#But the men especially! Watch them all fight to the death over this man who is completely clueless to their feelings!

[maniacwatchestheworld]

The Pearl Clan Having Ingo is Still Hilarious to Me

Calaba: "We need to be careful of outsiders."

Gaeric: "Yeah! We don't know what they could be planning and they may not have the best interests of our Clan at heart!"

Ingo: Uncomfortably shifts.

Gaeric: "Except for you, Ingo! Of course! You're perfect!" <3 <3 <3

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Bruised knuckles

request: Obsessed with your Ruhn fics! Can you please maybe do one where he gets jealous on a night out with a reader where he sees a ale button in her and he gets very possessive over his mate and she loves it

a/n: idk what it is about this man that gets me going lately. I don’t understand this.

warning: blood, fighting

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Ruhn didn’t like doing business on nights out. Especially not when you tagged along. Tonight was supposed to be different. He was supposed to take you out. A date night. One that was already long overdue. He had been a shit boyfriend lately. Fuck if he didn’t think he was edging into the territory of an ex at times. So, he had stepped up. Cut down on the time with the boys. Cut his work short just to pick you up from work.

So to say that he had practically burned the phone in his hands when the message pinged. But it was from his sister. Interest conflict. Both were family in different ways. But Ruhn had always dreamed his relationship with Bryce would be different. Better. So denying her felt like burning another bridge. And she rarely asked. “I’ll be real quick," he muttered against the shell of your ear. “And then I will be fully yours all night." A boyish grin on his lips, one that shined brighter than the gentle smile on your face. But you were always gentle. So gentle and sweet. Ruhn knew that he had swung way higher than he could reach when he tried to smitten you the night Dec introduced you to him. “Just do your thing and come back in one piece," you muttered back, leaning in to press a kiss to Ruhn’s lips before pushing him back slightly, nudging his legs back with your heel.

Now Ruhn just wanted to get back. It had been forty minutes since he had left, and if, from the way he had been constantly glancing at his clock, the man didn’t get the message that he was done, he no longer knew what would help his case. When they finally parted ways, Rugh stopped at the bar first. He needed a couple of shots to loosen the tension in his neck. The last thing he wanted was to bring his shit mood to you. He also got you another drink that nearly shattered in Ruhn’s grip when his eyes landed on the private VIP lounge.

There was another man there. Where was his fucking security? Man, he left to look after you. The fuck sure had a death wish with the way he leaned forward. Constantly trying to brush his knuckles over your exposed legs. You didn’t seem interested. If anything, you looked annoyed. The male chatted away as if he was the most interesting thing here. While you sat there with an unamused look on your face, swirling your drink from time to time.

Ruhn shoved the glass at some random girl who was the closest to him as he strolled forward, undoing a couple of buttons on his shirt as he went. “You can touch it if you want," Ruhn’s blood vessels nearly popped at the male's words, the way he flexed his arm in front of you. “Give me a reason to not bash your teeth in,” he growled as he yanked the guy up by his shirt. "Chill, my guy, just rounding chicks up, seeing the vibe," the guy pushed back against Ruhn, laughing. “I’ll show you the vibe," Ruhn growled, his hand coming to the male's hair as he turned to drag him out.

"Ruhn," you called from behind. “Stay there," he growled back, more and more people turning to stare now. He had barely made it outside before his fist collided with the male's jaw. “You ever think," Ruhn hissed, “On coming up to women and rounding chicks up," another blow landed on his jaw, pained grounds echoing. “I will personally find you." Ruhn hissed at the bloody face in front of him. He was seeing red. Even the idea of the smallest sent off this man on you was driving him into overdrive.

The metal door creaked. “Take care of this." Your voice filled the back side of the alley. But Ruhn’s anger only rose higher as the two men who were on watch tonight came into view. “Where were you?” Ruhn growled, yanking one of them by the shirt. “We just..." the man began to say, but Ruhn quickly cut in. “Fired. Both of you," he hissed. Ready to shout when you come into view. Grasping his face. Your long nails digging into his cheeks as you scowled at him.

“Take a fucking breath in," you hissed. Your scent wrapped around him. Calming Ruhn’s mind. You always felt close to him. The mating bond made sure of it. But now… His fingers reached for your hips, pulling you slightly closer. “Popping off like a firecracker," you huffed, pushing his hands back, and making Ruhn growl. He wanted to feel you close. No, needed to. “You didn’t need to go and do all that." You threw your hands in the air, turning away from him.

Ruhn didn’t think; he let the need within him act as he reached for your neck, pulling you back against his chest. “Don’t turn away from me when you yell," he hissed into your ear. “Don’t go caveman on me," you growled back, but you didn’t push his hand away. No, instead, your fingers brushed over his. “I thought we were over this," you muttered as Ruhn leaned in, nuzzling his nose against your shoulder. Breathing you in. But there wasn’t even a single note from someone else. You. Shit tones of him and a dusting of the things you did before you had even climbed into his car tonight.

“I would have kept you locked in your cage for a while longer," you teased, reaching back to brush your fingers through his hair. “Very funny," Ruhn said. He knew that he had to work on his rage when it came to other males being near you. But the simplest thought of someone else being by your side. Someone else making you laugh. Having your full attention. This was the universe laughing at him. Poking at the fact that he haven’t been valuing who was by his side. Showing him how it would feel from another perspective.

"Hey!", Your delicate fingers brushed over his cheek. Ruhn didn’t even feel you shifting in his arms. “You blanked on me, bad boy." You pinched Ruhn’s cheek smiling, but he can’t bring himself to return the expression. “Fuck, I ruined tonight," he sighed. “You can go ahead and name me the shittest boyfriend," Ruhn huffed in defeat. “Ruhn, we already talked about this," you sighed. “We are both adults, both busy," you reasoned.

“But you don’t deserve that half-time bullshit," Ruhn hissed back. “You can and should just walk away." You stood staring at him for a heartbeat. "Ruhn," you breathe out, your heart aching. He didn’t lift his eyes to meet yours. “My love hasn’t changed just because we had a harder month," you said, stepping closer. “I missed you, yes. But I won’t just pack my bags and go. I love you, silly." Resting your chin on his chest, you tried to catch his eyes. “We’re a team," you mutter, “Even if you leave your dirty underwear all over the place," you shake your head, managing to drag a light chuck from Ruhn.

“I don’t like other men near you like that," he muttered. You couldn’t help but laugh. “I think everyone got the message clear; you don’t need to worry." His arm snaked around your shoulders as he pulled you closer. Brushing his lips over your forehead a couple of times. You didn’t rush him. Letting him ground himself for a moment more before your eyes landed on his hand. Angry, red knuckles are visible even in dim light.

A soft gasp slipped past your lips, “Your hand." You pulled it up for inspiration. “We need to clean this up," you frowned. “It’ll be healed before we even get home; don't worry about it," he promised. You let out a deep sigh. Standing in his arms for a moment longer. “I want shitty fries and a burger," you puffed, making Ruhn let out a laugh. It was better for both of your sakes to just go back home anyway. “Order while we drive; we’ll eat it in our pajamas." Ruhn pulled your chin up, kissing you tenderly one last time before spinning you around. Slapping your bum while he was at it, making you walk ahead of him. Laughing as you turned back, practically blinding him with that long nail of yours upon your middle finger.

[luvsfics]

Hi, could you do a mini-series with Jacaerys Velaryon? Where she is the daughter of Alicent and Viserys, they used to kind of hate each other as children but after the argument over the succession to Driftmark, Rhaenyra stays at King's Landing with her family and they begin to subtly fall in love. Thank you.

THE BURN WITHIN — House of the dragon

PAIRINGS: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!reader

SUMMARY: Ever since you could remember, you’ve hated Jacaerys. He was annoying and not to mention, a bastard. After your brother lost his eye at the hands of Jace and his brother, you truly despised him. Many years of being apart pass and he and his family are back in kings landing. May his return spark something deep inside you?

SERIES WARNINGS: afab reader. insest. sexual content. profanity. reader is described to have Targaryen features (white hair, lilac eyes). reader rides silverwing. reader is alicent’s third child.

WORD COUNT: 0.6k

( prologue ) ( Chapter one ) ( Chapter two )

The sound of metal clanging together and conversation filled your ears as you stood in the training yard of the red keep.

“So, Princess Rhaenyra is coming back to kings landing?” Your best friend, Lara strong, asked as you both watched your bother and Ser Criston Cole duel.

Lara was the daughter of Larys Strong, with her father and your mother’s sort of friendship, you grew close over the years.

“Yes, supposedly her children’s great uncle has question Lucerys’ legitimacy to the driftwood throne.” You informed her.

“I’d like to see that go down.” She joked, earning her a laugh from you.

You watched a pair of brunette boys step down into the yard. All eyes turned on them and you realized who they were. Your bastard nephews.

You squinted your eyes to get a better look at the boys as they messed around with the table of swords.

You brushed down your pink and white gown, lifting up the bottom to step closer to see the boys. The shorter one had a mop of dark brown hair and big eyes, looking very similar to the late Ser Harwin strong. Though the taller one, looked more like your half-sister Rhaenyra, just with dark brown locks. This was obviously Jacaerys, and oh how he’d grown.

“Well, look who’s here..” you said as you held your hands together with a smirk on your face.Your attention drew towards the current duel taking place.

You watched Aemond move swiftly as he dodged Ser Criston’s attacks. His sword was swinging gracefully as he finally pointed the tip towards Criston’s neck, essentially winning the fight.

Jace and Luke moved towards the crowd and watched the men fight, though when it ended, the sword was pointed to them.

“Nephews…have you come to train?” Aemond asked.

Your smirk only grew when their faces fell from the smiles they once had. Jace’s gaze flicked from Aemond to you, his eyes widening at the sight of you staring at him.

This gave you a moment to take in his grown features. He may be a bastard but damn, does he look handsome as ever. You shouldn’t be having these thoughts but his good looks are clouding you mind and your judgement of him.

You watched as he gulped, his face turning a slight pink as the gate opened and the guards announced Vaemond Velaryon’s arrival.

You and Lara giggled to yourselves as Vaemond gave Lucerys a death stare as he passed, the poor boy looked as if he was going to piss himself as the older man walked by.

“Poor boy…” Lara laughed.

“Come with me.” You said as you stepped towards your nephews. Jacaerys turned his attention back towards you as he heard steps growing closer to him.

“Nephews! How wonderful it is to have you back..” You said with a fake smile, your fingers laced together in front of you, pushing your arms against your tits to push them together.

Jace’s eyes moved down to your breasts, his pink cheeks only grew in color. Luke grimaced at the sight of his brother clearing fawning over their aunt.

“I’m surprised you’re happy to see us, especially how we left each other so long ago…” Jace spoke up.

“Hm…well time has passed, has it not?” You glared slightly at the taller man in front of you, remembering the not so found memory.

“I guess. I-it’s very good to see you too, Y/N. You’ve…grown.” He says as he shamelessly looked you up and down.

You hand touched his arm, caressing his bicep as you begin to walk away, “Why, thank you! have a nice day, Jacaerys.” You smirked, brushed your white curls behind your shoulder.

“You as well, Lucerys.” You called as you walked towards the stairs of the yard.

“The audacity of him to mention that!” Lara said as she caught up with you.

“Bastard!” You grumbled as you rolled your eyes at the interaction. You silently prayed for Vaemond to eat them alive tomorrow with his words.

[buckyplsmarryme]

Redrum

Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: a little angst, blood, death, violence, heavily protective din.

Very fluffy towards the end. Also Grogu is mentioned but not present, we will say he is training with Luke.

The Din you knew was gentle. In your years of knowing him, you cannot recall a single time he has directed his anger towards you.

His touch, in every way he displayed it radiated comfort. Soft kisses on you forehead and nose, warm embraces to block away the bitter cold of the Razor Crest, tenderly holding your face in his hands as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. The way he softly grazed you, and the way he longingly stared. It was almost as if he was afraid you would disappear.

It seemed impossible to believe that the man who showered you with such love and affection could be such a ruthless bounty hunter.

However, you were not oblivious to this part of his life.

Even before meeting Din, you had heard stories about the Mandalorian and his battles. And although you had never seen him in action, you saw his enemies blood on his beskar, and the fear in their pleading eyes as he dragged them into the crest and threw them into carbonite.

“I’m sorry you’re having to see this sweetheart” He would mutter quietly as he quickly disposed of his bounties and ran to greet you. It had started to become a coming home ritual for him, seeing your sweet smile so excited to see him when he returned. And him muttering apologies of what you were having to witness.

“Din, I know what you do, and I know you do it all to keep me and Grogu safe and cared for” you would always reassure him, and you truly meant it.

Most of the bounty’s he was sent to hunt were not good creatures you often reminded him. And he was careful with the type of characters he agreed to capture for his employers, after all he was not some evil that enjoyed killing and hunting his prey.

That is until they threaten you.

He knew that you thought highly of him, he always told you about his hunts when he returned and let you tend to all of the wounds he sometimes endured.

However, he could not shake the longing of wanting to keep that side of himself hidden from you.

His sweet girl did not need to see the horrors that he displayed in battle. The last thing he would ever want to do is make you afraid.

…

Suddenly his thoughts of self doubt, and the ever present fear of you leaving him began flooding through his mind as he came down from his rage and looked around.

Panting and sore he saw blood all around him.

Blood on the dark sabor he was gripping tightly.

Blood on his helmet.

And blood on the floor spilling out of every person who now suffered the punishment of trying to take you away from him.

You looked up at him from your spot on ground as he was swiftly approaching you.

“Are you hurt anywhere else? He asked as he crouched down to your level, inspecting you thoroughly for any more wounds.

“No” you replied, “just my leg”

.

He had only brought you into the market with him, an activity you both had previously enjoyed as it provided you both with fresh air after being cooped up in his ship for long periods at a time.

There had never before been any problems. Especially on this planets market. He had wanted to thank you for everything you do for him, he wanted to find you a meaningful gift that you could hold onto forever. As your attention was glued to a fruit stand, he saw his chance. He told you he would be right back, slipping away to the booth just two over that sold jewelry.

He had stepped away for just one second, a mistake he would never make again.

He looked up quickly as he heard commotion and immediately ran towards the sound of your voice as he watched you being pulled away from him.

It took him no time to find you and your captures in an alleyway that they had pushed you into.

You were not helpless whatsoever and had put up a good fight until one of the men had shot you in the leg and carried you away.

When Din caught up and noticed the blood running down your leg he felt a rage that he had never felt before.

He did not hesitate for a single moment to kill every last one of them and he will never regret a second of it.

.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there” Din whispered as he stroked your hair and picked you up.

Soon you were back on the Crest looking into his beautiful eyes as he treated your leg.

He was being too quiet for your liking, and you knew the thoughts that were troubling him.

“Din I hope you know, I would not hesitate to do the same for you, and there is absolutely no reason for you to blame yourself” you said softly in an attempt to soothe him.

“I know my love, I just hate I was not able to stop them before they hurt you.” He whispered.

“And I hate that I lost control like that, there was no reason for you to see me act so brutally” he said sadly as he reached for your hand.

“It’s okay Din really, I was not afraid for a moment, I could never fear you” you said with no hesitation. And for the first time, the nagging voice in Din’s brain went quiet. You had seen him at his worst and still spoke to him in the most kind and loving manner that he had ever heard.

“it was actually quite nice” you suddenly blurted, blushing a bit before continuing “in fact Din, it was very alluring” you chuckled.

“Alluring” he questioned with a lopsided smile,

“The pain medicine is getting to you Y/N” he said as he kissed you.

“Thank you for saying those words Mesh’la, you have no idea how much I love you” he sweetly said as he pulled away.

“And I love you Din, I always will” you promised.

When he was finally satisfied with the treatment of your leg, and you were drifting off to sleep, he let himself rest in the comfort that he knew you loved him whole heartedly and nothing would ever change that.

As he put his arms around you and let sleep take him too, he vowed to never let harm come to you ever again, no matter the cost.

.

.

Thank you for reading:) something about this man going feral when you are in danger is just too good 😝

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — DILUC x FEM READER

Diluc runs into a once-familiar face at a ball and has a crisis. 

wc — 1.4k

tags —  regency au, Diluc is the epitome of a repressed regency man trying to be proper but being violently turned on by the tiniest amount of skin, childhood playmates meet again four years later, hand flex™️, title from BNHA episode lol

Diluc hadn’t been prepared to ascend to the role of patriarch of the Ragnvindr dukedom at 16, but he had been good at hiding it. 

There were many things Diluc was good at hiding, and from many people, but his childhood friends couldn’t be included among them. Kaeya and Jean could always see right through him. This ability was not appreciated. Especially not when it was used to their advantage. 

“Please, Diluc,” Jean says, knowing she’s wearing him down. “You know my father’s on an expedition with Varka. Who else can I ask to sponsor Barbara’s debut as a debutante?” 

“Kaeya.” Diluc replies flatly. 

“I love Kaeya to death, but we both know he won’t do. His reputation is in tatters!” 

It was true. Kaeya was known as a bit of a lady killer. Not for the first time, Diluc cursed his brother’s less than discreet ways. 

“Please, Diluc. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” 

He knew she wouldn’t and Barbara was a good child who deserved to have a debut, so Diluc begrudgingly found himself playing chaperone. At least Barbara seemed to be enjoying herself. She was one of the most popular young ladies at the ball, with scores of men nearly fighting for the chance to mark their names down on her dance card. 

Diluc himself was bored out of his mind. He took another sip of grape juice and realized belatedly that he had almost finished the entire bottle, as drinking to avoid conversation was all he had been doing for the past hour. 

He was just thinking that as unfortunate as it was, he was ready to tell Barbara to wrap things up so he could take her home when a scuffle broke out on the dance floor. Two boys seemed to be coming to blows over who got to take Barbara’s next dance, with the poor girl caught between them. 

Diluc shoved back his seat, but someone else got there first. The more he looked, the more she seemed familiar. 

The memory returns to him like the first sip of water after a drought.

He was a little shocked, to be honest. It had been, what, four years? If you were who he thought you were, it was a little past the usual time to be debuting. 

You had been Kaeya’s age, he remembered. 

Why was it so startling that you were older now? He had grown. Obviously, you would as well.

His heart doesn’t obey the cool rationality of the mind that got him through fatui ridden Snezhnaya. It strangles itself in his chest, marching to an unsteady beat as his feet carry him slowly over to where you have separated Barbara from the boys. 

They’re jeering at you, calling you a spinster, an old maid past her prime. 

“If you’re not careful,” Diluc says, “you’ll be the ones with no prospects while she’s bided her time for the right man. What lady wants a husband who flies into rages over such simple matters?” 

The Ragnvindr name carries the same weight it had when Diluc’s father was alive. He swallows hard. It’s always strange, watching people turn their eyes on him with the same respect they used to give his father. Crepus used to be the wise one breaking up petty arguments such as these, he and Kaeya the young and immature boys. 

Now everything was different. Diluc has to face the dawn. He was the head of the Ragnvindrs now, duty bound to uphold the legacy of his clan. 

“Diluc,” you stammer, a relic of a time when you had been children and manners were excusable. So you remember him, too.

Then, “Mr. Ragnvindr,” with the understanding now that things were different. That propriety was necessary. 

To hell with propriety. Diluc wanted to hear you stutter over the syllables of his name again. 

He doesn’t smile as he lets his gaze drift over you. He can’t. There’s too many emotions bubbling in his chest. He’s not sure what kind of expression he wants to make.

Your appearance inspires odd feelings in him, a mix of nostalgia, love, and sadness. He wants to touch your face, and feel the softness of your cheek cradled in his palm. He wants to see your eyes close as you lean into his touch. He wants to measure the tiny gap of skin between where your sleeves end and your wrists with his fingers.

Instead his hand flexes with a movement restrained. 

Finally, after allowing himself one final second to drink your appearance in, he says, “Please let me escort you home.” 

Barbara is unusually quiet on the carriage ride back. She darts quick glances between you and Diluc, which slightly unnerves you, even more so when she practically flies out of the carriage into Jean’s arms and starts whispering frantically. Jean nods and pats her back, waving goodbye as Diluc’s carriage trots off in the direction of your address. 

You still haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other since that first moment of recognition at the ball, but when you make to leave the carriage, Diluc grabs your wrist, his fingers curling in a delicate ring. He’s careful. He’s breaking custom.

“What is it, Mr. Ragnvindr?” You prompt after a moment of silence. 

Diluc looks caught in a trap. His heart is torn between longing and righteousness, wanting you and wanting what’s best for you (which is not him). 

Diluc is too much himself to be any good for you. He has long since sworn off marrying anyone, knowing that the Ragnvindr line would die with him. His father would have been disappointed. 

But he would be more disappointed in Diluc’s other activities, like vigilantism, so what’s one more sin to add to the list? Diluc wouldn’t take a wife just to leave her bed cold and empty. He couldn’t marry a woman so that she could wonder if he was out with someone else instead of having dinner with her. He can’t share this bloody and bruised life with anyone. 

He has long since made peace with this fact. 

Within his own estate, Diluc shuts the door behind him and leans his back against it. He slides down until he’s sitting with his back against the wall, head tipped back. He’s grateful all the servants have gone home but Adeline, who he knows is asleep in her room. 

Feeling like a creep, he lifts his hand to his nose and sniffs tentatively. If he concentrates, he can still gather the faint whiff of your perfume lingering where his skin had touched yours. 

Diluc could never be a good husband, but he dreams he could be for you. Silly, impossible dreams, but they get him to dawn.

[saintship]

Breathe

König x GN!reader

Request: @aixxka

Was thinking about a KorTac mission where König gets hurt and reader (was studying medicine before joining spec ops) takes care of him on a field. And he's unsure of what to do bc he never received such treatment, especially in a middle of a mission with bullets flying through. You can change whatever you want, but I hope you like this idea! Good luck and thanks if you write it!. half broken English, sorry)))

Warnings: gunfire, near death experience, blood and wounds, swearing, hurt/comfort, kissy kissy

Only thing I changed was making it an ambush of sorts rather than a mission, I’d like to finish this game so I can be as accurate as possible before writing detailed missions

Enjoy!

It was quiet on the hangar, the assortment of soldiers who were supposed to be repackaging gear and weaponry largely messing with each other and fucking off. The sun was low in the sky, casting vibrant pinks and reds streaking across the clouds and wide sky above them.

“Hey Ghost.”

Soap fiddled with a scope of a Locus, a shit-eating grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Do I know you?” Ghost huffed, clicking a container’s lid closed.

Soap glared but pressed on. “What do you call a blind-"

“No.” The soldier caught between the two of them deadpanned.

“Oh, come on, Hyena, thought laughing was your thing?” Soap put down what he was holding, shaking his teammate’s shoulder with one hand.

“Are they—wrestling?” Hyena brushed off Soap, eyes trained ahead of them.

“Steamin’ Jesus, König! Don’t kill him!” Soap walked over, hanging back from the two men.

König and Roach were grappling at each other, Roach either unfazed or ignorant to the comical difference in size.

König looked up, surprise shining through the sniper hood that covered all but his eyes.

“I would never! Although he did challenge me.” He returned his attention to Roach, grabbing him in a hold and lowering to the ground.

Hyena watched him, fascinated with how he was able to articulate his strength so precisely. In the field, König practically ripped his opponents from the earth, but playfully sparring with a teammate, he was almost gentle.

“Do you surrender?” König spoke into Roach’s helmet, his tone dramatic.

Roach shook his head wildly, then after fighting to free himself for a few more moments, huffed a breath and relaxed. König released him, pulling him to his feet.

“A wise choice- ha!” He barked a laugh when Roach pushed his chest in frustration before returning to the table with the weaponry.

Hyena smiled, quickly looking down at the mag they were holding when they realized they were staring. They couldn’t help it—König was fascinating inside and out.

A tremble under Hyena’s boots caused their smile to fade quickly.

“Anyone feel that.” Their voice was low, catching everyone’s attention. Ghost nodded.

“Was about to ask. Close up the cargo.”

The trembling grew to a rumble in the ground, and Hyena turned in the direction of Price, who was already excusing himself from a group of superiors and walking over.

“What’s going on?” Price addressed Hyena.

“No idea, sir.” They looked back around, trying to locate the source of the noise. It sounded like highway traffic back in town but more intense, urgent.

“Soap, Ghost, König, Alejandro, man the front, Hyena, Gaz, and Roach, follow but don’t make yourselves seen. I’ll be in the hangar to spread the word then join the front. GO!”

Hyena grabbed the scope Soap had been holding and attached it to the Locus, moving it to rest on their back while they dragged as much cargo out of sight as they could. The front line moved to the left of the plane, past the wall that obscured Hyena’s view until they could follow.

“Let’s move, come on!” Gaz jogged past, Hyena joining him alongside Roach while retrieving their Locus from their back. They wavered some ten meters behind their teammates, moving from cover to cover with quiet speed. As they drew closer, the source of the noise was revealed. Two armored cars drove side by side, a gunner on each.

“What the hell is this?” Hyena murmured into comms, watching the cars grow closer.

“No idea.” Alejandro sounded just as confused.

The cars slowed to a stop, the passengers of each getting out and facing Ghost and Alejandro, who’d stepped forward.

Hyena moved silently forward, but Roach’s arm stopped them. He signed close to his chest.

Not yet.

I need to listen. They signed back quickly, placing a hand on his shoulder as they moved past. They made it close enough to hear, kneeling to lean forward. Alejandro was speaking, and he was frustrated.

“..No somos tus chicos! This was a simple mistake, my friends.” Alejandro remained calm, but his voice shifted to a threatening tone. “You need to leave.”

The men front the cars fired back in Spanish too fast for Hyena to catch, clearly enraged. Alejandro hung his head, exasperated.

“Since when do we have bandits?” Hyena spoke quietly into comms.

“Since now.” Gaz retorted. Hyena’s slight amusement was cut short by a gunshot. The man on the right had fired into the sky, Soap and Ghost drew aim, taking their stance.

“HOLD IT!” Price marched down the space between areas of cover, his anger radiating in all directions. He sized up the leader, lifting his chin so his eyes bore into theirs.

“Leave now and no one gets hurt. I’m being kind here.”

Hyena glanced at Gaz, sharing a look of fearful admiration for their Captain. They turned back just as the first shot was fired. It was one of the gunners, striking Ghost in the ribs. Luckily he wore a vest, but Hyena knew that pain could not be canceled out easily. Price got a hold of the leader’s gun, smacking him in the temple with the end of it. Soap and Ghost grappled with the leader’s posse while Gaz quickly took out the two gunners.

Looking behind them, Hyena spotted several men from the cars jogging to the main hangar. They signaled silently to Roach and Gaz, nodded their head in that direction. Running between cover, bullets whizzed past Hyena’s head, occasionally making contact with their leg armor.

Looking through their scope, Hyena aimed and disarmed the first enemy they saw. They’d shot the man’s legs so he crumpled to the ground, crying out.

They gathered the ammo he’d been hauling in his arms and returned it to an open container, snapping it closed once more. The process of disarming and relocating cargo continued before Soap’s voice boomed in Hyena’s ear.

“HIT! KÖNIG’S HIT! MEDIC, NOW!”

“The only medic is at the next hangar, how bad is it?” Hyena replied steadily.

“FUCKIN’ BAD!”

“On my way.”

“There’s more coming! Whoever the hell these guys are, they’re working for someone..” Ghost’s voice grated into the comms.

Hyena rolled to their side to avoid a blast of machine gun bullets, pressing their back to the cover they’d made it to. Breathing scarcely, they steeled themselves before muttering to no one in particular.

“Hang on, König..”

They sprinted from cover to cover with speed much like a the animal they’d been named after, feeling as such due to the humid air they pushed through. At last, König’s form came into view, Hyena breaking for it and earning a bullet graze to the shoulder for their hastiness. Soap kneeled at his side.

“You know what you’re doin’?” Soap hollered over the gunfire, squinting in the dust that had been kicked up around them.

“I’m the best he’s got!” Hyena replied, waving for him to keep moving. He clapped them on the back before obliging, moving quickly to return to the hangar and take Hyena’s place.

“Hyäne..” König murmured weakly, recognition flashing over his expressive eyes.

“Hey, big guy.” Hyena threw off their backpack, surveying his wounds. He’d been struck in the same place twice, close range from the looks of it, which had torn through his protective gear. Whoever this fucker was had horrifying aim. Unlatching his vest and lifting his shirt, they saw the extent of the deep red blood pouring through his gloves and onto the dusty ground. Watching Hyena dig through her bag, the situation seemed to set into the man’s mind.

“It’s dangerous to stay here..go, Liebes..”

“What? No.” They pressed a folded patch of gauze to his wound, causing him to tense and groan quietly.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry..” They returned to their bag to retrieve a vial of alcohol, lifting the gauze momentarily to sanitize the wound and surrounding skin.

“Why are you..”

“König, save your breath!” Hyena scolded, but internally their heart broke a little. What had the world done to this man to think he deserved to bleed out in the sand to some bandit?

“Can you sit up?” They pried gently. König obeyed, lifting himself to sit against the concrete wall that shielded them. Moving his shirt further, Hyena wrapped the gauze securely around his middle.

“Too tight?” They looked up into those misty eyes that shone through his hood, and König averted his gaze, blinking. “No..”

“Good.”

“They’re retreating!” Gaz’s voice sounded in Hyena’s ear, and they smiled.

“Hear that? Just a few minutes.”

König’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Hey. Hey, hey, no, no-" Hyena held his head in her bloodied hands, tapping gently, then firmly.

“SOAP! GHOST! NEED YOU TO CARRY KÖNIG, HE’S BLACKED OUT!”

The hollering into their comms almost sounded unnatural coming from them, a usually level-headed person and soldier.

“On our way!” Soap replied quickly, the sound of the armored cars beginning to fade in the direction that they came.

Ghost and Soap managed to drag the beast of a man back to the hangar, where the real medic had been called over. Hyena didn’t leave his side, insisting she be there for the entire process. They blamed their insistence on further training their medical skills, which wasn’t untrue, but the larger truth was they couldn’t bear pacing outside the infirmary door.

“That should do it, rookie. Not bad.”

The medic guiding Hyena cut past the last knot of König’s stitches, Hyena quickly soaking up the leftover blood with a pad of gauze. They should have kept him talking, or pressed harder, gotten to him quicker, something.

“I gotta get back.” The medic tore Hyena from their thoughts, lingering at the door.

“Of course. Thank you.”

They nodded, slipping out of sight with a tap to the doorframe. While König was still out, Hyena decided to slip his sniper hood back on to make him more comfortable when he awoke. A shame, they thought. His features were hardened from war, but especially relaxed this way, he was undeniably beautiful. Scars ran near his nose and along his jaw, accentuating the sort of ruffian handsomeness that was brought together by his dark brown, shaggy locks and stubble. After replacing the hood, they began to clean their station while waiting for him to wake. Hardly a minute had passed before they heard a sharp inhale.

Hyena rushed to his side, one hand hovering over his arm.

“Took you long enough.” Hyena spoke gently, letting him acclimate to the bright lights. He hummed in acknowledgment, attempting to sit up before quickly retracting with a hiss.

“Take it easy, we’re taking a day before leaving for the snatch and grab.” Hyena sighed. “You scared me out there.”

König hummed a short laugh. “You are..very brave.”

“Aw..” Hyena shrugged playfully.

“No, no..” König reached out, resting a hand on their forearm. His touch was warm, and the absence of his gloves made Hyena’s face deepen in color.

“I am..not used to this.” His voice wavered with uncertainty. “You are—kind.”

Their heart shattered all over again.

“When you’re hurt, König, when you’re down and bleeding, you deserve to be saved.”

König blinked, and a warm silence enveloped the two soldiers as his heart rate monitor chirped with every moment.

“You put my hood back on.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thought it would, I don’t know how you feel about-"

“Liebes?”

Hyena quieted, silenced by his addressing and the hand moving to hold her own. His thumb rested on their knuckles, his palm enveloping their hand in comparison.

“You can take it off.”

Hyena didn’t reply, looking between their hands and his gentle eyes. Their blush heated more at the closeness.

“I will.” He’d decided, and Hyena was too stunned to stop him as he moved the bed rail to stand with a sharp inhale of pain.

“You should..”

König lifted the back of it first. They’d seen his face, sure, but a medical state of mind is not one that focuses heavily on intimacy. In fact, thinking back to the exposed skin they’d felt while stopping the bleeding, there were many moments that had they been in a different state of mind, they would have practically melted from embarrassment.

He let the front of the hood fall from his face, revealing those eyes and dark eyelashes accentuated with the remaining war paint Hyena had failed to remove. It was strange, seeing such a large man fiddle with something in his hands and maintain a reserved body language.

“The truth is, I don’t show my face often, to them, because—I want to protect myself.”

His features moving with his words was almost too much.

“But you, you..” König trailed off, letting one hand holding the hood fall to his side while gesturing to Hyena with the other.

“What does Liebes mean?” Hyena murmured suddenly.

“Oh. Well, uh,” König scratched the back of his head briefly. “It means uh, what would you say? Darling.”

Hyena blinked rapidly, studying their boots for a moment. Their attention was brought back to the man in front of her by him stepping forward. Their head rose to look to his automatically.

“I need you to know that I’m showing you—myself, and calling you these things because..I feel differently about you than I do them.”

“In-in what way?” Hyena scolded themselves for stuttering, brought to shambles by this man before them.

“May I show you?” His voice was hardly a murmur.

“Yes.”

His hand came up to their head, cradling the back of it and resting a thumb on the sensitive skin behind their ear.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, König..”

Ever the worrier. Hyena tugged gently on his shoulders and he took the message and swiftly took their lips to his. He was hesitant, but feeling Hyena’s receptiveness to his touch let slip his neediness. He breathed shakily through his nose, lowering his head to kiss them deeper. Hyena hummed low in their throat when they felt his tongue, König beginning to emit lovely sounds in response. They separated by a centimeter, breathing deeply.

“I want to be with you, Hyäne.”

His confession was low and quiet, as if he was hardly ready to admit it.

“I want that too.”

Hyena returned to kiss him, relishing in the arms they felt cradle their back. It was not often they thanked an enemy team, but tonight, they did just that.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

YOTP - February

For V-day, I'll give you the YOTP fic for February.

A reluctant OTP, but an OTP nevertheless...Please, have some Merestor x Glorfindel (with art from @sauroff)

Lots and lots, heaps and heaps, of love for y'all!

Pairing: Glorfindel x Erestor

Prompt: Valentine's Day, Pollen/Fear Gas/Truth Serum, Established Relationship/Long Distance, different, mermaid, "If I kiss you, will you shut up?"

Words: 2 500

Warning: Sacrifice, implied monsterfucking, Merestor is a savage, nudity

(very sexy art and not very sexy fic under the cut!)

“We are sorry,” the councilman whispered as he stood, outlined by ominous darkness on Glorfindel’s threshold. “You have been chosen. We are hoping—”

“I understand,” Glorfindel replied before the old man could rattle off the perfidious reasons for their cruel decision to send one of their most valued warriors to his death. It made sense, he thought, the threat with which the town had been dealing for quite some time now was not one he or anyone else could fight with swords and arrows.

Thus, he had become superfluous—dead weight, really, and he recognised that much without fail.

“Today is a good day to die,” he added, deep sadness making his voice sound as hollow as if it was already coming from the grave. “I cannot bear the festivities anyway.”

“You must find it heartless—”

“Not at all,” Glorfindel interrupted again. “It’s strangely poetic, don’t you think? Give me an hour to put everything in order, tell the neighbours, and distribute what few riches are left to me, and then I shall be all yours.”

“Very well. I am sorry, please believe me,” the man who had known the condemned for many long years breathed softly.

“I know,” Glorfindel said soothingly. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I am not loath to die. Especially not today!”

As he went through his meagre possessions, the golden-haired hero of another time smiled wistfully to himself.

Outside, maidens and young men were giggling breathlessly as they sang songs of love and hope and waved their elaborate bouquets through the fragrant night air—this was their day, the day of lovers, and Glorfindel felt ashamed of his visceral, asphyxiating resentment of their happiness.

Once upon a time, he had been much like them. Returning from a faraway war covered in glory and illustrious distinctions, he had managed to capture the heart and hand of a beautiful, smart, enchanting young man.

For a few blessed years, he and Erestor—for that had been his beloved’s name—had lived in peace and plenty. Every year, they’d light candles on this hallowed night and sit on the porch of their little dwelling to watch the procession of giddy youths, dancing through the street with elation.

Then, one day, Erestor had disappeared. Glorfindel had waited, searched, and despaired, but no trace of his darling had been found.

Looking back now, he realised that the “deep”—an ominous threat that had transformed the previously merry village into a ghost town of whispered conversations and furtive steps—had first made itself known around the same time.

Nobody knew exactly what it was and what it wanted, but it was generally understood that Erestor—Glorfindel’s very own husband—had been its first victim.

From that fateful spring on, cattle, people, and treasures vanished from the riverbanks and the edges of the underground lake that had always been a highly favoured bathing spot for the villagers. Fear fell like a shadow over the hamlet, stifling all life and laughter.

Soon, people avoided all running water, coming up with complex rituals of superstition and idiocy, but Glorfindel was too heartbroken still to even fear for his life; he wanted to know what had happened to his sweetheart.

At first, the elders had refused that he or anyone else should leave the safety of the village to seek out the mysterious creature that had been glimpsed by a few but never fully seen, and Glorfindel had reluctantly bowed to the pressure of public outrage.

Then, the sacrifices had started. Miscreants and rebels, bound and gagged, were left in the cave to feed and soothe the “deep”—and, to everybody’s horror and delight—they were gone by the time the guards came back in to check on them. As the mouth of the cavern was under perpetual surveillance, it was undeniable that it had to be the sea monster that had taken them.

A part of Glorfindel had always known that, sooner or later, he would be picked to be delivered to the pernicious pestilence haunting their home. His adamant refusal to wear the protective amulets or steer clear of the river had branded him an insurgent and a sceptic, and a community ruled by fear could and would not abide such disruptive, potentially dangerous faithlessness.

Thus, on the night of lovers, he was called upon to do what was necessary to keep a society from which he had almost entirely withdrawn safe. This would be his last act of heroism.

Glorfindel felt relieved and almost happy as he walked, flanked by the mayor and the councilman, down to the cave. Maybe, he thought, he’d be able to find out something about his lost lover; either way, he’d be freed of the torturous half-life he had been leading.

As he entered the cave, he was surprised and more than just a little touched to find countless candles burning in every nook and cranny.

The villagers had carved well-wishes into the melting wax or written down their prayers on little scraps of paper that were now buried under the slow-moving tide of pristine white, dripping off every wall.

“We have to…” the mayor looked up at Glorfindel with undisguised misery as he lifted the length of rope he had been kneading in his sweaty hands. “You can keep the clothes to prevent chafing.”

Chuckling wryly, Glorfindel shook his head slowly. He had promised his last possessions—the garments on his back and the bells in his hair—to the two brave men who stood by him as he set out for his last expedition.

“I hope that you’ll at least get a tankard of ale each for these,” he said as he laid the adornments he had cherished through many a hard year into their unworthy palms. “Now tie me up and leave. For all I’ve done for this village and for you, I think that I deserve the dignity of meeting my fate without having to worry about an audience.”

They complied readily, desperate to get away from the dark water lapping rhythmically against the sloping ground of the cave.

In their furious haste, they were less gentle with this season’s sacrifice than he’d have deserved, but Glorfindel was unfazed by the nails scraping heedlessly across his bare skin and the sharp bite of the rope into his tense flesh.

“Where…”

The councilman pointed at a few worn, discoloured pillows at the far end of the cavern, just a stone’s throw away from the frightening, liquid threat of the purling underground lake.

“Tasteful,” Glorfindel commented as he was heaved, pushed, and dragged to the designated spot. In his mind, images of his first successful attempts at seduction danced as if to taunt him.

He was no stranger to promiscuous poses and elaborate bondage, and—on this lonely night of lost love—he could truly appreciate the irony.

“I am ready,” he declared. “Withdraw and save your lives. Think of me fondly, and don’t let this ruin your evening. Go light a candle in my honour. Maybe, look the other way if you come across a particularly adventurous couple, I don’t know…”

He huffed—it annoyed him that he was still the one trying to comfort and calm the men who had condemned him to an undoubtedly horrid demise, but he couldn’t bear their sad, mournful gazes.

“I am not dead yet,” Glorfindel grunted when nobody moved. “Remember me like this—beautiful, alluring, and very much alive!”

Tensing and squirming against the irregular, badly tied knots, he averted his face which finally convinced his two hangmen to scamper away like the vermin they were.

“Let’s hope this monstrosity makes haste at the very least,” Glorfindel mumbled and leaned back against the smelly cushions as much as he could without cutting off his circulation.

Thankfully for the integrity and safety of his limbs, Glorfindel did not have to wait long until minute ripples on the hitherto perfectly placid surface of the lake heralded the imminent arrival of whatever lethal foe was lurking in the murky depths.

“Ah, a new one,” a voice resounded. To the intended victim’s utter astonishment, it sounded tired and impatient rather than gleefully wicked. “Why do they keep pawning their unwanted villagers off on me?”

Spellbound, Glorfindel twisted as much as his bonds allowed to see a shimmering, mesmerising creature cleave through the water.

“Eh, same as ever,” the aquatic being muttered and launched itself out of its watery habitat, twirling like a falling star and filling the stale, damp air with a fine powder that tasted sweet and cloying on Glorfindel’s tongue as he drew a deep breath. “What is it that you truly desire? Do not even try to lie to me—the spores you’ve just inhaled force you to tell the truth.”

“I want to know what happened to my love,” Glorfindel replied immediately, not even trying to struggle against the sudden heaviness pervading his limbs and befuddling his racing mind. “All I want is to find out where Erestor went.”

With a muted splash, the creature fell back into the arms of the inky lake until only a pair of brightly flashing eyes—as eerily familiar and yet entirely foreign as the accents of that enchanting voice—were visible.

Taking the monster’s silence as an invitation and unable to stem the tide of words that had been unleashed by the potent dust he had ingested, Glorfindel kept babbling about the one he had loved and lost, detailing Erestor’s indescribable beauty and admirable wit and sighing longingly.

“I know that you’ve taken him, and I’d beg you to reunite us!” he finally pleaded.

“You think that I have killed your lover,” the creature mused, its words setting off a flurry of bubbles, dancing over the glassy surface of the water. “And you’d be willing to meet that same fate?”

“Yes. Life itself is worth nothing if it’s to be devoid of all joy and love!”

“You have ever been such a soppy fool! I should have known that my sacrifice would come to nought due to your reckless stubbornness!”

Heaving itself from its fluid realm once more, the creature drew inexorably closer.

“Who made those knots? What a mess! Just look at your beautiful skin!” Razor-sharp claws sliced through the rope without hesitation, and Glorfindel sat up, rubbing the sore spots his writhing had left behind.

“Erestor?” he cried as he now fully faced the well-known and desperately missed frame of the one he had sought for endless months.

There was no doubt about it, that visage—gleaming like mother of pearl and gold in the flickering light of the white candles—was the very one he saw in those terrible nightmares that haunted his every moment of respite.

“How? Why? What has happened? How have you come hither? Have you been enslaved against your will? What can I do? I have missed you so much, you can’t imagine! Oh Erestor, my love! Or…did you leave me of your own accord? Was I not a good husband to you? You should have told me that you were unhappy—I would have done anything to alleviate your dissatisfaction—”

“If I kiss you, will you shut up?” Erestor interrupted, and—not waiting for an answer—pressed his cool, wet lips against Glorfindel’s burning mouth in a gentle caress that grew frantic and heated almost instantly.

“Why?” Glorfindel whispered against the fragrant skin for which he had yearned with every fibre of his being.

“Old enemies came for you—you were out, at the market if I recall correctly—and they spoke terrible threats…” Erestor explained sheepishly. “You were always too rash to heed the warning signs of the deeper, darker secrets of the world.”

“But—”

“I’ve offered myself. What else could I do? The town needed you more than they did me!”

“I needed you! To hell with the accursed village—they’ve left me here, bound and naked, to be eaten by some fearsome monstrosity!” Glorfindel cried passionately.

“So they did,” Erestor agreed, anger and regret turning his eyes into splintered onyx. “It seems that I’ve been mistaken in my assessment, a rarity as you well know. I did not expect you to waste your time bemoaning my loss.”

“How dare you?” Glorfindel roared. Not minding the sharp protrusions on Erestor’s fingers or the dangerously pointy teeth flashing in the semi-darkness, he grabbed his lost husband by the shoulders and shook him vehemently. “I have never stopped looking and waiting for you—loving you—and if that ass of a mayor had not been so laughably terrified, I would have found out the truth much sooner!”

“Do they really think I’ve killed all these people?” Erestor inquired, leaning against the comforting, dry warmth of Glorfindel’s chest.

When the golden-haired sacrificial offering of beauty and valour nodded, he tossed back his head and laughed heartily.

“Believe you me, I did no such thing. It is in my power to grant one wish to those who seek me out in exchange for something they treasure—and what idiotic things they were—and so, I’ve helped every single person you’ve thrown down here escape the prison of paranoia and worry into which you’ve seemingly turned our once peaceful village.”

Glorfindel stared until his eyes overflowed with hot tears, leaving warm streaks of salt and salvation on his sculptural, freckled cheeks.

“I am so happy to see you—have you been well?” he asked breathlessly. “You should not have offered yourself that without consulting me! Of all the things to lose, I’d rather lose a limb than you!”

“I can see that now,” Erestor admitted. “I am sorry for doubting your love and your strength—they were very persuasive, and they tapped into my secret insecurity that someone like me—cerebral, somewhat scrawny, and undeniably mean—could never keep the love of one so glorious, handsome, and popular as you. It was all so new, and they made me believe that you’d soon grow tired of me anyway…This sacrifice was meant to be my parting gift.”

“And you dare call me a fool?” Glorfindel rasped as he bundled his merman husband—long, iridescent tail and webbed hands—onto his bare lap fitfully. As soon as that smooth, cool skin collided with his own heated flesh, he felt his body and all its dormant desires and impulses flare back to life.

“My love,” Erestor said warningly as he felt the testament of Glorfindel’s enduring, evidently unconditional ardour press against his scaly rear, “this is hardly the moment. I still have one wish to grant you—choose wisely!”

“Do you enjoy this life?” Glorfindel asked seriously, cupping Erestor’s soft cheek and searching his petulant gaze for any signs of dishonesty.

“Yes,” Erestor admitted after a moment’s reflexion. “It is strange, certainly, but I like it well! You’d…you couldn’t understand…”

“Then my wish is to join you!” Glorfindel exclaimed. “It is my turn to offer my life for your happiness. Make me what you are!”

So, that was my contribution to the YOTP for February!

I hope you've enjoyed this! Lots of love!

-> Masterlist

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Keep You Near - Tolya Yul Baraar

This one, this one was due to a car ride conversation and won't leave my mind so.

Content Warnings: Canon Compliant Threat, Violence And Injury. Not Beta/Proof Read, We Die Like Men.

The job was meant to be simple enough, especially given you were being sent on it with Tolya and Tamar, two of Sturmhond's finest, arguably the finest he has to offer, and the most adept to violence if the need arose. Each as much as a threat with their weaponry of choice as they are as Heartrender's.

You had boundless trust in the twins, not just from the way Tolya moved with such certainty despite the treelike stature, you cannot help but recall all the times you had known exactly whom anyone was referring to by the expression "the giant with the golden eyes."

It wasn't even the way in which you fully believed Tamar could and would likely take down the entire Fjerdan Army over as little as a spilled drink or out of line comment about her natural born gifts. A fight you had no doubt she would win.

It was down to the simple fact of trust, in the time you had spent with the twins, the eagerness to fight, the resilience of their nature and the power of their skills with both their gifts and weaponry was not what had you believing in them. But their unwavering loyalty.

One of the crew aboard the Volkvolny had described Tamar once as "the most trigger happy woman" he had ever met. You thought that sentiment did her a misjustice, for all of Tamar's willingness to fight she did not out of a sheer desire for violence, it was always with reason, maybe not always a perfectly agreeable reason her brother would often argue but a reason nonetheless.

As for Tolya, you had come to believe there was nothing he was not capable or willing to do in the name of his faith and his loyalty. You'd never known someone so fiercely devoted as the bare armed giant.

He had no death wish, that many of the crew you'd seen before have had, but he wasn't unwilling to die for what he believed in, and you admired that, even if it scared you in ways you could not express, to depths of your soul which whispered quiet concerns in the emptiness of conversation.

You would willingly lay down your lives for either of them, and you knew that to be true, but there was something in the way you feared Tolya coming to harm that made missions like this, with just the three of you increasingly difficult.

Tolya offers you a grin and you're brought back to the moment, for all his size and skill, Tolya possessed a softness and a kindness you would have never expected from such a man.

You understood why those who did not have the pleasure of knowing him as personally as you, would fear such a giant. His stature alone was enough to be threatening, and then his sword which remains unholstered besides the looming risk it presents. But knowing him as you do, it is the poet within the warrior that you see above all.

"This is where I advise we part ways," Tamar comments looking at the fork in the path ahead. "Not least of all because I can sense Tolya is about to start reciting and I cannot fathom a worse pastime right now."

This is the part of the plan you like least of all, the part in which for the remaining sunlight you shall part into separate groups.

Before you manage to get a word out Tamar just gives you a large smile. "Enjoy my brothers company, and try not to run into trouble, I hate to think of you having fun without me," she says.

"See you by dusk sister," Tolya says, watching her eager to get out of here. Once she is out of earshot Tolya gives you a small sideways smile. "She was right, I was about to start."

"I do not mind," you remind him. "I quite enjoy your poetry."

The stop at the boarding house was entirely unplanned, the journey should have been straight on until you two reached the market and likely had Tamar waiting for you both, acting as if she had won some imaginary race.

But things had not gone according to plan.

You knew Tamar had volunteered for the path in which she took because she believed it to be the most dangerous path of the two to take, meaning that if anyone was likely to get attacked during the mission, it would've been her and she could have had the joy of a fight for the first time in a while. But as likely as the odds had favoured that outcome, it was yourself and Tolya that had run into trouble.

A few Fjerdan's much further south than you'd ever seen them to be, and a few mercenaries looking to make a quick Kruge where the Fjerdan's failed. One of those would've been easy enough to deal with, between your combined skills and training, but back to back fighting the arsenal of the Drüskelle and then the numbers of the mercenaries, it was a unfair fight to say the least.

An unfair fight that had left you with likely broken ribs and a contemptible cut across your forehead that seemed to continue to bleed no matter how much you tried to attend to it. Which admittedly is not as much as it needed with your focus being elsewhere, for all your injuries you had sustained against the attack, Tolya had sustained worse ones in an attempt to keep you safe. A fact you were not letting slip by unnoticed.

With no Corporalki Healers in any kind of distance, and only the one Otkazat'sya at the boarding house that has remotely any knowledge of true healing, barely even a boy in age. There is no way to let Tamar know what has happened, and your only option is to allow Tolya, who despite the haze of pain and faded consciousness, is insisting you needn't worry about him, to have some time to heal in the way the body intended. Slowly.

Once you had paid for a room, and twice as much for silence on the two of you being there, you had gotten Tolya to lay down, which between the sheer size of him and his repeatedly insistence that he can continue to the ride, was no easy task.

Now lain with his shoulders against the bedpost, making it only comically more obvious that this bed was simply far too small to hold him, his eyes find yours again, as you are emptying out supplies looking for any kind of remedy or assistance that may have been hidden away inside the satchels you'd been carrying.

"You are worrying too much," Tolya insists, but you can hear the pain as he breathes in, the way it is a struggle to get the sentences out. You cannot help but worry that you must keep him away for at least a little while longer, to be sure that if he falls asleep he will in fact wake again.

"Tolya, tell me a poem," you insist, trying to keep him engaged, trying to keep him aware so you can focus on the task of treating him. Trying to keep your mind from wandering back into a memory, from how quickly and without thought Tolya put himself between you and the danger. Like it was nothing. Like it was second nature. Like there had been no other option but to do so. And just how quickly that had got him knocked to the ground. You try not to think of how your heart stopped in the moments where you weren't sure he would make it. How you're still not convinced he might make it. How if he doesn't make it, he will have died to save you. You try to push that thought as far from your mind as you can, but it is ringing out in your mind like the a message from the Saints.

"It’s time, my friend: it’s time! The heart wants rest –," he begins.

"Maybe not this poem," your voice cannot withhold it's tremble. But he doesn't seem to hear you through the fog of his own pain and the feeling of his mind slipping into unconsciousness.

"the days slip by, the hours take away

fragments of our life: and you and I," he continues. As long as it keeps him awake, as long as it keeps him awake, you tell yourself over and over.

"plan how to live and, – just like that – we die.

No happiness on land, yet there’s freedom, peace.

I’ve long dreamt of an enviable fate –

I’ve long thought, a weary slave, to fly

to some far place of labour and true joy," he finishes and he must be able to feel your eyes boring into him, and the sound of your heart threatening to tear its way out of your chest to aid him in any way you can. He laughs and tries to hide the wince as he does.

"You cannot die now, koja, because you cannot leave me on that poem," you don't even realise you've said it.

"Everyone mourns the first blossom. Who will weep for the rest that fall? I will remain to sing for you, long after the spring has gone," Tolya whispers, his voice so quiet is sends a ice cold wind of fear right through your blood and into your bones.

"Kebben’a," you say quietly, recognising this one. You pull out a small glass vial from one of the satchel pockets and thank the Saints that there was some kind of elixir to be found.

You recognise from the colour and the vials stopper shape that it was not exactly meant for injuries like Tolya's, being a low level assistant to healing and a medium strength painkiller, but your grateful for it regardless.

You hand him the vial and he drinks it. "Now that won't do massive amounts but at least it'll help," you say, more for your own benefit than his. You still cannot tell exactly how severe the injuries are, and Tolya is ever insistent on hiding it.

"I am not in need of your courage right now Tolya," you say, moving to sit beside him, "I am in need of your honour and your honesty, I cannot help you without knowing just how badly you are hurt."

"Not so badly," he says, but his voice is still quiet. It crosses your mind that with injury and pain like this he may not even remember most of it come tomorrow. The blanks in memory when it comes to injury are usually a gift, a measure to protect yourself from the intensity.

But you know even if he was to forget what he had done for you today, you never could.

"You needn't have thrown yourself towards the mercenary like that," you say matching the quietness of his voice.

"He was not unsteady," Tolya says between a laboured breath, "he likely would've killed you."

"He nearly killed you," you remind him, allowing your voice to carry more loudly with this sentiment. "And where would that have left me?"

"He didn't" Tolya reminds you.

"If you're improved by morning," you start, "then I will ride ahead and let Tamar-,"

"No," he whispers, the relief from the elixir taking affect but bringing some well needed sleep with it, "stay."

"I will return," you say.

"Please stay," he insists. "I want you to stay with me."

You doubt he is lucid enough now to be much aware of what he is saying, and you're almost grateful because if he could notice the way your heart was hammering in your chest there is no way you would be able to hide how you feel any longer. There would be no denying anything with the way your heart is calling to him now.

"You want me to stay with you?" You ask. "Now?"

"Always," he says, the whisper turning into a mumble, he reaches out and grabs a hold of your arm gently, lacing his fingers around you, as if to be sure to keep you near. "But especially now."

The room falls quiet as Tolya finally gives into the sleep. You do not rest, making sure to keep a close eye on him, his breathing, his heart.

It's a miracle you can hear it over the sound of your own. But you must stay awake, to be sure, to make sure he is healing, improving.

Not that you could sleep if you wanted to, with the racing of your mind. His grip on your arm is not tight but it also doesn't waver in his slumber even once. "Moi sol ye tselai," you whisper, "I will stay, for as long as you want me to, I will stay." Even though he is asleep you daren't say the last part aloud.

Eya fyela chi.

For as long as you shall live.

[makriiii]

Caught IV (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Word count: 4.5k

Authors notes: I had some fun with this chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Double spaces again, I'm sorry. 😭

Warnings: 18+, angst, cursing, gun violence, alcohol.

Pt1! or pt5!

Ao3 or wattpad!

♡

Caught IV

Arthur held you forcibly still in his embrace. Your own gun held directly to your temple, his gloved hand over your mouth to keep any pleas for help completely unable to escape.

You patted him with your elbow, soft at first then you got more rough as to tell him you werent going to pull anything, despite that he kept his hold on you firm.

You wanted to run into camp, no doubt, to feel a sense of security and familiarity, to be back with your own group and not in the hands of that man who stripped you of everything. Yet, you knew too well what would happen if attempted.

Your mind flashed with multiple possibilities. What were they playing at? There was no way they'd gun down this entire camp, and if they did talk their way into the middle, they surely wouldn't get to kill Colm before all of you racked up bullets in your flesh.

"What're we doing about the pisser, Morgan?" Bill asks lowly, "One by the tree."

Arthur liberates you, nudging you off to the side and out of his way. "Let's get closer." He takes the lead, the other three not far behind him.

The pine needles and soft dirt under Arthurs boots masked the sound of footsteps as he crept closer to the man doing his business, whom took a blade to the throat shortly after.

Your face twisted into pitied cringe, what a degrading death that must be. Now despite refraining from using a gun, the drop of the man's body and his guttural last breath had the other two men shooting all too fast.

"Now we got a real fight. Come on!" Hollers Bill, everyone covering behind thick trunks. Arthur yelled something back that you couldn't quite discern from the blasts.

Your body lurched, your entire chest lie nearly lined with the ground, avoiding the small metal projectiles thatd no doubt hit you if you stayed unwitting and frozen.

Completely unarmed and not much one for hand to hand combat, especially against trigger happy O'Driscolls struck you with a different idea entirely.

Escape.

You were unbound by any ropes and no longer under the watchful eye of Dutch's gang.

The thought only held you for mere seconds, the shouting and firing kept you out of your thoughts. Arthur and his two pals made concerningly quick work of your O'Driscolls. This base not long before mimicking the old mining site.

Dutch's gang had tenacity, you could admire them for that. But because of them, you had nothing. No gang - pretty quick here - no money, not even your own guns, hell even your horse was holed up in their camp, hardly in your possession.

You groaned in defeat, you really didn't have anything to lose.

As sly as possible, you rushed for the men Arthur just took out, fetching their guns, the handles of which still warm from their grasp.

"Give up, O'Driscolls. We got you beat!" Arthur barked, reloading his rifle.

You felt slightly dazed by the sight of them, the fact that you could join them just as good, not made better by Arthurs words. You shook it off, swallowing your nerves and crouched for a tree.

You felt complete when you had a gun firm in your palm, the ability to protect yourself. It revived you some after all these demeaning days. The familiar feel of the gun's hammer under your thumb, clicking into place once you pulled it back.

You yourself officially joined the gun fight.

The recoil of the double barrel pistol was somethin fierce, sending a shockwave up into your mostly out of commission bicep. Being out of the game for a good week and a half had both your hands keeping the gun steady enough to be a good aim.

Two of your gang members flanked Bill, your limited bullets landed fairly, both of them dropping before Bill had any more trouble.

He wrung his head in your direction, clearly afflicted by your help, but he was too busy to care, returning his vision fixed ahead.

Your face burned and your heart ready to burst with the swift influx of adrenaline that nearly felt as though it replaced the blood that coursed through your veins.

You had only so many bullets, so you cautiously moved up to the front lines for better aim.

Men all around you shouted and yelled out amongst the sharp sound of bullets, yet with each of your shots, the shouts lessened.

"That's it." John huffed out, "They're turning tail!"

A final shot rang out, and much to your delight, you hadnt accumulated an even number of bullet wounds.

You got up warily, meandering over to the center of camp, where the rest of your acquaintances, at best, stood.

"Leave 'em. Colm's still here." Arthur waves off the escaping O'Driscolls. A fleeting thought of joining them ran through your mind.

This was the second time you'd witnessed all your own gang members brutalized. By the same people nonetheless.

"Gonna check the cabin." Arthur added, trooping over to the cabin's closed door. Every step closer really sunk in the reality that this now was the end of the O'Driscolls, have there be a not so sober Colm inside.

You circle around with Arthur, straying slightly behind as to avoid any more small flying lead pieces.

Before he even reaches up for the rusty knob. The door flies out, smacking Arthur's whole front, effectively rendering him on the ground. A man you didn't recognize as Colm stepped out, looming over the fallen Arthur.

He stood at the entranceway, brandishing a shotgun and laughing in a maniacal manner, a drunken craze.

A piercing shot lands square through the man's diaphragm. His gun drops, his hands clutching at his chest as he trips over Arthurs legs, stumbling to the side of him.

A vaunt whistle blows from your lips with that shot, some of your long departed pride returning after missing all those shots in that cold forest.

Arthur grumbles in response to your display of ego, getting up while he does so, quickly scanning the inside of the cabin.

You could tell by his clenched jaw and his tense fists that this day wouldn't mark the disbandment of the gang you called your own for years.

Keiran stood mere feet from you, seemingly standing behind you as some sort of shield, far more petrified than what you could understand.

Arthur storms over, waving an accusatory finger and giving the evil eye to both of you. "You set us up!" He snarls. "Come here."

Both you and Keiran took a step back, at his angry tirade.

"What?-" Keiran stammers, stumbling forward, never seeming to move farther than where you were at.

Arthur steps no more than arms length from you both. "You set us up." He repeats, his patience running thinner than a strand of hair.

"No, I didn't!"

"You did, Colm O'Driscoll ain't here!" His hand flies up, a gun meeting both your faces.

"He was here, I swear.. I sw-" You give him a soft pat, to comfort him at the very least.

"If we was settin' you up, we wouldn't have saved you." Your arms were raised lowly, yet again staring down the barrel of his - well, your gun.

Bill and John slide down the hill behind you, joining the small congregation where you and Keiran were held at gunpoint. "It's a good point, Arthur." Bill agrees, chuckling at Arthurs unbridled anger.

Arthur exhales deeply, some of his rage leaving him through that release. He stands, considering. His eyes filled with irritation that calmed the longer his gaze was fixed on you.

"Alright then, go on, get out of here. Both of you, and I won't kill you."

You thought on it, but now you had a X on your head. Both you and Keiran just stood there, awkward as can be.

Arthur murmured under his breath, he took a stomp towards you, turning you around and pushing you off in the opposite direction. "Get lost."

"Get lost?" You couldn't refute his words before he already started talking again.

"Im lettin' you run away, now get outta here!" He waves his hands in an attempt to shoo you off as if you were some chickens.

"That's as good as killin' us." Keiran admonishes, he was fearful. No better a position as you. "Colm'll lose his mind about this!"

Keiran was good at negotiating, for what all you could tell.

"So?" A hearty scoff comes from Arthur, he cared none at all.

"So, I'm one of you now!" He claims, glancing at you. "I don't know about her..."

Now you felt stuck, were you really to join them, as Keiran tried?

"Give me a break." Arthur thins his lips, squinting at you both.

He throws his hands up, shaking his head. "Alright, but I'm warning you." He walks forward through both of you, Bill and John taking that as a cue to walk back to their mounts.

"Oh, I know." Keiran knew all too well, but he hesitated. "You get the cash?"

You had forgotten about the cash, that hadn't even crossed your mind.

"What cash?" Arthur asked with little trust or interest.

"There's usually some cash in the chimney." He points back inside the cabin, scuttling up the steps.

Arthur stops him, turning him back to walk with John and Bill. "I'll check it. Rest of you boys get to camp, quick."

"See Arthur? I aint so bad." Keiran teases, catching up with the first two, leaving you and Arthur behind.

Arthur leaves the porch and enters the cabin, ignoring his remark. You followed in shortly after, seeing as you would have to travel back with him.

"You know, I think I'll take my things back as a thank you." You suggest, your boots clicking against the wood floor. The first time you'd been in any sort of building since Colter.

His disgruntled mood only seemed to heighten yours.

He searches the cabin interior for anything of worth before reaching the chimney, blowing you off for a few moments.

"They're pretty nice guns, O'Driscoll. Might have to decline."

"They're mine because of that reason, and quite frankly, I'm no longer tied up by you-"

"Is that suppose to be a threat?" He interrupts, making his way to the shotgun mantle over the chimney.

You instantly started regretting your choice to save him.

"What if it is?" You drift over to the desk in the center of the room, sitting on the polished wood facing him, spinning your newly acquired gun with your fingers.

"How's walkin back to camp sound to you?" He retorts, not seeming so bothered as he inspects the shotgun.

"Does shooting you in your arm sound any better?" You began, he eyes you with a look of boredom.

"I'll leave you as good as the rest of your ragtag gang." His words as nonchalant as could be.

"You got me kicked out of my gang, Arthur. You'd be leaving an innocent lady as good as the 'Oh so terrible O'Driscolls.'" The back and forth kept getting more heated, both of you refusing to stop adding to it.

"Oh," he laughs mockingly. "So that's how it is? Suddenly you aint a 'terrible' O'Driscoll?" He slings the shotgun over his shoulder, nearly rolling his eyes.

"I aint an O'Driscoll if I'm not a member, isn't that how it works?"

"Colm might still have you, you're his special girl or something if I recall."

"Is that why you keep sayin O'Driscoll? Cuz you think I got his last name? You that dumb?"

"No, you just seem to enjoy suckin up to him." His voice strained in the middle of his sentence as he bent over to pat the inside of the chimney. Fine gray powder clouded around his hand and arm, a smoky scent filling the messy cabin.

"Hardly the case." You shake your head in annoyance. "Think you're just mad that I managed to rob you - the robbers - and almost get away with it."

"If I wasn't there shooting for you in the first place, you wouldn't have been able to get anything." He reasons, now stepping closer to the desk you sat on.

"It was good team work, just extra steps, I suppose. I think I should get some compensation really." You nod, agreeing with yourself.

He stands contemplating your words with that sarcastic look on his face. "Nah, those few extra steps cost you. You'll be lucky to get your guns back." He shrugs, drawing out one of your revolvers to admire and reload right in front of your face.

"Real classy Morgan." You look to the side, refusing to give into his antics. "You better be glad you're big, that's the only reason people are scared of you."

He sucks in through his teeth, "So, you scared of me then?"

"Scared as I am to insult you." You were close enough to flick his hat off if you stood up, and flicking it off was exactly what you did. His hat flew up and off his head before he could grab it. An annoyed scolding came from him as he bent to retrieve it.

"Let's get going, can't stand you any longer, a whole ride back is enough." You abmly stroll out the door and back in the direction of Arthur's horse you rode in on. You could hear his quick pace behind you to catch up, his spurs rattling with each stride.

"Can say the same for you, y/n." He pats your unwell arm with a bullish force, making you flinch to the side in pain.

"Goddamn you Arthur Morgan, playin with me like that when I have a gun?" You hiss, comforting your upper arm with a gentle hand.

"You woulda' done it already if had any bullets left." He sneers, so full of himself that man.

-

You were quick to hit Arthurs arm from behind, reminding him exactly what you wanted as soon as he's to dismount and hitch his horse. Your guns, your gun belt, saddle and everything you had inside those saddlebags.

He said he would at least, all that much you weren't quick to trust.

Before he even pulled to a stop, you slid off the back of his horse, stretching. A small fire lit inside you again. You knew exactly what you were going to do tonight.

You promptly met your mare, who didn't seem ill-taken care of despite the situation. You were thankful and you were sure she was too, showering her with all the affection she had missed for these past days.

You sat and pondered there with her, allowing her to graze next to you. Horseshoe overlook. You'd been here a time or two, enough to know where the town of Valentine was, your memory being jogged by your ride with Arthur.

Least closing in on evening now, and you could feel hunger slowly climb from inside you, the adrenaline from the hour previous only now subsiding enough for you to feel your body's needs. You were just waiting on Arthur to gather all your things.

You sat criss-cross on the grassy soil underneath you, looking into camp. You were still skeptical to go much nearer than where you had been tied to all those days. You felt unwanted and that wasn't only a feeling, it was reality.

Allowed no more than five minutes with your thoughts before Arthur finally arrives with all your things gathered and dumped on the ground in front of you.

Your brows knitted together at his act, but you ignored it, taking it as a chance to be annoying instead.

"Thank you, dearly, errand boy." You grabbed your belts and guns as you rose up, solace in your favorite items back on you for good. "I'd appreciate more work from you like that."

Your hand returns your hat back to the top of your head before he speaks, clearly not so happy.

"Shut your goddamn mouth, sweetheart." More than discontent you now thought, snickering as you heaved your saddle off the ground.

"Don't be so brash, really." You brush him off, packing your horse with your saddle. You slung on your saddle bags, checking them, Half hoping that some semblance of money from your attempt still laid in there or even what you had initially. Nothing. You peered back to the vexed Arthur across from you.

"You know, you could buy me some drinks. Since I aint even got the money I had beforehand from the robbery in here." Your attempts with reasoning now had him even more stuck up.

"No. You're on your own woman." His arms crossed, the hat atop his head almost covering his eyes completely.

"Tsk. Real snob that one." You curse to yourself, tightening the girth before fitting your foot in the stirrup.

You mounted your girl, once again reunited under the same saddle you had ridden in for so long. It excited you and she could feel it. A giddy little prance from her as she turned in the direction you desired.

Straight to Valentine before the days done. You figured you'd have to stick up some poor fella you found along the way for some cash, lest you would be there having to barter your measly and limited items for some tiny morsel.

-

Arthut had come after all, not with you, no, he strayed behind at least a good hour. You squinted at him from across the room, but now you weren't even so sure that was him over there. He looked much too strange.

You hardly kept still in the bar seat, the piano music around you seemingly getting ever louder, but it didn't bother you.

You sat and exchanged a few hearty laughs with the men in the seats beside you who offered to pay for your drink after you never found anyone to properly stick up.

This was damn near the most fun you'd had for months, tears pricked at your eyes with every joke that was told or added to and you could hardly control yourself.

"Whatcha got there? 'Nother drink?" You felt your arm droop out. You reached for it further and further, but the old man leaned away from you as he took a big swig from it.

Your hand caressed the floor, the barstools towering over you, dangling feet and long legs swinging in every which way. A barely noticeable hint of pain felt from your elbow and side. It was like laying down in a forest, your mouth slightly agape as you examine the moving trees above you.

You lied there a moment before you lifted off the ground just as magically as you had ended up on it in the first place. The two men you drank with had pulled you off the wood together, however this led them to their own date with the planks. Stumbling and swaying, their arms flailing in different directions.

You wheezed and wheezed so much it hurt, holding onto the counter top of the bar as to have some balance that your body took away with every moment your eyes stayed open.

The one with a handlebar mustache and a bowler's hat seemed to get closer and farther once he finally returned to his feet. You grabbed his arm to pull him to safety. As for the other, he was behind you, beyond your help.

You hunched over the countertop, using your upper body to keep you straight in the room that was anything but straight, everything was so distorted, it gave a new look to everything around you.

"Jus... whatcha you doin... there..?" The one with a hat asked you from his barstool, even sitting he had trouble staying upright, his hand fisted into the wood to stay somewhat still.

You looked down, back to him drearily and back down again before you finally hiccuped in response, not sure what you were doing either.

"How 'bout 'nother drink?" You put your pointer finger out as to call the bartender over. Your two buddies hooped and hollered from aside you, doing their utmost to raise their arms and cheer.

"I think you've had enough for tonight."

The clearest words that came out of someone's mouth tonight. They didn't hardly make any sense to you.

"That's ridicu-lsh.. 'm haven't had.. enough..." You chided, your barmates stood up for you, scolding the sober one to the best of their ability.

"You 'bout'a get haaam-mered!" The one behind you, half bald with overalls gripped your left shoulder, and much to your delight, that aching pain was gone!

"Chrissst... you 'n me BOTH good buddy!" The bartender hands you a reluctant glass, and by god did it taste the best of all.

Not two drinks in before you got knocked over by the one proclaiming you were about to get hammered. Your arm still up in the air as you observed him slumped on your shoulder, past out beyond all comprehension.

Then you felt another hand on you, your head slowly moved round to where it came from.

"You..." You huffed at him. "Gonna drink wit' me... now?"

He examines you but for how long you could hardly tell, your eyes were on the ceiling, the chandelier, everything but Arthur's face.

"I wouldn't say no?" He giggles at your question in a way you'd never heard before.

"You said no!" You argue, though not angrily, you couldn't imagine feeling like that now.

"Cuz... you're a Driscoll."

"Again?" You looked ever so surprised. "I knew... Colm'd come 'round." You chuckle, trying your utmost to hunch over and grab your fallen glass.

Before you knew it, he was sitting right next to you, like a big brick. You liked it. Holding both your arms on his back and letting your head hang, a small rest period.

"So," you start, patting his back to get his head to turn to yours. "You gon'... get me that drink?"

"I need one… more than you." He shakes his head, to which you put your hand on top of to stop him from shaking it. Didn't look quite right.

"Nooo, you dont. Quit foolin' 'round."

He pushes your arm off, his hat going with it, falling the opposite side of the counter. His eyes drooped, swaying further from his nose and then much too close, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Awwh... see now, why'd… you go and do that." He starts dragging himself over the counter to retrieve his hat. You helped by pushing him firmly with your palms to his ass. He swatted at you with one hand but your efforts not futile, he slid fully to the other side with a loud thump.

"You can't be back here, Sir!" You couldn't quite tell if he was yelling at you or not. Did you look like a sir? You weren't back there.

Arthur pops back up, hat back to its normal spot. You clapped at his bravery, though he was quick to climb back over the counter whilst he got shooed off by the bar tender.

You helped pull him back over, his hands clasped your wrists as you pulled with all your might. Much to your terror, he didn't let go when he reached his tipping point. You were yanked down with him, wincing as your head made contact with the floor.

"Goddamn it, god damn… you more like it." Struggling to get back up, you grab Arthur, using him as leverage, effectively pulling him back to the floor.

"Yeahh... hic." His eyes blinked as irregular as a frogs. "There ya go!"

Once you finally made it back up, you held onto your bowler hat boy, only not so for much longer once you put his hat on your head, yours long gone.

You patted his arm with long sweeping motions, your typical motor skills didn't seem so inclined to work efficiently.

"Dance? Let'ss dance.. but not him." You wave to Arthur a seat away from you. Arthur? He wasn't there. You swiveled your head around, though your eyes weren't so quick to act, lagging behind when you tried locating Arthur.

Your buddies expression changed into one of slight anger. The most he could possibly muster.

"Hey you mist'r... you buzz off..." he demanded, slamming his hand down weakly on the counter top. His anger directed at the wrong man. You egged him on nonetheless, happy to have someone else finally on your side.

-

You held onto each other, swinging your legs out haphazardly with your best pal, the one who hadn't gone and was sticking it out with you.

His inner leg would swing right, your outer leg, in. It was a wonder you hadn't fallen over yet, a shared wonder amongst all who watched and cheered you on.

You coughed hard with every chuckle that left you, other bar goers joined in as well, much to your delight.

Your eyes deceived you so many times that night you had to be looking at an apparition of that snide man.

You scanned him, but instead of being annoying, he joined in next to you. Course your rivalry at a stand still, albeit you were only half sentient, anymore than that and more fists might've been involved.

You danced with Arthur, your bowler buddy, at times the floor even. You soaked it all up like you did the booze, returning to the counter with Arthur, another request fulfilled.

"Artur..." you slap his side enough to get his attention. "Out... there... outsside."

He looked too confused, so you hooked your arm in his, having him follow along best he could.

"What?"

You landed on the swinging door in a feigned sense of something you could lean on, both you ending up on the floor again.

You sat for a second, before the wavey door opened again. Caught staring at the thing that came out.

"Damn, ya'll stink." An insult as he stepped over you both, he said some other words too, you think.

Arthur tripped the man as he strode through, your eyes widening as he went down. He yelled maledictions out, turning for Arthur who had a grand time with this.

"Oh... shit." you drawl in a long, tired breath. You glimpsed at your gun, drawing it out, half expecting it wouldn't work to ward off the man, but it did. He turned back and left with a hurry.

Arthur kept laughing, which made you start laughing at the spontaneity of all this.

Eventually, you got up, taking on the staircase that swayed like the ocean's tide, Arthur not long after you, traveling down the road to some obscure part of town. Haphazard mumbling and incoherent words all the while.

That's how you concluded the night, your first free night, exploring in a drunken haze with the man who not only doubled as your captor but also your liberator. The one who shot but saved you. More irony than what you could care for as of now.

[writergeekrhw]

Hey, hope you are well. I was wondering what you considered your finest contribution to the various shows you have worked on? The character/character moment/plot point/favourite line that, if someone invented a time machine and tried to go back and erase that specifically, you would end up fighting them on a rooftop in the rain to protect?

Oh man, that one is pretty much impossible to answer. I've written over 80 episodes of TV and worked on over 300, so it's hard for me to pick my favorite episodes let alone my favorite moments or lines, etc. I'm most proud of the body of work and how deep it is, but let's see if I can think of a few highlights:

TNG:

"A Fistful of Datas" - The title is really good! I'm happy I got Picard to play his flute. The Worf/Data kiss was me, though I wrote it on the lips.

DS9 (A lot of these are with Ira):

"Q-Less" - "You hit me. Picard never hit me." "I'm not Picard."

"The Wire" - "My dear Doctor, they're all true." "Even the lies?" "Especially the lies."

"Past Tense 1&2" - All of it really.

"To the Death" - The whole "Victory is life" bit and O'Brien's response

"In Purgatory's Shadow" - "Lying is a skill like any other. And if you want to maintain a level of excellence, you have to practice constantly." "You Cardassians are all alike. You talk too much." "How can I forget it? It was the only day."

"By Inferno's Light" - Dukat's big speech. "That space station you're so fond of was built by Cardassia." "Funny. I thought it was built by Bajoran slave labor." "I yield! I cannot defeat this Klingon. All I can do is kill him, and that no longer holds my interest." "Armageddon will have to wait for another day."

"Call to Arms" - The end with Sisko's baseball.

"Field of Fire" - Snipering the melon. Who the bad guy ends up being and what his motive is.

Also: "Hard Time" "For the Uniform" "Little Green Men"

ANDROMEDA:

Proud of creating my first show. I think the cast I had control over (everyone but Dylan) is pretty great.

"Under the Night" - "Oh, he's the guy who retired. Didn't you say he bought a farm?" "The farm. Bought the farm, Trance." "What's the difference?" "Torn pressure suit and a bad emergency seal." Tyr's entrance.

"An Affirming Flame" - "I don't care if we wake up when the suns have all burned out and the universe is winding down to die, as long as I'm there to watch."

"Angel Dark, Demon Bright" - Harper's big speech. "Those are my mathematics. I'll leave you to yours." I like the way time travel works in this one.

"Music of a Distant Drum" - Tyr correcting the kid's shooting grip

"Harper 2.0" - "My pain belongs to the Divine. It is like air. It is like water."

"It's Hour Come Round at Last" - "To hell with the odds. All that matters in life is that we try. Promise you'll try."

THE TWILIGHT ZONE:

I'm proud to have written a Twilight Zone even if it wasn't in the original run.

THE DEAD ZONE:

"Descent" - Triggering a JohnnyVision by having him brushed by a passing bat.

THE DRESDEN FILES:

Underrated show in my opinion. I'm proud of co-developing it. Production was rough so I'm proud I got the episodes done and the show on the air. I think the cast is really good. The moment when Harry has to get a wasp to sting him in the eye to use it as a spy drone is pretty memorable.

THE 4400:

Richard Tyler in the diner seeing how much the world has changed. Ali is so good in that scene. We knew we had lightning in a bottle with him.

THE GATES:

"Little Girl Lost" is pretty good.

ALPHAS:

I wrote a lot of Gary's off the wall lines. "Left!" "Are you sure? Heart left, Gary?" Gary puts his hand over his heart. "No, right!" "Respect the badge!" Also casting Tatiana Maslany before she blew up was a really good call.

STAR-CROSSED:

I came up with a lot of how the Atrians culture and biology worked and I think that was all cool stuff. I loved Teri's "hold my gold" moment in "And Left No Friendly Drop," which was something that Chelsea Gilligan came up with in blocking, but I'll take credit for it. Teri punching the drone in "What Storm is This That Blows So Contrary" was fun.

(Elementary later)

[mrs-monaghan]

Ok, but like why does Yoongi do Jk dirty like that? Lol Yoongi doesn't LIKE Jimin like that (does he?) and it's obvious that Jk does and the members know it.

Like in the behind the scenes of the xylitol Christmas commercial where Yoongi touches Jimin's ear and Jimin looks at Jk, Yoongi also looks at Jk's reaction. And a lot of other times where Yoongi is just waiting for Jk to react and Jk does and Yoongi just stands there without anything to do anymore.

Yoongi knows he is ruffling Jk's feathers by touching Jimin lol but why does he do it!?!

Could be many reasons

1) He doesn't care. 😂 At the end of the day he's older than JK so this could be a hyung card at play here. Who knows? (RM too stopped caring. He used to pull away from Jimin in the past when JK got bothered but at some point he said "fuck it")

2) Suga respects the Jikook relationship. (This should be number one but his behaviour is the reason we're talking about this so...😂)

Contrary to popular stupid beliefs, BTS wouldn't be BTS if they were dating eo willy nilly. Some of the things I see under YT comments are insane! V used to date JK but then JK left him for Jimin and now he's trying to win JK back. Or When JK rejected Jimin, Jimin started dating Suga and then Jimin left Suga for JK and now bla bla bla I mean, i see this shit everyday and I'm like;

I think it has to do with fanfiction, but it also has to do with the kind of TV shows we watch where a group of friends date eo and break up with eo all inside the group and somehow they remain friends and life goes on?? That's not how real life works. At all.

If any of that fuckery 👆🏽 actually happened it would affect the dynamic of BTS as a whole, big time. They wouldn't have been together all these years as a group if this was the case. Especially considering how possessive JK is. How attached to Jimin (satellite Jeon) he is. You really think Jimin getting with Suga would not cause some bad blood???

When they were young BTS were given scenarios where they were asked what they would do if 2 members wanted the same girl. Jimin said he would find another girl while JK basically said he would fight for his girl till the death. (I'm paraphrasing 😂) but yeah, JK said he would never give her up. Then couple that with JK's "mine mine mine" thing he's got going on and you know that man ain't about sharing, loosing Jimin, or none of that shit.

Another time Jimin said he wants to fall in love with one person for the rest of his life.

So these are the men we are dealing with. Those are their personalities. So this fanfic drama, love triangles people make up are just that, fan fiction.

3) Jimin is the only member he's comfortable having skinship with. This is because Jimin is very attune to people's feelings and u can see the way he initiates skinship with Suga is not how he does it with JK or Jhope. With JK he will just throw himself at him and call it a day. With Suga he will take a beat and actually make sure Suga is okay with it. And I believe Suga appreciates that.

Idk why Suga does what he does, anon. But there is one important thing we have to remember. JK doesn't have an issue with ALL Yoonmin moments. He could have an issue with them on Monday then on Wednesday he won't care. A good example would be this episode.

During this game Suga spent a good chunk of it all over Jimin and JK did not bat an eye. Not even once.

He wasn't bothered even for a second. Which fascinated me honestly. So just coz we don't talk about Yoonmin often, doesn't mean it happens all the time.

Also JK trusts Jimin explicitly and knows nothing is ever gonna come off whatever Suga feels. So it is what it is.

Bonus

Proof that Jimin knows about JK and his anti Minimoni agenda.

RM pinches (or almost pinches?) Jimin's nipples (which is a Jikook thing btw; to randomly nipple play on official content 😂😂) and what does Jimin do? He looks at JK. And what was that face Jimin??? 👀

Seems to me like someone was relived another certain someone did not see what just happened. He he he hee!

Oh. If u didn't get what i meant by Jikook have a nipple thing here u go. Nipple Nipple Nipple (Jimin actually looks like he felt that one 😏) another Nipple. Like i said, its a Jikook thing. 🤭

[silviakundera]

a very official and unserious ranking of chinese mini-dramas I've watched. Mini-drama = 5-15 min episodes. Color coded "sets" that had same actor or writer.

1. Night of Love with You (2022) - the unbeatable. the ULTIMATE. villain 4 villain romance with a protagonist who knows she is in a manga series... but something has gone wrong, because how did she and the heroic female lead get switched this time?!

2. Provoke (2023) - Republican era noir revenge saga. Unresolved sexual tension. Glamour. Great lighting. Hot people in period costume giving VIBES. She married her mortal enemy as a concubine and keeps a murderboard. I'm in love w her.

3. The Deliberations of Love (2023) - Married consort of a prince dies with him due to the struggle for the throne. Then she wakes up in the past, only for this ambitious idiot to get them killed again! Receiving yet another chance after 2 awful deaths, she's determined to choose life over love and not marry into the royal family again. But it's not quite so simple... especially when the prince starts to feel echoes of their past life together. The romantic chemistry is what sells this lil tropey drama. She keeps subconsciously drifting back into acting like his familiar spouse and then he starts vibing too.

4. A Familiar Stranger (2022) - Like with Provoke, I think everyone's seen this one? Conniving prime ministers daughter face-switches an innocent girl who is searching for her sister and pining away for this hot general who saved her once. Wow what luck, the horrible marriage the prime minister's daughter wanted to escape is with her dream man. This all sounds very wtf but this director x screenwriter combo creates these moody pieces that have a certain dream logic.

5. Zhang Gong Zhu Zai Shong (2022) - The emperor's sister is tyrannical and keeps a stable of hot men. Political intrigue ensues. ngl this one is real choppy but is ranked high due to my bias for achingly hot leading ladies who step on a breathless delicate ML. 🔥 She makes me SWEAT.

6. The Killer is Also Romantic (2022) - Mr and Mrs Smith in costume drama imperial era china. It should be higher, but for an English speaker it's dragged down the list by terrible subs.

7. My Decoy Bride (2023) - Hidden identities, assassin marries her target in imperial era china. Same male actor as Deliberations of Love who builds good energy with his costars. But less budget, worse subs, choppy editing. Still fun. Probably ranked way too high but idc I was entertained.

8. Dong Lan Xue (2023) - 3 min episodes of broken Murder Couple ❤. The slighted 7th prince and his ex-prostitute maid who are out for blood & revenge. (It's that badass lady & her delicate suitor again. Love this webisode pair. love herrrrrrrrr)

9. Miss Mystery (2023) - Republican era revenge drama in a similar vein as Provoke but lacking it's elite lighting, sets, & cinematography. To her it's Fake Marriage but he agrees because he liiiiikes her. The couple has chemistry, gives good power-couple, and the FL is out for bloody revenge. It's a fun ride. But the writing isn't as strong as Provoke and the uneven acting of the supporting cast drags it down the list.

10. What's Wrong with My Princess (2023) - The standard reborn revenge tale played straight. Female general helped a prince fight for the throne, then he & her sister have her murdered when vulnerable and pregnant. Gasp! She wakes up years earlier on her wedding day to this other prince she'd married once, only to kill for her evil lover boy. Now she plots the downfall of lover boy & her sis, joining hands with the husband she betrayed the 1st time around. It's... exactly what it sounds like lol. Nothing stands out and the script is a string of tropes. But it delivers exactly what it promises.

11. Everlasting Bride (2023) - Republican era revenge with added spy games. Like Miss Mystery & Provoke, strong character intros & first meeting. They're mysterious and well-dressed and dangerous to know. More polished than Miss Mystery. The leads here are more filtered and more conventionally attractive. But I have to admit that there's a charm about how rough around the edges Miss Mystery is. And I like the lead actress in Miss Mystery a lot more. The first 3rd is pretty fire, then it lost steam for me.

12. Forever Love (2023) - It's that smoldering guy from Maid's Revenge (absent from this list because due to crap ending). Absolutely extra in every way, a tropey hormonal mess, to the point one can argue it circles back around to be ART. Female protagonists for 1-10 are all great & fun. Alas I can't say the same for #12. 💀

Haven't Finished:

Butterfly Lover (2023) - I have a serious hate for open-endings and I heard this has one, so I paused on it. It's from that amazing director&screenwriter combo, though (Provoke, Familiar Stranger, Killer is also Romantic...). So I know it's worth watching.

Romantic aka Love Strikes Back (2023) - I started this but stalled out. idk it wasn't compulsively watchable for me. Other people loved it.

[aromanticbuck]

Cozy Trio + Scream (inspired) AU

warnings: death, canon-typical violence, horror film-typical violence, blood, PTSD

It started in 2002, at a Halloween party, where teenagers were left alone in a house with no parents and easy to find alcohol. It was probably a bit more complicated than a coincidence, some stupid grudge and a window of opportunity. It was far too planned out for that.

If it was just a coincidence, they wouldn’t have had to fight off one of their classmates and some dirty cop just to stay alive that night. And they were lucky to even accomplish that. Only luck was capable of keeping Greg, Jay, and Hailey alive through such a violent attack, when the house was scattered with their friends’ bodies by morning. Such an ordeal left scars, of both the physical and mental variety - PTSD and paranoia were diagnoses that their therapists liked, and they were accurate, even after years of distancing themselves from everything that had happened.

The only saving grace in all of it was that their friends’ weren’t the only bodies when the sun rose. Elliot Knox, an old classmate, was as cold and bloody as the knife that was still in his hand, the one that had been poised to go into Jay’s chest until a shot had rang out. It was from the gun that had been ripped away from a fallen cop’s hip while he was unconscious, the man who had been the driving force behind the attack on the house in the first place. Bob Ruzek wasn’t quite dead, but that hardly mattered, not when he would be locked up for the rest of his life if he even survived his injuries.

It seemed to be over as quickly as it started.

There were families to notify, and an investigation to wrap up, and injuries to tend to. The men who caused it all were the last thing three traumatized teenagers needed to worry about when their parents had other ideas - ideas that involved moving on, moving schools, even moving house. Anything to get away from what had happened, away from the blood and the fear that they’d experience for those long hours. And it worked.

Through their last semesters in high school, through Greg’s year long attempt at a college education, through the journeys to two detective badges, they were safe. They didn’t have to worry about having someone break into the apartment they shared with a mask and a knife to finish what had been started more than a decade before. They even worked in the same building as the very same people who had collected them, terrified but alive, from the Gerwitz property that morning that only existed in their memories.

And then a file landed in the stack of cases meant for Intelligence. It was the same story fifteen years later - teenagers having a party in an empty house, knives used to take nearly half a dozen lives. Only, this time, there were no survivors left to pick up the pieces of themselves. And, when the knife found at the scene matches one that went missing from their district’s evidence locker, the list of suspects gets surprisingly short.

It’s kept in house, as much as it can be. Between Voight, Olinsky, Platt, and the survivors of the original attacks who were far from teenagers, they didn’t need outside eyes to know what to look for. When a break in was reported at the old Gerwitz house, where the walls had once been bloody with evidence of a similar crime to the one they were investigating, it got more urgent. They needed to narrow down their list as quickly as possible while keeping one eye aimed over their shoulders so that they could avoid repeating even more of their history. But that meant private meetings, and watching their own team with an aura of suspicion, especially when one of them was the son of the very man who caused all their nightmares in the first place.

[5-puthyyy]

My Thoughts on Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (SPOILERS AHEAD)

No, seriously, there are heavy spoilers so don't read this if you haven't watched the movie yet.

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of death and brutal violence, mentions of suicide, mentions of depression and trauma, mentions of PTSD.

Look, these are just my very fresh thoughts 4 hours after watching the movie in the cinema. I will explain the good and the bad and I will try justify my opinions (despite the fact that no one needs to justify their opinions on movies lol but we all know how crazy some fans can be when it comes to their fav directors/actors/characters). Please, I don't need comments telling me 'hey, it's just a fictional character, fictional movie, blah blah.' Everything is subjective and this is content being made for us, so we are allowed to have opinions!!

Elizabeth Olsen absolutely NAILED this performance. It is by far the best thing about this movie. I can not fault it at all; her parts were the most interesting and engaging (and while it was heavily because of her performance, the directing was a big part of that too). Every line, every expression (physical or facial), everything Elizabeth did was perfection. She had me gripping my seat every single time she was on the screen. I was gasping, crying, filled with excitement and every emotion possible at different times. I was practically hypnotised by her acting and felt like I was being pulled into the screen. It’s all in the eyes, man. It’s the EYES and the amount of emotion she’s able to convey in them. She can turn from panicked to calculated to cocky to broken in seconds and all we need to do is look at her eyes and we’ll know. You know how people say ‘Heath carries’ in The Dark Knight? I felt this way here (TDK fans don't attack me). Elizabeth carries CRAZY. Perfection and she deserves all the attention and praise for this performance.

This did not feel like a Doctor Strange movie. Or a Stephen Strange one. Or both. Probably both. God, we’ve seen this all before and I’m getting so tired and bored of it. I adore his character and I was so excited to see some progression, some complexity, some more depth to his character. But nope. It’s the same ‘I am an arrogant man and so what? But wait, I fucked up? Okay, my bad, I’ll fix it and my actions will have no direct consequences on me.’ And it’ll be the same thing in his next movie, as it was in his first one. It’s Tony Stark all over again. And I hate it. Please, PLEASE, Marvel, come up with something different! Men are not all egotistical people who have one weak spot which happens to be their girl, the girl they can’t have but is always ‘almost there but not quite’ with them. It’s ‘man have ego, man realises ego bad, man fixes problem’ and then we see the SAME THING in the next movie. Where’s the character progression? Please. Please. Stop butchering your characters, especially the men.

Speaking of his character, why the fuck are we barely seeing his powers used? His best fight was the first one saving America. Dude was cuffed the whole Illuminati/Mordo fight and they save the use of his powers until he fights Evil Strange. And WTF was that fight? Look, I’m all for artistic freedom and whatever, but that was not it. They have so much power, so many abilities, and y’all are fighting with music notes? PLEASE LMFAO. Nope, not it. I did not like that scene, especially with how hyped everyone was when the trailer came out. They had us thinking Strange vs Strange would be on another level of insanely cool power, like the 'What If' episode. But nope. Pretty disappointed in that.

While there were a lot of variants of him, they barely had enough time on screen for me to give a shit about them. I’m sorry but what is up with these 5 minute appearances just to be killed off? Is this Marvel’s way to show off ‘hey, we have a multiverse now!’ like the way they fucked up Pietro/X-Men Peter’s appearance in WandaVision just to make a Boner joke. Gross. Please. The world doesn’t have to revolve around ‘our’ Marvel universe (which is 616...lol I'm not even going to address how ridiculous that is). I want to see more. Now that you’ve opened up the multiverse, why does it feel like you’ve closed it all in one movie? Especially with the way the Illuminati all got killed within a few minutes. Why? Just to show off Wanda’s new fighting skills? Or as a desperate attempt to solidify this ridiculous villain narrative you’ve given her? (I’ll get into that later). I wanted to see more, I wanted to see these new multiverse characters in the future projects at the very least. But with the way these very important, big, and powerful characters were killed off AND the way America Chavez is now being trained in the mystic arts…well, it looks like they’re closing off this multiverse concept and I’m not happy with it. Maybe I’ll be proven wrong, but for now that’s what it looks like to me.

DUDE. YOU BUTCHERED WANDA’S ARC. I’m sorry but did you seriously make her not only kill people (and be okay with killing a CHILD), but make her BRUTALLY kill them in ways that can only be described as horrific to the point where she’s enjoying it and playing with her powers and think we would just...accept it? Bruh…did they just…forget how broken she was over Lagos? How she broke down crying after realising she’s been giving the people of Westview her pain and grief? Villains don’t feel guilt. She’s an anti-hero, sure, but not a full blown villain. I get that it can be justified because of the Darkhold, but if it was corrupting her to this extent, then her motives would be more than just wanting to be with her kids again. That’s something WANDA wants and it’s not a ‘villain’ motive to be buried in so much trauma and grief that you just want to get back the people you lost. It’s different to Zemo turning the Avengers against each other because that was revenge. Vengeance, if you will. This is Loki wanting the throne and power to prove his worth to his father. And Loki is very much an anti-hero. Loki killed people, but we don’t see this level of brutality, we don’t see him cutting people in half, bursting their fucking heads. It’s just…so out of character for Wanda to be doing things like this. Although they were great scenes, visually and horror-wise. I loved it, and I loved Elizabeth. But it was just so out of character and I feel it was done only to justify killing her in the end. Because even if she didn’t sacrifice herself, they wouldn’t let her live on when she’s been seen on screen brutally killing heroes. Y’all just can’t have powerful characters, can you? I feel like Marvel just don’t know what to do with them because they’re so hard to work with. Trying to find a villain to use that’s big enough to be a challenge for these powerful heroic characters is difficult, which is also a reason why they nerfed Hulk, and nerfed Thor in Endgame. They do much better with these street heroes than the Godly powerful ones. And it’s just really disappointing.

Carrying on with that ending that I will never speak of again after this, I really think the message Marvel have been sending is dangerous. Before people start trolling with ‘they’re just comic book movies, they’re not realistic, blah blah blah I lack critical thinking skill and social awareness’, what Marvel give to their audience has an impact. It always has and it always will, and representation is important. That includes mental health and people who struggle with theirs. When you have Bruce Banner telling the Avengers he’s tried to off himself just to have the entire team brush it off and never speak of it again, when you have Thor’s trauma being turned into a joke, when you have Tony Stark’s PTSD turned into a sacrifice that apparently is the only way he can ‘rest’, it becomes problematic. And what really tips the iceberg in this movie? The fact that we have a character who has lost everyone, her parents, brother, her country, every home she’s ever had (Sokovia, Avengers compound, Westview house), her love (I’ve lost count of the amount of times she’s lost Vision at this point), AND her kids…and what do you do with that? What message do you send? Die. That’s the message. She just…sacrifices herself? Despite the fact that was all know Wanda is very capable of surviving that collapse, you still had her practically kill herself because she can’t handle being alone. Are you fucking serious? Time and time again Marvel have refused to take mental health seriously for these characters and there are REAL PEOPLE watching these movies, real people relating to these characters that comfort them in a way, real people that see their own trauma on the screen and think ‘wow, I get this. I feel this. I’m heard’. And time and time again, they’re not taken seriously, don’t get given the help they need, or they die in some sacrificial way. Tony, hell even Natasha was haunted by her past, and now Wanda. Just because you made her realise her wrongs doesn’t make it okay, it doesn’t make it a ‘for the better good’ situation, not when she’s had no problem exploding a man’s head earlier on in the movie. Butchered her arc, butchered her characterisation, and sent the worst message possible to the thousands, hell, millions of Wanda fans that resonate so much with her character to the point where some of them feel watching her saved their lives. Shame on you, Marvel.

Shame on you, Marvel, for introducing an LGBT couple just to have them killed off/sucked into some multiverse portal within seconds. Bro…you really needed that token representation so you can get your pat on the back? Come on. Do better. Other than that, America Chavez was great. I loved her character, and yes, it’s very ‘MCU formula’ with the whole troubled kid with powers they can’t control/don’t understand yet. They get taken under the wing of the parental figure (daddy strange lol) and eventually figure out the power/control/confidence was within them this whole time. It’s stereotypical, but it’s needed. I don’t think it’s that bad because we’re being introduced to new characters, new heroes, and they will have similarities with the old ones. They have to have the one thing that makes a hero, well, heroic. It’s overdone but I don’t think that makes it bad. Not everything has to be new and different. It’s okay, guys. She’s a kid. She’s supposed to be like this. I like it.

The visual effects, cinematography, CGI was great. Some CGI was a little off (like the third eye lol let us not talk about that) but overall it was a very visually appealing movie. My absolute favourite scene was when Professor X went into Wanda’s head. God, the white, the broken debris around, the horror, the hole, the RED, it was just so beautifully done. I need it as my new laptop wallpaper or something. I absolutely loved it. I’d go watch the movie just for those visuals again.

Okay…the directing…I’m sorry but it felt like Feige and Raimi were just competing with each other the whole time. The Raimi parts felt too Raimi and the Feige parts felt too Feige. It was very…contrasting, and it did not mix/balance well for me. Raimi had too many of his classic zooming in shots, and Feige had too much of your typical MCU funny formula. Although I did very much prefer Raimi’s takes. The horror is just done so well and executed amazingly. Again, it may also be Elizabeth’s acting for that lol but the directing is great for those. I loved the eerie vibe, the witchy vibe, the dark vibe. Which is why I’m just so disappointed it didn’t balance well. It felt like too many directors in there, too many takes, too many vibes. Very inconsistent.

Also, my love for the witchy-ness is also why I’m so disappointed with Wanda’s ending. Does this mean we won’t be seeing this sort of type of directing anymore? This vibe, this horror, this character? It feels like were just getting started and it just had so much potential. I would have loved to see Wanda as a consistent anti-hero or even with a better villain arc in the future. I love this witch mystic mythical shit so much and unless she’s going to be in the Agatha Harkness show, I’m worried she really is dead/gone from the MCU now. I don’t think I’m ready for that.

And Strange’s ending was very strange…He drops down and the third opens…okay, cool. So I guess we’ll see how the Darkhold corrupted him in the next movie? Wrong. He seems completely fine with having the third eye in the first post-credit. So another thing they opened just to resolve right away…this movie just felt like they were trying to resolve and close everything off and I don’t really like that. I prefer things being kept open, endless possibilities, a problem that still needs solving etc. It keeps it interesting. Again, another reason to hate the Wanda ending lol, like why couldn’t she have just hidden herself, teleported away after destroying the Darkhold. Or I’m just desperately clutching at straws or whatever the saying is lol I just can’t believe she’s actually just…dead. I refuse. Sorry.

So. It wasn’t horrible, it also wasn’t amazing. But it could have been if the directing was so inconsistent, if the characterisation of Wanda wasn’t so off, if Doctor Strange has some real character progression that isn’t overused with every egotistical man in like every comic book movie. It was fun to watch, it was beautiful to watch, and it’s definitely one of my favourites just because of the horror and visual effects. But Elizabeth carries HARD and I will forever stand by that statement.

[whiteskullofroses]

Hello,

Loved your Baldwin IV of Jerusalem x Physician!Reader. Can you please write one for Simon Ghost Riley x Doctor!Reader 🙏.

Where the two have been catching the same train for 1 year now for work, in the city. But they never talk but acknowledge each other with a smile & nod.  Until a fight broke out between 2 men which one of them ended up being stabbed & doctor (reader) comes to the rescue with Simon assisting her and is amazed at her competence, assertive & calmness. 

Thank you so much<3

Enjoy:

SIMON GHOST RILEY x Doctor!reader

Warnings: foul language, blood, fighting.

The cold breeze, which fall drew upon the city, kissed your cheeks as you arrived at the train station. There was nobody there beside you and your thoughts. They ranged from your anxiety of the train being late again and that resulting into you being late for work which wouldn't pay off today, to 'will I see him again?'

In four hours you'd be operating on a patient with a brain tumor, a lot of your energy and patience will be required to complete it successfully. You were confident in your skills. Thats what's truly important for a doctor to have. Confidence.

Luckily, the train arrived at exactly 8.25am. Stepping on and grabbing a newspaper to have the time run faster. The train was a second away from passing on to the next station when the masked man finally boarded on.

You moved the paper from covering your face and leered your eyes to his as he sat down and looked up at you. You smiled, he nodded.

Though the two of you have been exchanging friendly gestures for the past year, neither of you ever spoke up. That was usually because there was no time to chat, the train ride to where you got off lasted about 10 minutes, whilst his lasted 5.

When there was a rare occasion like this one, where you didn't have to stay up all night to read papers of different illnesses your patience have been diagnosed with, which were so long you had to complete some reading on the ride, you very introvertently waited for him to reach out.

"YOU BITCH YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME HUH?"

The train was usually packed with people heading out to run their errands but today there was only you, the man with the mask and 2 others.

Both of your heads turned to the drunk and the construction worker.

The drunk guy with a red, stained shirt appeared to be the aggressor when the other tried to calm him down:

"Sir, please sit back down."

That sentence sent the red one over the edge: "SIT DOWN? YOU'LL SEE ME 'SIT DOWN' "

The beer bottle he was drinking from was now broken to pieces as he smashed it on the floor.

You glanced back to the one sitting opposite to you. He was watching them with a death stare. It wasn't until he stood up and ran to the scene that you realised something really horrible went down.

The military man grabbed the drunk and pushed him away from the poor construction worker who appeared to be bleeding.

You ran over as fast as you could and held the hurt ones shoulder: "Were you stabbed?"

The worker was panting, clearly panicking and in pain. "YES!" He shouted out and leaned back on his seat. "Where were you stabbed, sir? In situations like this, you of course knew how to react. Panicking was out of the question, especially when the one hurt is in distress himself. Pointing to his left arm you looked through the ripping of his shirt and noticed it was a pretty deep cut. "Alright sir, please hold your right hand on the wound and apply as much pressure you can."

The army guy was still holding the drunks arms behind his back: "LET ME GO, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Watch your mouth." Those were the first words you heard him speak. His voice sounded raspy and deep, like a true military man's would.

He watched you with respect. How calm you were and how you managed to somewhat calm the worker down too.

You pulled a shirt out of your bag and tied it around the wound. "This is so you don't lose any more blood"you explained:"I'm dr. Y/L/N, I'll get you to the hospital with me."

The worker gazed at you with pure gratitude: "Thank.. Thank you so so much!"

Simon's eyes never left you, you were just so magnetic to him. Your skills, your assertiveness. It stuck to him like glue.

The train stopped, the doors opened and Simon threw the guy out. Stumbling to the ground and groaning, he was gone for good.

You looked up at Simon and thanked him.

"No problem. What needs to be done needs to be done."

The doors closed and the train moved forward. The next stop was Simon's. You didn't waste any time, stepping out of your shell, standing up and introducing yourself: "I'm Y/N."

"I'm Simon. You can also call me Ghost."

You nodded and went back down to the workers level to check on his wound.

"It doesn't look that bad." Commenting and soothing the hurt one as the train stopped once again.

"See you."

"Goodbye, Y/N."

THE END.

[cheesecakeyuri]

@maopll @venusandsaturnsrings @yandere-daydreams @blackopals-world hey! I admire your writing work and fic on tumblr. I wrote this piece for a literature assignment not too long ago so I wanna know what you think as more active authors.

236,000 humans drowned this year. Do you mourn one? … I mourn all.

I’m responsible, named on the grave, cause of death: The harsh of the wave.

Is Poseidon to blame? No, it’s his wife! Amphitrite! Take note! This water is called she!

For millennia those men brave our rouges and our storms.

Millions lost yet billions borne.

Rán trawls her net over their boat thus yanking them into their final bed of rock and sand.

Ganga and Marina cry, their tears; typhoons

Eingana watches with mixed expression as she sees all her creation fight forces they can’t understand.

Mazu protects what’s hers, leaving the sanctity of her lagoon to do so.

Praised for beauty and poetry yet feared for the fact we she are of the few things one can’t command.

Those dead in deep water can’t be found.

The ocean leaves no trace, nor nothing that can save its face.

Families left, no peace for ones gone, unable to rest, it lingers in minds, a burden one cannot heal.

A wish to not be helpless, nights spent under the waves accompanied only by fish.

Over time it was a slaughter, bodies lost, souls gone, left to the sea.

What do they feel? The grains of sand or the teeth of a fish, The scales of an eel?

A body of death becomes a feature of new life.

A reef on the bones of the deceased.

The creatures do not know or care, It’s home now.

Their Thieves of remains, they desecrate the dead yet provide them purpose.

Perhaps they deserved to die? Men are not sinless creatures after all.

Especially considering how they treat us, isn’t that right Magwayen? they treat us with more than just spite!

How can they assume us to be kind when for centuries they’ve used us?

Sending fleet after fleet onto our surface and tipping their waist into our swash!

They have no right to treat us this way when the tears we cry are of the same pain

They doom our icecaps we so graciously froze just so they could come to fruition, I refuse to accept this!

How half of them refuse to take the blame while others drown

How they make shallow promises of prevention and change

yet you find those same mouths wet by lies of the above line

And those sinking cry why!

Hypocrites! all of them!

Notice how they call their most powerful, important, and feared things she!

Yet they call upon the husbands for safe passage through OUR waters!

They boast their achievements of deep-found treasure, but they turn coy at the mention of how they got there!

People are left to rot when the stem of their problems is of their own kind.

The lot of them are savage! Acting as gods pretending as if they too are not animals.

Everything in the universe is made from the same dust, and yet the humans audaciously claim they are of the most importance!

People beg us for mercy, to save them from their self-inflicted fate

They do this so much so, they forget they are the ones to blame!

We should send our rain and waves to condemn all for their ignorance!

Humans call the ocean treacherous and harsh! The foam of the waves is a sign of rough sea!

We will send raging storms, floods, tsunamis and even cause droughts!

All to make them fear us and come to terms with the fact they are ultimately powerless in the face of Mother Nature!

Mother! Not father! We will prevail in the face of man. We will leave them no time to even attend to the damage!

We will cull those who seek to conquer our home and make all who come after fear us!

Caging them inside a trap-like purgatory

They deserve it for all they’ve done to us!

The end of men! We will bring forth a matriarchy like no other!

No longer will we desire for respect and fame

Sing in Joy for the day of our redemption has come!