see one of the townsfolk, a young woman, staring up at him in frozen terror. The sight of the human had terrified him just as much, and he’d tipped back onto his butt, his hand knocking into a market stall with a crash of splintering wood.

The spell of silence broken, the woman screamed, the alarm spreading as windows began to light all down the street. Virgil had scrambled back like a crab, before turning and fleeing into the woods, leaving behind the distant noise of opening doors and raised voices.

It had all led to this. He’d been seen, and they’d set a bounty on his head, and now there was a strange human in his forest.

Virgil could hear the stranger humming, his tone nasal and low, occasionally straying painfully off key. He’d been using the sound as a guide, creeping away as quietly as he could whenever it came into range, but no matter how hard he tried to put distance between them, the wind would carry that hum back to him the moment he settled down to hide.

The stranger was a skilled tracker, maybe, or had extraordinarily good luck, or actually had seen Virgil that first time and had been following him from a distance ever since, tiring him out like a wolf stalking a deer. He didn’t sound like a knight, didn’t move with the crash of steel or ride a horse. Virgil hoped he wasn’t a knight, almost more than he wished he’d never gone down to that village at all.

He let himself breathe in, quiet and shaky, and then pushed away from the wall of his cave, listening for the stranger so he could try and sneak away once more.

Between the distant trees and night sky, there was silence.

Virgil leaned towards the cave’s opening, scanning the sharp silhouettes and straining for even the most muffled sound of twigs underfoot.

At the lip of the cave, a human-sized figure swung into view upside down, baring bone-white teeth in an unhinged grin. “Boo!”

Virgil couldn’t help the small scream that tore from him, the noise echoing against the cavern’s walls. His heart racing, he bolted back down those familiar tunnels without another thought, fleeing even as the human’s cackling cut off sharply.

“—Hey, wait, get back here! I didn’t spend all night wandering in the cold-ass woods just to have a monster blueball me out of a fight again!”

Shouted into a deep cave, the stranger’s words bounced and overlapped until they were just meaningless noise around Virgil, only propelling him forward faster. He took the corners sharply, scrambling up near sheer cliffs, barely noticing the way sharp protruding rocks scraped against his shoulders or pierced the soft bits of his feet.

He didn’t realize he was cornering himself until he turned into a dead end, the paths somehow warped and unfamiliar under the force of his panic. Quick, skipping steps were pursuing him in the distance, which meant that the human could still hear his footsteps, and so he shuffled into the furthest corner of the cavern and focused on making himself still and quiet, no matter how hard his body wanted to tremble and shake and sob.

There was no doubt about it; the stranger was a bounty hunter, and Virgil was the bounty.

That nasally voice continued to echo down to Virgil as he rambled on, complaining or singing or making jokes Virgil didn’t get, all while steadily pursuing his quarry.

Bit by bit, the noise drew closer and closer, accompanied by the crackle of a merrily burning torch. He seemed to be utterly undeterred by the twisting, unsettling nature of the mountain, and what little hope Virgil had began to fade. There was no way that the stranger would just happen to pass him by.

It would take a miracle to save him now.

A cavern away, a chunk of old stone gave way under an overconfident foot.

—-

“Oh, fuck—,” Remus shouted, his brain nearly shorting out as he tripped directly into freefall.

His divination provided him with a slurry of unhelpful images, each one matching a tiny movement he made while falling: him landing on his legs and shattering both of them so hard he blacks out, him landing on his head and doing a lot worse than blacking out, ragdolling all the way down the crevice below, twisting so that his foot catches on a crack in the wall and wrenches his ankle— That one!

He howled as his foot caught, and then the bitch that was gravity caught up with him and his back and skull slammed against the wall, knocking the air out of him and causing little white flashes to appear in his vision.

It took a long moment to come back to himself through the pain, but when he did, he found himself still dangling in place by a single ankle. He’d lost his torch somewhere in the process.

He glanced down, and knew immediately that the shadowy drop below was fatal, the cracks of potential future bone breaking settling into his brain.

Glancing up, he knew immediately that his ankle was boned, going by the interesting angle it was making with the rest of his leg.

He contemplated reaching up with his other foot and trying to wedge it in another crack. His brain offered him visions of the whole bit of cliff face snapping into brittle pieces, and then more falling to his death.

He crossed his arms, letting all the blood rush to his head in hopes of that generating a better idea. Instead, he got a headache.

“Well, shit,” he said, succinctly.

Something big shifted, just barely in earshot. Remus didn’t bother looking ahead; it was obvious that the giant he’d been hunting had just figured out how thoroughly the roles had been reversed.

Sure enough, the movements shuffled closer, surprisingly hesitant, and then two huge, glowing eyes peered down at him.

“Come to grind my bones into paste?” Remus asked, genuinely curious. “Or squish all my organs out through my ears?”

Those eyes scrunched up a bit in revulsion, which was hilarious coming from a monster about to kill him. He wiggled his limbs around a bit, ignoring the resulting pain and cracking of brittle rock in favor of hopefully enticing the creature to grab him already. Just hanging around was getting boring.

The breathing above him quickened a bit, and then there was a curved, warm surface under him, lifting slowly until his ankle was no longer carrying all of his weight. Remus considered yanking the injured foot free before the monster could do it for him, but before he could follow through, there was the silhouette of large fingers poking and prying at the rock until it really did crumble away.

The cupped thing he was splayed across had to be a hand too, he realized as he breathed through the sharp jabs of pain from his ankle being released. From the way the townspeople described it, he’d expected something less… human-shaped.

Between his ankle and his head rush, it was no surprise that he blacked out a little.

When he managed to wake back up, they’d returned to a tunnel that led outside, going by the fresh air he could feel against his face. It must have taken the creature a lot more time to make the trip while carrying him.

Whatever it wanted him for, he wasn’t sticking around to find out. He cast around for potential futures-- he rolls out of the grip and smacks his head on stone, he lands on his bad ankle and instantly blacks out again, he waits a little longer and is set on the ground outside by--

“You’re a kid?” he blurted, his vision of a distinctly human, distinctly child-shaped face fading away. The hand under him jolted, and the kid made a startled sniffle.

“You’re alive?” he asked in return, his voice deep and big but also rough with… tears? Jeez, had the kid really been that upset about some asshole bounty hunter biting the dust?

The hand curled in a little tighter around him, one fingertip coming to settle on his chest as though to check that he really was breathing. The motion was gentler than he thought possible for a giant, and he realized fairly abruptly that the ‘terrorized’ people in the town below were full of shit.

He’d hunted this kid for a whole night, and all he’d done in return was avoid him and then save his life. Some ‘monster’.

The kid seemed to remember himself, and flattened his hand back out before shuffling forwards more. There was a subtle shaking running through him, and Remus had the feeling that the kid was going to bolt the minute he set him down.

“Anyone else live up here with you?” he asked, flopping back onto the hand casually. He felt that giant gaze drop onto him and continued casually. “I came up here for a bounty but it turned out the townsfolk are dirty liars. I haven’t seen a single monster.”

There was a little surprised inhale from above him.

“In fact, this place is so nice I might camp here for a while,” he added, waving a hand at the forest ahead lazily. “Make sure to send off any other bounty hunters so they don’t waste their time up here.”

“R-Really?” the kid asked, his tone full of doubt and suspicion.

“Yup! I’ve been told I’m an absolutely detestable neighbor, disturber of the peace, totally unrecommended, zero out of ten,” Remus paused. “But I’m great at getting rid of uninvited guests!”

The kid took that last step out of the tunnel, the early light of dawn spilling over both of them. Remus sat up, waving his fingers in greeting as they both took each other in as more than silhouettes.

Apart from the fact that he was giant, the kid looked like... a kid. An long-limbed, underfed, lonely kid. One with distinct cuff-shaped scars around his wrists and ankles.

Remus shoved down his anger, tore his gaze away from the old wounds, and offered the kid a sharp-toothed grin. The kid tilted his head, wary. That was okay. Remus could handle wary.

“So, what do you say?”

“... Neighbors,” he replied, hesitant and hopeful. Remus cheered obnoxiously.

He was going to have fun making those people regret ever putting a bounty on this kid.

[h50europe]

Why the ending of the series finale felt off for many of us (and what PL could have had really in mind) - Aphorisms

As you can easily see from the photos, season 11 was a safe bet, as was a new team member, McCole. What could have been, it says, written by Justin, the wife of Alex stunt/stand-in double. I'm going to play the advocatus diaboli.

In the penultimate episode of H50, Lenkov created a new character. He was sort of based on Steve, but also not. As it turned out in the last episode, Cole and Steve also had a mutual friend: Catherine. Why does that not really surprise us? The rumor mill was really churning, and it was a given that PL was definitely going to bring her on board. So, without further ado, he made her a key person. She was the one who cracked the ominous code that Doris had left for her son. Question, couldn't Jerry have done that just as well?

Anyway, PL set up Cole and Steve. But the chemistry - for us - wasn't really there. They could have just as easily put anyone next to Steve. PL built on the military past of the two (what else) and finally the common denominator: Catherine. Oh, how original. NOT. If you look at this constellation, you can already guess where this was going. But there remained this one obstacle: Danny.

Well, no problem, Lenkov thought and had him kidnapped without further ado. All planned because of all the great McDanno moments we got to see in season 10. So appropriately for lulling, even if these moments did not have nearly as much heart as in previous seasons, but hey, the fans would swallow and relish it, PL thought.

Then came the obligatory threatening call from Daiyu Mei (note the clever pun ala Yoda: die you may...), and the drama unfolded. The whole thing was further clarified by the words of Wo Fat's ex: "I have the person you care about most in the world." Bummer, as she is not talking about Catherine but Danny. Queerbaiting at its worst. Then comes the usual. And during the escape attempt, Danny, who is already half-dead, gets shot. So far, so good, or not.

Danny's injuries could have easily been fatal. So now I'm going off the premise and just claiming that this was PL's original plan. Why? PL did mention at one point that he could imagine H50 without Steve or Danny, but he certainly wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was nothing more than a smoke grenade. But what PL had wanted for a long time was the end of McDanno. He preferred another ship. But while McDanno sailed blithely across the seven seas, PL's fav ship never left the harbor. But now, he had the ultimate opportunity with a new, equal partner at Steve's side (Book'em Cole), who also pulled Catherine out of a hat.

PL's heart did somersaults. What a great plan that was. Alex didn't say anything about really wanting to quit, even after the series ended. While he had been open about his departure after season 7, there was no need to hide this fact now in season 10. And as you can easily see, all signs were pointing toward season 11. What PL didn't count on was the massive resistance from CBS.

In contrast to PL, they had no problems with Scott/Danny or McDanno. They knew that this was the heart and soul of the show. And PL's protector Moonves was no longer available because he had been kicked out of the network. So PL's back was against the wall. And nothing and nobody could change that. Too bad, because actually, PL had everything perfectly planned.

Danny would either die on the way to the hospital or later in the hospital. This would lead Steve to a massive revenge attack, which should have ended in a brilliant showdown (brilliant for PL, not necessarily for the fans), but Daiyu Mei escapes eventually. Then, Steve would have been driving around aimlessly. We were possibly shown some flashbacks, only to end up at Casa McGarrett, where Catherine would have already been waiting for him. Nice reversal of the goodbye scene from season 6.

The conversation between Steve and her would have been similar to Danny's, except that it wouldn't have been about his parents, but about Danny and that he just can't take it in Hawaii any longer. Too much reminds him of his dead friend. Steve also wanted to pay his final respect and bring him back home to Jersey. Of course, Catherine suggests joining him. What else? Now that one ship sunk, PL could easily replace it with HIS fav ship. And because Cole has done so well, Steve also entrusts him with the task force's leadership. Before Steve leaves to accompany Danny on his last journey, he hands Cole his credentials.

Steve and Cath stand next to each other at the airport and watch as Danny's coffin is loaded onto the plane. Then they board the plane together, ending with them holding hands as we know it. Fade out, season 10 ends.

How would it have continued in season 10? Danny's funeral would have happened off-screen, like so many other pivotal scenes. Steve would have maybe spent an episode or two mulling it over and then returned to Hawaii to hunt down Daiyu Mei with Cole and the team, which now included Catherine.

So much for Lenkov's wet dream, um, plan. However, because CBS knew that McDanno was the heart and soul of the series, they found this idea more than lousy and turned PL down. We could imagine that Alex also threw in that he would certainly not continue without Scott. There was a short back and forth, and it was decided to cancel the show. So we've come full circle to the sloppy, heartless execution of the last episode and the absolutely meaningless words PL put in Steve's mouth as a result. Due to lack of creativity and apparent lack of time, the deadline seemed to be predetermined, considering how quickly the soundstages at Diamond Studios were obliterated.

The crew was equally surprised when PL succinctly informed them that there would be no season 11. See the post from an angry crew member on IG.

Can we prove any of this? Nope, but it's the only reasonable explanation for why the show ended the way it did. Namely, completely illogical, with a Steve who was more than just off the rails. At the very beginning of the series, Steve gives completely different reasons for staying. If you do a rewatch, you'll see.

Everybody knows that you don't solve problems by running away. You don't get rid of the weight that you carry around with you. Steve may be a stubborn mule, but one thing he has never been: self-centered. And if Danny was really the most important thing in the world to him, as Mei said, then he wouldn't have dumped him in the end. Because that's what you do when you really love someone, you stay and fight against all odds. Especially when someone is in a bad place, like Danny, who has just jumped from the brink of death.

You don't suddenly go on a self-realization trip and kick the person who's already lying on the ground. But that's exactly what Steve did. At least the way PL wrote the part. The man must have really lost it when he wrote those lines. I'm sure he was enjoying pure schadenfreude.

And if you take a close look at the two protagonists, you can clearly see the reluctance with which they shared it all with the audience. There was no more room for any affectionate ad-lib actions that we knew from before. They could only stubbornly reel off what was in the script. PL would have done well to sit down with Scott and Alex and find a common solution instead of imposing his version on them and the audience. That's what people with integrity do, but the man never any.

In our opinion, the show's ending ranks among the dumbest and most unimaginative of all time. Rarely a person manages to drive a show against the wall in such a way and at the same time assassinated the main characters. PL shouldn't be proud of it. He should rather stand in a corner and be ashamed of himself.

And now you can go ahead and bash us, or just ignore the whole thing and keep on scrolling. Thank you for your time and for letting us share our thoughts with you.

[mandoclan]

SWEET HOME KENTUCKY // Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x F!Reader

A/N: 14.8k. Yes, this is a spinoff of Sweet Home Alabama. I love that movie and I love Whiskey, so here you go! This is Jack Daniels x Female!Reader, but there’s no Y/N mention (unless I missed one).

Warnings: Character Death (mentioned in passing), Fluff, Angst, Divorce, Physical Abuse (a punch and a tight grip), Drinking, Drunkenness, (basically, if you’ve seen the movie, I’ve deviated but no more than normal).

She still dreamed about that night. The one where Jack took her out to the meadow behind his mama’s house and told her he wanted to marry her one day. To which she asked, “Why would you want to marry me for anyhow?” and he replied, “So I can kiss you anytime I want.” Her first kiss. Her first love. And they were only twelve at the time.

It didn’t come as a shock to her when Jack had asked her to marry him right out of high school. She was his first love, after all, and Jack swore he’d loved her since before he ever kissed her in that meadow. But then he never showed up to their reception because he was still drunk from his “bachelor party” the night before, he was always gone on missions and attempted to stop her from doing the same even when they worked for the same intelligence agency, and she eventually got shot in the head in a mission gone wrong, resulting in medical having to use Alpha-gel on her to bring her back.

That fatal injury had broken her and it had broken Jack too. He hadn’t been able to protect his own wife when she was his partner, and that killed him inside. After that, he became almost overbearing in his protectiveness and you’d eventually asked Champagne for a transfer after a whole year of turmoil in your home, explosive fights, and missions spent arguing. Champ loved you and Jack like his own kids and wanted you and your husband to fix this, but he did as you asked and you’d transferred to New York without telling Jack with the instructions that if he were to ask that Champ would tell him that you were safe and in another Statesman office.

That’s where you found yourself now, leading the New York office after the last agent had retired. You’d built up your reputation from scratch, leading missions and directing agents in the Northeast region of the United States. You kept in touch with Champ barely, but it had been seven years since you left Kentucky. You refused to even think about Jack unless you were sending another copy of the divorce papers or unless you had that damn dream about the meadow again.

You woke to the sound of your office door opening, and you lifted your head from the desk you occupied on the top floor.

“How come you let me sleep?” You grumbled to your assistant when he stepped into the room with a mug of coffee and a mission report from one of your top operatives.

“You needed it, boss, but it was only for a few minutes. Long enough for me to grab your coffee and fetch the report from downstairs.” He shrugged. “Y’know, that accent of yours gets a whole lot thicker when you’re dreaming.”

That boy had the audacity to smirk before you narrowed your eyes at him.

“And what exactly did I say?” You demanded.

“That I’m gonna get a raise when you realize how awesome I am.”

“We’ll see how good your coffee skills are, then.” You laughed, finally smiling at him through your exhaustion. In all reality, you liked this kid. He’d just been assigned to you and hadn’t earned his agent name yet, but you had a feeling he would do just fine and you already had plans to promote him come next quarter.

“Enjoy.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “I’ll see you tomorrow for that meeting in the conference room, alright?”

The kid agreed and you nodded at him before making your way to the elevators.

Your apartment on the lower levels of the Statesman New York building was modest, but well-lived in. You’d wanted to make it seem as much like home as possible. This time, however, your apartment wasn’t as empty as usual. The entire entryway and living room were filled with rose petals and rose bouquets in glasses of water.

“Goddamn that man,” you swore, stepping around the petals and heading to the panel you had on the wall where an orange light was blinking, signifying you had a waiting message. A button was pressed and suddenly your boyfriend’s voice filled the room.

“There’s a rose for every moment I thought of you last night. God, you must be exhausted. Sweetie, listen, I’ll see you tomorrow at our meeting. You’ll do great. I love you. Bye.” The message ended and you rolled your eyes before heading over to the largest of the bouquets.

You loved your boyfriend, Agent Rum, but this was too much. You hated huge, sappy gestures like this and he knew it, but you supposed it was a bit sweet. Very few other ladies you knew had such attentive men at their sides and Jack had never done anything remotely like this. A sharp breath was inhaled in an attempt to nix that thought from your mind before you headed to your front door and made your way to the ladies’ dorms. You left an embarrassingly big bouquet in front of each door and sighed in satisfaction once you’d swept up and removed most of the flowers in your apartment.

_________________________________________________________________

The meeting you’d scheduled came sooner than you’d liked, this being a collaboration between the Texas office and your own New York one. Rum walked in and kissed your forehead before the meeting could even start and you smiled at him. He could always brighten your day in an instant.

“Thanks for the flowers, babe.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand in yours. He grinned, asking if you really liked them, and kissed you before sitting in his spot along with a few of your other agents. You both slipped on your glasses and started the meeting, knowing that you could talk properly once the collaboration was agreed upon.

It felt like hours went by before all positions were assigned and the intel was decided upon. You groaned once you were able to remove the glasses needed to see everyone in their remote locations, rubbing your temples. Hands were felt on your shoulders, and you knew it was Rum. Your glasses blinked a light on the side and you sighed, placing them back on your face.

The blinking was due to a message from Agent AppleJack, one of your own agents whom you’d taken a shine to and often spent weekends going about the city with. She was a nice girl from Maine who had an affinity for seafood you couldn’t quite get behind, but you’d consider her one of the closest friends you had in this city.

“Please tell me he has a flaw somehow.” She had typed out. You rolled your eyes before moving your eyes on the on-screen keyboard to type a reply.

“He asked me to go to California for Christmas.”

“He’s gonna ask you a lot more than that,” was her reply.

“You think so?” You were suddenly nervous. You’d only been dating Rum for six months and your divorce still wasn’t finalized.

“Sweetie, let’s go for a walk.” Rum took you from your conversation, and you nodded, slipping the glasses back off your face. “You’re so stressed, but you did so well today.”

You both made your way to the elevator, hand in hand, and eventually you meandered around Central Park just talking about your jobs and how your last missions went. You rarely went on them anymore, but you made sure that Rum had as many as he liked to keep him happy.

“So have you made a decision?” He finally asked, bright eyes boring into yours.

“About what?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“California.”

“Babe, California? That’s four months from now. We don’t even have to decide right now because we can literally jump on any jet we have and go within 6 hours if we want.”

“I was thinking maybe 200 guests, tops.” Rum continued in his words, but you stopped him with a pull to his hand.

“For Christmas?” You asked, still very confused. “Rum, are you on some kind of medication I don’t know about? Should I take you off of field duty for a bit? Did you get shot or something?”

All of a sudden, Rum was kneeling in front of you in the middle of a pathway in Central Park, and everything finally made sense. He held a diamond ring in his hand, the light hitting it just right and you gasped.

“Brandy, and I should probably know your real name by now, will you marry me?”

“Are you sure? Because if you’re not sure we can just go back to work and forget all about this. It’s only been six months.” You floundered, not even sure what to say, but he looked so hopeful and you really did love him.

“Brandy, I love you. I didn’t come by this decision lightly, and I really hope you’ll say yes. I want to build a life with you.” Rum stood, looking you right in your eyes. “So, I’ll ask again. Brandy, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice and felt the ring slip on your finger. It felt strange, another ring being there, but you were suddenly overcome with joy that your life was finally falling into place and you had a man who loved you and wanted to build a life with you. That’s all you could ask for. So you kissed him.

He grinned once you’d let yourselves out of his arms and released him from your kiss, hand reaching for his agency-issue watch.

“I’ve got to tell my family.” He gushed, “Wait until you see the look on the guy’s faces!”

“Babe, do you mind if we keep this to ourselves for a while? With this collaboration mission with Texas happening and everything else, I’d rather just keep this quiet for a bit.”

“You don’t want to tell your family?” Rum asked, a bit confused. You cursed yourself in your mind because he didn’t know. The only person close to being a family to you was Champ, and you hadn’t really talked to him in ages. Close to seven years, actually, which was downright awful. The guilt gnawed at you.

“Sunshine, I don’t really, um, have a family.” You stated calmly, fingers soothing the back of his hand as he pulled a face.

“But—” he started.

“I have a mentor who I looked up to as a father, but I haven’t seen him in about seven years. I think I should tell him in person.”

“Okay, whatever you want, sweetie. I’m happy as long as you’re happy.” Rum smiled, and you sighed in relief.

“He’ll love you, eventually.” You reassured him.

_________________________________________________________________

First thing the next morning, you caught a plane down to Kentucky and found yourself driving along the battered country roads to the little farmhouse where you and Jack used to live. Your watch buzzed with an incoming call, but you didn’t answer, knowing it was AppleJack. You’d fill her in later.

You parked the car next to the oak tree that still held your swing. A dog came rushing down the steps, howling at you, but you didn’t mind. It was your dog, after all. A tall man in heavy work boots busted out the door, hollering at the dog and telling you that “he don’t really bite.”

The man looked at you without really seeing you, seeing only a woman in worn out cowboy boots and aviators covering much of her face. Her hair was different, so she didn’t really expect him to recognize her.

“What can I do for you?” The man drawled in his southern accent. You shuddered, not forgetting the way that voice sounded when you were in bed together at all times of day or night.

“Well, for starters, you can get your stubborn ass down here and give me a divorce.” You snapped, pulling the sunglasses off your face. Jack’s eyes widened once your words registered. “C’mon, Jack, I mean it. The joke’s over. We need to finish this so I can get back to my office and take care of my job.”

“You’re shittin’ me, right?” Jack spluttered.

You finally got a good look at him. He had shaving cream on the side of his face as if he hadn’t got a chance to finish before your hound was howling, but he’d kept his mustache. You hated to say that he looked good, but it was the truth. The years had been kind to him.

“You know, I’ve never actually understood that expression, but no, I’m not “shitting” you.” You groaned, pulling a packet of papers out of the glovebox of your rented truck and spreading them out in the bed. “Look, it’s even got these idiot proof tabs so you can’t mess this up. I’ve got one copy for you and I both and one for my lawyer. So c’mon.”

When you looked up at him again, he didn’t say anything but he certainly looked like he had quite a few things to say.

“Well?” You demanded, irritated that he wasn’t coming down off the porch to sign the papers like you’d asked him to.

“You show up here after seven years without so much as a ‘Hey there, Jack, remember me? Your wife?’ Or a “Hi, honey, lookin’ good! How’s the family?’” He had the audacity to laugh, finally stepping closer to the edge of the porch.

“You expect me to tell you that you look good? Bless your heart. Sweetheart, we’ve been separated for seven years. I’ve had it with your bullshit.”

“They like that attitude wherever it is you’ve been?”

“Cut the crap, Jack. You knew where I was. Champ told me you accessed my records.” You spat, moving closer to the porch. “And don’t you dare tell me you’ve spent all this time missing me.”

“Oh I missed you alright, but I’ve been going to the range more and practicing so my aim’s gotten a lot better.” He drawled, leaning against the railing.

“Is that a threat, Jack? I’ve got a lawyer who charges me an arm and a leg. He charged me every time you sent these damn papers back without your signature on the dotted lines.” You lifted the papers as you spoke, but he scoffed at you.

“Well, I’m glad to see you got the message.” He smirked, going to say something else but you were both cut off by the dog howling again due to your hostile tones.

“Shut up, Coal!” You shouted, but Jack shouted a different name. “What happened to my dog, Jack?”

“He died. You weren’t here.” He grumbled, turning to go back into the ranch house. You stood there in shock for a second before realizing what he was doing.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I’m leaving!” He shouted, back turned to you, “You done it, so you should recognize the process. I need to finish shaving my damn beard.”

“Jack, can we please just keep this civilized? For God’s sake, we’re both adults and agents. Please just sign the papers so I can go back home.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. This was a mistake, you thought. He wasn’t going to sign the papers.

“What do you know from home?” Jack spit, finally turning around to face you, fire in his eyes. “Hell, I bet Champ doesn’t even know you’re here, does he? That old man took you under his wing and trained you himself and you have the audacity to avoid him like he’s some annoyance?”

“That’s my business, Jack, so you stay out of it.”

“Honey, he’s the only family you got.”

“Don’t you ‘honey’ me, honey!” If looks could kill, he’d have died about ten times by now with the murderous look you were giving him.

“Get your ass back in that truck, drive over and see him, and maybe we’ll talk after.” Jack demanded, pointing his finger at your vehicle. He was headed back inside before you could even think, and you started shouting at him as you followed him up the porch.

“Jack, you idiotic, stubborn, no good agent! The only reason you won’t sign these papers is because I want you to!” You yelled, hands on the doorknob of the windowed door he’d just slammed in your face and locked.

“Wrong!” He shouted, trying to pull the blinds on the door that he could never get figured out. “The only reason I ain’t signin’ is because you’ve turned into some hoity-toity, wine-drinking, Yankee bitch and I’d like nothing better right now than to piss you off!”

He finally maneuvered the blinds mostly over the door as you dashed to the back of the house, but he locked that too before you had a chance to get there in time. He could hear your frustrated shout from outside and he chuckled in disbelief before heading to his bathroom to get rid of the rest of his beard.

“Divorce, my ass.” He grumbled. Jack came out two minutes later, wiping his face with a towel to find you lounging on his bed. He froze.

“Hey genius,” you smirked, anger still evident in your eyes. “Next time you wanna lock somebody out, make sure they don’t know where the spare key is.” You waved the offending object in the air, and Whiskey made a mad dash for it but you closed your fist before he could snatch it.

“Knew I should’ve changed those damn locks. It’d be nice if my wife had told me where the spare key was!” He growled.

“I’m not your wife anymore, Jack.” You said softly, “I’m just the first girl that climbed in the back of your truck. But you’re right, I have changed. I don’t even know the girl you married anymore.”

“Then let me remind you.” Jack sneered before grabbing his cell phone and heading back into his bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, Jack popped his head out of the bathroom.

“You bring any clothes with stripes on ‘em?” He asked, and you looked at him in confusion.

Red and blue lights flashed through the windows suddenly and your eyes widened.

“You called the sheriff?!” You gasped, jumping off the bed you used to share with the man looking at you with a satisfied grin on his face. “You know that old bastard hates me!”

“For good reason!” Jack shouted, still in the bathroom.

You made to run for the back door, but it opened to reveal a man you knew.

“Well, hell’s bells!” The man grinned, “If it isn’t our favorite Agent Brandy!”

“Tequila?”

“Hot damn girl, did we miss you! The agency wasn’t the same without you!” Tequila laughed, picking you up and giving you the biggest hug you’d gotten in a long time.

“I can’t believe you’re the sheriff!” You pulled on his badge for a second and knocked his cowboy hat off kilter to mess with him.

“Yep, I get to frisk pretty things like you all day and get paid for it.” Tequila put his hands around your waist and you slapped his chest.

“Aaron, can you try and be at least a little more professional? We got us a crime suspect here.” Jack emerged from the bathroom and you were struck with the fact that you hadn’t known Tequila’s real name until that moment. You quickly snapped back into it, though.

“Now, Brandy, you can’t just go breaking into your ex’s house whenever you feel like it, no matter how much they might deserve it.” Tequila—Aaron, you had to remember that—said.

“I didn’t break in. I used a key. My key, if you must know.” You snorted. Clearly, “Aaron” didn’t know that y’all were still married.

“Well, it still ain’t your house, Brandy. I’m gonna have to escort you out.” Aaron made to take your wrist in his hand, but you pulled away and grabbed the divorce papers you still had with you. You waved them as you heard Jack tell Aaron to use the cuffs on you.

“If you can get that asshole to sign these papers, I’ll let you run me out of town.” You smirked and Aaron laughed at your antics.

“Now that’s none of your concern, Aaron, you hear me?” Jack started, but Aaron was already taking the papers from you to look over.

“Well, what do you know. A bill of divorcement?” He asked. You nodded, and Aaron turned to Jack. “Hell, Jack, I thought you took care of this.”

“I thought I did!” Jack protested.

“Obviously not! Well, if y’all are still married, it’s her house too. This here ain’t nothin’ but a domestic dispute.” Aaron handed the papers back to you, and you smiled at him.

“He didn’t hit you, did he? If he took a swing at you, I’ll take him in right now.” Aaron told you quietly, out of earshot of your husband. You shook your head, because no, that man had never harmed you in ways that were physical. He’d only wounded your heart.

“No, he never hit me.” You replied quietly. Aaron nodded.

“Well, seems y’all got some catching up to do, so I’m gonna leave y’all to it. There’s nobody for miles, so Jack here can make ya scream all he likes.” Aaron winked at Jack, and you shouted in indignation. “G’night, lovebirds!”

“Aaron, I saved your life at least four times back in your Statesman years! You owe me!” Jack shouted, rushing to follow the sheriff’s retreating figure. He wanted you gone from his house in handcuffs if that’s what it took to get you to leave him alone about those divorce papers that he didn’t want to sign.

“Why can’t you just sign the damn papers, Jack?” You yelled after him, and he fixed you with the nastiest stare you’d seen in a long time.

“Listen, Jack. There’s nothing I can do. Your wife’s done nothing wrong, so I can’t just haul her in for nothing. Y’hear me?” Aaron blocked the doorway with his large frame as he lifted his hands in mock surrender.

“I suppose shoplifting steaks at the grocery store’s okay.” Jack spat.

“I took ‘em back and you know it!” You screeched back.

“You remember that vandalism out at the stockyard? Totally her!”

“Like I could tip a cow by myself at sixteen.” You growled, and Jack groaned. He couldn’t hit you with anything from your Statesman years either because that was all “classified information” you didn’t have to answer to. But Jack got an idea.

“Hey Aaron, isn’t there some outstanding warrant for whoever dumped your old man’s tractor in the fish pond?” Jack smirked triumphantly, making eye contact with your horrified expression. And then the cuffs were on your wrists and you were making your merry way to the county jail in the back of his cruiser.

“Now you know I didn’t have a choice, sweetheart.” Aaron smiled ruefully once y’all reached the station. He’d ended up hauling you off in cuffs just like Jack wanted and you were seething.

“This all could have been avoided if he’d just signed those damn papers.” You grumbled. “Can I make a call?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. You’ll get a couple minutes once I book ya.”

You rolled your eyes, taking the photos Aaron needed to do for “legal purposes.”

“You know that’s gonna get wiped once I make my call, right?” Aaron had the audacity to laugh, knowing exactly who you were going to call.

“I know. Tell big daddy I miss him.” Aaron pointed towards the phone.

It rang for a few seconds before a secretary's voice filtered on, saying the usual crap the Statesman company was supposed to yodel on about.

“Hi, I’ve got a word for you, lady.” You spit out, “Lemon drops suck.” You heard the operator say something about holding on for a moment and then a familiar voice was asking who you were.

“Champ! It’s Brandy,” you shouted, “Listen, I need a favor.”

“Name it, darling. You know I’d do anything for you and that wonderful husband of yours.” He drawled on for a moment and you smacked the phone receiver into the box.

“I need you to pick me up.”

“Well, where are ya? I’ll send a car or whatever it is you need.”

“That’s the thing. I’m in town. But, I need you to come get me from the jail.” You said after a moment. A groan came through the receiver and you winced.

“Alright, darling, I’ll be right there. I’m assuming it’s the usual one, then?”

“Yeah.”

Fifteen minutes later, the man himself was strolling through the door.

“I’m here for my girl, Tequila.” Champ rolled his eyes at you once he saw you waving. He had you out and your record erased within five minutes, and then you were back in his familiar old truck that smelled like whiskey and gunpowder. He accepted a muttered thank you while you drove off towards the Statesman offices.

“So what put you in jail this time?” Champ finally asked.

“Jack and his big, fat mouth.” You grumbled. “It was just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

“Kinda like that wedding I officiated, huh, darling?” You refused to make eye contact.

“I would hardly call that a wedding.”

“The boy was nervous.” Champ chuckled.

“He was still drunk from the night before!”

“Can you blame him?”

“Yes, I can! We’re supposed to be professional agents and he goes and gets piss drunk the night before we’re supposed to get married. I went to the reception by myself with his puke on the side of my dress while he slept it off at the hotel. And you’re still siding with him!”

“I ain’t siding with nobody, so get rid of that idea. Y’all two are my best agents and I need you both.” Champ stated firmly. “The boy’s changed is all.”

“Can we just not talk about Jack? I know he’s like the son you never had, but you also called me your daughter and all that, so can you just ask me what’s new with me or something instead?”

“Sure. Shoot.” Champ looked disinterested, and you had the feeling that he’d kept up with you better than you’d kept up with him. Curse the archives for always spilling your secrets before you ever could.

“I met somebody. And he’s quite a catch.” You started, and Champ raised an eyebrow beneath his larger than life cowboy hat. “And I’m happy. Really.”

The rest of the drive was held in silence, neither of you feeling like talking much. He pulled into the Statesman gates and led you inside, scanning his ID card on an empty apartment in the back of the warehouses where agents could sleep during the longer missions.

“Sleep well, sweetheart. We can talk about all this in the morning.” He kissed your forehead and you hauled your bag inside. “I’ll take you to get your truck in the morning, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.”

_________________________________________________________________

In the morning, you were on the phone with your lawyer, walking around the Statesman compound and attempting to avoid the various tour groups that were unaware of the real reason this distillery existed.

“How long does a contested divorce take?” You asked, exasperated that you had to do this now of all times because your no-good husband wouldn’t sign the divorce papers. “18 months? Mr. Collier, I don’t even have 18 days, really!”

The man told you that was how it had to be, you informed him that this arrangement wouldn’t work, and he was informing you of a different option when you heard someone wolf whistle at you, throwing out some jab.

“Ain’t seen the likes of you around this place much!” The man shouted from his horse.

“Mr. Collier, that’s just not going to work for me.” You groaned, trying to block out the man catcalling you from his horse. Clearly this was some junior agent. “Mr. Collier, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

“Listen here, bubba, why don’t you kiss my ass!” You shouted up at the guy, but screamed in happiness once you realized who it was. “Oh my god, Moonshine?!”

“Let’s go inside then, missy, because I don’t do that kind of thing out here in front of the guests.” Moonshine smirked at you, jumping down from his horse.

“I guess your mama raised you right, then.” You laughed, hugging him. You’d missed Moonshine, who’d been one of your first friends in the agency aside from Jack, of course. “I better back off of you before your little lady tries to come beat me up.”

Moonshine looked sheepish.

“There is a little lady, isn’t there?”

“I can hardly afford me and my unhealthy addiction to firearms and whiskey, let alone some high-maintenance babe.” Moonshine laughed.

“What about Cara what’s-her-name? From the class outside of ours? Y’all had real chemistry on some of the missions I supervised.”

“She transferred out to the Alaska branch, and uh, I wasn’t her type.” Moonshine scratched the back of his neck and you hummed, understanding the situation.

“That answers a few of my questions. Guess we all have our secrets, don’t we, Moonshine.” You grinned, your suspicions about him batting for the opposite team nearly confirmed.

“Yeah, we sure do.” Moonshine climbed back up on his horse, tipping his hat on the way. “I gotta get back to work now, missy, but are you gonna be in town for awhile? Me and a few of the guys are going down to our normal watering hole later tonight if you’re up for it.”

“I hope I won’t be here long. I have to go see Champ, but I think I’ll see you boys tonight.”

“Well, I better scram if you’re seeing the boss man.”

“Very funny. I’ll see you later, Moonshine.” You waved the man off and made your way inside, scanning your own ID card on the entry doors and taking the elevator up to Champ’s office.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t my favorite agent.” Champ drawled from his seat at the head of the conference table.

“Hey boss man, care to give me a ride to town so I can get my truck?” You asked, leaning up against the door jam and waving your keys. He laughed, standing up and grabbing his own keys from his desk.

“C’mon then, little lady. I did make you a promise. You can tell me all about why you’re here on the way over.”

_________________________________________________________________

Once you’d picked up your truck from the jail’s parking lot, you made your way to the bank. You hadn’t accounted for Jack taking as long as he was to sign the divorce papers, so you needed some cash for necessities.

Of course, the bank didn’t have an ATM. You cursed yourself for forgetting as you stepped inside. The bank guard’s eyes widened once he laid eyes on you, telling whoever it was in the teller’s booth that he was going to take a break outside. You winced once you remembered that this was the same man whose farm you and Jack and a few of your old friends had gone rolling pumpkins in year after year. He probably hated you.

You approached the teller, but didn’t recognize her. She clearly recognized you, though.

“Well, if it ain’t the queen of the New York Statesman office.” She grinned. You narrowed your eyes, attempting to figure out who she was when the lightbulb clicked.

“Jenny? Oh my god. I haven’t seen you since you and Tequila got hitched! You look amazing!”

“Thanks, sweetie! So do you. What can I do you for?”

“I need to make a withdrawal from my—“

“Joint account?” Jenny smiled like she knew something you didn’t, which knowing her, she probably did.

“My what?”

“Your joint account. With Jack? From what I hear, y’all are still married.”

“Why yes, yes we are.” You grinned, a plan already formulating in your mind.

_________________________________________________________________

It was after five when Jack got home, but you’d already got to work. You had on one of his favorite dresses that you’d found in a trunk somewhere, one of your homemade aprons, and a wide smile once he walked in the door.

“Hi, honey! Lookin’ good. How’s the family?” You grinned up at him, serving food onto two plates in the dining room.

“Cut the shit. Where’s my stuff?” Jack growled, chucking his hat on the couch along with his whip and lasso.

You smiled where he couldn’t see it, glad to see he’d noticed what you’d done to the place. There were new appliances in the kitchen, a new couch and loveseat, a flatscreen tv, a new rug, and Jack assumed you’d also done something to the bedroom. None of the things he’d had laying around since you left were where he could see it, and the sight agitated him.

“Now what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t pick up after my husband? Dinner’s ready in five.”

“The kind that don’t live here.” Jack groaned, hands raking over his face. “Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time—where is the house key?”

“I had the sweetest talk today with Tequila’s daddy.” You started as you ignored him.

“Nice to see you got your accent back.”

“Oh, I stumbled on a few things today.” You said, noticing Jack had gone to the kitchen, likely in search of a beer.

“Holy shit!” He shouted, and you stifled your laughter. “What happened to the stove?! And where are them little magnets I got from my travels, huh?” He opened the fridge and groaned.

“What the hell is this? Chick food?” He gestured to the fridge that you’d restocked with fresh fruits and vegetables, and new groceries that weren’t stale takeout containers.

“Light beer. Less calories, honey.” You smiled brightly, missing Jack’s murderous expression. He grabbed a can anyway and popped the top off.

“I tried to pick out a new bed today, but the mattress store only had old models. I’ll have to order something from New York.”

“Whatever floats your boat, honey.” Jack muttered, taking a deep swig of the beer you’d bought. He’d have to find his stash of whiskey and hope you hadn’t gotten rid of it.

“Oh, but darlin’, I thought you said we should think of it as our money.” You saw him freeze where he stood, and continued your crusade. “Just a guess, but I’m thinking the words ‘joint checking’ are flashing through your mind right now.”

“How much did you take?” He whirled around, effectively forcing you into the kitchen.

“All of it.” You replied simply, enjoying his facial expression.

“Son of a bitch!” He cursed, chucking the now empty beer can into the trash can and rubbing his face with his hands.

“You wanted a wife, you got a wife, honey,” you spat, “and what were you doing with all that cash? Why don’t you invest it? We work for a perfectly good company with shares for sale, don’t you know anything?”

“I know if you don’t get out of my house right now—”

“Sign the papers and I’ll give it all back.”

“Fine—fine!” He shouted, “gimme the pen.”

You rummaged in your packet for the pen and laid out the papers on the dinner table. You made to give him the pen, but thought better of it.

“Hold on. What are you doing with all that cash saved up? And since when did you tell Champ not to put you on anymore active missions? You aren’t doing anything illegal, are you Jack?”

“So what if I am? I don’t ask you about your boyfriend, you keep your nose out of my life.” He spat out, not making eye contact with you. You deflated.

“Who told you?” You asked quietly.

“Honey, just ‘cause I talk slow don’t mean I’m stupid.” He said in a much quieter tone. He almost sounded hurt.

“Look, Jack—” you trailed off.

“For god’s sake, nobody finds their soulmate at twelve years old.” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jack almost smiled. Your eye caught something on the mantle and you looked up to see a horseshoe and a photo of your parent’s old farm.

“I can’t believe you kept that all these years,” you murmured, eyes trailing over the familiar old farm. It had burned down four years after that photo was taken, taking your parents’ lives with it. Jack looked at you before looking at the clock on the wall.

“Oh, hey sweetie, you know what? I just remembered I got myself a hot date.” Jack grinned maliciously, unbuttoning his collared shirt as he spoke. Your eyes moved from the picture to the skin being revealed and suddenly were at a loss for words. “You don’t mind if I have my lawyer take a look at these, do you?” He tossed the papers back on the table and left the room.

“What?!” You gasped.

“Hell, I’m just a dumb intelligence agent with no regards for the law. There’s words in there I don’t even know. You might be takin’ me to the cleaners for all I know.”

“The cleaners? You? You ain’t been there since our wedding, if you even washed your suit for that,” you scoffed. “Can’t you just sign the damn papers?”

“Nah,” he grinned from the doorway to his bedroom, “but thanks for stoppin’ bye. It’s been a real treat.” And then the door was slammed and you screamed into a newly-purchased throw pillow.

You’d realized after about ten minutes that Jack wasn’t coming back into the living room. In fact, his dramatic ass had jumped out the window and you heard his truck starting up outside.

Tequila had made an offer, though, and you planned to take up the social obligation. Besides, if Jack was as predictable as he’d always been, his “hot date” was probably at his mama’s bar where everyone in that little town went to unwind.

Your phone rang once you were outside the noisy bar near Jack’s truck, and you answered at once knowing it was your fiancé.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You smiled into the phone and Rum’s happy voice spilled out.

“Are you sitting down?” Rum asked.

“Why? Bad news? Did the mission blow up or something?” You panicked. You knew putting this in Rum’s hands would only backfire if something happened.

“No, no! Nothing like that. I was just going to tell you that I read the mission reports and everything went exactly to plan just like you said it would. You might be up for another promotion, babe.” Rum reassured you.

“Oh my god, really? Oh, I needed that almost as much as I need to see you.”

“What is that noise?” Rum finally asked, and you assumed he could hear the loud music and shouts coming from inside the bar.

“The sound of my past.” You grimaced.

“Have fun. I love you.” Your fiancé finished, and you returned the sentiments before hanging up the phone and waltzing into the bar. You were immediately greeted by a screech and an older woman who was still spry was pulling you into a tight hug and yelling over the music.

“Batten down the hatches, boys! Trouble done just walked back into my life disguised as my favorite daughter-in-law!” Helen grinned at you. “Honey, gimme a hug, it’s been too long.”

You laughed while you hugged her and stepped back to show her your ring.

“Soon to be ex-daughter-in-law.” You stated proudly.

“Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?” She asked, inspecting the diamond on your finger.

“His name’s Blake and he works with me.” You winked, and she nodded in understanding. She knew about a little of the work you and her son did, but she mostly stayed out of it, claiming that the stress would bring her to an early grave.

“Well, he’s got my vote if he picked out a ring as pretty as that. It’s good to see you, baby girl.” Helen gave you a pat on the shoulder and told her bartender to give you whatever you wanted. You asked for a whiskey on the rocks and nearly laughed at the irony of the situation.

Once your drink was in hand, you scanned the room, looking for your husband. You spotted him in the corner with some young blonde thing and rolled your eyes. A quick march found you standing right behind Jack and you flipped the edge of his cowboy hat.

“Mind if I join you?” You asked sweetly, leaning up against the pool table beside him.

“Actually we do.” Jack said, raising an eyebrow. He was challenging you, but you ignored him in order to set your sights on his date.

“You must be Jack’s hot date.” You grinned at the girl and she put a hand out to shake yours.

“I’m Carly.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Jack’s snotty, Yankee-bitch wife whom he refuses to divorce even though I’m engaged to another man.” You shook her hand, and the girl gasped once she saw your ring.

“Hot dog, Jack, look at the size of that thing!” She gushed. You nearly rolled your eyes at how dumb she was acting just in an attempt to impress your husband.

“Honey? Why don’t you get us a couple of drinks, yeah?” Jack turned to Carly and handed her a few bills. The girl smiled, popped her gum, and proceeded to ask you what you were having. You rolled your eyes then. “Not ‘me and her’ us, ‘you and I’ us.”

The girl agreed and scurried off, and then you turned to Jack.

“Why do you make me be mean to you? Is that what you want? To be humiliated in front of all your friends?” You snapped, frustrated that he was taking this so lightly. He shook his head and downed the rest of his own glass of whiskey.

“C’mon, Brandy, they were your friends too.” You heard Jack mutter, nodding towards a few agents who’d just walked over with their drinks. You recognized a few guys who’d been in the class behind you along with Moonshine. He nodded at you and ordered a beer before heading over to say hello.

“Alright, Brandy, you sit down while I teach your husband here how to lose at pool.” Moonshine grinned, pulling a bar stool over to you.

“Now Moonshine, I’m not really a watch and see kinda girl, am I Jack?” His expression was priceless as he took up the challenge.

At least six drinks later, you were definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol and you landed somewhere near Moonshine as he lined up his shot.

“Come on, now, Moony, you got it. Don’t blow this one, okay baby?” You drunkenly giggled and Moonshine laughed at your inebriated state.

“You can take the girl out of the honky-tonk, but you can’t take the honky-tonk out of the girl.” He missed the shot, but you didn’t care anymore, more focused on the conversation Jack was not-so-quietly having with Cognac? Coors? You couldn’t remember his codename, but it didn’t matter. Jack was talking about you.

“So, Whiskey, are you gonna divorce this girl or what?” The agent asked. Jack shook his head.

“She’s waited seven years. A couple more days won’t kill her. Unfortunately.”

“Like it’s gonna make a difference.” You snorted, nearly falling into his arms but stabilizing yourself at the last second.

“You never know,” the agent started, “you might be interested to know that Whiskey here has been—”

“Hey, hey, Cognac, let her think what she wants. She made her mind up about me a long time ago.” Jack cut him off, making you wonder just what it was that he didn’t want you knowing about.

You quickly forgot that thought, though, when Moonshine started yelling and telling Cognac he owed him fifty dollars. Cognac groaned, forking over the cash.

You didn’t really know what happened next, but you got into a shouting match with one of the other agents and eventually asked Helen for another round of drinks, but she quickly cut you off. Then you were shouting again as Jack dragged you out of the bar by your arm, yelling at you, saying that you couldn’t just insult everyone in the bar because you’d made it out of Kentucky but they were happy where they were.

“What makes you think you can treat them like somethin’ you stepped in, huh?!” Jack demanded as he put you right up next to his truck.

“You asked for it!” You yelled in his face, trying to get your keys out of your pocket. Jack quickly grabbed them.

“You show up here, you steal my money, you rearrange my house, and then you insult our friends, actin’ like you’re better than them.” Jack spat. He was angry and you knew it, but you couldn’t seem to stop.

“I am better than them! And you stole my keys!” You whined, wanting to be anywhere but here with your husband who was telling you that you were wrong. He was right, but you wouldn’t admit it.

“That’s all that matters to you, huh?” He asked in disbelief.

You tried to say his name, but he cut you off.

“God, ever since you left, this has been a nightmare. The money, the fancy office, the city, you’re pathetic!” He raked a hand through his mustache and you got lost in the action right before spitting out a comeback.

“Oh, like you’re goin’ places!” You groaned, a splitting headache appearing out of nowhere. “I certainly am once I get my keys back.”

“No, you don’t. No. You want to kill yourself driving, you do it somewhere else. But not here, not on my watch.” Jack said, putting your keys into his own pocket.

“At least I’m doing something with my life. So what if you and I aren’t partners anymore, you can still go on missions. You don’t have to worry about me anymore!”

“Get in the truck, Y/N.” Jack opened the door and guided you inside, defeated. His date was waiting by the door and you noticed them having a quiet conversation before he handed her your keys and made his way back to the truck.

You fell asleep before Jack even got on the two lane highway that led to the Statesman offices where he knew you’d been staying. Champ didn’t say anything when Whiskey carried you inside your temporary apartment, snoring away, but he wished things would work out between the two of you. His hopes were dashed as soon as Whiskey asked for a pen to sign the papers you’d brought with you.

When you woke up, still hungover from the night before, the divorce papers were stuck on top of the pillow beside you. You wished you could say you were happy about it, but you couldn’t deny that a pit was in the bottom of your stomach.

Once you rolled out of bed and had some coffee, the papers were sealed into an envelope and you drove to the post office to mail it out. You’d talk to Jack afterwards and apologize for your behavior.

When you got to the familiar farmhouse, you found Jack’s dog Midnight lounging at the base of the porch. You scratched his ears, and he whined happily at the attention he was receiving. The dog got up and raced up to Jack when he came out of the house with a crate.

“What’s she doing here, huh, boy?” He asked the dog before turning to face you, “Thought you’d have high-tailed it out of here by now.”

“I put the money back in your account.” You said quietly, searching his face for any emotion whatsoever.

“Thanks. Saves me from bouncing a lot of checks.” He smiled at you, a genuine smile, and it caught you off guard. “I like what you did, though, to the house. Should help it sell quicker.”

“You’re moving?” You were surprised. This was the house you and Jack had gotten and fixed up together in the early stages of your marriage and it held a lot of good memories along with quite a few bad ones.

“Well, I’ve been spending a lot of my time a bit south of the distillery, so . . .” he shrugged.

“Oh.”

“Look, hon, I signed your papers.” Jack sighed, finally hauling the crate into the back of his truck.

“Jack, I never meant to hurt you, or anybody else for that matter. And I just came out here to say thank you.” You finally said.

“You might want to move your toes.” Jack nodded towards where your feet were in reference to his truck tires. “Wouldn’t wanna run ‘em over since you need them for field work.”

“You can’t just leave!”

“Sure I can.” He chuckled, hopping into the cab. “You want to come?”

“Where you goin’?”

“I want to show you something.” Jack said solemnly, and you wished you could go. Something made you stop, though.

“I can’t.” You finally answered, defeated.

“Can’t or won’t?” Jack asked you, already knowing the answer but asking anyway.

“Both.”

“The girl I knew used to be fearless.” Jack leaned against the steering wheel to get a good look at you. You looked so much like the woman he’d once known so intimately, and yet so different. A lot had scarred you both and he recognized that.

“The girl you knew didn’t have a life.” You smiled weakly, fighting back tears.

“Well, I guess you better get back to living it then. C’mon, Midnight.” Jack got his dog in the cab with him and drove off, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

_________________________________________________________________

You didn’t know what possessed you to stay in town now that the papers had been signed and mailed out, but you found yourself in the town square that evening for the weekly square dance night.

“Hello.” You murmured sheepishly once you’d spotted Tequila and his wife, Jenny, and Moonshine, and a few of the agents from last night at the bar. “I just wanted to apologize to y’all. Last night was so uncalled for, and I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

“Brandy, forget it.” Tequila told you, a smile gracing his face. “You know we don’t stay mad for long.” The group nodded, and you smiled in relief.

Jenny pulled you to the side and handed you a glass of sweet tea.

“You know, he went up there.” She said, sort of secretively.

“Who?” You were confused about what she was talking about. But then she looked at you oddly and you suddenly knew. “Jack? When?”

“About a year after you left. He doesn’t know I know, but Aaron “big mouth” Tequila over there can’t keep a secret to save his life nowadays.”

“Jack was in New York?” You asked, completely surprised. You’d never seen him. He’d certainly never come to see you and say hello. Jenny nodded.

“He told Tequila he’d never seen anything like it. He realized straight off that he’d need more than an apology to win you back. He needed to conquer the world first. He’s been tryin’ ever since.” Jenny told you, downing her own tea.

“That’s why he kept sending the papers back.” You murmured, and Jenny nodded at you again.

“It’s funny how things don’t work out.” She sighed.

“It’s funny how they do.” You smiled warmly at her, knowing she was happy with her life and how it was turning out.

“Hey, look who I found wandering around the edge of the party.” Moonshine cheered, shoving Jack in the center of the group you were with. He had the nerve to look a bit sheepish, knowing you were there, but you were the one who blushed. After that, it was a whirlwind of everyone catching up on the times and you found yourself smiling at Jack.

The band finally started playing a slow song, and Tequila got up to ask you to dance, leaving his wife to drag Jack into the square. The both of you danced for awhile before Tequila stole his wife back, which left you and Jack standing face to face. Jack held out a hand to you to offer a dance, but you hesitated.

“Maybe we could just talk?” You asked him quietly. He shook his head and walked off, a sigh escaping your lips once you realized you were alone.

The night wore on with you on the sidelines, drinking sweet tea, and finally you made your way down the street towards your truck. Something stopped you, though, and you made your way into the coon dog cemetery on the edge of town. Maybe Coal was in there. You didn’t realize Jack had been watching you and finally ended up following you, and maybe you wouldn’t have been so honest in your talk with your old dog if you’d known.

You knelt beside the dog’s grave, his collar and your old license plate stuck to the stone placed above him.

“Hey there, buddy. Sorry it took me so long. I would’ve come sooner if I’d known you were sick.” You sniffed, fingers running along the etching of his name in the stone. “Actually, that’s probably not true. I’ve been pretty selfish lately. Dogs don’t know anything about that, do they, though?”

“You were always a big old pillow after missions. Like when everything went pear-shaped after I got shot, you never left my side. And then I just left you. Oh gosh. I bet you sat there on that big old porch, wondering what you done wrong.” You sobbed, wiping the tears away.

“I told him it was my fault.” Jack’s voice broke you out of your concentration and you whipped around to see him kneeling behind you.

“Quit bein’ so nice.” You sniffed, a small smile breaking through your tears. Jack offered you a hand to help you up and you accepted it. He led you to a bench right near Coal’s grave and kept holding your hand.

“It’s the truth.” Jack stated.

“How come everything has to be so complicated,” you asked tearfully. Jack smiled softly at you.

“What?” He asked finally.

“Truth, life, this,” you gestured between the two of you and towards the hand he was still holding in his grip. Jack didn’t answer that, not that you expected him to.

“He was one hell of a good dog, wasn’t he? You looked like you were having fun out there tonight before I got there and ruined it.” Jack mumbled. You brushed a thumb over your intertwined hands softly.

“I’m happy in New York, Jack.” You laughed wetly, “But then I come down here and this fits too.”

“Since when does it have to be one or the other, darlin’? You can have roots and wings, you know.” Jack told you. You nodded.

“Maybe I could just fly south for the winter.” You joked miserably.

Jack finally pointed out towards the woods and nudged your shoulder, “Look.”

“What?” You asked.

“There, see ‘em?” You followed his pointing finger until you realized that he was pointing at fireflies illuminating sections of the woods with their blinking behinds.

“Only you,” you laughed fondly, looking up at him. You couldn’t deny it, Jack was still just as handsome as the day you married him even if the years had gone by.

“You know, I still go out there sometimes. To the meadow, I mean. I hear the crickets and I go and sit in the field and stare up at the stars like we used to. It’s like a religion.” Jack revealed, turning to look down at you to gauge your response.

“I had a dream about it the other night, our first kiss when we were twelve. Remember that?”

“You ever wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t gotten shot and died on that mission?” Jack asked bluntly. You were surprised and whispered his name.

“Just, let me get this out before I can’t.” Jack started, “I thought us working together on missions would be an adventure. I loved seeing you be this beautiful badass and I loved being the one who got to love you. And it took me awhile to realize that being tied down to me would be your only adventure.”

“I guess that thug knew what he was doing then, aiming at me. I was so ashamed, Jack, ‘cause I felt so relieved once I woke up and remembered everything. And all of a sudden, I just . . . Needed a different life. Y’know? I had to get away.” You were almost frantic in your story, the painful memories resurfacing of how you just ran away from your husband with no explanation. Gosh, the number you did on him.

“You done real well for yourself. I’m proud of you, sugar.” Jack told you sincerely, fingers brushing your hair away from your wet cheeks. “I’m just sorry I never danced with you at our weddin’. I’m sure this next one’s gonna go better for ya.”

You looked up and suddenly your lips were on his and it felt like you were breathing real air for the first time since you left his home and abandoned him. It felt good, his lips brushing yours in just the right ways, but you couldn’t do this.

“Jack, I can’t do this.” You whimpered through your tears. He nodded.

“I know. Go home, Brandy.”

And just like he’d appeared, Jack disappeared in the dark, leaving you alone with your conflicted emotions.

_________________________________________________________________

The next morning found Jack entering the Statesman offices as a man on a mission. But he found an unfamiliar man with flowers in hand, pacing in the lobby.

“Y’alright there?” He asked. The man whipped his head up and sighed.

“I’m here to surprise my fiancée. The secretary won’t let me in because I don’t have a Kentucky Statesman badge, only a New York one.”

Jack quickly realized the situation, knowing immediately that the man was there to see you without needing to be introduced. He also knew that you were probably in Champ’s office, talking smack about missions like you used to do.

“Well, I’m headed upstairs to see a friend of mine, but you’re welcome to join.” Jack motioned to the elevator, and your fiancé quickly nodded and followed him inside the cab. Jack rolled his eyes at the guy’s eagerness.

“So, fiancée huh? Which one of our lucky agents is it?” Jack drawled, knowing full well who this man meant.

“Agent Brandy.” The man answered, “and you are?”

“I’m Agent Whiskey. Who might you be?” Jack smirked.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Agent Rum.” Rum laughed sheepishly. He was quite a bit smaller than Jack and had to look upwards to make eye contact.

“Ah, so you’re the man Brandy was talking about.” Jack couldn’t help but meddle a little in his ex-wife’s affairs.

“You know Brandy?” Rum asked, surprised.

“Course I know her. I know all about her.” Jack grinned down at the man, “I know her name, her whole life story, everything. She was my partner.”

“She never mentioned you.” Rum stammered. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same girl?”

Jack described you, and Rum nodded, but that description would match a few agents and Rum wasn’t sure Jack really knew who you were. Joke’s on him.

Moonshine got in the elevator and froze once he saw Jack with your fiancé. He’d looked Rum up as soon as you’d mentioned him, and the look Jack had on his face was downright scary to someone who knew him. It was like a lion playing with its prey.

“Uh, uh, hey Whiskey.” Moonshine stuttered.

“Morning,” Jack smiled. “Brandy here?”

Moonshine nodded.

“Yeah, yeah she’s here. She’s with big daddy.”

“Wonderful. I’m just escorting her fiancé here up to meet him.” Jack nodded towards Rum who waved a hand. Jack couldn’t figure out how this man got to be an agent, all timid and shy next to Southern guys. He seemed like a schmuck.

“Oh, that’s great.” Moonshine nodded emphatically.

“I’m sorry, you are?” Rum asked, in reference to Moonshine.

“Name’s Moonshine. I’m Brandy’s, uh—” her turned to look at Jack to figure out what to say.

“Her other partner.” Jack finished. Rum smiled at the two.

“Wow! Two partners while she was here. That’s something.”

Jack rolled his eyes behind the man’s back.

“So what do you like about our Brandy?” Jack finally asked him, directing the both of them to exit the elevator. Champ’s office was just down the way, but Jack wasn’t ready to leave this man with you yet.

Rum spouted off a lot of things that Jack knew you weren’t like whenever y’all were married and he quickly realized that the woman you were with this new guy wasn’t anything like the woman he married. The woman he’d seen in the last few days. This was a woman who had completely changed herself to fit New York, and that just made Jack’s stomach churn.

Finally, he pulled Rum over to Champ’s door and he threw open the doors. You were sat inside, alone, staring at a few photos on the wall before you looked up and made eye contact with your ex-husband. You stood quickly, walking over to the two men standing before you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at Jack.

“Well, I came to deliver your fiancé.” Jack stared at you real hard.

“I, uh, think she was talking to me.” Rum cut in, handing you the bouquet of flowers he’d been holding.

“Jack . . .” You trailed off.

“Must be exhaustin’.” Jack started.

“What?” you asked softly. Rum echoed the question beside you, finally realizing that you and Jack were talking to each other in a way that wasn’t normal to him.

“Livin’ a lie.” Jack finished, hand shoving his hat further on his head. You shook.

“What’s he talking about?” Rum asked you, and you looked back at Jack, pleading for him to be kind.

“You and I are in love with two different people.” Jack said with a shake of his head as he left the room.

“Who is he really? He said he was your partner.” Rum asked you, staring after Jack’s retreating figure.

“He’s my husband.” You answered.

“Your what?” Rum was dumbfounded.

“I mean my ex-husband.” You gasped, correcting yourself.

“You married your partner?!” Rum was running his hands through his hair, trying to wrap his mind around the situation and realizing just how little he knew about you. Had you up and married another man while you were down here? Were you married before? You interrupted his thoughts with a quiet answer.

“No, I came down here to finalize my divorce.” You sighed.

“Hey darlin’,” Champ burst into the room, “just saw your precious hubby and took his resignation.” He froze once he saw who was with you. “Oh! You must be my baby girl’s new someone!”

You groaned internally.

Rum threw up his hands and made some new noise you’d never heard before then promptly left the room. You scurried after him, trying to get his attention.

“Blake! Wait!”

“I just—” Andrew started as he pressed the button on the outside of the elevator.

“Let me try and explain, you don’t understand!” You tried to wedge your way between him and the door, but he easily slid past you. You slammed your arm against the side of the sliding doors to keep them from closing. “This isn’t who I am anymore!”

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what else you’ve lied about, but I do know one thing. There’s a helicopter parked outside in the field, and I am on it.” Rum’s face was stony as the doors closed.

You stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, trying to grasp the situation. A sigh escaped your lips before you made your way back to Champ’s office to slump down in a chair.

Champ was sitting at his desk, Statesman glasses perched on his nose and a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. He looked up right as you made eye contact and gave you his signature “I told you so” look. You groaned.

“I know you’re thinkin’ I spoiled things real good this time.” You grumbled, chucking your hat on the table.

“Now, sweetheart, don’t go accusin’ me of thinking. I ain’t done anything of the sort.” Champ snorted. “Anyway, I don’t think you spoiled what you think you did. You got a good head on your shoulders kid, and I love you.”

You talked for awhile, catching up on life and missions and things you hadn’t spoken of in years when a knock sounded on the open door of Champ’s office. Champ nodded whoever it was inside, but you didn’t even look up until Champ looked at you with a knowing smile.

“Hey, you two. Look who I found wandering around by the weapons labs.” Moonshine nudged someone forward and you finally looked up. Agent Rum, your fiancé, was in front of you with the sorriest look you’d ever seen on his face.

“I thought you’d be halfway to New York by now.” You said slowly, not sure why he was still here. Your little interlude an hour before sounded like a breakup if you’d ever heard one. You stood up and moved to stand beside Champ, knowing he’d back you up if needed.

“So did I.” Rum smiled sheepishly, nodding toward Champ.

“Oh, this is Agent Champagne, but we call him Champ. He’s basically been my daddy since I started here.” Champ reached up squeezed your hand in reassurance and you moved closer to Rum. “And this is Moonshine. He’s been my best friend for a long time, well, as long as I’ve been good to him. He’s always been a better man. This is where I started, where I grew up, and my home.”

“Well,” Rum started, “it’s nice to meet you both. I’m Agent Rum, Brandy’s fiancé. That is, if she’ll still have me.” You looked at him in surprise. “ Look, I don’t really care what just happened back there. So you have a past. I mean, who doesn’t? We’re all trying to escape something in this life. What I need to know is if there is a place for me in your future.”

“Good Lord, he’s saying all sorts of sweet things.” Moonshine muttered and you laughed at him.

“Well?” Rum asked. You nodded with a small smile.

“Crap, guess I need to plan my vacation days to go to New York then.” Champ grumbled at his desk.

“What vacation days, old man?” You sassed Champ. You turned back to Rum, “Babe, what if we had the wedding here? I have so much history here, I’d like to end it all here and start fresh with you.”

Rum smiled and agreed and Champ started hollering about how he couldn’t believe you were going to do this to him again, how he’d have to officiate yet another wedding, and how many times does his only daughter get married? Apparently the answer was twice.

_________________________________________________________________

A month went by before you knew it, full of missions and planning and setting up temporary groups while you’d be on your honeymoon. In between all you had to do in the Statesman offices, you were also wedding planning. Luckily, you had Champ and his wife to help with all that along with AppleJack and your assistant.

Mr. Collier, your lawyer, had been calling nearly every day, but you’d assured him that you had everything handled and that he could clear the divorce without you. You’d been calling Jack a lot too. You wanted to talk to him about what Champ meant when he said Jack had retired, and why no one seemed to want to talk about what he was doing. But he never answered his cell and your old home phone seemed to be disconnected.

It still didn’t feel real that you’d be getting married on Saturday afternoon as you stepped off your Statesman jet at the airfield in Kentucky on Thursday with Agent AppleJack and your assistant—now newly minted Agent Smirnoff.

“You guys remember that mark from a year ago on that mission I was on for about three months, right? The Spanish one?” AppleJack was telling you. You nodded, remembering who she was talking about. He’d been rugged and good looking, and you’d told her as much when you handed her the mission. “Well, he proposed to me, and I think I loved him despite his obvious attraction to black market trading.”

“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Smirnoff asked.

“Because I hesitated long enough to realize my head and my heart were saying two different things. And he was on the other side of the legal fence.” AppleJack scoffed.

You guided the two of them towards your waiting truck and chucked your bags in the bed of it. Theirs followed as they argued.

“Well, it’s a big decision.” You added in.

“It’s supposed to be the easiest one you ever make.” Smirnoff said. You’d always thought he was a romantic, and now you were sure of it.

“Hey, y’all, I want to stop somewhere before we head to the office. Okay?” You turned to look at the two of them, and they shrugged before agreeing. It wasn’t like y’all had much to do today anyway. Champ had already assured you that the cellar was decorated and pretty for you and Rum to tie the knot, and that he’d already arranged everything for your honeymoon too.

You drove the forty-five minutes it took to get to your parents’ old farmhouse where you used to live before it had burned down, taking both your parents with it when you were nineteen. You hadn’t been there since a few days after the fire when you’d set up headstones for your parents on the property, but you wanted to tell them what was going on.

The driveway was long, but you were surprised to see how well kept it was. Then the house came into view along with Jack’s pickup truck and a familiar black dog lounging on the steps. You slammed on the brakes and parked right off the driveway, jumping out of the vehicle.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, looking at the place. It looked nearly identical to the house that burnt down, but there was a new barn in the back of the house and fence posts as far as you could see down the drive that kept going. Your dad had never cleared that far into the woods, but it looked good. It looked like a really successful ranch had been started right where so much devastation had taken place.

“Brandy, do we know the people who live here?” AppleJack asked, finally catching up to your quick walk towards the house. “What is this place?”

A man walked out of the house and froze once he saw you, and you hardly heard both AppleJack and Smirnoff arguing about if he was single.

“Jack,” you breathed. He stepped down off the porch and came over to you, greeting you with a sad smile. “I tried to call you a couple of times.”

“Listen,” he started, completely ignoring your previous statement, “since you’re here, you and your friends should look around. Say hello to the horses in the barn or something. It’s nice out today.” He tipped his hat towards your two companions and called his dog, making his way back into the house before you could say anything else.

You shook your head, trying to clear your eyes of the tears that had somehow started filling them. As you looked around the ranch, you saw all the little things that Jack had done, as well as the big, that made this place feel so much like home. It was almost exactly the way it had been when you lived there so long ago, and you were reminded of the photo Jack had on your old mantel. You’d asked him why he kept it, but he hadn’t answered then. And the times when the guys you used to work with were trying to tell you that Jack was successful now, but Jack had cut them off. Now you knew why. He’d built this place for you.

_________________________________________________________________

When you got to the Kentucky office, Champ was waiting for you downstairs.

“Hey, little darling, there was a man here for you. He straight up asked about your whole name and everything. Did you have a guest coming for the wedding we didn’t know about who’d know your civilian name?” He asked. Your brow furrowed as you shook your head. “Alright, well we sent him on his way, anyhow. I’m sure it’s fine.”

You introduced him to your two companions and Champ grinned, happy to meet two people you trusted with your life. You asked him if Rum was here yet, to which Champ nodded and guided you all inside. “Got here about two hours before you, sweetheart.”

Once you were inside, it seemed like a whirlwind of things happened as you readied yourself to get married for a second time. The next 36 hours were hell, waiting for everything to be finalized so you could get hitched.

It was Saturday morning and Champ had stationed two low ranking agents to man the guests as they filtered into the cellar where you’d be holding the wedding. So far, only agents were to be in attendance and a few plus ones, but you’d wanted to keep it small. So when a balding man appeared and introduced himself as Mr. Collier, telling the two agents that he wasn’t on the list, they promptly told him that he couldn’t come inside as he wasn’t invited. The man insisted he had urgent business with a Ms. Daniels, but the agents weren’t having it and escorted him out of the cellar.

Meanwhile, at your old house, the one you had shared with Jack, your ex-husband was adding the last few crates and boxes of his and your things to his truck. He groaned once he saw his mama leaning up against her car in the driveway since he hadn’t seen her pull up.

“Hey, sweetheart, there’s a wedding goin’ on.” She said softly, helping him throw a gym bag into the backseat of his truck.

“Yeah, I heard mention of it a time or two.” Jack shrugged, “I sure hope this weather cooperates. It’s supposed to be a big storm.” He didn’t want to give into his mama and tell her how he really felt about all this.

The truth was, Jack was devastated. He’d spent so much time trying to get his wife back, and now she was marrying a man he knew she didn’t love as much as she loved him, and it hurt. It felt like something had died inside his chest, and he supposed something did. His heart.

“You know, Jack, you’re my only son and I love you, but sometimes you are too much like your daddy.” Helen sighed.

“She made her decision, Mama.” Jack set the last box in the bed of the truck and covered them up with tarps to keep ‘em dry.

“For somebody who’s been holdin’ onto somethin’ so hard, you’re pretty quick to let it go.” Helen eyed him.

“You know I can’t control her anymore than I can control the weather. I gotta go. I wanna get these inside before the rain ruins whatever I’ve got left.” Jack tipped his hat at his mama and climbed inside the cab. Helen shook her head in disappointment.

Champ stood in the corner of the apartment you’d been occupying in the Statesman office that weekend, watching you adjust your dress and cowboy boots. He smirked once he realized you’d be getting married, Southern style with the boots and a dress that he swore he’d seen in one of those fancy Southern Living magazines his wife was always reading. Or was it Southern Weddings? He didn’t know, but you looked beautiful. Even more so than the first time he’d officiated your wedding to Jack.

You kept fidgeting, causing Champ to speak up.

“It’s just nerves. You’re doing the right thing.” He attempted to reassure you.

“Am I?” You asked, unsure.

“When I married my wife, Lord, I was a goner for that woman. I couldn’t put one foot down in front of the other, despite being an agent with perfect balance, mind you. I remember standin’ there thinking, ‘Oh preacher, better hurry up before this woman changes her mind.’ And look where it got me. Sometimes she drives me so crazy that I could shoot her, but—”

“But you still love her.” You cut him off.

“God knows I do, and only she knows why.” Champ laughed, his eyes teary as he looked you over.

“Champ, I think I—”

“He can give you a life in this company, honey. You’ve always wanted this. And he adores you.” Champ said firmly, not letting you get back on the confusion train.

“He does, doesn’t he?” You sighed, “Well, even if he is a Yankee, at least he’s sober. Let’s go, Champ. I’m ready to get this over with.”

Champ led you down to the cellars, and then down the aisle. He didn’t get you two very far, though, when a man’s shouts were heard yelling “Ms. Daniels! Ms. Daniels!”

You whipped around, confused about why someone would be calling you by your married name. “Mr. Collier?” You asked in surprise. The two agents supposed to be manning the door had grabbed him by now, but you were quick to dismiss them.

Rum called your name, but you held up a hand to stop him from speaking. You didn’t know why Mr. Collier was here, but it had to be important if he was trying this hard to get in contact with you. The man took a moment to catch his breath.

“You are one hard woman to get in contact with.” Mr. Collier wheezed as he bent over to breathe.

“Mr. Collier, he signed the papers.” You said quietly. “What are you doing here?”

“He did. You didn’t.” You finally noticed the papers he was holding and sucked in a breath.

“What? You mean I’m still married?” You asked, unsure how you felt about this new information. You thought for sure you’d signed the papers when you’d sent them off the day after Jack had signed them. Apparently, you hadn’t. Mr. Collier pointed at the line above Jack’s name, and sure enough, it was blank.

“Well, not if you don’t want to be.” Mr. Collier replied gently as he handed over the papers.

“For goodness sake, Brandy, I thought you took care of this?” Rum groaned as he made his way to stand in the aisle beside you.

“It’s an honest mistake, Blake.” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Well, then, can we fix it? We’ve got agents who need to be on missions soon and we have a honeymoon to get to.” Rum snorted. Your brows furrowed as you watched this normally kind man getting frustrated over a mistake you hadn’t even realized you made.

“Does anybody have a non-deadly pen?” You asked, knowing no one would have one on them unless it had ten functions to kill someone and not one of them being the purpose of a real pen with ink that would actually stay on the paper. You’d made the mistake before of signing something with ink that removed itself within two hours and you didn’t want to make that mistake again.

No one around you had one, not even Champ, until a woman behind you cleared her throat. You turned around to face your mother in law, Jack’s mom.

“These things don’t just happen, y’know.” Helen said with a knowing smile as she held out a fountain pen. You took it and uncapped it, placing it on the paper but not moving to sign it.

“You can’t ride two horse with one ass, sweetheart.” Champ said from beside you. You looked up at him and with a watery smile, you told him you couldn’t sign the papers.

“Blake,” you started, taking his hands in yours, “You don’t want to marry me.”

“I don’t?” He asked, eyes almost looking dangerous.

“No, you don’t. Not really. You see, the truth is—” You hesitated before continuing. “I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart, and I never really got it back. And I don’t even know what else to say besides ‘I’m sorry.’ I can’t marry you, and you shouldn’t want to marry me.”

“So this is what it feels like.” Blake muttered, eyes definitely glittering with anger now. “You can’t just do this to me. That’s it? You’re just going to leave me for the man you haven’t even wanted to be married to for seven years? God, Brandy, what the hell!” He shouted.

You took a step back, attempting to make space and remove your hands from his, but he held your hands tightly. You gulped, knowing Blake wasn’t done.

“In my entire career, and I have a good one, I have never met someone so deceitful and manipulative! I should’ve known, considering our occupations, but this is so disgusting what you’ve done.” Blake spat.

“I’m just trying to be honest.” You whispered.

“You are such a little bitch.” Blake roughly dropped your hands and Champ immediately stepped in, crowding the shorter agent.

“Now, look here, Agent Rum. She said her piece and there’s no need for name-callin’, you hear me?” Champ growled.

“Oh go back to your office and get shit-faced.” Blake spat at Champ’s feet. You saw red.

“Nobody talks to my daddy like that.” You growled, throwing one of your best punches. Agent Rum was soon on the ground and you chucked your engagement ring at his head. It hit his cheek and bounced off somewhere, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Praise the Lord, my baby’s back.” Champ cheered, pulling you away from your ex-fiancé.

“Hey y’all!” You shouted as you stood up on an empty chair in the venue, “If you’re friends of the bride, stick around! I’m gonna go find me a groom!”

And then you were off, grabbing your keys from Moonshine and hopping in your truck, wedding dress getting stuck in the door. You didn’t care, though. You knew exactly where Jack would be and you planned to go get your man back.

You roared into the meadow, truck chassis bumping around on the uneven ground. The door was flung open and you were racing across the field, dress bunched in your hands. Rain had started falling, and Jack was sitting in the bed of his truck getting sopping wet. He had a bottle of whiskey in his hands, but he hadn’t quite noticed you yet.

“Hey, cowboy!” You shouted above the rain and he whipped around to face you, eyes wide beneath the brim of his hat. Rain dripped off the edges and you almost laughed at how bedraggled he looked, but refrained. “You owe me a dance.”

“Nice dress. Where’s your husband?” Jack finally said as he capped the whiskey bottle and set it down beside him in the truck bed.

“I’m lookin’ at him.” You said, and Jack froze. “Apparently, you and I are still hitched.”

“Is that right?” He asked slowly as he got off the tailgate. He made his way over to stand in front of you, rain still pouring over the both of you to the point where you could only really see him anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me you came to New York?” You asked desperately, needing to know if he still wanted you, if he still loved you.

“I needed to make somethin’ of myself.”

“About done?” You asked in disbelief. This man was already enough for you, how could he not see it?

“What is it about you Southern girls? You can’t make the right decisions ‘til you tried all the wrong ones?” Jack scoffed. He was sure this was some elaborate joke, that your fiancé would hop out of your pickup truck and laugh at him any minute now.

“At least I fight for what I want!”

“Oh, what do you want, honey? Hell, I don’t even think you know.” Jack shook his head.

“You’re the first boy I ever kissed, Jack, and I want you to be the last.” You said as you stepped closer to him, dress dragging in the grass and dirt. You didn’t even care, not if it meant you could get your husband back.

“Maybe you and I had our chance.” Jack muttered, hoping you couldn’t hear him, but you did.

“Fine! Have it your way, stubborn ass!” You yelled.

“Whatcha wanna be married to me for anyhow?” Jack asked, repeating what you’d asked him all those years ago when you were twelve. You grinned, catching up to his game.

“So I can kiss you anytime I want.”

And then you were in his arms and he was kissing you, his hat dumping water on the both of you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were already soaked. You’d gotten your man back, and you sighed into his mouth. You didn’t want to move again, the feeling of his kiss bringing life back into your lungs and giving you space to breathe for the first time in a long time. He just felt right. Hands wandered up his back and you knocked off his hat in an effort to get even closer to him. He groaned when fingers locked into his now soaked hair, tongue slipping into your mouth when you whined.

You only broke away when you heard someone yelling at the both of you, lights shining right onto your interlocking figures.

“What the hell are you two trying to do? Get yourselves killed?” Tequila yelled. You laughed, breaking away from Jack just long enough to shout back.

“What seems to be the trouble, officer?”

“I’m here to bring you in again, little lady!” Tequila called back, hands on his hips and looking downright hilarious.

“What did she do this time?” Jack shouted. He walked you both closer to Tequila and the man had the audacity to grin at the two of you.

“Well, the way I hear it, seems she run out on a perfectly good cake!”

You laughed and smooched Jack on the cheek before reaching down to grab his hat from the ground.

“Get in my truck, cowboy!” You grinned, “Seems we finally get our reception!”

You raced your husband to your truck, hopping in and laughing at the way you both shivered from the cool air you’d had blasting. Jack swore and turned on the heat as you got yourselves out of the meadow and started following the red and blue flashing lights of Tequila’s patrol car.

You reached a hand over to hold Jack’s and he lifted your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles.

“I love you.” He murmured and you returned the sentiments, happy for the first time in a long time.

Tequila led you to the bar Helen owned, and you laughed once you realized where the guys had decided to hold your reception. It was only fitting that the place where you’d originally hosted your first reception was now the place of your second, and with the same man no less.

Tequila made his way indoors first and introduced you, yelling out a “Ladies and gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Jack Daniels!”

You rushed inside, nearly tripping over your boots and dress, but Jack steadied you, dipping you for a deep kiss just inside the door.

Catcalls filled the air as Jack lifted you back up, a boyish grin gracing his lips.

“I do believe I owe this lady a dance,” Jack nodded at his Mama by the jukebox and she smiled at the two of you.

“You sure do!” Moonshine shouted.

“Hey Helen,” you turned to Jack’s mama, “make it a slow one.”

She saluted you, and then hit a button, playing Tennessee Whiskey. Jack snorted at the song choice as he held your waist in the middle of the space they’d cleared for a dance floor, but you didn’t mind. You’d always joked that the song was about him with his Statesman name, and he hated it. You loved him, though.

You had your husband back and you weren’t ever going to give him up again. You swayed to the song for a moment before leaning up to kiss him. Finally, you were home.

[songofclarity]

The way I see some discussions and mentions of Nie Dad’s death, they give the impression that Wen RuoHan killed him in the same manner Meng Yao killed those Nie cultivators in the Sun Palace: by savagely cutting him open and letting him bleed out across the floor while Nie MingJue could only stand there and helplessly watch.

And like, symbolically, I can see the similarities of teenage Nie MingJue having to just stand there and watch his dad rage himself to death in his sickbed, but what happened between Wen RuoHan and Nie Dad, and the Wen Sect and Nie Sect, is much more complicated and far less direct.

There are reasons Nie MingJue’s resentment is quoted as being about his father’s death and not, directly, at Wen RuoHan.

Three key points:

First, neither the Nie nor the Wen could ever possibly agree about who started the conflict or how it ended. Was Nie Dad truly the arrogant type who would be so prideful as to mock Wen RuoHan for enjoying something or did Wen RuoHan try to teach a lesson to someone who was the innocent victim of some guest cultivator’s malice? The guest cultivator played them both by setting up a lose-lose situation.

Second, Wen RuoHan did not and does not know about the saber spirit. Nie Dad was stuck in a sickbed for six months which shows there was plenty of time to heal him. Do the Qinghe Nie just not take care of their people? The Wen Sect love getting into other people’s business and they have fantastic doctors. Did the Nie Sect reject help when it was offered due to the secrecy of Nie Dad’s underlying condition? This Sounds Like a You Problem if the Nie Sect just let Nie Dad languish and die. It’s no wonder Nie MingJue would resent his father’s death if there was nothing in-house they could do to help him and the Nie Sect refused to seek outside help--especially for reasons of Sect pride.

Third, Nie Dad’s death, namely how Nie Dad handled being injured and the six months leading up to his death, was a horrific reality check for the Nie Sect and the consequences of their saber cultivation. Wen RuoHan did not lay hands on Nie Dad or attack him in any manner, and yet one indirect hit shattered what tenuous hold Nie Dad had on his temperament. How fragile and vulnerable the Qinghe Nie must have felt! Wen RuoHan found their fatal flaw by a complete accident! It’s easier for the Nie Sect to blame the Wen Sect when there is nothing they can do about changing their cultivation methods without completely changing the Nie Sect as they know it. Change is hard. Blame is easy. Anger is easy. Resentment is easy.

Keep in mind this conflict was not started by Wen RuoHan. I cannot emphasize that point enough. This conflict began when a guest cultivator heard the innocuous question, “What do you think of this saber of mine?” (ch. 49, ERS) and started naming names.

Wen RuoHan smacked Nie Dad's saber because he was told Nie Dad was arrogant, boastful, and condescending. He was told Nie Dad was a dirty liar who would compliment Wen RuoHan’s saber to his face and talk shit about it behind his back (or in his heart, which is kind of worse, actually).

[The guest cultivator,] "[Sect Leader Nie is] awfully arrogant, always boasting about how his prized saber is absolutely unrivaled, and how even in a hundred years no sword has been able [to be] compared to his. No matter how good one's saber was, he definitely won't admit it, and even if he did admit it out loud, he won't admit it in his heart." [Ch. 49, ERS]

Is this a true account of Nie Dad’s character or is it a complete fabrication in order to throw him under the bus? We’re never told. But Wen RuoHan is told that Nie Dad will not be telling him the truth about how he feels, so Wen RuoHan can’t even talk to Nie Dad about it in order to clear the air if he so wanted. The guest cultivator has put Wen RuoHan and Nie Dad in a lose-lose situation. The conflict has immediately degraded to petty passive aggressive revenge.

Wen RuoHan decides to test the waters. Or, perhaps, he will teach Nie Dad a lesson in humility.

[Wen RuoHan,] "Are you sure about that? Well, I want to see." (Ch. 49, ERS)

Wen RuoHan requests Nie Dad’s presence. He holds the saber and compliments that it’s a very good saber. Then he does one of three things: he tests the saber’s strength for himself, teaches Nie Dad a lesson about having too much pride, or both.

Wen RuoHan smacking the saber, trying to break it, is a good way to humble a man whose pride comes from having the so-called greatest saber. Maybe when that saber breaks Nie Dad won't be such an arrogant asshole anymore. The guest cultivator noted that the saber was a point of pride for Nie Dad. Take it away, and maybe he’ll be more humble from now on.

The saber should probably have broken when slapped several times, but it didn't, because it was indeed a good saber.

Wen RuoHan hands the saber back and that is the end of Wen RuoHan’s involvement with Nie Dad and the Nie Sect.

(Keep in mind that we hear about Wen RuoHan leaving his house ONE time in canon, and that was to fight Nie MingJue at Yangquan during the Sunshot Campaign. Wen RuoHan and the Wen never go after the Qinghe Nie again until after the Sunshot Campaign begins.)

Nie Dad leaves the Sun Palace without noticing anything wrong with his saber. He finds the encounter with Wen RuoHan strange, but he leaves it at that.

The Sect Leader of the greatest saber cultivation sect didn't know his own saber had somehow been damaged! How embarrassing for him when he went on a night hunt days later and it broke and he got severely injured!

And that's it. Now Nie Dad's saber isn't the greatest saber anymore. Wen RuoHan taught Nie Dad a lesson, purposefully or not, and Nie Dad is still very much alive. Cultivators aren't down with their injuries for very long. It took Qingheng-jun a month to die from his critical injuries. By comparison, the core-less Jiang Cheng recovered from his broken ribs in just 3 days and the core-less Wei WuXian healed from an abdomen wound in a week. Six months for Nie Dad, a capable cultivator with likely a powerful golden core, is a long time! Unlike Qingheng-jun, he arguably was at least in a stable if disabled condition if he lasted six months.

Lesson learned and he'll be fine.

But Nie Dad isn't fine. He stews in his anger, his embarrassment, his resentment. He lets his fury engulf him. He can't heal from his injuries because all he wants to do, let’s say, is rage and yell and fume about that fucking Wen RuoHan who played a dirty trick!

(And if he did rage as such, perhaps there is some hearty arrogance in him that he thought himself and his saber untouchable, that he didn’t even give it a second look after Wen RuoHan was involved.)

It's not clearly stated if Nie Dad died from his injuries or by qi deviation, but considering the extent Nie MingJue and his sworn brothers go to in order to avoid a qi deviation AND Nie MingJue’s own feelings with how his father died, it's highly probable that Nie Dad died from qi deviation. And, like I said, if a cultivator doesn't die immediately from their wound, and if the wound doesn’t even put them in a critical condition, they heal just nicely.

But Nie Dad dies. It’s interesting to note the description of Nie MingJue’s trauma:

The thing in Nie MingJue's life that he loathed and regretted the most was the death of his father...

After Sect Leader Nie was brought back [from the night hunt where his saber broke], he couldn't make peace with such an event no matter what, and his injuries didn't heal either. Having fallen ill for half a year, he finally left the world, from either the anger or the illness. The reason why Nie MingJue, along with the entire Qinghe Nie Sect, detested the Qishan Wen Sect with such intensity was due to this. (ch. 49, ERS)

Although the Wens become the target of Nie hatred in the wake of Nie Dad’s death, Nie MingJue isn’t loathing them specifically. It’s not Wen RuoHan he hates, but rather the death of his father. The nuance here is important. He loathes those six months where Nie Dad could not get better and refused to get better when he picked his anger over healing. Those six months where he would have lashed out and shouted at his innocent children--just like Nie MingJue would, years later, shout and lash out at his brothers.

The death of Nie Dad showed the very worst side of the Qinghe Nie Sect and the effects of their saber cultivation. And all Nie MingJue, just a teenager at the time, could do was stand there and watch it all unfold. What a nightmare. It’s no wonder he accepted help from the Song of Clarity when he did, especially when Lan XiChen and Jin GuangYao were amping up the risk. it really just highlights the outrageous betrayal by Jin GuangYao, who knew all of this about Nie MingJue and the Nie Sect and still did what he did, using intimate knowledge to slowly murder Nie MingJue for his own gain.

Not even Wen RuoHan was that cruel.

Because all the while Wen RuoHan is not aware of the saber spirit or Nie Dad’s high risk of qi deviations. Nobody outside the Nie Sect knows about the saber spirits. Outside the Nie Sect, saber spirits aren't a real thing that someone could reasonably plan for. Hell, even Nie HuaiSang went over twenty years not knowing about the saber spirits and he lived with them!

So there is no possible way Wen RuoHan could have suspected pulling a punk ass, petty stunt to humble Nie Dad would exacerbate this supernatural disease that would anger Nie Dad to death.

This isn’t to say that Wen RuoHan is innocent. He very much chose to call Nie Dad over and made the decision on his own to smack the saber. But fate took over after that. The saber didn’t have to break and it didn’t have to break at such a dangerous moment.

Wen RuoHan’s actions did not seek Nie Dad’s death--because if he wanted Nie Dad dead, he would have killed him. (Who could have stopped him? No one.) Having policies that cause injury but not necessarily death are kind of Wen RuoHan’s thing though. (That’s an analysis for another time.) Suffice to say, no one can learn their lesson if they’re dead. Indoctrination camps and supervisory offices require living, breathing people to teach and be supervised. Wen RuoHan never sought to take over the world, only to correct the obvious flaws in the world around him. Correcting Nie Dad’s arrogance and pride was such an attempt.

And the Nie Sect secrecy shot the Nie in the foot in the end. They were angry with Wen RuoHan and the Wen Sect for causing Nie Dad's death by causing his injuries by damaging the saber, but of course Wen RuoHan and the Wens would never agree with this under the known circumstances. And with them being Wens, of course they aren’t going to take the blame and no one else is powerful enough to force them. This whole situation is especially Not Their Fault from their point of view.

Nie Dad was in bed for six months without critical injuries.

Maybe the Nie Sect should have had gotten better doctors.

(And I can perfectly imagine the Wen Sect, always throwing their weight around, actually offering to send their doctors, arguably the best doctors in the cultivation world, and the Nie Sect refusing because what ailed Nie Dad was not something the Nie Sect wanted to share. Nie MingJue allowing his sworn brothers to help him shows he learned from the experience of his father’s death, but I digress.)

We know all of this to be true because Wen RuoHan, years later at the start of the Sunshot Campaign, speaks of the Nie Sect as a place where people die in part because of their personality type and in part because the Nie Sect itself fails to care for them:

...the Qinghe Nie Sect's sect leader [Nie MingJue] was so stiff that he'd easily snap in half--soon afterward, no need for others to move and he'd die in his own people's hands sooner or later... (ch. 61, ERS)

And considering what we know about the saber spirits, this is a pretty good deduction when Wen RuoHan is missing the saber spirit cornerstone. The Nie Sect has a cultivation tradition that kills them. Obviously it’s in the hands of their own people that they die, having picked up this cultivation style. Wen RuoHan also accurately determines that personality, such as Nie MingJue being inflexible, contributes to that death. It is the build-up of anger and resentment that eventually pushes the Nie cultivator to snap and fall into a qi deviation.

But of course Wen RuoHan also lacks the knowledge that saber spirits cause those personalities to begin with. That Nie Dad acting rigid or arrogant or harsh might not be because he’s an actual asshole, but rather because the saber spirit is effecting his temperament. With a teenage son, Nie Dad was likely pushing 40 if not already much older. We see what a juggernaut Nie MingJue already is in his early 20s. Nie Dad had more than twice the time to wreck his temperament than Nie MingJue ever did, and it still took him six months to die while in a constant state of turmoil while bed bound.

(Which really shows how deadly the Collection of Turmoil was if it could kill Nie MingJue in less than half that time. I know this post is about Wen RuoHan and the Nie, but it truly cannot be understated how horrifically cruel Jin GuangYao’s actions were when he carefully crafted Nie MingJue’s murder, especially how he would have heard from both sides how this all went down.)

In the end, Wen RuoHan obviously gained a vague idea about what happened and what the Qinghe Nie are like as a Sect, but he is, of course, missing the vital point--just as he misses the vital point when he doesn't actually try to kill Nie Dad.

[aniverous]

Mirror World Ideas

I've been thinking about how the Mirror World could actually function, and I'm never gonna get around to writing all of these, so I figured I'd post them because why not:

Reflections were not sapient or sentient at the beginning. The Mirror World was just another function of the Prime World, like gravity or thermodynamics. However, since Reflections were directly connected to the Prime World in a way other forces of reality weren't, once sentient life developed Reflections gained the capacity for sentience as a species, and once sapient life appeared they developed the capacity for that as well.

Reflections have the memories of their Prime, but the connection is weak enough that Reflections can possess their own minds.

Before becoming sapient, Reflections would Recycle automatically upon their Prime's death, which means melting back into the substance of the Mirror World and re-emerging as the reflection of someone else. With sapient Reflections, the process only happens if the Prime-less Reflection decides to have it happen. If they are killed in the Mirror World, they Recycle at the moment of death.

If they die outside of the Mirror World, they don't Recycle, and no one knows what happens to them.

Reflections don't keep their memories when they're Recycled, but they are aware that they have been Recycled. They usually don't bother counting how many times it happens, but some Reflections have been around since the dinosaurs.

It is rare for a Reflection to choose to become a Flec rather than get Recycled, and the Flecs are only needed occasionally, as it's uncommon for someone to become a 'Sliver'.

The Flecs were formed once Humans started philosophizing about their existence, causing Reflections to do the same. Most Reflections disagreed with the 'radicals' who wanted Reflections to have an identity outside of the Primes, and they were quickly crushed.

There have been rare instances of Slivers injuring and killing other Reflections out of desperation or malice, but usually they just run and hide.

No sound can be heard from the Mirror World by the Prime World, but sound can travel from the Prime World into the Mirror World, albeit muffled.

Reflections have no 'off duty' time, not even when there are no Primes around to see them. No communication is had between Reflections, and they only know how to speak at all by listening to and mimicking the Primes talking.

Of course, despite the 'no talking' rule, rumors and information still inevitably spread, given the unstoppable nature of such things.

The Chrome Car is the subject of the majority of the rumors.

Reflections have no books, songs, or official history of any kind. All rules and information are passed from Flec to Flec, told to the Reflections by the Flecs, or spoken in whispers in quiet moments.

No matter the connections or feelings between their Primes, Reflections do not consider each other family, friends, enemies, or any other relation because their Primes are. Any bonds between their Primes are inconsequential to their view of each other.

Most Reflections actually have very little personality. They have no societal or personal interaction standards that would encourage them to develop individually, and have very few personal traits to speak of, usually forming in response to however they view their Prime. This is more likely the longer they've been reflecting a person, as their sense of individuality will fade over time. If you talked to the average Reflection, they would behave like they were in a permanently dissociated state.

This is the main of many reasons why, despite there being billions of sapient Reflections, there has been no successful rebellion of any sort.

The desire to reflect Primes is an instinct, strong enough that there are few deviants, but weak enough that it is overpowered by conscious thought.

Non-sapient Reflections simply take their Primes’ memories and personalities as their own, giving up minds they have no reason to hold onto. Extremely worn-down sapient Reflections can do this as well.

The Mirror World is not a solid space, the Chrome Car being the exception. Rather than having sky and ground, the dimension merges everything together as though the entire world was liquid metal, with chunks of the metal in solid form floating around and gravity being nonexistent, the air extremely cold and heavy. The reflective surfaces connecting it to the Prime World float in the liquid space, and move in response to the surfaces' movements in the Prime World. Rather than physically moving, although they are capable of it, Reflections warp to move around, using their Prime as an anchor.

There are rumors that if you go too far out, you'll hit the edge of the Mirror World and drift away into nothingness.

Reflections do need oxygen to live in both dimensions, so the Mirror World has an atmosphere, albeit a very different one. While Reflections can hold their breath for a long time in comparison to their Prime species counterpart, they will eventually suffocate if they don’t breath.

The only way out of the Mirror World is the Chrome Car, so the Flecs keep it on high alert.

While the metal is very similar to chrome, the substance making up everything and everyone in the Mirror World is a unique metal not found in the Prime World. There is no actual name for it, so it's called chrome until the Prime World has the opportunity to discover and analyze it.

The Chrome Car is made of this metal, and is the only place the substance touches the Prime World, which is why it's the only way out.

All appearances of Reflections interacting with things while reflecting are in fact illusions made by the Mirror World bending light so the Prime doesn't see the gray void the Reflection is actually in. This includes making the Reflections' look like their Prime in terms of color, and making their metal skin appear altered and/or malleable. Inside the Mirror World, the light bends and twists around everything like a self-contained Aurora Borealis.

Clothing is actually not an illusion, however, as a metal reflection of the Prime’s outfit will form around the Reflection to match the Prime. No one is sure why this happens, but escapees are grateful that they don’t start out naked.

The metal clothes fall under the ‘people can’t jump out of people’ rule, as they are technically a part of the Reflection. If the Reflection dies, the clothes melt too.

Reflections do not have children. Prime newborns either get a Recycled Reflection or, if there are none available, a brand new Reflection formed by the Mirror World. Any signs of pregnancy in Reflections are illusions by the Mirror World.

In modern times, it is rare for a new Reflection to be made, as the Reflection population would be whatever the maximum number of Prime beings there had been at one time. This only happens if the Prime species experiences a population boom, or a rare massacre or plague occurs in the Mirror World.

Inside the Mirror World, Reflections get all the energy they need to survive from the dimension itself, and don't need to eat, drink, sleep, or do anything but breath to survive, although they are physically able to do all of it. In the Prime World, they have the same needs as whatever species they reflect. This information is widely unknown, so most Reflections that do get out run themselves to exhaustion and either get caught by the Flecs due to weakness or die of starvation and thirst.

There is, however, coffee and hot-chocolate in the Mirror World, which the Flecs import from the Train. They’re given to Flecs as a reward for their service, and to Reflections who report deviants as a reward for doing so. It’s surprisingly effective as a motivator.

Reflections cannot survive for any period of time without the unique energy of the Mirror World. They automatically cannot detach fully from reflective surfaces as a function of their bodies to prevent instant death. The Flecs’ skin-suits are designed to circumvent this by containing some of this energy, but given how Flecs only go to the Prime World in rare instances, the technology is underdeveloped.

Theoretically, an organic Prime lifeform could survive in the Mirror World without equipment, but only for a short time as the intense cold and extremely dense atmosphere would become fatal quickly. Since the Chrome Car is designed to have Humans enter the Mirror World, it nullifies these issues for its area.

All technology in the Mirror World is made by repurposing the metal using methods known only to the Flecs as a means of controlling and maintaining the Mirror World.

The skin-suits only work on the Train, as the dimension's odd properties make the barrier weak enough to pass through, as well as make it possible for the Chrome Car to punch through to the Mirror World.

Reflections only feel pain if they are damaged to the point that their body loses its structural integrity, which causes them to liquify. Small wounds can heal on their own by re-solidifying over time, but for serious wounds there are treatments that can stabilize the body up to a certain point.

Scratches, dents, and dried liquid wounds are fixed by smoothing them out and just waiting for the metal to replenish itself. Care must be taken not to grind the metal too far down or you’ll just liquify the injury again.

Fixing a huge wound mostly involves keeping the liquifying area in the right position and then welding and molding the skin layer closed around it. The Mirror World will slowly regenerate more metal to replace what the Reflection's body lost, but it only helps if the wound is in a stable position. If the damage is beyond what can be stabilized, like a missing chunk or huge gash, then there’s nothing to be done.

Since they only have a single mirror or a skin-suit connecting them to the dimension, escaped Reflections and Flecs in the Prime World heal much slower and are less likely to survive serious wounds.

Reflections can't get organic-life illnesses, but they can develop something resembling rust if damaged in either world if injuries are not tended to. Rust on the surface of their bodies formed from scratches acts like a rash or skin disease, and is relatively easy to remove. But if it reaches into the body, through a liquified injury or an ignored surface infection, it will act like an infected wound and will absolutely kill the Reflection if not given serious medical treatment.

Rust, as it’s called for lack of a better name, doesn't affect Prime lifeforms, but is contagious among Reflections, with metal not part of living Reflections, such as tools and ground, not being affected. Rare incidents where rogue Reflections injured many others have sometimes resulted in total outbreaks occurring.

Much like how Reflections can sense their Primes’ thoughts, Flecs can sense the thoughts of Reflections when the Reflections in question specifically focus on summoning the Flecs. This is how they are alerted about rogues, injuries, and Rust cases.

Reflections do not normally mourn their dead. To them, they have just been Recycled early. If a large number of Reflections have been killed at one time in a massacre or Rust outbreak, then they will mourn for a short time.

If the reflective surface attached to an escaped Reflection is cracked, their body will fracture as well, moving out from the object and going down beneath the skin as the damage to the object gets worse. If the object breaks completely, so does the Reflection before they liquify as the body becomes unsustainable.

Reflections are unable to dream inside the Mirror World. In the Prime World, not only can they have normal dreams and nightmares, but they can get brief flashes and memories of their previous lives if they encounter the right stimuli.

Escaped Reflections will no longer receive the memories of their Prime unless they re-enter the Mirror World. They will still feel the instinctive desire to reflect their Prime’s movements if the Reflection is looking at them.

Once out of the Mirror World, a Reflection will still grow and age, but they will only have the lifespan of the species they reflect, since the Mirror World will slowly stop giving them energy once the maximum amount of time has passed.

[hiddendreamer67]

Tears of Fear- The Witcher

Summary: Geralt wakes up to Jaskier crying over his ‘corpse’ and realizes Jaskier is afraid of him.

Word count: 2,102

Had a lot of fun with this, it’s actually my first witcher fic! Feel free to send in more prompts from my bingo card below! Also check out my writing blog @hiddendreamerwriting for more of my work!

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Jaskier was crying.

This was the first thing Geralt processed as he slowly began to wake up from his restless slumber. He was sobbing like a babe, making Geralt cringe as he heard the bard all but wipe his nose on Geralt’s shoulder.

Quickly Geralt became aware of a few other important factors, grimacing through the spike of pain that came rushing back to him. His ribs were definitely cracked, he could feel them slowly melding together beneath his chest. Geralt’s leg was on fire, bent at an angle no human- or witcher- bones should bend. His abdomen felt torn to shreds, and if he looked down Geralt was sure his innards were being exposed to the outside world.

There was a pounding in his skull, a side effect of bashing his skull against a rock, if he recalled correctly. Being used as a ragdoll by a Griffin was not an experience he hoped to encounter again. Had he killed it? He hoped he killed it, for the sake of not doing this twice.

Taking another assessment of his wounds, Geralt knew they would be fatal for a mortal man. Overkill, really; but he’d live. Maybe.

“Fuck.” Geralt hissed, and all of a sudden Jaskier gave a shriek right in his ear, quickly scurrying back from Geralt’s form.

And this was when Geralt realized a third important piece of information: Geralt took in a big whiff of air, recognizing a scent that had been present ever since he woke up.

Jaskier was afraid.

In all the years they had travelled together, Jaskier had never once shown fear towards Geralt- and now, the man reeked of it. It was the witcher’s fault, he assumed. He had let the bard get too close. Seeing Geralt in the throes of a proper battle, seeing the witcher in his primal beast mode as he threw himself and the griffin off the cliff, it had awoken that self-preservation instinct in Jaskier. Finally, Jaskier recognized he was a monster.

“Melitele’s tits, what the fuck?!” Jaskier shrieked again, clawing briefly at the tree behind him to gain distance before seeming to get a grip. He clutched at his heart, which Geralt could hear beating far too rapidly. “I- you- how the fuck- I thought you were dead!”

“Not… yet.” Geralt grit his teeth, growling to get through the pain. “Potion bag. Blue.”

Thankfully, even in his fearful state Jaskier seemed to take some form of pity on him. That, or Jaskier was too frightened to not do as the witcher said. The second was more likely as Jaskier quickly dug through the bag, grabbing the potion and pouring it into Geralt’s mouth with trembling hands.

Geralt grunts his appreciation, feeling the potion take effect. It wasn’t playing nice with the potion already in his system, but Geralt would survive.

“You- you’re okay now, right?” Jaskier cursed under his breath, his tears welling up again. “Of course you’re bloody not, look at you! Why your intestines are all dangling, are they supposed to- oh gods, I’m gonna be sick.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt murmurs, closing his eyes.

“What can I do, Geralt?” Jaskier’s hand is hovering just above his shoulder, touching it briefly as if afraid now to even make contact with such a demon. “I’m no healer, you have to tell me what you need. Another potion? One of the glowy ones?”

“Jaskier.” Geralt repeats, feeling his body drifting back into unconsciousness. “Shut up.”

---

The next time Geralt wakes up, Jaskier is crying again.

This time not on him, thankfully. Instead he’s sniveling to himself across the clearing, head tucked between his knees. Geralt isn’t certain how long he’s been out, but before it was just past dusk and now only the faintest bit of moonlight trickles through the trees, indicating it’s well indo the night. Perhaps he had been unconscious an entire day.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls, startling the bard into looking his way. That scent of fear is still there.

“Y-yes?” Jaskier hurries to make himself presentable, trying to peer through the darkness. He isn’t gifted with the same night vision Geralt has.

“Potion.” Geralt manages to spit the word out without sounding pathetic, so that’s a bonus. The only reason he’s awake now is yet another burst of pain, a clear sign the last potion wore off. He’s not feeling great about relying on intimidating his best friend to get him through the night.

“Right, right, yes, of course.” Jaskier stumbles to his feet, feeling around cautiously for the potions bag. “Yes, that would- that makes sense, right? You just need these and you’ll… oh shit, I can’t make out the shades in this light. Can you? Is this the right one?”

Jaskier trods over, placing one uncomfortably close to Geralt’s eyeball. He grunts.

“Geralt, in life or death situations you really need to use your words-”

“Yes.” Geralt huffs.

Jaskier sighs, pulling the cork and easing the mixture into Geralt’s mouth as he continues to ramble. “So, you’re going to be alright? Just a few of these to fix you right up? I hope. I didn’t check, didn’t want to… well forgive me for not wanting to see, you’re quite a sight Geralt.”

“Hmm.” Geralt thought that was putting it lightly. He had been run out of towns for less.

“Are you going to… need more of these?” Jaskier asked, his scent spiking as he peered into the potions bag. “I don’t- if you tell me what to gather, I can try, but I’m not certain what it is you witchers put in these. Nearest town is a day’s ride, but I doubt roach will let me leave your side, and of course I’m not eager either-”

Geralt didn’t reply. Before Jaskier had finished his sentence, he had passed out once more.

---

The third time Geralt woke, Jaskier wasn’t crying.

The sun was high in the sky, illuminating the bard who was sitting against a tree, strumming a tuneless chord that was far from cheerful. That bitter scent of fear lingered in the air. Regardless, Jaskier met Geralt’s gaze, giving the witcher a pitiful smile.

“You’re awake.” Jaskier stood up, setting his lute to the side. “Again. Not sure if you’ll even remember all this when you fully wake up. Potion, I assume?”

“Mmm.” Geralt made a noise of agreement, reassessing his wounds. He still felt like shit, but if he was willing to put up with a whole lot of pain Geralt could stand. He could take care of himself.

“Right then, here you are.” Jaskier was at his side in moments, pouring the potion down his throat. “That’s it, nice and easy. Wonder what this stuff tastes like, anyhow- for your sake I hope it’s blueberry or something.”

Geralt didn’t bother giving that a response, swallowing down the last of it. He could feel it taking hold, easing his mangled body back together like the mutated atrocity it was.

“Well, nighty night, dear witcher.” Jaskier sighed.

Geralt looked at the bard. The man looked pale, clearly lacking proper sleep. It was clear he had been neglecting himself in favor of staying at Geralt’s side, frightened of what might happen if Geralt woke up alone.

“Jaskier.” Geralt caught the bard’s attention. “I’m fine.”

Jaskier spared a glance at the rest of Geralt’s body, grimacing. “Well you and I have different definitions of fine, I can tell you that. Your witcher drugs seem to be helping, i’ll be the first to admit, but I can assure you that is not how a man’s stomach should look-”

“I’ll heal.” Geralt cut him off. “I can manage. You’re free to leave.”

Jaskier shook his head. “Geralt, my dear, it is becoming increasingly obvious you have suffered brain damage.” Jaskier assured him, brushing the hair out of Geralt’s face. “No doubt about it, you’re as loony as a duck.”

Geralt gritted his teeth. “I’m of perfectly sound mind.”

“Oh really?” Jaskier’s dramatic attitude made it clear he wasn’t believing a word. “Because ‘perfectly sound’ individuals don’t ask to be abandoned in the woods with fatal injuries. Perhaps if there were a danger about - which would be very valiant and very stupid of you, I must add- , but the only danger here is the rotting corpse of a griffin you conquered several days ago. Which stinks, by the way.”

“There’s no reason for you to stay.” Geralt insisted, and Jaskier looked as though he’d been slapped across the face.

“No- no reason?!” Jaskier sputtered. “I thought after all these years you’d have a bit of faith in your best friend! The bar’s a lot lower than I thought if- if leaving your friend to die is acceptable behavior to you. Gods, I’m glad i’m not the one injured-”

“Shut UP, Jaskier!” Geralt all but roars, and it’s a testament to Jaskier’s bravery that the call of a monster doesn’t increase the smell of his fear. Jaskier isn’t getting it. He refuses to understand. Why must he make Geralt spell out the painful truth?

“...I know you want to leave.” Geralt murmurs. “I won’t hold you here any longer.”

Jaskier pauses, taking a moment to try and read Geralt’s expression. “What in all the glorious fields of the world makes you think I want to leave?”

Geralt grits his teeth. “Because you’re afraid of me.”

It’s quiet just a moment too long.

“What?” Jaskier gives a half laugh, clearly torn between making a joke and treating this seriously. “Geralt, I know you’ve got a lovely head wound, but think about what you’ve said for just a moment. Why would I be following you across half the continent if I was afraid? I’ve had plenty of opportunities to scurry away with my tail between my legs, but no! I treasure your company, bland as it may be at times, and not just for the stories we experience.” Jaskier grimaced, looking at the griffin carcass across the way. “Not that i’m particularly fond of this particular one, I must admit.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Geralt murmurs, perplexed for a moment when he can sense Jaskier isn’t lying. “I can smell it on you.”

“You can- so that’s just a witcher thing, huh? Smelling fear?” Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Every new thing about witchers I learn is so bizarre. Lovely, mind you, but- wow. Alright, fine then. So how long have you been smelling this fear on me? Have I been scurrying after you terrified out of my wits and not even knowing it?”

“No.” Geralt admitted.

“Ha! So you see?” Jaskier looked rather proud of himself. “It mustn’t be fear then, you’ve just caught some part of my natural musk. Er, not that my musk is particularly frightened- you know what I mean. Your witcher senses fail you, my dear fellow.”

“No.” Geralt growled, frustrated. “It was new. Few days ago, after the attack.”

“... oh.” Jaskier froze, a haunted expression taking over his usually cheerful features. The bard took a deep breath, meeting Geralt’s gaze. “Geralt, you wonderful witcher... you are one of the most foolish people on the entire continent.”

Geralt gave a low warning growl.

“I have never, ever been afraid of you, and I never will.” Jaskier insisted, his jaw set in his declaration. “And you know what? Yes, I was very afraid that evening, and every day since. But I was afraid for the same reason I stayed by your unconscious form all these days, and it’s the same reason I cried over what I thought was your corpse. I’m afraid of losing you, Geralt.”

The witcher paused, never expecting such a response.

“I sat by, trying my damndest to nurse you back to health, not knowing what the hell I could even do.” Jaskier had tears once again pooling in the corners of his eyes, but he brushed them away in a hurry. “Each time you went back to your slumber, I didn’t even know if you’d wake again. But each time you were conscious gave me hope, made me realize you were still holding on. I know witchers are hardier than the rest of us, but good lord you really gave fate a run for her money, Geralt!”

“It takes more than that to kill a witcher.” Geralt furrowed his brow, not sure how to deal with this level of concern. He had never had another person so invested in whether or not he died. Even with his fellow witchers, it was always common knowledge that one day they’d die along the Path.

“And I never want to learn exactly how much it takes.” Jaskier shuddered at the thought.

[knivestothroats]

In The Woods Somewhere pt 2 - Bite The Bullet

Immediately picks up from here.

content warnings: field medicine, gunshot wounds, using alcohol to clean wounds, stitching wounds, chained to a bed, history lessons

@lonesome--hunter​ @simplygrimly​

Buck was vaguely aware that Fletcher was speaking, but he wasn’t taking in any of the words. It didn’t seem to be directed at him, anyway. Something about a table. Nothing he was concerned with.

What he was concerned with, from least to greatest, included the following: Fletcher had a hand on his wrist, keeping his arm draped over their shoulders. Fletcher had an arm around his waist. Buck thought he might pass out, or at least fall down His head was swimming. He wasn’t sure how much blood he had lost at this point, but he was confident it was more than he would like to be losing. And lastly, his leg really, really, fucking hurt.

A new concern presented itself when Fletcher suddenly swept him up into a bridal carry. Buck let out a surprised noise, but didn’t have the energy to fight it. He was quickly set down onto a hard surface – most likely the table he had heard about – and he felt like he could melt into it. Maybe with enough exhaustion, your body just dissolves.

More talking he didn’t catch. His ears were ringing. He didn’t care – he didn’t have the energy to care.

Fletcher called out into the house, “Lesson time! Everybody downstairs!” They clapped their hands loudly. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Buck didn’t notice the people coming into the room. His attention was only drawn back when Fletcher lightly slapped his cheek. They were wearing rubber gloves.

“Hey, how much do you care about these pants?” They asked.

“Wh… What?”

“I mean, they already have a couple bullet holes and a lot of blood in them, but if you want to try to salvage them, I can take them off,” Fletcher said. “Otherwise I’m going to cut through them.”

Buck just sort of sighed and closed his eyes. Fletcher turned away from him to talk to the people who had gathered around.

“Usually, in emergency situations, you have to cut through the fabric,” they said. “So that’s what we’re going to do.”

Buck felt cold metal against his skin as the scissors brushed his leg.

“There will be times, in a pinch, where you may want to use drinking alcohol as a disinfectant,” Fletcher continued to the crowd. “I would not recommend this, for a few reasons. First of all, you should just keep actual medical supplies in your house, you animals. Second, if you pour alcohol over someone, that’s less for you to drink. However, sometimes needs must. If you are going to use alcohol this way, you should be decent enough to let your patient take a swig first, because this is all going to hurt like a bitch. In this case, our friend here is pretty out of it, so we’re going to skip that. Now, be prepared for them to scream…”

Buck suddenly felt a burning sensation in his leg. He screamed, back arching off the table and leg kicking out frantically. He felt a firm hand holding him down.

“Also, you should really only be using clear alcohols like vodka for this,” Fletcher continued nonchalantly as the screaming subsided into pained whimpers. “Now, to stitch a wound you’re going to want a curved needle, like this. If you try to use a regular sewing needle you will all be in for a bad time. Again, please for the love of god, keep medical supplies on hand. And keep them clean.”

Buck felt a hand patting against his cheek, and he tried to focus his eyes on the face of Fletcher, leaning over him.

“Alright, buddy,” they said gently, “I’m gonna give you something to bite down on. Okay? Open up.”

Fletcher put their fingers on either side of Buck’s chin and eased his jaw open. They slipped a folded belt between his teeth and pushed his jaw closed around the leather. Buck bit down, trying to breathe evenly through his nose. A sharp pain pierced the skin of his leg, overlapping with the already burning pain from the bullet wound. He let out a whine, clamping down on the belt. Although some part of him was aware that people were watching, embarrassment over the pathetic noises he was making was the last thing on his mind. He was just trying to get through this moment.

“Here’s a fun fact – a little bonus history lesson,” Fletch said as they worked. “In the civil war, they had advanced their weaponry but not really advanced the way they did battle, so all of a sudden there were way more injuries. And fatalities. And the bullets they were using – well, never mind. I could ramble. The point is, the field hospitals were just Hell. A lot of amputations. And they didn’t have any way to sedate the soldiers, so the medics would just give them a bullet to bite down on for the pain. And that’s where we get the phrase bite the bullet.  Now, you’ll see here that I am tying off each stitch. This is why it’s helpful to use a needle driver. You may be able to substitute needle nose pliers, or…”

“Keep medical supplies on hand,” came a disjointed chorus of voices.

Buck passed out at some point during the procedure.  He woke up in a bed, unsure of where he was. Even as the memories came back to him as he drifted into consciousness, he still wasn’t sure. It was a sparsely furnished room, with just the bed, a dresser, a chair, and a mirror. There was a window in the wall behind him, but the curtains were drawn. He was wearing an unfamiliar pair of sweatpants. 

Buck’s head ached. His leg ached. His whole body ached. He tried to gently shuffle into a sitting position, but as he moved he felt the unyielding tug of metal against his ankle.

His injured leg was handcuffed to the bed.

The door opened. Fletcher poked their head in.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” they said, walking all the way into the room. They were carrying a tray, which they set down on the dresser. Fletcher opened one of the drawers and retrieved a pillow. “Can you sit up?”

Buck, watching Fletcher warily, pushed himself slowly into a sitting position, and Fletcher put the pillow behind him. They retrieved the tray and set it on Buck’s lap before pulling the chair over to the side of the bed and sitting down.

Buck examined the contents of the tray. A water bottle, a small bottle of orange juice, a banana, a sleeve of crackers, a pudding cup, and a spoon. Buck looked up at Fletcher wordlessly.

“Well, eat up, champ,” Fletcher said, leaning forward to rest their forearms on their legs. A beat of silence where neither said anything. Then, “How’re you feeling?”

Buck opened his mouth and let out a croak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I feel like shit. Everything hurts.”

“Well, that’s to be expected,” Fletcher nodded. “You sustained a pretty serious injury.”

“Which you made worse,” Buck said.

“Hey, I – well, yeah. I did make you walk on it,” Fletcher admitted. “But you did great! And then I made it better.”

“You should have taken me to a hospital,” Buck said.

Fletcher just laughed and said, “Seriously, you should eat something. Drink some water.”

Buck cracked open the seal of the water bottle and took a swig. He paused a moment, and then asked, “Why do you have me chained to the bed?”

“Well, you really shouldn’t be walking on that leg for a while,” Fletcher said.

Buck stared at them in disbelief. Fetcher’s face cracked into a smile, and they shrugged, but said nothing.

“Why are you keeping me here?” Buck asked.

“You’re a great teaching tool,” Fletcher said before standing up. “And I believe you can take it.”

“Take what?” Buck asked, voice soaked in fear.

Fletcher began walking to the door, saying only, “Eat something.”

“What – what is this place?” Buck called after them. “What is going on here?”

Fletcher stopped in the doorway, handle on the knob ready to pull it closed behind them. They turned back.

“Well, Buck,” they said, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

[So! Before the American Civil War, soldiers were using muskets, which didn’t really shoot straight. Basically the musket ball would bounce around on its way out of the barrel of the gun. So the tactic was for both sides to line up and shoot at each other, creating a sort of wall of bullets, hoping something would hit. By the time the Civil War rolled around, guns had improved a lot. Namely rifles.

Rifles have grooves along the inside of the barrel (called rifling) that the bullet travels along, keeping it on target. The major improvement that made them the new main weapon of the military is that they didn’t have to be cleaned as frequently, whereas before they would get all gunked up on the inside if you used them too many times.

SO, the Civil War happens. Everyone lines up and shoots each other. But now they have guns that shoot straight. To this day, the Civil War has more American casualties than any other war this country has ever fought. It actually changed the game on the way this country handles death in more ways than one, but that’s a separate essay!

Another bad thing about this new-weapon-old-tactics thing, is that these guns shot “slugs,” or (relatively) slow moving bullets. The way these bullets were shaped, they wouldn’t always pierce straight through. If they hit bone, the bullet and the bone would both shatter. This led to many, many amputations. And, well, Fletcher said the rest.

Also please note that it’s been like six or seven years since I took that Civil War class.]

[next part]

[maximumsnow]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Link & Tetra (Legend of Zelda), Linebeck & Link (Legend of Zelda) Characters: Toon Link, Linebeck (Legend of Zelda), Tetra (Legend of Zelda) Additional Tags: spoiler in the tags, The first half of the story is very much a nightmare, There is a character death in the nightmare but it's not real, Also Linebeck says a single swear but I couldn't think of a way around it when he's an actual sailor, I want to emphasize that the relationship between Link and Linebeck is Platonic, Or familial, But you can read whatever relationship you want between Tetra and Link though

Summary: Phantom Hourglass and Wind Waker end with Link fighting and defeating a man at the end, and sometimes nightmares don't like keeping the facts straight with how things actually went.

It was raining. (It shouldn’t be raining.)

Link didn’t know when it had started, but when he woke up to Ciela’s pleas, the first thing he noticed was Linebeck swinging the Phantom Sword wildly around.

The cowardly man had stabbed Bellum. For him. And was keeping the monster at bay while Link recovered. The memory and urgency of the situation drove Link to his feet.

Then Linebeck made an error no experienced swordsman would make and turned his head away from the enemy. To check on Link.

Bellum took the easy opening and grabbed Linebeck’s arms. The horror that flashed on his face was replaced with determination as he struggled against the hold long enough to throw the sword to Link.

It was easy to catch it despite the haphazard way it had left the older man’s hands. But he was forced to watch as Bellum wrapped more tentacles around Linebeck and latched itself onto his back.

Dark energy flowed around them until thick phantom armor materialized on Linebeck’s body and forced him to stand up.

His face was tinted an unnatural purple (like a drowning man), and his eyes were glazed over with white.

Despite the almost dead appearance, he was able to wheeze out, “Link...”

A helmet appeared before he could say anything else, and with far more grace, the possessed Linebeck swung a heavy sword at Link.

The blow was easy to dodge, and Ciela was already shouting instructions at Link about how to deal with their problem.

After a few swings of the Phantom sword glancing off the armor with no effect, Link tried running and tumbling to get behind Bellum. But, no matter how fast he ran, the armored front would always face him in its inexorable march.

Finally, Ciela was able to let loose a Phantom Sphere, and Link stopped time long enough to run behind the large Phantom.

There was no weak spot to attack.

(There was no sign of Bellum’s body that should have been sticking out of Linebeck’s back.)

Ciela tried hovering behind Bellum to see if there would ever be a weak spot, and she was grabbed by a tentacle that was somehow still there.

The fight continued. (Different this time.)

No matter how many times he landed distracting blows and picked up and used Phantom Spheres, no eye ever opened.

He was getting tired.

Bellum wasn’t. (Bellum never did)

The large Phantom started another spin attack, and Link noticed just how unbalanced the helmet was when that attack was performed.

(Oh goddesses, please no.)

Another dodge, another parry.

He called on Neri’s aid to just help him get to the next spin attack. The blue fairy’s power coursed through him in time to block a would have been fatal blow from Bellum (Linebeck).

Their blades met time and time again. Just when Link thought he would never get another hit in, Bellum couldn’t recover quickly enough to avoid a cheap shot that knocked it to Linebeck’s knees.

Ciela took the opportunity to throw another Phantom Sphere at Link, and as soon as he caught it, Bellum stood back up. The way it grabbed the sword told him that it was about to do another spin attack, and Link prepared.

As soon as the attack started, Link stopped time and ran.

With a jump and a flourish, he slammed the helmet upwards and away from the Phantom’s head.

(Linebeck’s head)

Once again, the familiar face was exposed. Still with the purple hue and unseeing white eyes.

No sign of Bellum’s black and orange eye.

There was only one way Link knew how to finish it. But he couldn’t do that to his friend.

(The same way he killed a man a year ago.)

Linebeck (Bellum) staggered as he lost his balance before fixing him with that dead stare and marched towards him.

(Was Linebeck even still in there?)

Link shook his head as he tried to repeat the process with other pieces of the armor.

Nothing worked.

He could faintly see the eyes on the tentacles near the joints, but even when he tried to stab them directly, it was like a forcefield would cover them and make the blade glance off.

He couldn’t keep this going. His arms and legs were burning with exhaustion, and his lungs were begging for a reprieve.

If he kept putting this off, he would die. And so would Tetra. And Ciela. And Neri and Leaf.

The realm of the Ocean King would be destroyed.

(I’m sorry, Linebeck.)

The last Phantom sphere pulsed as he activated it.

With ease, he took a running jump, and plunged the sword nearly to its hilt into Linebeck’s forehead.

(How he killed Ganondorf.)

Link jumped away so that the heavy body didn’t crash onto him, but once he was on his feet again, he could only stare in horror as the armor turned into a purple mist with black and orange eyes staring at him. Mocking him. Before they inevitably exploded into bright yellow sand and fell into the water below.

It left the body of his friend face down on the driftwood.

He wasn’t moving.

Link stumbled towards the body left and collapsed to his knees near Linebeck’s head and tilted the face upwards.

Linebeck’s eyes were green again, but dull and unseeing. Bright red blood leaked out of the wound where the sword was still lodged.

He was dead.

(I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorryI’msorryI’msorry.)

Link didn’t know when he started to scream the words aloud, but when hands grabbed his shoulders, he shoved them away violently.

“Link!? Wake up!” Ciela’s voice sounded wrong, like it was mixed with someone else’s.

(Tetra?)

He stopped struggling, and the scene went dark as he realized his eyes were closed. He was laying down on something instead of standing on wooden planks.

His eyes shot open, and it took a few seconds to see in the faint candlelight. Tetra was hovering nearby, a worried look on her face and her hair in even more disarray than usual.

Link tried take a few calming breaths, and the fact that she didn’t comment on how he managed to choke on air must have meant he looked bad.

“You were shouting.” The words lacked any of their usual bite and contained an unspoken question.

He rubbed at his face, which was noticeably wet, and tried to answer.

The image of a dead Linebeck, that he had killed, came back.

All that came out was a low whine that was cut off by a sob, and he curled his legs forward to bury his face into his knees.

With surprising care, Tetra approached him and sat down on his bunk nearby. “We’re on our ship. We just docked at an island for the night.” She looked at the door before continuing. “We’re all safe.”

Before he could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard accompanied by shouting. It spiked his heart rate briefly, before he recognized the voice.

“Hey, put me down!”

Relief. Link let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and tears threatened to fall again.

Gonzo kicked in the door, and slung over his shoulder was a very much alive, if annoyed, Linebeck.

“Captain’s orders, yeah?” He dropped the sailor onto the cabin floor before looking to Tetra.

Link didn’t pay mind to the silent conversation he knew they were having thanks to zeroing in on Linebeck. The sailor had a hand up brushing his hair out of his face, and that allowed Link to see that there was no injury marring his forehead.

He had figured out by now that it had to have been a nightmare, but he still couldn’t help checking.

Linebeck staggered to a standing position, and without his coat on, he looked even smaller than Gonzo. It didn’t stop him from pointing a finger at Gonzo’s chest and saying, “Just because I’m traveling with you doesn’t mean you can drag me out of my cabin and manhandle me like a dead fish!”

Gonzo just rolled his eyes before turning on his heel and leaving Linebeck without a response.

Linebeck was about to follow him out, offense written all over his face. “HEY! I wasn’t-”

“Read the room,” Tetra spoke up firmly. The lack of sarcasm and playful nicknames must have registered something in Linebeck’s head, for he quickly turned around, and the annoyance vanished.

Link vaguely wondered how pathetic he must look. Sure, Linebeck had seen him hit some lows at night when they traveled together in the Ocean King’s realm, but now he knew just what Link was capable of.

Some legendary hero he was. Wrapped in a blanket with a wet face and faintly shaking in the aftereffects of a nightmare.

“Aw shit. You’re not okay, are you, kid?” Linebeck scratched his head as he asked. The rhetorical question hung in the air as neither teenager was willing to bother with the obvious answer. Waving it away, he took a few steps closer to the huddled mess.

He stopped and gave Link a pointed look that the boy recognized well. Can I come closer?

Link froze. The guilt of literally having just killed the man in his dream was telling him that he had no right to ask for the simple comfort that Linebeck somehow managed to give.

Just knowing he was alright should be enough.

It wasn’t.

While fighting to keep another sob down, Link nodded and scooted closer to Tetra. Permission given, Linebeck sat on Link’s other side, and Link instinctively leaned against him. He felt Linebeck’s arm carefully settle on his shoulders, and Tetra’s hand started to rub circles in his back.

The contact settled the racing feeling in his chest in a way their presences hadn’t been able to. The part of his mind still affected by the nightmare couldn’t ignore the fact that Linebeck was alive and breathing right next to him.

With little preamble, Linebeck started, “So, kid, did I tell you about that time I-”

Link couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at the unexpected topic change and met Tetra’s eyes in mutual sarcasm. Given how often Linebeck embellished his stories and changed them around for fun, Link probably hadn’t heard whatever nonsense he was about to spill.

But, just the segue had managed to stop fresh tears from falling, Link wasn’t going to say no to the obvious attempt to keep his mind off of the nightmare.

The first one hadn’t quite worked. The second nearly did. The third one managed to make him laugh so hard, that he rolled backwards and out of the mess of blankets. By the middle of the fourth story, his eyes were getting heavy, and he didn’t get to hear how that one ended. The sound of Linebeck’s storytelling voice and Tetra heckling every now and then lulled him to a deep sleep.

His dreams were blissfully blank.

[theoretical-whore]

Red Roses (Fred Weasley x OC)

Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Blood, vomiting, injury, mentions of death, Hanahaki Disease Words: +2k

A/N: oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god I’m actual hot garbage anyway so we’ve got some Hanahaki between Freddie dearest and my OC Vivienne Hollenberry. I’m trash I hate myself and I hate this I’m so sorry this was like six and a half pages long

Fred didn’t think much of it when he felt the first tickle in his throat. They were in Herbology after all, it wasn’t uncommon for one of the plants in Professor Sprout’s greenhouses to be an allergen. He watched as Vivi carefully trimmed their tenatcula, making sure it was just right. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but her tongue just poking out the side of her mouth. Her scarlet hair was pulled back into twin braids, just how she wore her hair on her family’s farm when they were younger. His heart swelled with love as his throat continued to tickle. He cleared his throat and Vivi looked up at him. 

“Alright there?” she asked, the tiniest bit of concern visible in her blue eyes. 

He flashed a toothy grin at his best friend. “‘Course I’m alright. That tentacula doesn’t look alright, though.” He pointed at the plant, whose head was dangerously close to Vivi’s shears. 

“Oh!” She moved her shears away. “Sorry, little fella. Almost done with your haircut now, don’t worry,” she cooed to the plant. Fred laughed. Tentaculas were dangerous. Leave it to Vivi to call one “little fella.” He felt the tickle in his throat again, and this time he let out a small cough. 

Vivi looked back up at him in concern. “I’m fine, Vivi. Probably just allergic to something in here.”

“You’ve never had any allergic reactions before. Nothing’s different.” She placed her shears down, finished trimming the plant. 

He patted her shoulder affectionately. “The stuff in here is always changing. Why? You worried?”

“If you’re sick, you’re going to give it to me and your brother. I’m just looking after myself,” she said with a roll of her eyes. 

Fred gasped in mock offense, but the sudden intake of air caused another cough. Vivi raced to pat him on the back. “I’m okay, I’m okay!” Fred assured her. George and Lee were looking over from their tentacula. 

“Fred, you alright?” his brother asked. 

“Yeah, I think I’m allergic to something in here.” He raised his hand. “Professor Sprout! May I go to the hospital wing? I think I’m having some sort of reaction.”

Sprout looked at him with concern and gave him a nod. 

Fred turned back to Lee, George, and Vivi. “Just going to go get checked out, you know?” The three others nodded.

“Let us know as soon as you can if something’s wrong.” Vivi looked so worried. Fred’s throat tickled again.

He gently placed his hands on his best friend’s shoulders and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back for Defense Against the Dark Arts, don’t worry.” And he hurried off to the hospital wing, coughing every now and then. 

Madam Pomfrey gave him a Pepperup Potion to clear up the chest cold she assumed he was developing, but it did nothing. His throat still tickled. He still coughed. If anything, his coughs were getting more frequent and more violent. Madam Pomfrey made him stay through Defense Against the Dark Arts. He wasn’t allowed to leave until she could find out what was wrong with him. 

Vivi and George came in after Defense Against the Dark Arts. Fred felt a pang of jealousy at his brother’s arm around Vivi. He coughed again. “I knew you were getting sick,” Vivi said. “I knew it.”

Fred laughed, ignoring the urge to cough. He held out his hand, which Vivi took and squeezed. “I’m not sick. Madam Pomfrey just isn’t sure what’s wrong. Must not have been allergies, though. I’m still coughing.” As if to punctuate his sentence, he coughed again. 

“It’s worse,” George said matter-of-factly. “You’re coughing harder now.”

Fred nodded. “Yeah. Kinda feels like there’s something in my chest. My throat keeps tickling. Pomfrey is clueless about what’s going on.”

Vivi rubbed Fred’s knuckles with her thumb. “Well, you better get better.” She squeezed his hand again. “Can’t have you staying in here for too long.”

Fred smiled at the girl he loved so dearly. And then his chest tightened. He started to cough, but it was different this time. He doubled over in pain. It felt like something was stabbing at his lungs. The tickle in his throat had returned, but this time it felt like it was climbing up towards his mouth.

“Freddie!” George shouted.

Fred continued to cough and wheeze. Something was in his mouth. He spat into the hand that wasn’t still clutching Vivi’s, hoping to clear whatever it was. But nothing could have prepared any of them for what came out of his mouth. 

“Is that…a flower petal?” Vivi asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

In his hand, Fred held what looked to be a deep red rose petal, wet with saliva. How had that possibly gotten inside his mouth? He hadn’t been near any roses lately. But he brushed it off. Surely something had just gone wrong in Herbology. He tossed the flower petal to the ground. 

“Maybe someone jinxed you?” George offered. That made sense.

Madam Pomfrey returned to Fred. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Mister Weasley. You’re free to go. If the coughing gets worse, return to me.”

He nodded and stood, leaving the hospital wing with his brother and best friend. Vivi’s hand was still in his. His throat tickled again. He coughed into his hand again, catching another rose petal. 

“Is there a jinx that makes you cough up petals?” 

“There’s a jinx to make you cough up slugs, so I wouldn’t be surprised,” George said as they headed to the Great Hall for dinner. “We can ask Flitwick in Charms tomorrow. See if there’s a counter spell.”

Fred nodded. Every now and then, there was a sharp pain in his lungs that made him pause and wince. He wasn’t very hungry at dinner that night. Every time he opened his mouth, he’d have to fish a rose petal from between his lips. He knew he was getting strange glances from other students. How uncommon was it for someone to have petals in their mouth? If it was caused by a jinx, it couldn’t be that odd.

“Professor Flitwick!” Vivienne leapt up from the table and rushed over to the tiny Professor who had just entered the Great Hall. Fred followed her, his hand on his chest to steady his coughing. 

“Miss Hollenberry, Mister Weasley. Good evening. Can I help you?” Flitwick asked with a kind smile. 

“Um, well…” Vivi reached for Fred’s hand again. He suppressed a more violent cough. He felt the petals building up in his mouth. “We were wondering what the counter spell is for the flower coughing jinx.”

“Pardon? The what?”

“The jinx that makes you cough up flower petals.” She looked to Fred, who was having a hard time keeping the petals in his mouth. He turned his head and spat into his hand, shoving the petals into the pocket of his robes. “Someone must have hit Fred with it.”

“Miss Hollenberry, there is no such jinx.”

Fred’s head snapped back to the Professor. “What?” he tried to ask, but was silenced by another violent coughing fit. Petals fell out of his mouth. 

Flitwick’s eyes widened. “That is not the work of any jinx I know. I’m afraid there is something else going on.”

Vivi nodded, making sure Fred was okay. “Thank you, Professor.” 

Flitwick gave the pair a look of concern before leaving the scene to join the other professors for dinner. 

“I’m not hungry anymore…” Fred mumbled. 

Vivi told George that they were leaving before retreating to Gryffindor Tower with a coughing Fred. Rose petals trailed on the floor behind them. 

“Not a jinx…” she mused, stroking Fred’s hair as he rested his head on her shoulder. The pair sat on the floor by the fireplace. Whenever new petals were produced, Fred would toss them into the fire. “A potion, maybe?”

Fred chuckled, causing him to cough and produce a few more petals. “If it was a potion, you’d know.”

“I think you should go back to Madam Pomfrey, Freddie.” 

Fred shook his head. “She said she didn’t know what was wrong with me.”

Vivi hummed. “She didn’t see you cough up petals though.”

Fred shrugged, craning his neck to look up at Vivi. The firelight reflected gorgeously on her crimson hair. He could see the embers sparkling in her eyes. Merlin, she was so, so beautiful.

He started to cough violently again, leaving Vivienne’s embrace. Petals flew everywhere. But something was different again. Instead of a tickle at the back of his throat, there were sharp pains. Like something was crawling up his throat, trying to get out. He gagged. 

“Freddie?” Vivi asked in a panic. “Freddie!”

He gagged again, and again, and then he heaved forward, vomiting onto the floor in front of them. 

But what he spat out wasn’t vomit. It was petals and blood and a single fully formed bloom. The thorns on the flower were clearly the culprits of the sharp pains in his throat. The lining of his throat felt like it had been torn, and he felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest. 

Vivienne practically dragged him back to the infirmary. 

Madam Pomfrey went white as a sheet when she saw him spit out another fully formed rose blossom, again stained in blood. Her expression was deathly serious. “Mister Weasley…”

“What?” Fred said between coughs. He was alone. Madam Pomfrey had chased Vivi out. “Do you…do you know what this is?”

“I’ve only seen it once before. My dear, I’m afraid you’re terribly sick.”

More coughs. More petals. More blood. “I am?”

The matron nodded. “It’s called Hanahaki Disease. And…it pains me to tell you that it’s fatal in most cases.”

Fred felt his heart stop. “Fatal?”

“It’s caused by unrequited love. The only way to cure it is for the love to be returned, or to have it removed. But the removal…comes at an awful price. You will lose all memory of the one you’d fallen in love with.”

“Lose…my memories?”

“And it appears yours is dangerously severe. Unless the disease is cured, the flowers growing in your lungs will suffocate you in a matter of days.” With a sad face, she asked the question he was dreading. “Do you have any idea who these feelings might be for?”

Of course he knew. It was Vivienne. It was always her. She occupied all of his thoughts. His heart, soul, and body yearned for her. And now…his love for her would kill him.

“It’s Miss Hollenberry, is it not?” Fred nodded gravely. “Is it possible that she returns your feelings?” He shook his head. “Then…I’m afraid you only have two options. I’ll leave you to think it over.” Madam Pomfrey gave him a basin for his flowers, and left to let him sleep. 

It wasn’t long before George burst in. “Vivi told me you coughed up a whole bloom! What’s going on?”

Fred mulled over his choices. He couldn’t worry his brother. “I’m fine,” he lied. “We…we think it might have been some sort of potion someone slipped into my drink or something.” He spat up another clump of flowers and blood. His throat felt like someone had taken a knife to it. He gave his brother a smile. “I’ll be fine. Just gotta stay here a few days until it’s passed.”

George looked as if he wasn’t sure he believed his brother. “Alright, well…hurry up and get better. I found Vivi sitting on your bed crying. Don’t keep us worried.”

Fred held in his flowers until his brother had left. He thought he could see the lining of his throat stuck to some of the thorns. Surely Madam Pomfrey was wrong. He’d be better in the morning. 

He wasn’t better in the morning. 

He awoke to dried blood on his lips, flowers and petals surrounding his head, and what felt like a vine growing out of his mouth. He severed the vine with diffindo. 

But the most concerning thing was how hard it had become to breathe. 

Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let anyone come see him. The curtains were pulled around his cot, and he was utterly alone, coughing up flowers, bleeding, and suffocating. He knew he had dreamed of Vivi returning his love. Madam Pomfrey said that thinking about her or being near her was only causing the plant to spread faster. Several times throughout the day he heard people try to come see him. Ron, Harry, and Hermione came in, having heard from Vivi and George that he was sick. Madam Pomfrey turned them away. She turned away a nervous Ginny and a concerned Angelina Johnson. She turned away George and Vivi at least five times. By the third time, Vivi was in tears, practically begging to see him.

The sound of her crying made his heart ache and his lungs constrict even tighter. He spat up about five roses then, each one more and more soaked with blood. 

His throat was so torn up that he couldn’t even speak. He wheezed whenever he tried to take a breath.

And this carried on for a few days. He could feel the plant in his lungs slowly draining his life. Every day he coughed up more roses, more thorns, more blood. He knew he was dying.

It was on the fifth day that he asked Madam Pomfrey to remove the plant. He knew he couldn’t let himself die, even if it meant forgetting Vivienne. But his heart broke at the very thought. 

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over him, and hung her head. “My dear…I’m afraid it’s too late.”

Deep inside, Fred knew it would be. He passed out then.

Even unconscious, he could feel the plant growing and expanding, ready to claim his life at any moment. He heard crying. He recognized it as Ginny. He heard Ron and George’s voices trying to comfort her. He even heard Percy’s voice above him, sounding laden with sorrow and grief. He wanted to tell them he was sorry. He was sorry for taking so long to decide to save himself. Sorry that he’d never see Ron and Ginny grown, that he’d never see Percy become Minister for Magic, that he’d be leaving George alone. He wanted to tell them he loved them, to tell mum and dad how much he loved them, and how sorry he was for leaving them.

He felt pressure on his hand. A squeeze. He heard a voice call his name in the darkness. Vivienne’s voice. She was here. She was holding his hand as he died. He wanted to tell her how he’d loved her since second year. He hoped Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t tell her that it was his love for her that had killed him. He felt her rest her head against his heaving chest, he heard her crying for him. Oh, he loved her so much. His precious Vivienne. He hoped she would recover from this. He hoped whoever she ended up with treated her well.

It made sense, he thought. The roses were the same color as her hair.

He felt the darkness calling to him. It was time. Growing ever fainter, he heard Vivienne’s voice once more. 

“Come back to me…” she said. “I can’t live without you. I love you.”

Something changed in his chest. He felt the vines starting to recede. He drew in a breath. It came smoother than it had in days. The crying voices became clearer, the darkness less oppressive.

He opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Vivi’s face over him, crying and beautiful. He felt the flowers in his lungs shrink and wither. He took in a heaving, gasping breath as he felt them vanish. The weight was gone from his chest.

His love had been returned. The disease had been cured.

Vivienne leaned back as he gasped to fill his lungs with the air that they had been missing so dearly for the past five days. He saw his siblings’ faces crowding around him. He tried to speak but nothing came out.

Madam Pomfrey helped him to sit and pressed her wand to his throat. He felt the tears stitch together and heal. Percy handed him a glass of water.

He looked at Vivienne, who had her hand clasped over her mouth. “I love you, too,” he said.

[buckybarnesdollface]

Bruised

Summary: It takes a rescue mission & a near-death experience for Bucky to admit how he feels.

Warnings: Violence, Smut

         With one final rough shove of my shoulder, the heavy metal door gave way with a groan of protest. Blinking a few times to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting that the underground dungeon – unsettlingly medieval in its appearances – provided, I made my way along the damp, chilled corridor, keeping my eyes and ears trained for any sign of life.

           Spending my first Thanksgiving as an Avenger in the dungeon of a HYDRA facility in Austria had been the last thing I had planned to do, but when Steve had informed the team that Bucky had been captured during a mission him and Sam had been on, I had been the first person to agree to help Sam and Steve rescue him. The team knew Bucky and I were friends – the best of friends, actually – so they hadn’t been surprised at my insistence on helping. What they didn’t know, however, was that my feelings ran much deeper than friendship.

           About halfway down the corridor, I heard a low groan coming from one of the cells. My heartrate picked up its pace as I sprinted forward. In one of the grimy cells, slumped against the wall like a ragdoll, was Bucky.

           The barred door was locked, but the Stark tech laser in my pocket made quick work of that. As soon as I was inside, I dropped to my knees in front of him.

           “Bucky…?” I breathed, setting a hand on his arm. His normally-blazing skin was cold – apparently even a supersoldier was susceptible to the chill of a damp dungeon in Austria at the end of November. As I repeated his name, more urgently this time, his head lifted slowly.

           Even in the dim lighting of the single bulb outside the cell, I could see how pale he was. He looked sickly, dark smudges under his eyes that had sunken into his face. There were lines in his face that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him, and his dark hair hung limply in his eyes. I reached out to brush the dirty locks from his face and he let out a ragged breath.

           “(Y/N)?” he asked, his voice hoarse as recognition and then disbelief took over his features. “(Y/N), what are you doing here? You have to get out of here, they’ll be back soon and if they catch you here –”

           I silenced him with a finger against his lips. “I’m here with Steve and Sam,” I explained. “We came to rescue you, Buck.” I gave him a wry smile, though it didn’t touch my eyes. “No man left behind, remember?”

           The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched, but when he tried to sit up straighter pain flashed across his face and he let out a sound between a groan and a gasp. Alarmed, I hovered over him, trying to pinpoint the injury. I noticed his right arm was circled protectively around his midsection, and without waiting for his permission I gingerly pulled his arm away and lifted his shirt to inspect the damage.

           I felt bile rise to my throat at the sight. The right side of his abdomen looked as if it had been beaten with a meat mallet, the flesh raw and oozing both blood and pus. The skin around it was black with bruises, and I knew he’d have at least a few broken ribs, if not one or two that were completely shattered. I looked up at him with horrified eyes.

           “Did they…did they just do this to you?” I squeaked, and Bucky shook his head with a grimace.

           “They did this two days ago, doll.”

           “Then why hasn’t it started healing?” One of the advantages of being a supersoldier was that his wounds healed rapidly, but it looked as if nothing had even begun to heal.

           “I think they’ve been poisoning me,” he rasped. “Not enough to kill me, but enough so that none of the effects of the serum work.” He gave a half-smile. “If I’m weak then they can control me. They did something to my arm, too; I can’t move it.”

           Sure enough, his vibranium arm hung limply at his left side. Anger surging through me, my fists clenched at my sides. “Can you stand?” I asked him through gritted teeth.

           “I think so,” he replied, “but (Y/N) –”

           I cut him off, pressing a finger to the comm in my ear. “Guys, I found him,” I said to Steve and Sam. “We’re in the dungeon. Let’s get him out of here.”

           I could hear them both sigh in relief. “Stay where you are, (Y/N),” Steve ordered. “This place is crawling with HYDRA. We’ll come get you.”

           “Change of plans, Cap,” I muttered as I heard footsteps echoing down the stone corridor. Bucky heard them, too; his head shot up towards the cell door. “We’ve got company.”

           Before Steve could say anything more in my ear, I had drawn my pistol from its place in the holster on my thigh. Bucky’s voice rattled from behind me.

           “(Y/N)…” he croaked, and I glanced over my shoulder to see that he’d stood up. I glanced frantically to the cell door and then back to him.

           “What are you doing?” I hissed. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

           “So are you,” he snapped. “Give me a knife.”

           “Bucky –”      

           “I know you have at least three on you, (Y/N). Now give me one of them so I’m not unarmed.”

           Begrudgingly, I pulled the knife from my belt and handed it to him. Bucky took it, wincing as the movement disturbed his broken ribs, but then he straightened his spine next to me and gave me a curt nod. Injuries aside, he had my back and I’d be damned if I didn’t have his as well.

           The footsteps got louder, and then three men armed with pistols rounded the corner and came into view. Acting quickly, I lunged and kicked the pistol from the first man’s grip. It went flying a good thirty feet down the dim corridor, and although he was momentarily stunned from the unexpected assault the other two men wasted no time. One raised his pistol and aimed it at me while the other lunged for Bucky. I managed to dodge the bullet in time to raise my own pistol and shoot my attacker in the leg. The first man, having recovered from his shock, came at me with a knife as his comrade fell to the dirty stone floor with a strangled cry.

           He reached for my gun, and although I was quick, he was quicker. He grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip and bent it backwards until I screamed in pain and dropped the pistol, which he then kicked into a dark corner of the cell. With a grunt I managed to twist away from the man and landed a well-placed kick to his groin. He crumpled with a curse in Russian and I chanced a quick glance at Bucky. The large man he was fighting still held his gun, but it looked as though he didn’t intend to use it – No doubt HYDRA wanted to keep Bucky alive so they could use him.

           Bucky, on the other hand, was losing both strength and balance quickly. His steps were unsteady and he was breathing heavily as him and the bigger man circled around like two dogs in a fight. My attention was quickly diverted, though, when the cell was filled with the deafening shot of a pistol once again. This time my reflexes weren’t fast enough, and the bullet grazed my upper arm. I let out a strangled curse as pain shot through me, but it wasn’t fatal so with a snarl I drew my knife from my thigh holster and lunged at the man.

         We crashed into the stone wall, both scrambling for the upper hand. I fought to wrestle the gun from his grip; he was a small man, roughly my size, but stronger. He managed to flip me around so my back was pressed to his chest as an arm tightened around my throat, constricting my air flow. I struggled to get free, and managed to sink my knife into a fleshy thigh. The man cried out and released me, and in a split second I spun around and elbowed him in the face, which in turn jarred his head against the stone wall behind him with a sickening crunch.

         I had time neither to catch my breath nor check to see how Bucky was doing before the other man was coming at me again. I had only one weapon left; a small knife tucked into my boot that I had now pulled out. I gripped it tightly in my sweaty hand, still gasping for breath as the man advanced on me. I chanced the first swing but came up short, earning me a hard blow to the stomach that knocked the wind out of me and definitely cracked a rib or two. I fell to my knees, but as I reached for the knife I had dropped a large brown boot kicked it away from me and then a large hand grabbed roughly onto my hair and yanked me off the floor and into the air. I screamed in pain, but he only grinned a yellow-toothed grin and tightened his hold as pain shot through my scalp.

        “Now you die,” he said, his Russian accent thick, but as he lifted his free hand to my throat another hand reached up and plunged a knife – my knife – into his own throat. The man’s eyes widened as he let go of me, and as I dropped to my feet he staggered back and collapsed lifeless to the floor. I noticed that the man Bucky had been fighting was also lying motionless across the cell. Bucky stood in front of me, his shirt soaked through with blood and a black eye already forming, his broad chest heaving with exertion. He staggered a bit, and I lurched forward to catch him as best I could before he crashed to the stone floor.

       Steve and Sam found us not long after, the two of them taking Bucky, now unconscious, from my arms and lifting his limp body out of the cell. I grabbed one of the discarded guns and followed, exhausted but on guard for any attackers jumping out of the darkness.

        We got Bucky to the quinjet, where Sam and Steve gently laid him down on the cushioned bench seat before making sure we hadn’t been followed. As Sam prepared to take off, Steve looked at me with concerned eyes.

       “Are you alright?” he asked, and I nodded.

       “I’m fine. I’ve had worse,” I answered. “I’m more worried about Buck. They did something to his arm, and they’ve poisoned him so he isn’t healing like he should. He has some shattered ribs and possibly an infection, among some smaller injuries. We need to get him back to the compound as quickly as possible.”

       Steve nodded, but then the look on my face must have been concerning because something in his own expression changed. He stepped forward to set a comforting hand on my shoulder.

       “He’s gonna be alright, (Y/N),” he assured me. “He’s been through far worse; he’ll get through this, too.”

        I hadn’t even realized I had tears in my eyes, but now I swiped at them fiercely with the sleeve of my tactical jacket. I glanced at the limp body on the bench and struggled to swallow the lump in my throat.

       “It just kills me to see him like this,” I finally managed to whisper. “He’s always so strong and fierce and healthy. Look what they’ve done to him, Stevie.” My face hardened. “I’m going to kill every one of them.”

        To my surprise, Steve chuckled. “He’s lucky to have you,” he mused, giving my uninjured arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry, kiddo; we’ll get him home and back to being your Bucky in no time, I promise.”

       My Bucky. My cheeks flushed at Steve’s words, and as I was overthinking what he had said he gave me a warm smile and then headed to the cockpit to accompany Sam. I was still overthinking when I heard a rustling coming from the bench behind me.

       “(Y/N)?” Bucky breathed, and I turned to find him looking up at me with weary eyes. I was kneeling beside him in seconds, my hand smoothing the hair from his face.

       “I’m here, Buck,” I murmured soothingly. “You’re safe now, it’s alright.”

       “Have you…have you been crying?”

        Ducking my head, I cursed for not doing a better job of keeping my emotions in check. Bucky went to reach his flesh hand towards my face, but when his outstretched arm caused him to grimace, he instead settled for laying a hand on my arm.

       “Don’t cry, doll,” he murmured. “I’m okay, I’m alive.” He cracked a weak smile. “You saved me.”

        I met his gaze. “But what if we were too late?” I retorted. “Buck, you could have died! Or they could have…”

        I trailed off, but I didn’t need to finish my sentence for either of us to know what I had been going to say. They could have made you the Winter Soldier again. A possibility all too real and all too frightening. I shuddered involuntarily and Bucky pursed his lips.

        “Come here,” he murmured, and I looked at him with my brow furrowed.

        “What?”

        “Come here,” he repeated, and when he started to sit up, I shook my head and pushed him back down gently.

        “Bucky, you need rest,” I protested, but when I looked at his blue eyes – really looked at them – I realized they were burning with an unspoken agony.

        “Stay with me?” he then asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Just stay with me, (Y/N), and hold me, please.”

        My heart broke at the sudden change in his tone, all broken vulnerability. Wordlessly, I stood, and with some effort Bucky lifted himself enough that I could slide onto the bench and then he laid back down with his head pillowed in my lap. His flesh hand held tight to my leg, and my own hands cradled his head and stroked through the tangles in his hair. It was like this that he eventually fell asleep, and I wasn’t too long after him.

        It was Sam that roused us when we got back to New York.

        “We almost didn’t want to wake you; you both looked so peaceful and I’m sure you both need the sleep,” he said with an apologetic smile, “but we gotta get Frosty here to the infirmary right away.”

        Bucky, who had sat up with the help of Steve, glared at Sam. “I told you not to call me that, Wilson,” he grumbled, and Sam flashed him a grin.

       “Would you prefer ‘old man’?”

       “Alright, that’s enough messing around,” I intervened, noticing the sweat beading on Bucky’s forehead. He was still in pain. “Let’s get to the infirmary so Dr. Cho can do her thing.”

       It took both Steve and Sam to hold Bucky up and help him off the quinjet and to the elevator, and even though they were doing their best not to jostle him I watched as his eyes tightened in a wince with every step he took. I wanted to push Sam away so I could hold him myself, but I knew I wasn’t strong enough to hold up half the weight of a supersoldier that couldn’t stand on his own.

       “F.R.I.D.A.Y., take us to the infirmary,” Steve ordered the AI as we all piled into the elevator.

       “Right away, Captain Rogers,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied, and then the elevator moved up. Bucky was now leaning heavily against Steve, breaths coming out ragged and hollow. When he caught me watching him, he forced a grin onto his tired face.

       “Don’t worry, doll, ‘s not as bad as it looks,” he told me with an attempt at nonchalance, but I shook my head and narrowed my eyes at him.

       “We’ll let Dr. Cho be the judge of that,” I retorted, just as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open to reveal the infirmary. Either F.R.I.D.A.Y. or Steve had warned of our arrival because Dr. Cho was already waiting for us, as well as a handful of nurses and Tony.

       “Bring him in here,” Dr. Cho said, motioning to one of the operating rooms. “We have to get that poison out of his system and do something about those shattered ribs.”

       “And I need to take a look at the arm,” Tony added, and Bucky nodded as Steve and Sam led him into the room and carefully laid him on the operating table. I followed, but as Dr. Cho administered a sedative to Bucky, Steve turned to me and shook his head.

       “Go get yourself seen to,” he said.

       “But Steve –”

        His large hand was gentle but firm as he steered me towards the door. “You have a bullet wound in your arm that needs to be disinfected and stitched, and judging from the way you’ve been holding yourself you’ve got a couple of cracked ribs. You aren’t a supersoldier; your injuries aren’t going to heal well on their own.”

        “Bucky’s injuries are more important than mine right now,” I protested in exasperation. I tried to twist away from Steve and duck past him back into the room, but the pain in my ribs stopped me and Steve arched a blonde eyebrow at me pointedly.

       “Bucky is in good hands, (Y/N),” he assured me. “If anything changes, I’ll come get you. But for now you just have to trust that Dr. Cho knows what she’s doing, and go take care of yourself before your own injuries get any worse.”

        I wanted to argue, but I knew he was right. With a sigh, I glanced once more at Bucky’s now-still body on the operating table before I let one of the nurses usher me out of the room.

        The nurse cleaned and stitched up the gunshot wound, and then gave me painkillers for the fractured ribs I had. As I slid stiffly off the table, Natasha came into the room.

        “How you feeling?” she asked, and I frowned.

        “Fine. It’s Bucky I’m worried about. I’m going to see him.”

         Natasha sidestepped me as I beelined for the door. I shot her my best death glare, but she stood her ground.

        “Steve told me what happened,” she said. “And while I understand why you’re worried about Bucky, you need to worry about yourself as well, (Y/N). I don’t think you’ve slept at all since you found out he’d been captured, and you probably haven’t eaten much either. I ordered pizza, it’s in the kitchen. Come eat some and then you can go upstairs and get some rest. You need it.”

        I shook my head. “I can’t sleep,” I argued. “I have to be awake when Steve comes to get me so I can see Bucky.”

        I could tell Natasha fought not to roll her eyes. “Fine,” she sighed. “We’ll grab some pizza and watch a movie in the common room, then. But you have to do something other than pace around worrying.”

        Begrudgingly, I agreed, following Natasha to the kitchen. We grabbed some pizza and headed to the common room. I picked at my food and paid little attention to the nineties romantic comedy she had put on, but eventually even my worrying couldn’t compete with my exhaustion and I fell asleep on the couch.

        When I woke up, I was in my bed; Steve must have carried me up to my room at some point. Sitting up, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Ten forty-two. The blackout curtains in my room made it impossible to discern whether it was ten forty-two in the morning or at night.

        “F.R.I.D.A.Y., what day is it?” I asked.

    ��   “Tuesday, Ms. (Y/L/N),” the AI replied, and I swore softly. I had slept through the whole night. Jumping out of bed and ignoring the pain in my ribs, I stripped out of the tactical outfit I was still wearing and pulled on leggings and a t-shirt.

        “F.R.I.D.A.Y., is Bucky still in the infirmary?”

        “Sergeant Barnes was moved to his own quarters early this morning.”

        Relief flooded through me. That meant he was okay. I pulled open my door and made my way down the hall. The living quarters at the compound took up an entire floor, and Bucky’s room was on the opposite end of the building from mine. When I reached his door, I hesitated before knocking.

        “Come in,” he called from inside, and I opened the door.

        Bucky was standing at his dresser, back to me, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He was looking for a shirt to wear, but when he heard me come in he turned around.

        The breath caught in my throat and I couldn’t help the tears that sprung to my eyes at the sight of him. The flesh of his abdomen that had been beaten raw and bruised black and blue was once again the smooth, unblemished pale gold wall of muscle I was used to. The colour and life had returned to his face, and he held himself without pain. Tony had even managed to fix whatever had been wrong with the vibranium arm; it now once again moved with the same ease as the flesh one.

        “You’re okay,” I breathed, and the tears spilled down my cheeks. I couldn’t help it; after seeing him the way he was yesterday, seeing him now as strong as ever felt as if someone had breathed life into my own body as much as his own.

        A look of alarm crossed Bucky’s face, and then he was across the room and his hands were firm yet soft on my arms. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he demanded, his blue eyes searching my face. “Why are you crying, doll?”

        I reached up to swipe away my tears embarrassedly. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I just…Yesterday I thought I was going to lose you; you were so weak when I found you. And now…” I shook my head in disbelief. “Now you look as if none of it happened.”

       Bucky’s face softened, and he reached up to catch a stray tear that had rolled down my cheek with his thumb.

       “Because of you,” he murmured. “You found me, (Y/N). You saved me.”

       “No man left behind,” I reminded him, and he chuckled.

       “Steve told me how worried you were,” he said. “He told me that you all but flew the quinjet to Austria yourself when Sam got back and told you what had happened, and how stubborn you were in the infirmary yesterday.”

        I blushed and ducked my head. “Of course I was worried,” I said. “You’re my best friend, Buck. I couldn’t let HYDRA have you, and then even after saving you, you were so weak, I wasn’t sure…” I trailed off and bit my lip. Frowning, Bucky gathered me in his arms. I wanted to melt into his warm embrace, but instead I let out a grunt at the discomfort in my ribs. Bucky immediately let go of me, and I cursed the HYDRA goon for my cracked ribs.

       “Are you hurt?” Bucky asked me worriedly, and I shook my head.

       “Some fractured ribs and stitches in my arm,” I replied breezily. “Nothing I haven’t handled before.”

       Bucky frowned, and then he led me over to the bed and sat me down on the edge of the mattress. “Can I see?” he asked me, inclining his head towards my torso. I nodded wordlessly, and with gentle hands he slid my t-shirt up enough to expose the mottled skin. He swore softly and then looked up to meet my eyes. “Are you sure they aren’t broken? There’s a lot of bruising…”

        “They’re just cracked,” I assured him. “The pain wouldn’t even bother me, except I forgot to take my painkillers in my rush to see you this morning.”

        “Jesus, doll,” he chuckled, and then he stood and sat on the edge of the bed next to me. He was quiet for a couple of minutes before he spoke again, and when he did his voice was softer. “For awhile, while I was trapped in there, I wondered what would happen if I didn’t get out,” he admitted, and my eyes widened.

        “Bucky –” I breathed, but he shook his head.

        “Let me finish, (Y/N),” he insisted, and I pursed my lips. He passed a hand through his dark hair before continuing. “I thought of what would happen if HYDRA had control over me again – What it would mean for me, for our team, and for the rest of the world. I thought about how I’d sooner have them kill me than turn me back into him.”

        Bucky’s jaw clenched, and I felt a lump in my throat. I reached over to set a hand on his flesh arm, and the tense muscles relaxed slightly under my touch.

        “I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want Steve to have to see me like that again, either,” Bucky continued. “And I…” He swallowed hard and kept his eyes focused straight ahead rather than on me. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing me like that, (Y/N). I know you’ve heard the stories, but seeing it firsthand is another thing entirely and I couldn’t risk you looking at me and seeing him instead of me.” He shook his head suddenly and then looked over at me, blue eyes intense and a small smile on his face. “Funny thing is, though, that worry is what kept me going. That, and…”

         Bucky trailed off and ducked his head, and my brow furrowed. A million things were racing through my head, and I needed him to speak and make sense of it all. “And what?” I urged softly. “Bucky, tell me.”

         “When it got really bad, I would think about you,” he finally admitted, in a voice so quiet I had to strain my ears to hear him. “About how your laugh sounded, or the way you smelled like rose petals, or the way you’d scrunch your nose and bite your lip when you’re concentrating on something, or the way your face lights up like a Christmas tree when you see a dog.” He let out a short huff of a laugh and shook his head. “If I focused on all the little things I loved about you, it gave me motivation to get through whatever torture HYDRA inflicted on me, and to come up with some plan of escape. But then you showed up in that cell like my goddamn guardian angel and I knew if we made it out of there alive, I couldn’t let another day pass of me lying to you.”

        At this point my head was swimming, unable to make sense of anything Bucky was saying. “Lying to me…?” I breathed, and he nodded, his cheeks tinted pink.

       “Here’s the thing, doll,” he said quietly. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you. You’re one of my best friends, and although there aren’t enough words in the world to tell you how much I appreciate your friendship, I’d be lying if I said I was truly happy with what we have.” My eyes widened and Bucky shook his head before I could speak. “No, that came out wrong. What I meant to say is that I don’t want us to be friends, (Y/N). I want more than that. I want us to be more than that.”

       Swallowing hard, Bucky stood up and knelt on the floor in front of me. He looked nervous, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he took my small hands in his larger ones. “The truth is…I’m in love with you, (Y/N). I have been for awhile now, but I didn’t want to tell you because you’re the best thing in my life and I didn’t want to lose you. I was already amazed you wanted to be friends with me, I knew there was no way you would ever want more. But after almost losing everything, I…I had to at least tell you.”

        Bucky was silent as he waited for my response, and I could tell he was growing increasingly anxious with every second that passed that I said nothing. My own emotions were a hurricane inside of me, trying to comprehend what he had said to me. This man – this beautiful, kind, perfect superhuman of a man – had just confessed that he was in love with me and that he thought he wasn’t good enough for me? The universe was a strange place.

        “You…you love me?” I finally managed to get out, sounding dumb to my own ears. Bucky nodded, eyes still searching my face anxiously for clues as to what I was thinking.

       “I love you,” he confirmed softly. “And if you don’t feel the same way. (Y/N), that’s fine; I just needed you to hear it, once –”

       He didn’t get to finish, because I had thrown my arms around him, causing him to stumble at the unexpected impact and land on the floor with me in his lap. His eyes were wide and questioning when they met mine, but when I leaned in to press my mouth to his he didn’t resist, moving his mouth against mine as his hands came up to rest on my waist.

        “I love you, too,” I said breathlessly as we broke our kiss for oxygen. I took his face between my hands; his skin was warm and his cheeks were stubbled and it felt so natural, as if it were a gesture I had done a hundred times and not just once. “God, Bucky, I love you. You have no idea how good it feels to finally say it out loud.”

        With a soft little groan that warmed me from head to toe, Bucky captured my lips in another kiss, this one much more urgent and passionate than our first. His hands pulled me closer to him, and because I was still in his lap this placed me right over the front of his sweatpants and the unmistakable bulge underneath them. I hadn’t been expecting it, but I’d be damned if I was just going to ignore it.

        My lips still attached to Bucky’s and my hands clutching at his biceps, I ground my hips experimentally against his. Caught off-guard, Bucky’s lips ceased their assault against mine and a low growl escaped his throat as his hands tightened just slightly on my waist.

       “Doll,” he said, his voice low, “what kinda game are you playing at here?”

       I pulled away enough to see his face. His eyes were blown with lust, the blue irises almost swallowed whole by the pupils. My teeth caught my bottom lip between them and suddenly I wanted him so badly I was aching.

         “I want you,” I whispered, grinding myself against him again, and Bucky’s eyes narrowed. The next thing I knew he was lifting me up and laying me on the mattress, crawling on top of me and capturing my mouth in a searing kiss. One thick thigh slid between my legs to rest against my core, and the contact felt so deliciously wonderful that I let out a breathy moan into Bucky’s mouth. It was at that moment that I knew I was no longer the cat in this game of cat and mouse that we were playing.

       “Bucky…” I whined shamelessly. He detached his lips from mine to trail them down my jaw to my throat.

       “Mmm, doll?”

       Between his kisses and the way his hands were kneading my hips I was dizzy, but I needed more. “I need you to touch me,” I breathed, and I felt him grin against my skin.

       “I am touching you, baby doll,” Bucky murmured, hands teasing the skin just below the hem of my t-shirt. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

       I bit back my sigh of exasperation. “Stop teasing,” I then said, and in response Bucky’s teeth grazed against the skin at the pulse point in my throat. I gasped, back arching off the mattress and in turn pressing my aching core against his thigh. This drew a sinful moan from my lips and I could feel the coil in my belly tighten.

         “So responsive,” Bucky murmured appraisingly. “Hard to believe that the same girl who can walk into a HYDRA facility without breaking a sweat is a hot mess after a few well-placed kisses and caresses.”

         “Barnes,” I growled, glaring up at him, “if you don’t take these clothes off me right now, I swear to god you will end up back in that infirmary. And you can explain to Dr. Cho how your dick got –”

        But my sentence was left unfinished because Bucky had silenced me with a mind-numbing kiss. His hands were slowly sliding my shirt up my torso, one hot flesh and one cool vibranium. The contrast had me squirming underneath him. Bucky grinned, but when he crawled down my body to kiss along the path his hands pushing away the shirt left, he stopped, frozen.

       “Buck?” I said, suddenly self-conscious. “Buck, what’s wrong?”

       “(Y/N), we can’t do this,” he said suddenly, and I felt my eyes go wide in confusion. Bucky shook his head. “Your ribs, (Y/N). You’re injured, I’ll just hurt you more.”

       And then I remembered the bruises that covered my abdomen. I shook my head quickly. “Buck, I’m fine,” I protested. “It isn’t that bad. You won’t hurt me –”

       “I don’t want to take that chance.”

        “We can go slow! Just…please, Buck…” I looked at him with wide eyes. “I need you, so bad that if I don’t have you pretty soon I’m gonna explode.”

        This may have been an exaggeration, but I sure as hell felt that way. Bucky had barely touched me yet, but electricity coursed through my veins so strongly that I was sure the only way to release it was him. I hated begging, but he was looking at me with doubt clouding his eyes. “Please,” I breathed.

        Bucky sighed, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I never could say no to a pretty dame,” he murmured. “Especially one who’s practically beggin’ me to take her.”

        His Brooklyn accent came out and I could feel a fresh wave of heat between my thighs. Bucky pressed a few soft kisses to my bruises before looking up at me.

        “I’ll be gentle,” he murmured, and I frowned.

         “Bucky, I won’t break,” I protested, and he shook his head with a faint smile.

        “I said I’d be gentle, not that I’d be boring.” With that he slid my t-shirt up and over my head, revealing that I hadn’t been wearing a bra. He cocked a dark eyebrow at me playfully as he tossed my shirt to the floor, and under his gaze my body grew flushed. He cupped my breasts in his hands and I let out a soft sigh of contentment at finally being touched.

        “So beautiful,” he murmured, thumbs brushing over my nipples and drawing them to attention. I moaned, arching my back into his touch, and he chuckled before leaning in to take a nipple into his mouth. I squirmed underneath him, and when his flesh hand skimmed along my body to dip under the waistband of both my leggings and my underwear, I had to fight to keep my breathing even.

        “Oh!” I gasped as Bucky’s fingers swept through my slick folds and then found my clit. He groaned, mouth releasing my nipple as his fingers continued their exploration of my heat.

        “Fuck, doll, you’re soaked,” he said, voice husky. “Goddamn…”

        “I told you I needed you…” I keened as he slipped one, then two fingers inside me. “And fuck, Bucky, as good as that feels I need you, now. I can’t wait any longer. I want you inside of me.”

       In no time at all Bucky had stripped him and I of the rest of our clothes, and then he was pressing his lips to mine as he slid his hard length through my folds. I bucked my hips up into his, and he finally pushed the head of his cock into me, eliciting groans from both of us.

        He pulled back out until just the tip remained in me, and then slowly slid back in, sheathing himself a little further this time. He continued this until he was fully enveloped inside me, allowing me a moment to adjust to his size. His forehead rested against mine, hot breath fanning against my face, and I tilted my head up to capture his lips in a kiss.

         “I’m good,” I said breathily. His eyes met mine imploringly.

         “I’m not hurting you?”

         “No,” I assured him. “You’re doing quite the opposite, I promise.”

         Bucky grinned, and then he set a languid pace, dragging his length in and out of me tantalizingly slow. He had promised to be gentle and he was, his thrusts controlled and unhurried, but his hands and lips roaming the curves of my flesh as he moved inside of me had my body ablaze and I realized what he’d meant when he said he wouldn’t be boring. This wasn’t sex, this was love-making; every tender kiss and caress had me spiralling closer to release at a much quicker rate than I had thought possible for the pace we had set.

        Suddenly Bucky’s arms were circling behind my back and he was lifting me, still inside me, into his lap so we were face to face and my legs straddled his hips. With this new angle he filled me even more completely, and I bit my lip.

        Bucky’s strong arms were still curled around me, and he was looking at me with pure adoration. I reached up to trace a hand along his jaw softly and he smiled.

         “I love you,” he murmured, and I leaned in to kiss him.

         “I love you too, Bucky,” I whispered, and then he was thrusting up into me and I was gripping his shoulders to ground myself. Both of us already so tightly wound and drunk on each other, it only took a few thrusts before we both found our release. I let my body go limp against Bucky’s as we came down from our high, and then he smoothed a hand over my hair and pressed a kiss to my neck.

         “I should have told you I love you sooner,” he murmured, and I chuckled, nuzzling my face against his shoulder.

         “I have a feeling you’ll more than make up for it,” I teased. “You can start by getting me some food, Barnes. I’m starving.”

         Bucky laughed, the sound vibrating through his whole body and in turn through mine as we were still joined together. And in that moment I couldn’t think of a time I had ever been happier.

[industrialrobots01]

Industrial Robots

Robot sales to automotive producers increased by 22 p.c to a brand new peak of almost a hundred twenty five,seven hundred models. Carmakers remained the biggest prospects for industrial robots last year – just – with a one-third share of the total supply. Innovators have created robots that mimic the movements of dogs, cats, insects, and people with eerie precision. In industrial settings, these advances are letting firms transfer a few of the most tough, harmful, and time-consuming duties from workers to robots. As this trend accelerates, each traders and robotic-component manufacturers are in strong positions to entry profit swimming pools.

Collaborative industrial robots are designed to carry out duties in collaboration with employees in industrial sectors. The International Federation of Robotics defines two forms of industrial robots designed for collaborative use. The different group covers robots designed for collaborative use that do not satisfy the requirements of ISO.

Since grippers and EOATs account for around 3 p.c of the total price of automation, the selection of a high-priced supplier could have relatively little impact on a company’s manufacturing-line prices. As China builds its robotic installed base, it's going to see a 25 % annual increase in demand for end effectors from 2018 by way of 2023. That determine represents about 45 % of the whole market growth expected over those years, and it’s greater than the mixed contribution of Europe and North America. Of the $5.1 billion in market worth for grippers and EOATs in 2023, greater than $1 billion will come from China. If your business isn’t listed on this listing, it doesn’t imply that you can’t use robots in your business. In reality, lots of the hottest robotic functions are applicable to almost any business.

Increased use of robots can be enabling firms in high value nations to ‘re-shore’ or bring again to their home base components of the supply chain that they have beforehand outsourced to sources of cheaper labor. This implies that even small-quantity productions can effectively be automated in areas similar to components welding and slicing, versatile assembly and packaging and palletizing. Robot investments have gotten more and more worthwhile and hence turn out to be increasingly widespread within business. The robotic’s actions are directed by a mixture of programming software and controls. Their automated performance allows them to function around the clock and on weekends—in addition to with hazardous supplies and in difficult environments—releasing personnel to carry out other duties.

The International Federation of Robotics has predicted a worldwide enhance in adoption of industrial robots and so they estimated 1.7 million new robot installations in factories worldwide by 2020 . Using knowledge from the Bureau of Labor Statistics, NIOSH and its state companions have investigated four robot-associated fatalities beneath the Fatality Assessment and Control Evaluation Program. In addition the Occupational Safety and Health Administration has investigated dozens of robot-associated deaths and accidents, which could be reviewed at OSHA Accident Search page. Injuries and fatalities could increase over time because of the rising number of collaborative and co-existing robots, powered exoskeletons, and autonomous automobiles into the work environment.

ISO 9283 specifies that accuracy and repeatability should be measured at most velocity and at maximum payload. But this ends in pessimistic values whereas the robot could be rather more accurate and repeatable at gentle loads and speeds. Repeatability in an industrial process is also topic to the accuracy of the end effector, for instance a gripper, and even to the design of the 'fingers' that match the gripper to the item being grasped. For instance, if a robot picks a screw by its head, the screw might be at a random angle. A subsequent try and insert the screw into a gap could simply fail.

In the year 2020, an estimated 1.64 million industrial robots have been in operation worldwide according to International Federation of Robotics . Industrial robots are automated, programmable and capable of motion on three or more axes. The most commonly used robot configurations for industrial automation, include articulated robots, SCARA robots and gantry robots. The IFR forecasts continued annual industrial robot growth of 5 percent in Germany over the subsequent three years. IFR forecast US industrial robot development of 5 percent this year, rising to 10 percent between 2019 and 2021.

The enthusiasm and funding weren't at all times matched with understanding. General Motors Corporation spent greater than $40 billion on new technology in the 1980's, but a lack of know-how led to expensive robotic fiascos. In 1988, robots at the Hamtramck Michigan plant wreaked havoc - smashing home windows andpaintingone one other. Unfortunately, the premature introduction of robotics began to create monetary instability. The Silver Arm was created by MIT's David Silver to perform exact meeting using touch and pressure sensors and a microcomputer.

The International Federation of Robotics has published its annual report on the state of the commercial robotics market worldwide. Companies usually buy finish effectors once they automate a brand new manufacturing line or when they determine to transform or overhaul their existing production tools, together with robotic arms. Likewise, corporations may purchase grippers and EOATs after they must retool their manufacturing strains to support the introduction of new or updated products or once they introduce a variant, similar to a hybrid version of a automotive. Although companies additionally buy robotic elements because of general wear and tear, this isn’t a substantial source of revenue for suppliers of end effectors, since most parts are covered beneath lengthy warranties. End effectors also tend to final for much longer than the expected lifetime outlined in their specs. Despite the rising demand for grippers and EOATs, little analysis is available on this crucial market phase.

However a computer is commonly used to 'supervise' the robotic and any peripherals, or to offer further storage for entry to quite a few complicated paths and routines. A robotic and a set of machines or peripherals is known as a workcell, or cell. A typical cell might contain a elements feeder, a molding machine and a robotic. The varied machines are 'integrated' and managed by a single pc or PLC.

ABB Robotics is a pioneer in robotics, machine automation and digital companies, providing progressive solutions for a diverse range of industries, from automotive to electronics to logistics. As one of many world’s leading robotics and machine automation suppliers, ABB Robotics employs greater than 11,000 folks in fifty three international locations and has shipped greater than 500,000 robotic options. Sensors and vision systems allow robots to reply to their exterior setting in real-time, increasing the range of duties the robotic can perform - such as choosing and putting unsorted parts - and expanding robotic mobility. Mobile robots are key to enabling versatile manufacturing, in which production is split into discrete processes and manufacturing cells working in parallel. Collaborative and conventional industrial robots © IFR International Federation of Robotics For more info, please check with the IFR Positioning Paper on Demystifying Collaborative Robots. In 2019, about 4.eight% industrial robots installed, had been cobots, an increase of 11% over 2018.

In 1969 Victor Scheinman at Stanford University invented the Stanford arm, an all-electrical, 6-axis articulated robotic designed to allow an arm resolution. This allowed it accurately to comply with arbitrary paths in space and widened the potential use of the robotic to more sophisticated purposes similar to meeting and welding. Other robots are far more versatile as to the orientation of the object on which they are operating or even the task that has to be performed on the object itself, which the robotic may even have to determine.

Often known as ‘cobots’, these robots are designed with quite a lot of technical options that ensure they do not cause harm when a employee comes into direct contact, either deliberately or accidentally. In the context of common robotics, most types of industrial robots would fall into the class of robot arms. Elsewhere in Europe, robot investments increased by 19 percent to a new record of 7,seven hundred units last 12 months in Italy.

Many of probably the most oppressive and routine office chores—these which are soiled, dull, or dangerous—are actually totally within the robotic realm. But thanks to current technologic advances, robots are also handling extra complex operations that require excessive precision. For example, robots with laser-vision systems can fit doorways exactly to car bodies. These improvements, combined with several economic forces, are prompting corporations to contemplate industrial robots more critically.

With 18 sequence of fashions, FANUC offers the widest range of industrial robots on the planet. Covering a various vary of functions and industries, FANUC machines are simple to operate and supply complete flexibility. With greater than one hundred models, FANUC provides the widest vary of commercial robots in the world. FANUC offers the widest collection vary of commercial robots in the world.

For examples of how this may look in well-liked robot languages see industrial robotic programming. The most important robot peripheral is the top effector, or end-of-arm-tooling . End effectors are regularly highly advanced, made to match the handled product and often able to picking up an array of merchandise at one time. They might utilize numerous sensors to aid the robotic system in finding, dealing with, and positioning products. Manufacturing impartial robotic programming instruments are a relatively new however flexible method to program robot applications. Using a graphical consumer interface the programming is completed through drag and drop of predefined template/building blocks.

This consists of following a security-licensed growth course of for safety-crucial system components. An experienced companion with intensive information about robotics – from the system as a whole to every final drive and sensor – is crucial to a project’s success. A big selection of parts flows into an industrial robot design to create a seamlessly functioning system. Each robotic usually includes three main parts, a control box, a manipulator and a selected software, mounted on the highest of the robotic’s arm.

Of course, major technologic advances might disrupt the robotic-part business, as they've carried out in other sectors, and shift demand in surprising directions. It’s hard to predict whether or not such disruptions will materialize—or anticipate the time-frame over which they might occur—however industry stakeholders might want to monitor all technologic developments closely. The robotic installed base will see robust global growth, however rising markets will account for the best enhance. China, in particular, will see automation surge, partly in response to the government’s Made in China 2025 plan. Introduced in 2015, the plan goals to transform the country into the world’s high manufacturing powerhouse by bettering product high quality via larger automation.

Including the cost of software, peripherals and techniques engineering, the annual turnover for robot systems is estimated to be US$48.zero billion in 2018. This is a wrist about which the three axes of the wrist, controlling yaw, pitch, and roll, all pass by way of a common point. An instance of a wrist singularity is when the path by way of which the robot is traveling causes the primary and third axes of the robotic's wrist (i.e. robotic's axes 4 and 6) to line up. The second wrist axis then attempts to spin 180° in zero time to keep up the orientation of the top effector. The result of a singularity may be fairly dramatic and may have antagonistic effects on the robot arm, the top effector, and the process. Some industrial robotic producers have tried to side-step the situation by slightly altering the robot's path to stop this situation.

With more than 250 software capabilities for enhanced intelligence, motion, security and productiveness and a wide variety of FANUC top quality equipment, we have a solution for nearly each conceivable application. Introducing the high rigidity robotic M-900iB/280 The M-900iB/280 is FANUC’s new specialist for purposes that demand maximum rigidity from the robotic. With more than 20,000 painting robots put in worldwide, ABB’s many years of expertise have culminated in PC software designed with the customer’s wants in thoughts. Get even more accurate search results via payload analyses with KUKA Compose.

The cylindrical coordinate robots are characterized by their rotary joint at the base and at least one prismatic joint connecting its hyperlinks. The compact effector design permits the robotic to succeed in tight workspaces without any lack of speed. Cartesian robots, additionally known as rectilinear, gantry robots, and x-y-z robots have three prismatic joints for the motion of the software and three rotary joints for its orientation in space. Receive the latest IoT news and analysis in your trade, straight to your inbox. Robot gross sales to the /electronics trade worldwide have been significantly up since 2013 and are now virtually at the same level because the automotive business. Compared to Germany and Japan , the gap is exceptional – particularly since Japan had the world’s highest robotic density in 2009.

While it’s definitely true that robots are becoming ever extra well-liked, some industries are extra affected than others. The invention of the Numerically Controlled machines, the recognition of the computer , and the built-in circuit all helped to make it possible to begin to develop the very first, but simple, industrial robot. Discover what your industrial robotic project can obtain when you partner with us. We sit up for listening to from you – and to studying extra about your design.

To have the ability to move and orient the effector organ in all directions, such a robotic wants 6 axes . In a 2-dimensional environment, three axes are enough, two for displacement and one for orientation.

It additionally presents robotic density, i.e. the number of robots per 10,000 staff, as a measure for the degree of automation. The setup or programming of motions and sequences for an industrial robotic is typically taught by linking the robotic controller to a laptop, desktop laptop or community. Power source – some robots use electrical motors, others use hydraulic actuators. Nowadays, it's extremely unlikely to see any hydraulic robots available in the market. Additional sealings, brushless electrical motors and spark-proof protection eased the development of units which might be in a position to work in the environment with an explosive environment.

There, robotic installations elevated considerably between 2012 and 2017, by 26 p.c a yr on average. That figure represents development of 31 p.c, but the IFR forecasts that UK gross sales will now develop at a modest three p.c a yr till 2021. Robot installations within the US increased to a brand new peak of 33,192 units in 2017 – the seventh successive 12 months of development, and 6 p.c larger than in 2016. Since 2010, the main driver of this development has been the need to strengthen US industries at house and abroad. But China is far from the leading country by way of robotic density – the number of robots per 10,000 employees, IFR’s most popular measurement for comparing the relative sizes of the market in different economies. Since 2013, China has been the world’s biggest robot market with “continued dynamic development” and a 36 percent share of the world’s complete supply in 2017.

Repeatability is then quantified utilizing the usual deviation of these samples in all three dimensions. A typical robotic can, of course make a positional error exceeding that and that could possibly be an issue for the process. Moreover, the repeatability is completely different in numerous parts of the working envelope and in addition modifications with speed and payload.

The capacity to preview the habits of a robotic system in a virtual world permits for a variety of mechanisms, gadgets, configurations and controllers to be tried and examined earlier than being applied to a "real world" system. Robotics simulators have the flexibility to provide actual-time computing of the simulated movement of an industrial robotic using both geometric modeling and kinematics modeling. Offline programming is where the complete cell, the robotic and all of the machines or devices in the workspace are mapped graphically. A robotics simulator is used to create embedded applications for a robotic, with out depending on the physical operation of the robotic arm and end effector. The benefits of robotics simulation is that it saves time in the design of robotics functions.

For instance, for more exact steering, robots usually include machine vision sub-techniques performing as their visual sensors, linked to powerful computers or controllers. Artificial intelligence, or what passes for it, is turning into an more and more necessary factor within the trendy industrial robotic. Serial architectures a.k.a Serial manipulators are the most common industrial robots and they are designed as a sequence of links related by motor-actuated joints that extend from a base to an finish-effector.

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The testosterone-induced muscle hypertrophy is mostly due to a boost in satellite cell as well as myonuclear number, as well as enhancing the quantity of healthy protein synthesis and also hindering healthy protein destruction. Shop AOD Online is a young entrepreneur, electronic marketing expert and also blog writer. He's creator of TheWebReach.com and offers Digital Advertising and marketing services like Search Engine Optimization, Guest Post, Inbound Marketing as well as much more. He enjoys to aid people to grow their business worldwide via his digital advertising and marketing knowledge. He's enthusiastic about creating blog sites and also writes innovative material for the viewers. If you do not have power in your body, after that you can never ever end up being a bodybuilder, so in truth sense, it is essential to have power.

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Copper Peptides: Benefits for Skin and Hair Care, and How to Use Them - Healthline

Copper Peptides: Benefits for Skin and Hair Care, and How to Use Them.

Posted: Mon, 26 Oct 2020 07:00:00 GMT [source]

Nonetheless, provided the possibility for high estrogen negative effects while making use of ligandrol UK, it is suggested that you purchase anti estrogen supplement. Where Ostarine is among the most effective SARMs to include in a cutting cycle, LGD has actually verified itself as an excellent bulking agent. LGD has a half-life varying in between 24 as well as 36 hrs so daily dosing is optimal. Using cardarine for women, and which for sarms are the best to underpin and all-natural gym regimen. Establish superb tone, strength, and also cut fat utilizing a straightforward women sarms cycle, as well as uncover what dose and also cycle length you need to be making use of. For some background info, i have been raising continually for 3-4 years, gone from pounds at 15% bodyfat. I am doubting whether i need to run a cycle of mk-677 due to the fact that research study seems to verify recovery results on injuries as a result of the boosted growth hormone.

Skin Concern.

This will certainly help increase cardiovascular endurance in order to improve outcomes. Check out our sarms pills for sale to purchase them prior to the stock finishes. S1 has displayed a real capacity to help recover those with debilitating injuries and also to quicken injury recuperation. The helpful results on recuperation make clinical usage highly appealing. Ostarine can and also will certainly reduce your natural testosterone manufacturing in longer, greater dosed cycles, so a serm pct is needed. Ostarine can additionally trigger gyno in some customers, so it is recommended that you have an ai, like exemestane, handy. The addition of ghrp or peptides in the cycle will minimize the threat of injury.

DNP is a commercial chemical that isn't suitable for human consumption. It's highly harmful as well as creates substantial adverse effects, as well as has caused at least 3 reported deaths. Among products that were taken off the market was a steroid product called Celtic Dragon. This item left 2 males hospitalised with serious jaundice and liver damage. " Structure strength takes years, not weeks or months. It's an act of technique as well as must be made with dedication to hard training and a great diet regimen." They're legally readily available to purchase over the counter along with online. Prohibited supplements, consisting of some claiming to be "fat loss" or "slimming", have been connected to a handful of fatalities.

Medications As Well As Supplements.

These advantages, in conjunction with the extremely small opportunity of adverse effects show MK677 to be a breakthrough medicine. Keep in mind that some comparable speculative medications (such as Cardarine/GW, Ibutamoren/ MK-677, and also YK11) are occasionally marketed as SARMS - they aren't yet are still occasionally incorporated right into SARM stacks. A few of these sites supply unlawful products along with lawful weight-loss medicines, making it very tough to tell the difference. Using DNP over a long period of time can cause cataracts as well as peeling skin, and also may trigger damage to the heart and also nervous system. DNP is thought to be especially prominent amongst bodybuilders, that are attracted to its pledges of quick-fix quick weight-loss.

When one takes anabolic steroids, the cells get swamped with androgens, and all receptors become saturated. As a result, a message is sent to all the body cells that cause their growth. This may be an advantage to any person looking to getting muscle mass, however it is a downside at the exact same time. In SARMs, a steroidal agent with anabolic activity imitates testosterone. It boosts lean muscular tissue mass, yet without troubling sex drive and also expanding the prostate. Also, you won't experience loss of hair and also opposite side impacts that anabolic drugs trigger.

This is much easier than having to area out and bear in mind when to take your dosage on a daily basis. It was at first created to treat as well as prevent muscle mass waste among cancer cells as well as weakening of bones patients. It has actually been considered and wanted to be utilized for avoiding muscular tissue degeneration, cachexia and also sarcopnia, as well as has actually additionally been discussed for usage during TRT/HRT. Studies conducted had a dose of between 5-25 mg per day, with 25 mg being one of the most typical as well as efficient dose. MK677 has a 1 day fifty percent life and also showed to be best tolerated by rats when fed to them each early morning on a vacant belly. MK677 has severe benefits in relation to aiding with a much deeper sleep. Nevertheless, it can hinder sleep patterns if taken too late at night or too near bedtime.

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Dylan - what is the best sarm for recouping from an injury, specifically a lower leg tension fracture? The most effective way to improve fat loss and also muscle mass is to cycle mk-2866 with an additional sarm like gw throughout the cutting phase.

The body doesn't know the distinction in between what it develops naturally or gets from SARMs. All it understands is there is a rise is that production degree and also it is mosting likely to benefit from it. On the flip side, the use of anabolic steroids is going to create the body to quit making testosterone. Therefore, the customer needs to stack with various other items to try to get it launched again. When they are no more taking the steroids, it is still going to take time for the natural production of testosterone to happen once more. Generally, your body regulates the manufacturing of androgens to avoid their imbalance.

Why Are Individuals Using Collagen Peptide Powder Everyday In The Uk?

Stenabolic + growth hormone or andarine s4 + ghrp-6 + cjc-1295 dac to stop injuries as well as accelerate the recovery. You don't have to resemble an average body builder, physical fitness model or athlete; all you got to do is use a SARM. If you have actually not become aware of them or require some even more details, this article will give you with all the details concerning this medicine. They are careful androgen receptor modulators that show the same kind of result as that of androgenic drugs, however the only distinction is that they are more careful in their action. SARMs are chemically comparable to steroids as well as are likewise as effective in enhancing fat loss as well as muscle growth. As long as SARMs advantages are identical to those of anabolic steroids, their discerning activity makes the SARMs negative effects less. It means that as soon as you decide to make use of SARMs, you get to bid bye-bye to hormonal imbalance issues, acne, virilization in females and also prostate problems that can be produced by the use some steroids.

Neuropeptides are the most varied class of signifying molecules in the mind, and also are involved in a broad series of brain features, consisting of analgesia, recreation, discovering and memory, incentive, food consumption and even more.

Pharmaceutical items which imitate the effects of endogenous peptide ligands are call peptidomimetics.

This on a regular basis up-dated website offers a run-through of the synthetic processes associated with manufacturing of stomach peptides, as well as regulation of these procedures.

They differ from peptide hormones because they are produced from nerve cells as well as act locally on adjoining nerve cells, whereas peptide hormonal agents are secreted in to the blood by neuroendocrine cells and act at distant websites.

Neuropeptides are tiny proteinaceous cell-cell signaling particles generated and also launched by neurons.

In addition, SARMs are tougher to identify during medicine examinations, which, integrated with less negative effects, make them a much better option for athletes. In order to benefit from the extremely significant bulking impacts of LGD4033, a dosage of 5-10mg need to be taken daily for 8 weeks. To obtain the most effective LGD-4033 results for reducing, a dose of 3-5mg everyday is recommendedn, normally for an 8 week cycle. LGD has the ability to bind to the AR with an extremely high fondness. LGD is typically identified as an ARligand that is cells selective. It was initially created to treat muscle mass squandering in cancer people, age-related muscle loss, along with severe and also persistent health problem. Ostarine has a 24-hour half life, so it's unneeded to break up your daily dose.

There are places that are recommended if you're looking to purchase SERMS. Considering that RAD140 is a relatively brand-new supplement, there isn't a great deal of info on the side results. Clinical research studies have shown that there are no reported side effects of the supplement. Reggie Johal is the creator of Predator Nourishment, a UK based health and supplement shop. Reggie owes a lot of his substantial stamina as well as physical fitness knowledge to his previous profession as a Fantastic Britain American Footballer. The ordinary cycle size is 6 to 10 weeks at a dose variety of 10mg to 25mg.

You can find out even more concerning the damaging actions of these steroids on this site. As their name states, discerning androgen receptor modulators act upon bone and muscle cells. By triggering receptors on them, these substances promote the growth of brand-new cells. They do not bind to androgen receptors on other organs in the body This quality of selectivity is what differentiates SARMs from anabolic steroids.

However it's impossible to say whether SARMs can have these adverse effects on everybody, or maybe they need to be excluded in only specific cases. Nonetheless, the notion has hardly been talked about outside the U.S.A., which might make some individuals think. There are those that speak up noisally against making use of SARMs, however many scientists as well as authorities are only seeing carefully.

Can you take peptides orally?

Summary: Peptides represent a billion-dollar market in the pharmaceutical industry, but they can generally only be taken as injections to avoid degradation by stomach enzymes. Scientists have now developed a method to generate peptides that resist enzymatic degradation and can be taken orally.

This makes your body capable of combating many vital diseases that you can not visualize. With this help, you have the ability to obtain even more weight and can do a health club properly. Nowadays, everyone suches as to head to the gym as a result of their conscience towards their health and wellness. If your desire is to do body building, after that in the meanwhile, you require a lot of diet plans since nourishment is a vital part of making the body. There are several items out there with the assistance of which you can quickly do body building and get to a great level.

There are some homes inside this medicine that help in increasing your power degree. After consuming it, the blood circulation of your body boosts to ensure that you really feel energised. As blood flow increases, the variety of white blood cells inside your body rises, which develops anti-oxidants.

Does caffeine increase hair growth?

But according to research, the caffeine in coffee can help stimulate hair growth and stop hair loss. One 2007 laboratory study found that caffeine helped block the effects of DHT in male hair follicles. https://pharmalabglobal.com/product-category/tb500/ stimulated hair shaft elongation, resulting in longer, wider hair roots.

There is a growing industry in sports nutrition supplements offered on the high road and online. They may also seek means to manage their cravings when they're trying to reduce weight as part of a muscle building diet regimen.

MK677 can be made use of continuously for 1-2 years without issue of a specific ending up being desensitised to it. However, it is constantly important to recognize the opportunities that could accompany usage. It is evident by the checklist of benefits that MK677 is extremely desirable.