#How it feels to reblog without adding any text (I have little to add)

[eaterofdust]

"I don't look the looks of him. He's young to be a prisoner, and those muscles?"

"...Lets not tell him about his father, aye?"

[chevvy-ryder]

Since my post yesterday I knew those thoughts would come back again, so I'll quickly write them down and explain what plagues me.

I am kinda afraid to post any written stuff here ‒ Ryder's chapter 4 specifically.

See, it always happens that the content I'm super proud of stays often unnoticed and even I got some tag comments that people will sit down to read it I rarely to never receive any feedback on the actual content itself afterward.

Most tag comments address the graphical way it was posted in the first place. At least this is how I receive it via my notifications.

I should not give a fuck about it, yet I do (working on this to overcome it eventually one day), as I know a few of my friends and followers do like my content and some told me in private about a few things.

But here is me wanting to desperately know how people felt reading about what we/I wrote so far!

I wanna know how they saw Ryder all the time since I created him and how they do see him now (after reading his take on Techno(ise) and previous chapters but especially when I post chapter 04).

I wanna know if my writing did move someone.

What was written stood out the most.

A favorite special detail.

A favorite sentence.

Stuff like that.

Recapping it all so far, we didn't really receive anything like that on the previous 3 chapters here with one exception.

I wanna know what people think of the Golden Demon of Kabuki.

How they see Vijay.

What they think of the fight scenes (they were so hard to write).

Do they like the dynamic of the characters?

What's the favorite chapter so far.

And so on.

The major thing I receive as a tag comment mostly is how incredible our/my work is ‒ yeah but what specifically? Just give me a detail that actually does tell me you have read it.

I project the tag comments mostly onto how it is packed as in the skill in graphic and layout design. The thing is, my choomzies, I know I am good at this ‒ I do not need to know my graphic skills are xyz good. This is a normal standard for me. Yes I understand a lot of people see it compliment worthy but it really is not what I seek after.

The real deal is the writing and the characters and their dynamics we both (@nervouswizardcycle and me) would love feedback on the most.

How do u see Arki? Vijay? Ryder? Hizumi?

The team's dynamic so far.

Who do you think is main protagonist in this?

What about the music we picked?

Anything.

Maybe I ask for too much, or maybe I should throw just the text onto ao3 without any graphics at all in hope to get the comments we seek after. But this story deserves more than just a text form given the magic of VP and digital tools we have.

I am super good in wishful thinking but reality hits you in the face every day anew.

Also: if there's anyone who feels the same about their work, feel free to tag/contact/send me your stuff, whether be it writing, vp or anything you wish to have a comment on.

I'm sick of this fast paced internet behavior our brains took on during the past few years. No one has time for anything at all (that still includes me too and I am working on it to be better). It's the main reason why I left so many discords now and don't participate on most social media platforms anymore either. Having 5 or more apps to post your content eats all the time and drains you. So I made the decision to focus on my own little server and tblr mainly now.

A small tip:

If I see a post with a lot of text over here (mostly when I get tagged on) I save it to my drafts so I'll always see it as a reminder to sit down and read through it. Bc if I just like it, and reblog it immediately with adding a tag telling the OP I need to find time to read asap, bru, I just won't do it bc it vanishes amongst my other likes/reblogs.

Dunno, but others maybe might add an extra tag where they go through it again to have it as a reminder?However, using drafts is the thing that works for me best when I want to read someones content on another day bc I got noticed or saw it but currently have no time bc of. eg. work.

Anyhow, enough babbling.

I'm off to play at bit Horizon. Thx for reading choom <3

[lutiaslayton]

It’s coming.

Hellooo, just giving you all a little update and teaser regarding the event I have mentioned for a while, and which is finally about to begin!

Yes, it is finally time. To reply to an earlier reblog I saw some time ago: yes, I guess we are going to Dracula Daily the Layton novels now. Or at least I will try to keep this up for as long as I can. I am very much hyped too 👀

The Eternal Diva novel will be cut into about twenty parts,

so this will be a twenty-week journey (unless one part happens to be extremely short, then maybe I’ll merge it with the previous or next one for example). And after that, hopefully by then the transcript of another novel will have progressed enough to start all over again with a different story! So far, a French friend (who doesn’t have a tumblr) is helping me make a transcript of the Illusory Forest novel; so fingers crossed, as this might be the next in line! Yep, for those interested in my theories, it is the very same novel that I’ve talked about for so long, and it is arguably the craziest of all. Just the way it starts is an absolute roller-coaster.

Also, I lied. Updates are going to be on Mondays now.

I was not ready to post yesterday, Sundays already have their Layton-related weekly event, and since I am too impatient to wait until next week, I thought I might as well make this a thing for Mondays instead. Gotta end the first, universally depressing work day of the week, with something uplifting, am I right? :3

I am going to give you a warning, though: as much as I’d like to keep the translations as close to the originals as possible, I am also, unfortunately, a fanfic writer, and the novels’ writing style is very different from what I usually write. Also there’s some weird stuff such as verb tense consistency in Japanese… Ohhhhhhh dear this part is such a nightmare. You can have verbs in the present tense and others in the past tense in the same sentence. You can have a sentence in the present tense and another in the past tense right after. I hate this. I hate everything about this.

So, I will try to restrain myself (because if you already took a peek at SLS, you already know what my writing style is really like), but I sometimes couldn’t help but add a sentence or two, cut a sentence into multiple ones, make the dialogue less robotic and more lively, that sort of thing. For example, if there’s a lot of dialogue going on and on without any narration in-between, I might sometimes add a sentence or two just to break it up a bit and make the scene sound less static. That sort of thing.

I will try my best to make it sound similar to what the official game translations did, in the end! The Japanese dialogue is usually rather bland and repetitive, but the official translations added a lot of details and quirks that are completely absent from the original text, but which also make the characters feel like, you know, themselves as we know and love them.

So here’s a reminder that if you want to know what the real Japanese text says, do NOT take this fan-translation series as a reliable source. I spent months writing a transcript of the real novel precisely so that people willing to know what the original Japanese text says (including me) would be able to check it out and compare, regardless of what anyone else translating it will say. Even without speaking Japanese, you can copy-paste the Japanese sentences into a translator such as DeepL, and so you’ll be able to see which parts exactly are in the novel, and which parts I pulled out of my magic hat. The “9/10 accuracy, WhatTheHeckIsThis/10 readability” translation is going to take a LONG time to make, but it will also come eventually (though don’t expect much before at least something like 2024).

So now, with all that being said:

See you all tomorrow at 6PM (France time) for the first chapter of our reading journey!

Though if you have preferences for how you would rather see things (e.g. better time that fits the majority), then I am open to suggestions! I can easily rename a tag or reschedule my queue.

[demonghost]

Sorry to do this under your post, you're one of the most supportive people I met on this site, so this is 100% not about you. But I feel like I can weight in on the issue in general.

Reblogging is exhausting.

I reblogged a post and added something to it, because I felt like I could add to the conversation.

"Ewww, why do people add something to my post?", "How do I delete text someone else added to my post?", "Just make your own post."

Ok, adding on to posts is not allowed.

So I started tagging posts and putting what I had to say in the taggs.

"haha, some bitch is probably going to tag this 'this and that', how cringe", "why would you tag it like that?", "don't put a story in the tags."

Ok, tagging posts has to be done according to unspoken rules. I don't know these rules.

So the only option left is to reblogg a post without adding anything to it in any form. Can be boring and people still complain about it, "why did so and so reblogg my post?"

So in conclusion: there are a lot of "social rules" sorrouding reblogging that can be draining to follow.

I come here to leave the pressure to perform behind, engaging in reblogging means I have to perform again just according to new rules.

Likes are just for me and no one gives a shit about what I like and how. It's by far easier to like a post, so that is what people do.

I also like "likes", they feel like a little goodbye kiss to the post I scream into the void.

thanks ig

please, please please, reblog posts that you appreciate

it helps out a ton, even if you dont tag them, even if you just keysmash,but please reblog them

this is not in any way an attack, but this site is not made for likes! we live on reblogs! your likes may be nice, but they mean nothing to the algorithm! i love to get them, but they're even better in combination with a bit of a reblog!

[ghostonly]

Every Big Website Should Have Built-In Image Descriptions

Okay, so here’s something huge that I have been really hoping to see for a while, but it’s not going to happen if no one starts a discussion about it. (Me. I need to start a discussion about it.)

I 100% support image IDs. I think they’re extremely helpful and necessary to make social media and the internet, in general, accessible to people with screen readers.

The issue is, this kind of feature should be built in/hidden. We shouldn’t have to rely on random people adding IDs in reblogs and whatnot. It extends content by a huge degree (visually) and can even be inaccessible to people who have issues processing large amounts of text. Not to mention, more people would contribute to this kind of accessibility if it was hidden. I know, because, I admit, I’m one of them.

Why Image IDs Are Unpopular

I’ll speak specifically about Tumblr for this post, but it applies to most social media/websites.

Image IDs have risen in popularity in recent years, but they still aren’t as popular as one would hope. This is largely because:

A) They are often added in reblogs and people have to dig around in the reblogs to see if there even is an ID for any given post they want to reblog and

B) Image IDs can be massive, unsightly, and redundant for people who don’t use screenreaders

Is B a great reason not to use them? Well, maybe not. But, the unfortunate fact is, if people have to go out of their way to contribute to accessibility when they’re trying to curate their own space online and just relax, they won’t most of the time. And, frankly, while it’s true that it’s inaccessible, it really is their right. No one is obligated to add or reblog image IDs if they don’t like looking at them or don’t want to take the time to add one. Our blogs are our personal spaces, made to be just for us. 

The trouble is, wanting your blog to look or feel a certain way doesn’t necessarily mean you want to knowingly rob blind people of an accessibility feature. In fact, I find myself wanting to add IDs to images all the time, but I don’t, because I don’t like the huge addition of text on every post I reblog.

And I’m going to blame the system to absolve myself of individual guilt (I’m kind of joking but also I’m not. (because it really is something that should be handled better systemically and I think my guilt about this is something a lot of people probably relate to and shouldn’t necessarily need to feel guilty about when it could be solved by a little bit of accessible web development.))

How Built-In ID Features Would Work

So, here’s my vision for a built-in ID feature for Tumblr.

When creating or reblogging a post, whether an image or video post or a text post with images or videos in it, any image or video uploaded would have a little red circle with an exclamation point in it (!) in the corner of that image or video. You can click that and it will open a little dialogue box prompting you to describe the image or video. Once the it has a description, the little exclamation bubble goes away.

The average user, with default settings, when scrolling their dash, would not see any image descriptions. It would be hidden entirely as meta data for the image or video. The default user would also not be notified if an image or video needs a description.

In your settings you could:

1) Turn on Visible Video IDs, which would make all video IDs visible beneath the video (making it accessible for deaf/HOH/apd people)

2) Turn on Visible Image IDs, which would make all image IDs visible beneath the image

3) Turn on Quick IDs, which would add a small button that will expand any given ID when clicked on

4) Turn on ID Writer Mode, which would make the exclamation ID bubble visible on any image or video without an ID, allowing you to write one (IDs would not be visible under images and videos unless one or more of the other modes are also on)

5) Turn on Proofreader Mode, which would make all video and image IDs visible beneath them, along with an edit button, a flag button, and a report button

ID Writers/Proofreaders would have their username attached to the IDs they write, but only on the backend (i.e. Tumblr knows who wrote it, but their name isn’t visible to users)

As an ID Writer, you would be able to see the ID exclamation/notification bubble on images or videos on your dashboard, not just in the reblog window, and would be able to add an ID without ever having to reblog the post.

Any ID added to an image or video would be universal across all versions of the post. 

If an ID is incorrect, anyone with IDs visible can click the flag button to flag it as incorrect and it would then get a flag mark next to it, visible only to people with Proofreader Mode turned on. This makes it clear to any proofreaders that this ID may need actual attention

Any ID that has been written by someone who is clearly screwing around and not making legitimate IDs can be reported. If an ID is reported, the existing ID and image will be saved with the report and the person who wrote the ID will have their editing privileges frozen until the report can be reviewed by someone on staff. If the report is reviewed and the writer is confirmed to have abused the ID Writer/Proofreader Mode, they will have their ID writing/editing privileges permanently revoked. Meanwhile, after reporting the troll ID, the proofreader can freely edit it to something correct without it damaging the report (I write this so specifically because it’s the exact kind of thing Tumblr developers would fuck up)

How Built-In ID Features Would Improve Accessibility

If websites like Tumblr had built-in ID features like what I described above, it would improve accessibility in a number of ways

First off, if IDs were hidden, OPs would be more inclined to describe their images or videos at the time of posting because it wouldn’t hurt the “clean cut” look of the image or video by itself or with a snappy caption. That would make content accessible right away instead of having to wait around for a good samaritan to do an ID.

Second, if the built-in ID thing was a feature, there would only be one universal ID for each image added to a post. That means any version of a post will have that ID. No one will need to dig around in reblogs to find an ID of the original post. If it exists, it’s already there. Same with any ID for images added in reblogs. If there’s an ID for that image, even if it was added by someone who saw a different version of the reblog chain, it will be there. Once an ID is added, the image or video is accessible to everyone seeing that post.

Third, if the ID Writer and Proofreader Modes were community-powered, and IDs could be written without even reblogging a post, people would be writing IDs left and right. I know I would. If a post crossed my dash and had an image I was able to ID, I absolutely would. It would be really fun and also contribute to accessibility without affecting my own blog appearance in the slightest.

And, finally, with the proofreading ability added, there aren’t sixteen different IDs being added by random people, all of different quality. The community of proofreaders can decide, together, if edits need to be made, and ensure each ID is the highest quality possible. If there’s a mistake in the ID, it can be easily amended by a proofreader. If an ID writer makes an ID that could be more specific (e.g. they describe what’s happening but don’t name the characters pictured, because they’re unfamiliar with them), a proofreader who knows more information can simply edit it in.

This feature would prove immensely helpful to all kinds of communities - those who rely on screenreaders/blind people, deaf/HOH people or those with auditory processing disorder, people who have trouble understanding what’s going on in a video, people who like a character in a drawing but don’t know who it is - the list goes on. 

Everyone can benefit from this.

Push to make it happen.

[devondespresso]

WIP Wednesday!

Tagged by @stobinesque 💕

THE RULES

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

WIPs

ok so im cheating a little because i don't have many written wips but i do have unfinished projects sitting on my desk! so for those i'll be spending 10 minutes on it in place of writing 3 sentences

1. Claudia Henderson Canon Character Masterlist (written wip)

2. The Steve Henderson AU i might actually finish who knows anything could happen (written wip)

3. Season 3 Dustin Custom Funko Pop Keychain (physical wip)

4. Chrissy Cunningham Custom Funko Pop (physical wip)

5. Måneskin Battle Jacket (physical wip)

SNIPPET

its the Steve Henderson AU babeyyyyy

i feel the need to clarify that im outlining this bad boy right now and making event timelines and highlighting reoccurring themes and shit so the prose is Not Good. This ones an elaboration of a sticky note i wrote before bed one night, reformatted for readability because its literally just a block of text in the document gdskfjadaljfha

(listed right after “Season 2’s very long demodog-fighting tunnel-scampering day”)

STICKY NOTE: “Scene with Claudia and Dustin addressing Dustin lying in season 2, Mews, and their relationship. Probably before [the] hospital [scene]. Started about him disappearing all afternoon [and] segue[s] to Steve helping him and then to helping Steve because he has no one right now.”

Wanting to make sure to add this scene because Dustin's relationship with Claudia is just as if not more important right now than Steve's relationship. This is adding a reasonable and implied scene from canon and using it to establish and expand Dustin and Claudia's relationship by having this confrontation about him lying to her and all these things he's not telling her.

This establishes Claudia's need to know what's going on and how persistent she is with it, which will end up pushing Dustin away to Steve for more than just upside down stuff because of how casual Steve is about everything (like crushes and shit as we see in the train tracks scene in season 2).

Also Dustin's lie in the show is kinda shit anyway like he says he'll stay home and then runs off the whole afternoon??

They're also gonna have to address Mew’s death and Dustin's gonna give a half-truth (maybe Steve gives it since the show can't decide if Dustin is a good liar or not. Or its a cover story decided beforehand? We’ll figure out specifics later) about some rabid dog killing Mews and Dustin hiding it because he didn't know how to explain it without hurt his mother’s feelings and how he got Steve to help track the dog down so it wouldn’t hurt anybody else.

And from here Dustin talks about how cool Steve is and how he got hurt helping him and the party and how he wants to be there for him too (cause Steve is in the hospital for the concussion right now). Maybe Claudia picks up on the wholesome admiration and that's why she gives in or maybe she just agrees to take Dustin to visit him and seeing and meeting Steve makes her decide to take him in. probably a mix of both. Might have to be Dustin's pov if Steves not there but maybe it'll work out so where Steves there for part of it and the rest is implied afterwards at the hospital and days that follow (again we’ll figure it out later)

real quick tagging @loser-jpg @nymime and @elmoshipsbyler absolutely no pressure ofc🕺🪩💃

[homebrew-a-la-traumaverse]

Hi! I'm someone who has been homebrewing for 5e for a while and have recently opened a blog to put my creations, and I plan on also sharing some of my thoughts about the process of homebrewing.

I'm very new to this site in general, so I'm wondering if you have any pointers on how to get started with a blog. My posts also don't seem to be showing up in the public search, and I checked my content sharing settings, so some guidance with that would also be appreciated.

Cheers!

Howdy!

It's nice to see new faces on the scene! Getting to look at new ideas and the thoughts behind them is always fun, and analysis is something that we can't get enough of around these parts.

My advice might be a little scattered, but I hope it helps. If anyone else has thoughts, feel free to add on!

Tumblr can be a little finicky; I've found that posts often don't show up if you have external links. You'll want to make posts directly to tumblr rather than autoposting from elsewhere, and also put any links (i.e. to Homebrewery/DNDBeyond) in a reblog. And then reblog the reblog so that people can find the reblog with the links in the reblogs.

I tend to use a lot of tags for my own posts, both for organization as well as for exposure, but I'll admit I only rarely look at any tags other than the "homebrew" tag. I'm sure other people operate in their own way, though.

In terms of the tumblr homebrew meta, balance and formatting and all are always important. But even more important is PRESENTATION!

(Imagine I'm saying that in a Megamind voice. I don't have the time to find the gif.)

A lot of the time if you just have, like, a link or a readmore to a text dump, people will just gloss over it without giving it a second look regardless of how cool a concept is or how meticulously balanced it is. An evocative picture and image stains for formatting can go a long way in turning heads. You're on a site that loves images; style accordingly.

If you have a lot to say, adding a readmore can help you not flood readers in walls of text. Tumblr does it automatically now, but it's still polite to do it after one or two paragraphs if you're going to be writing much more than that.

Blog maintenance... Posting consistently and frequently is good, if it's relevant to your blog's niche (if I'm following you for homebrew, I'd rather not also get flooded in your love for, say, Superwholock Undertale crossovers; that's what sideblogs are for). That being said, there's diminishing returns; more than 1 post a day and people might miss them entirely just due to scheduling. Having a queue set up for that is helpful.

Combining related things into a compendium is worth considering if you have, say, 10 rogue subclasses that you want to publish at once, but you tend to get more attention if you post them one by one. A compromise could be to post them one by one to build hype and make another post with the compendium. Haven't made enough of those to really say how effective that'd be.

Also remember to keep your followers list clear of bots. It's your tumblr civil duty.

Cheers!

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers: June 6th, 2021

I’m back with more ask responses! You can also check our Frequently Asked Question sheet if there’s something you’re wondering that’s not answered here.

FAQ   Also, if you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Blog

Thank you for the patience with these questions  ♡

Hey in very beginning of step 3 in the scene where Mr.Holden had a thought dancing on the tip of his tongue but he kept it to himself after MC and Cove were being cute (idk if it makes a difference but this is when they're dating)... Can we know what he was thinking/ wanted to say? It's been bugging me lol 

He would’ve gone into a “look how much you’ve grown”, “your dad is so proud of you”, “I’m so glad things worked out with the MC”, and etc spiel, haha. But he resisted the urge to fawn on his baby boy, at least for that scene.

If we planned to move away for college/future plans in step 3, is it implied that MC and Cove would have a long distance relationship for sure? Could MC have convinced Cove to come with them? How is the dynamic of their relationship going to be addressed in Step 4, if that makes sense? 

Cove is willing to follow the MC where they went after everything is settled for them there, and if they’re sure they want him to come! You’ll get to decide how things shook out during those transitional years just by making choices about it during the opening prologue of Step 4.

Hi! First off, how does it feel to have created one of the best games when it comes to inclusion for lbtq+ peeps? I've never felt as validated with my identity and sexuality when playing a game and I'm seemingly not alone ♥ Second, and this might be a little too specific, but what kinds of drinks does Cove like as well as dislike? Thank you, you're the best ♥

Thank you for very much! It’s really nice to hear the game felt inclusive. Cove likes regular water and fruit juices/smoothies most! He dislikes coffee and cola, and he’s not super into most teas either.

Hi, may i ask what gb patch stands for? Specifically the gb part lol

It stands for my old, silly username I used in places like Neopets as a kid, aha. The company name wasn’t super thought out since it was originally just me making VNs as a hobby. Luckily, “GB Patch” kind of seems like it could mean something reasonable, so I didn’t have to rebrand when it did become a more serious, commercial group.

If we chose to not propose to cove in the step 3 dlc would he propose or would the mc propose in step 4 or the wedding dlc? 

Yeah, you or Cove can propose in Step 4 if you’re not already engaged! The Wedding DLC takes place after the engagement so the proposal scenes aren’t there.

will you guys announce if the early access for the new game is out on patreon ? 

When beta builds of Step 4 or whatever start coming out on the Patreon we will mention it here on social media too.

Heyy I just had a quick question about Baxter if that’s okay :)?

I saw in an ask+answer that it’s possible to casually date Baxter In step 3, but what leads up to that? I have the step 3 dlc and I’ve tried playing them In a different orders and ways but it doesn’t seem to get anywhere ^^;

The Step 3 DLC is Cove-based because he’s the default guy. There’s a separate Baxter romance DLC that’s not out yet. That’s where you can get him to date you. I’m sorry for the confusion!

Will we ever get any LI's or side characters with physical disabilities or deformities? I think your games would be a great place to have them in since they're always so accepting and safe! 

Yeah, we do hope to have representation for that in future projects ^^. Thank you for the confidence in us.

Is it possible to get Cove to take the bed and MC to sleep on the floor? 

Not in Step 3, I’m afraid.

So, I have played the prologue of Our Life countless times and I haven't gotten the [Your Life] achievement, why is that? 

Steam sometimes isn’t connected properly when an achievement unlocks and so it remains locked on your account. If that happens, unfortunately getting the scene again won’t unlock it. The achievement becomes inaccessible because the game thinks you already have it. Playing with the same Steam account on a different device or fully deleting your game data (more than the only the save files) are the only work arounds we’ve found.

Since when you talk with Jeremy in step 3 it's mentioned he goes on dates with someone (which assume is JB because who else would take this boy on dates) that makes him happy, does that sort of make JB and Jeremy the canon relationship in the first game?

The default for XOXO Droplets is that JB casually goes on dates with each of the jerks! Shiloh would’ve been harsher if Jeremy was the only guy getting her attention, haha. But the player can change that default by dating just one person the whole game for their own story and who she ends up with for real has no default.

Hi, hello! Huge OL fan, thank you so much for the wholesome content, it was very much needed during these times. Managed to get several people to join team Cove, so that's very exciting, I always have people to fawn over him with. I have a little question and I'm sorry if it was asked before, but does it ever come up in the game what Cove has told his mom about us? (who knows, with so many options, one can miss it) Or, alternatively, will it come up in the Step 4 DLC? 

Thank you very much for sharing the game with people <3. It’s really great to hear people are liking it. Right now that doesn’t come up in game. Kyra is willing to keep her mouth shut and Cove isn’t gonna have that conversation either. At least not when he’s younger, but yes, perhaps when he’s a fully grown big boy in Step 4 you can ask him about it.

I’ve been thinking about this ever since it has been confirmed that there would be two love interests for OL2, would there be the possibility of forming a polyamorous relationship with both love interests? I’m sorry if you answered this previously, I’m just curious. 

We are considering it, but it’s not a guarantee yet. It’d be really great to have but it’d add so many extra alterations that’d need to made, aha.

Hello! You mentioned how Cove would be uncomfortable with kids at 23, but how old would he be when he’s comfortable with having/adopting kids? (Same goes for the other LI’s.) btw, love your game!! 

He’d want to be at least 25, but even older would be good. Derek would want to have kids when he and his partner could reasonably support them, the age itself wouldn’t matter. If they were doing good at 22 and wanted kids, he’d be up for it. Or they could wait until their 30s or whatever. Baxter is also more of a “when it feels right” guy rather than having a specific age requirement. Cove is just especially wary of being a young parent because of his own parents. I’m happy you like the game!

does step 4 immediately play after you press "end summer" in step 3? or is there another button/transition (like the story text thingy) before the epilogue begins? what happens after the epilogue? roll credits? 😂 

Step 4 will have transition section always and there will be an extra button, if you own the Derek or Baxter DLC. By default the Cove-based version of Step 4 just plays once Step 3 is over. However, having the other guys’ storylines will mean you get to pick which version of Step 4 plays; Cove Step 4 (the basic one), Derek Step 4, or Baxter Step 4.

Happy pride, thank you for all you do for us🥰

I have a quick question though, I recently got a MacBook after my old windows computer broke, and now steam says I cannot download it, but it has no issues with other games, what can I do to download it?? I’m sorry if my English is bad

Happy pride month! Unfortunately, Our Life isn’t available for Mac on Steam right now. To be an approval application Apple requires having special notarization and we as a small group haven’t gotten that. Itch doesn’t care and lets us release the game for Mac there anyway, Steam does care so we’re locked out of putting the Mac build up on their storefront. Feel free to email us and we can try to help the situation out further!

support@gbpatchgames.com

Hello! I was jus wondering if the Baxter and Derek DLCs are still happening? I haven’t heard anything about them on here or patreon in a while so I just wanted to make sure ^^

They’re still coming and we just released a new sprite sketch on the Patreon for the Derek DLC c:. But right now Step 4 is still much more of a priority. Once that’s closer to being done we’ll focus way more on sharing previews for the other guys.

is it possible to tell cove you love him (platonically) at step 3 fondness/selecting him as basically family? i just love the mc and liz sibling interactions and it got me wondering about it (especially if you've selected that option)

You and Cove can be as close as family, but there’s not a specific scene in Step 3 where you say “I love you��� in a family context. But there’s always Step 4~

do you intend on ever adding a collectors mode to Our Life? Like a way to collect achievements and CGs for the gallery without it effecting any save files? 

We weren’t considering it before. But if a lot of players would find that helpful, we could start thinking on that!

Sorry if it's a silly question haha, but (in crush/love) is Cove really aware of how cute and cuddly he seems to MC? If so, what does he think or do about it? Or does he just ignore it? 

He isn’t particular aware. Cove never truly stops being surprised that the MC is interested in/attracted to him, haha.

Would you say that the alone ending of xoxo droplets is worth playing again to get? 

Nope, haha. The goal is to make friends/get a boyfriend and so the alone ending is kind of the bad ending for the game. Though there is a consolation prize if you get it by accident.

Is there any possible situation which would ever prompt Pran to bake for his girlfriend? Like I know it's unlikely I mean even if JB broke her leg somehow I'm pretty sure he'd still be like "I considered baking you a cake and doing the frosting the way I think looks interesting but you don't deserve a cake, no one does." right but also ahhh it would be super nice if some day he just surprised her with baked goods one day out of nowhere. JB would be so shocked it would be cute. So is there any possible situation where that could/would be a thing that he would do? 

He might bake out of spite, like if he felt he had to prove her wrong on something. Or if JB used some good reverse psychology on him. Or he might do it in a relatively nice way if he could make his GF so shocked by the kind gesture that his amusement with that overrode his insistence on not being sweet. Pran is very difficult in high school, aha.

Is the "one route (where) it can be seen that Everett will drop his seemingly eternal waging with Jeremy pretty easily and can start getting along without thinking much on it" the Lucas route? I'm curious! 

Yep! Everett will side with Jeremy if it’s between him and Lucas.

Hi I hope you guys are having a great day :) I just had to ask how Cliff would feel about Cove's partner/fiancé Mc calling them dad whether it be accidental or otherwise and secondly I also wanted to ask how he would feel about being asked to be the one to give the mc away at their wedding. 

He would be very touched and excited! I hope you have a good day too :D

Hello! I saw an ask relating to whether Cliff "moves on" after Cove's grown up and stuff (and he stays single), but what about Kyra? Will she be with anyone else or will she stay single? 

She does start dating again, but she takes it slow.

Hi! I absolutely love the art for characters in OL and I wonder is this fine to draw my MC in same drawing style and upload online later? Is this something artists would be okay with? Thank you! 

Yeah, you can certainly do that C:

Hey there!

I wonder if I'm just being stupid here.. Is Step 4 a DLC? And if so, where can I find it? I can't seem to find it on Steam :< Thank you!

Step 4 is a free epilogue! It’s not done yet, but once it is finished you’ll just update your game file and Step 4 will be there after Step 3 ends.

hi! are step 4 and the wedding dlc two different things?

They are. Step 4 is a free epilogue that’ll be a default part of the game once it’s done, the wedding DLC is an optional paid expansion that takes place after Step 4.

Why did Baxter not receive a step 2 sprite seeing how he shows up later

Sprites are time consuming to draw and take money out of the budget that could’ve gone to other things. His tiny appearance in Step 2 wasn’t worth all the effort to make a sprite, aha.

I just realized, what happens if if you get the patreon exclusive moment but at a later date, when you don't have the membership anymore, it's updated (like a bugs fix update for example)? Would you have to get the membership again? 

You would have to get the membership again to redownload the build. But there’s very little chance there’s going to be an update once it’s been out for over a month. If a build gets released with errors, players catch/report them within the first few days. So by the time the first subscription period ends, any problems that were noticeable would already have been fixed. And we’re certainly not gonna be adding new content to it once it’s been released for a long time. There’s no need to worry about missing out on something worthwhile in the future if you cancel your membership. It’s being made with the idea in mind that many players are gonna be getting it and then going.

Hello! Wanted to ask about gaming choice in step 3? Once upon a playthorugh I got the option to buy Cove a bracelet for his graduation present. I played the same basic character again and that option wasn't there anymore. I'm not sure where I went wrong. My Cove wears a bracelet on each hand and my MC is into fashion and jewelry. Do I need to put an earring on him or? Sorry, love your game so much. 

He also needs to have liked bracelets in Step 2 for that to be considered a good gift option for him. Sorry for the confusion! I’m happy you love the game :)

Is Step 4 being released at the same time as the Wedding DLC or will the first come before the latter? Thank you! 

I’m not sure. Ideally they’ll come out at the same time, but the wedding DLC has a lot of art to get done and we may have to release it after Step 4.

Can mc still get confession from Cove at the end of step 3 even if mc casually dates Baxter in step 3? Such as in crush mode? 

I don’t think so. Maybe that’ll change, but generally there’s differences to the Step 3 ending if you were dating Baxter and those differences likely will conflict with getting the Cove confession.

For the patreon moments/dlcs, will it be available for all tiers? 

It’ll be available for tier 2 (Fans) and up!

[karmelek-writes]

comfort zone | part 2

Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader, Tom Holland x fem!reader

Synopsis: What do you do when you love them but want someone else?

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: slight angst, swearing, suggestive comments, mentions of sex, there will be smut in other parts

Read part 1 here!

A/N: Hey guys! This is part two of the "comfort zone". I wanted to thank you all again for supporting me and commenting, reblogging, and liking part 1! I hope you like this one too. Let me know what you think! Also, if anyone would like to be added to the taglist, please message me! I'll create one soon.

Love, W 🖤

When you sat down next to the blonde you immediately sensed that he tensed. You didn’t like how the things between you turned out to be so awkward. You two were never like that. And now you were scared to say a word to him. Suddenly texting seemed more appealing so you took out your phone again and started typing. You noticed Harrison glancing at you as if he tried to see if you are in a good mood for taking up this conversation. He didn’t want to be noisy and check who you’re texting so he quickly shifted his head to the slides that were displayed by your professor. However, he looked down at his phone when he felt it vibrate just to see that he got a message from you. Frowning, he touched the icon of your contact and read your message.

From Y/N:

Want to go out for a drink with me?

You watched him looking through the text anxiously, hoping that he didn’t get the wrong idea. You wanted to make things right, not only because you hated having unfinished business with people but also because you liked him and his company. Another thing was that he was Tom’s friend. You wouldn’t want him to feel bad about your misunderstanding with his best friend. When you opened your mouth to add something, Harrison turned to you with a lovely little smile. When he nodded some loose curls fell on his face making you smile in return and laugh inside. You didn’t miss the light in his eyes when you moved your hand slightly to put his hair back in its place just as you did with Tom. This time, however, you stopped midway and a crimson flush crept into your face. The blonde’s smile turned into a smirk when he caught up to your actions and before you could do something he moved a little closer to you to give you a chance to brush the messy curls out of his face. But instead of that, you slapped him on the arm and sank deeper into your seat what brought a laugh out of Harrison. He thought that you were adorable in your shyness and he definitely enjoyed making you flustered. The simple gesture made you hope that maybe nothing is lost yet. You just had to apologise and assure him that what had happened was just an accident. It would be easy, wouldn’t it?

After your lecture and interaction with Harrison, you felt a lot lighter. Your mind was at peace again and you could enjoy yourself knowing that everything will be alright between Harrison and you. When you got home the first thing you did was to lay down on a sofa. With a smile on your face, you stretched your body and closed your eyes. This moment of silence was what you needed after all these hours of anxiety and stress. Breathing deeply you slowly started to drift to sleep when the sound of the door opening brought you back to reality.

“I just got the best news EVER,” very excited Tom marched through the door with an enormous smile on his face. Noticing you laying on the sofa he stopped dead in his tracks hoping that he didn’t wake you. Looking up, you had to laugh at his wild eyes gaze, and tensed figure. You stood up to greet your best friend opening your arms for him. Tom smiled widely and embraced you in a tight hug but his strength and force made you lose your balance and collapse back on the couch. Brunette landed on top of you and you yelped in surprise. You could feel his weight on you but for some reason, it didn’t bother you at all. Actually, you found it really nice to be able to enjoy the way his muscles flexed when he tried to steady himself not to crush you. For anyone who walked through the door, the scene would seem unpleasant but you were comfortable feeling the heat radiating from his body. Every since you two started hanging out, a feeling of comfort and mutual understanding was created. With Tom things were always easy, you didn’t argue much and on top of that, it was really hard for awkwardness in your relationship. You loved him for his incredible ability to turn bad situations into good ones and brush everything off with laughter. Yet, this time you haven’t heard him giggling or saying some playful words to make you blush. You moved your head to look him in the eyes and this time you saw something you’ve never seen before. His gaze studied your face patiently, not missing any spot on your skin. His mouth was slightly agape as he tried to find the right words to say but your beauty was so mesmerising he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Your bodies were so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your face and you started wondering why was he so nervous out of a sudden. Little did you know that Tom has realised something at that moment. He realised he couldn’t find any flaw in you despite watching you the whole time. He realised that you make him the happiest and that he would never be the same without you. And most importantly, Tom realised that he could never make you as happy as he wished to. He has always made sure you were doing alright and that you knew he was there but he couldn’t force himself to love you. He tried, he really tried to develop some feelings. He would lay in bed at night thinking about you and what is wrong with him that he can’t love such an amazing person. Tom never believed in soulmates but he truly thought you had his heart and soul. When you were gone, he always felt like there was something missing. A puzzle that combines his messy lifestyle with his fucked up mind. You always had the right things to say to make him feel better and he never felt like you were judging him. He truly found someone with a pure heart and soul that is right for him and understands him without words. But if you weren’t the right one, where were they? Truthfully, Tom was tired of being alone. He wanted someone to love him and he wanted someone to love. You were there for him but somehow it wasn’t enough. He lacked the feeling of crazy love. He wanted it to consume him and intoxicate all his senses. He wanted to be in a daze that would make him do all the cheesy stuff his friends would tease him about but he wouldn’t care because of the happiness. It killed him that it wasn’t you. He knew that, all too well, but he didn’t stop being close to you. He wouldn’t dare to even try and lose you. At that moment he knew that he would take up every fight to keep you by his side even if it meant to hurt himself because despite all that you were his home and he needed you to breathe. You were his safe zone and if he couldn’t have you by fate, he would have you by choice.

As the seconds passed by your heart started to beat more quickly anticipating his next move. The way Tom was looking at you made you forget how to breathe. All you could do was stare at his beautiful honey brown eyes sparkling in the yellow light of the lamp standing on the table. Finally, after what felt like hours, Tom whispered "I got the job," seemingly getting out of his thoughts but you saw that he was still trying to figure something out in his head.

"This.. this is amazing, Tom," you replied not paying much attention to what he was talking about since all you could do was drool over him.

"Yeah, I'm going to the USA," he laughed like he couldn't believe he got the part but still didn't move one bit. Tom's body was towering over you making it hard for you to focus on his words.

"Mhmm.. I'm proud of you, Tommy," the nickname quickened his heartbeat as he always got warm inside when you called him that. He thought the nickname was childish but he always melted when it came out of your mouth. He wanted to kiss your forehead as an act of thanking you but you suddenly yawned.

"I'm sorry that I woke you up. I was just excited," his pretty smile was replaced by a pout when he remembered the state he found you in. You took his face in your hands and giggled at his cuteness.

"I was just falling asleep, don't worry," you answered truthfully, not wanting him to feel bad for disturbing your peace.

"Are you still sleepy? We can lay down if you want," Tom proposed, concerned about your lack of sleep out of nowhere.

"Well, I'd say we're already laying down..." hesitation was evident in your voice almost as you were worried to bring up the topic. The look on Tom's face shifted quickly after he registered your words and looked down between your bodies. That was when he felt his crutch touching yours and a wave of embarrassment mixed with lust washed over him. He must have got lost in daydreaming about you not to notice that he was basically crunching you. He was surprised you could even breathe in this state. "But.. I-I don't mind..." your words eased his panic but didn't help the blood coming south.

In the trance, you moved your fingers along his smooth skin hoping that would calm him down. You weren't sure what you were doing but you enjoyed this little moment and didn't want it to end. Tracing the shape of his nose you licked your lips what made Tom close his eyes and exhale deeply.

"We need to stop or I'll do something we will both regret," when the words left his mouth you stopped your movement but kept your hands on his face. Tom was scared to open his eyes. He feared for your reaction. A few seconds passed by while you tried to find the right words. Were you surprised? Yes. But you couldn't fight the smile that crept on your face and the butterflies erupting in your stomach. Although, you weren't sure how you felt about what you've just heard you needed to feel him. It may be wrong but you wanted it.

"What if I don't mind?" you said softly just millimeters from his lips. Tom finally opened his eyes at your confession and you could see the confusion painted on his face.

"I-I-I.... Look um..." this was the first time you've seen your best friend so nervous that he couldn't get the words out. He seemed to be really troubled but he finally gave in resting his own hand on your cheek. "W-what does this mean for u-us?" he couldn't help but ask. Tom didn't want you to think that he was just taking advantage out of the situation. He needed to know your point of view on this because he didn't want to hurt you in any way and this was a dangerous field.

"I don't know but I really want this" your words made the brunette's eyes darken. Licking his lips for the last time, he moved your head closer to him and brushed his lips against yours in a sweet but passionate kiss. Your lips were moving softly in sync as if you kissed for the millionth time. You were making out for a good few minutes until the taste of him was so intoxicating you forgot how to breathe and had to pull out for a second to catch some air. Your break didn't last long because Tom pulled you back in taking advantage of your parted lips and pushed his tongue in. You moaned at the action and the sound made Tom thrust his hips against yours. At that moment you felt something poking your thigh. You didn't want to stop your make-out session but you knew you weren't ready to go further yet so you patted his chest softly to signal him that you wanted to stop. Tom pulled out slowly trying to see if he hurt you in any way. "I'm alright," noticing his worried gaze you assured him that there was nothing bad happening. "I'm just umm... not ready for t-the next s-step," suddenly you got anxious hoping that you didn't say anything wrong to make him upset.

"Oh.." was all he said, not fully realising what you were trying to hint on.

"I mean... you know," you looked down at his bulge hoping that he would understand your clue.

"OH!" he followed your gaze and finally caught up to what you meant. "Noo, don't worry about it. We um.. we don't have to go further if you don't want to," Tom tried to make you comfortable but he couldn't hide the flush on his cheeks that was a result of his embarrassment. He didn't know why he felt so awkward out of a sudden. You, on the other hand, felt more confused than awkward. You had to figure out your own feelings towards your best friend but you couldn't lie to yourself and say that you didn't enjoy it because that was probably the most amazing kiss you've ever had.

"Thank you," you didn't really register your words but it seemed that neither did Tom because he started to get up and fixing his clothes and hair. You only watched him, not wanting to move.

"Do you regret it?" Tom asked in a small voice noticing your absent look. He didn't know how to feel about the situation too. He allowed himself to let loose this one time and he just hoped it didn't destroy your friendship.

"Do you regret it?"

"I asked you first."

"Trying to be smart, Holland?" he genuinely smiled at your remark because then he knew that nothing has changed. You wouldn't joke with him if you were mad or upset.

Taking a deep breath, you got up and turned to face Tom. "I don't regret it. Do you?" he let go of a deep breath he didn't even know that was holding and shook his head. "That's... good." you summed up the situation making Tom burst out laughing. "What's so funny?"

"You are so weird," you faked an offended look at what he added "But so am I. That makes us a good match."

You nodded your head because maybe he was right. Maybe you two were a good match.

After the incident, things started to get more intense between you and Tom. You didn’t know if it was your imagination or if he made it his mission to frustrate you even more by caressing you while you were falling asleep or casually holding your hand when going on walks. Whatever it was, it rendered you warm inside. You couldn’t fight your butterflies and stop yourself by slowly falling for your best friend. Subconsciously, you hoped you two would end up together, his family loving you and all your friends saying how you make a good match. However, it didn’t seem as he had any intentions to make the first move. Even though Tom was very touchy with you, he never asked you out or even brought up the subject of the relationship. It was even more confusing because he wasn’t messing around with anyone nor he had any female friends he was interested in. You knew because as your relationship with Harrison started progressing you found yourself gushing to him about Tom. Harrison always tried to assure you that Tom liked you too and after many days of contemplating you decided to talk with him about your feelings. You were even more nervous because he was supposed to leave for the USA for his new job in a couple of days. You weren’t sure where this conversation would leave your relation but the fear wasn’t that strong to stop you from confessing your admiration for him.

Tom invited you to his get-away party so that was when you wanted to talk to him. His family wanted to say a proper goodbye before he would leave for long months that’s why they all came to celebrate his success. You were one of the first few people who has come so you helped around the kitchen and talked a bit to Tom’s brothers. You’ve known these people for so long that at this point you treated them like your own family. You had fun talking with Tom’s grandparents and playing with the youngest members of the family. Tom was watching you from the kitchen with a smile on his face as you were humming Baby shark with children. He loved that you felt so comfortable around his family and that they’ve basically accepted you as their own child. His parents would even ask him about you sometimes, hoping that there was something more between you. He always brushed them off saying that you two were just friends because that was the truth. Even though no one questioned your friendship, everyone knew that it wasn’t just Tom who was coming over, it was always Tom and Y/N. When his parents wanted to invite you for dinner or a nice family gathering they would just tell Tom to pass you the invitation. Everyone treated you two as one because they knew that your bond was special and Tom’s family has never seen him happier than when he was with you. They were grateful that he had someone in his life who kept him grounded. “She’s the one, mate,” is what his brothers keep telling Tom. He would just smile mysteriously because it wasn’t true but he didn’t want to let anyones’ hopes down.

When the children ran away you giggled and glanced at the room to spot someone you could talk to. That was when you noticed Tom at the foot of the stairs who was talking to Harrison. He must have sensed you looking at him because he turned his head directly to you. The action made you smile and you started to make your way to take up a conversation with the boys. After finally scrambling through the crowd, you stood eye to eye with Tom who took your hand and led you to his room. You didn’t know where Harrison went but you guessed that Tom wanted to talk to you about something important. Otherwise, why would he take you to his room giving air to Harrison?

Taglist: @harryhollandsgirlfriend, @osterfieldshollandgirl

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Take My Hand (Part Two)

Summary: you thought it was enough, you thought it was what it deserved, but it wasn’t. it never was. (one of three four parts)

Pairings: Rafael Barba x Reader, Sonny Carisi x Reader

Word Count: 5,395

Song: I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life (tolerate it by taylor swift)

Warnings: T, implications of sex, so much angst, some swearing, 

A/N: again thank you to @bucky-of-the-opera​ and @qvid-pro-qvo​ but also @laneygthememequeen​ for giving me feedback and listening to me ramble as i continue to write this series. thank all of you for all of your wonderful comments/reblogs - every one gave me the motivation to keep writing! Also i made these timecards to account for the passage of time since we will be jumping through years quite a bit. 

“Why did we agree to  letting him shadow us again?” Rafael whispers to you, glancing at Sonny working at the conference table — his irritation evident, “it doesn’t give us a lot of time alone.” 

“Well, he’s a law student and a new detective, I’m trying to show him the ropes, and who's the one who got home late last night? Besides, he said he’d buy us coffee to thank us,” you lean away from him, nudging him, mouthing ‘be nice,’ “have you taken Criminal Procedure yet? Or Evidence?” 

“I’m taking Evidence right now, but this is nothing like learning about it in class,” he was flipping helping you root through the discovery that the defense had buried you in — a typical Buchanan maneuver, “Did you always think you would be a prosecutor?” 

You snort, “No,” and Rafael even looks up from his work, and you shake your head, “Well I thought I would go corporate at first, make some money to support myself, invest properly and then retire, but a year into doing that, I hated it. I ended up leaving without barely making a dent in my student loans.” 

“Ouch,” Sonny shook his head, “and you came here? Do you regret it?” 

“I’d be interested to hear the answer to this,” Rafael leans forward, resting his chin on his fist. 

You scoff at him, considering it — did you regret it? “I don’t,” you say, “although I’d be way less in debt, I wouldn’t be happy — I wouldn’t be helping victims, I wouldn’t be getting justice, and I wouldn’t be working with you two — “ Rafael’s gaze softens, “and here, I’m happy,” and you catch Rafael smiling at his desk, before adding, “except when Barba doesn’t get his coffee.” 

Sonny guffaws, trying and failing to hide it with a cough, “You want to get us some coffee, Fordham or are you too busy pulling a muscle from laughing?” 

“Alright, alright,” he holds his hands up in surrender, grabbing his jacket, before leaving, the office door swinging shut behind him. 

“Would it kill you to be a little nicer to him?” Rafael shrugs, rising from his desk, and wrapping his arms around you, “Raf—” 

“Better him than me, right?” he presses a kiss to your shoulder, “I liked it better when he had the mustache.” 

You laugh, shaking your head, as he sighs against the crook of your neck, “Just be nicer to him okay? He’s really trying here, and he’s a good detective.” 

“What’s with the sudden interest in Fordham?” 

You turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “His name is Sonny, and he’s sweet — I’m trying to help him out, and you should too. He looks up to you.” 

“Lucky me,” you press a kiss to his lips, “it’s not fair when you do that—” 

You kiss him again, your tongue tasting him, his mouth following yours as you slipped away back into your seat, “Be nice.” 

“As long as you’re nice to me tonight,” he replies, just before Carisi returns, coffees in hand. 

“I hope the shadowing has been helpful, I know Rafael can be an ass—” you shrugged your jacket off, slinging it over your arm, walking beside Sonny, the detective insisting on walking you home. 

“Well he wouldn’t be Barba otherwise, would he?” and you snort, glancing at your phone to see a text from him — working, will be late. Your place? 

“Well you’re right about that,” you tucked your phone away, seeing Sonny run his fingers over his chin and mouth, “missing the stache?” 

“Not really, no, but Rollins made a remark that I looked better with it,” he bites his lips, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “what do you think?” 

You purse your lips in mock thought, holding your chin,  “No, I think I prefer this look,” you laughed, “You look good.” 

“Oh I look good? Really?” and he raises his eyebrows suggestively, and you bump him with your shoulder, “come on, counselor, you can’t play coy.” 

You step in front of him, “Oh yeah, definitely — you’re a real heart stealer,”Before turning on your heel and continuing to stroll, “do you want to grab a drink?” and you didn’t catch the way he was looking at you as you walked away from him — his eyes shining in the low light of the streetlights. 

“Yeah, I’d love to.” 

“We know this guy is guilty,” Amanda told you two, her arms crossed, “but we can’t get past his troop of lawyers to get anywhere close to his employees.” 

Liv leans back in her chair, “So, why don’t you two do your job and get this guy on charges for us?” 

You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face, “You don’t know that for sure, Liv, and even if you did — it goes against the justice system to just entrap people without a fair process first. We can’t do our jobs, until you guys do yours—” 

“We can’t get more evidence until he’s indicted — he’s too smart, he won’t expect it, he’ll get sloppy,” Liv looks at Barba for support, and as do you, lips a thin line, and he sighs. 

“We’ll get a grand jury together, we’ll send out subpoenas, and see where we are at—” 

You gape at him, “Rafael—” 

“I don’t know counselor, this could be risky—” Carisi steps forward, brow furrowed, “Lieu, she has a point — we take this now, we wouldn’t get another shot at him.” 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Rafael waved him off, “book him, now.” 

Liv and Amanda left, while Sonny hung around his desk, as you pulled Rafael aside, “Rafael, you literally went over my head—” 

His eyes narrowed, “We need to build a case—” 

You scoffed, “SVU builds the case, we prosecute it — we’re not in the business of using indictments to get our evidence,” you looked around the precinct, eyes flitted away, and you pulled him into Liv’s office, shutting the door, “you undermined me, my opinion—” 

He says your name, “You know I value your opinion but—” 

“Not as much as Liv’s,” and it’s his turn to gape at you, “you know this case doesn't have enough — and you’re pushing it through anyway—” 

“SVU cases are not open and shut—” 

“No case is open and shut— otherwise, we wouldn’t have so many innocent people die of the death penalty would we?” you grit your teeth, “you handle this case — if you want to take a half-baked case to a grand jury I won’t stop you, but I won’t be cleaning up your messes either.” 

He calls after you, but you leave without another word, stepping into the elevator, the doors shutting until a hand stops them — but it isn’t Rafael, “Counselor,” he steps in after you, hitting the ground floor button — the doors shutting, “are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” his eyes fell on your fisted phone, knuckles white. 

“Your phone would beg to disagree — you’re aboutta crack the screen with your grip,” and your cheeks burn, slipping the phone into your pocket, “you know Lieu has a tendency to become a little blinded when it comes to the victims, she—” 

“I know, Sonny, and most of the time I find that admirable about Liv, but it’s our jobs as prosecutors to bring justice — and that’s not just for the victims, but it’s for society,” your eyes look the ceiling, blinking away hot tears of frustration, “pushing through cases like this isn’t justice — it’s reckless,” the elevator doors ding open, and you slip through, expecting to be alone, but Sonny still follows out the doors of the precinct. 

“I get it,” you huff, slowing to a stop, “I do, really. I may be a cop, but I want to be a lawyer too, and to be one, you gotta see both sides, don’t you? But what do you do when things are gray?” 

“You search for the truth,” 

His lips twisted in a frown, he asks, “and if you can’t find it?” 

“Then you look for the closest thing to it, but this, a fishing expedition—” you shake your head, “this isn’t it.” 

He nods, jerking his head, “Come on, let’s grab a coffee,” 

“I should get—” 

He smiles, “I’m sure Barba won’t mind the extra time to lick his wounds, you really chewed him out,” 

You raised an eyebrow, “How much of our conversation did you hear?” 

“Not much after you went into the office, but it was still obviously heated,” you feel anger sting at your eyes, the heat rising in your body, and instead of fury — it came in tears, how convenient, “but for what it’s worth, I value your opinion a lot, counselor. And I know Barba does too,” he adds, and you follow as he leads you away from the precinct, “he’s just not showing it well.” 

You glanced at your phone — Going back to the office, can we talk? — “No,” you reply, “No he isn’t.” 

But did he ever? 

“Where’d you learn to cook anyway?” your legs were slung over Rafael’s lap one Sunday morning, as he fed you another forkful of the huevos rancheros he had made,  “I thought you lived off coffee and Forlini’s.” 

“Ha, ha,” he kissed you, licking the bit of sauce left on your lips, “well consider it my way of making up for what happened with the case. I am sorry about that, you know that right?” 

“I do,” you open your mouth and he feeds you another bite, “but don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging the question, Barba.” 

He purses his lips, “How about we just say I learned for you and leave at that?” 

You frowned, “Raf,” he fell silent, the gears in his head turning, “you don’t have to talk about it, but you don’t have to lie either.” 

He starts softly, even as he stabs the eggs with his fork, “When my dad went off on one of his tirades, Mami wasn’t in any shape to cook, and she wouldn’t want to ask Abuelita since that would involve telling her what happened — so I would cook for us.” 

You lean over, pressing a small kiss to his cheek, “You never talk about your father,” 

“What’s there to talk about?” he replies quietly, “he married my mom — he was amazing at first, and then just like that,” he snaps his fingers, “he changed. When they got married, he had permission to be the person he always was — angry, disgusting, abusive. He made her cut off everyone out of her life, made her miserable, abused her, abused me—” he cut off, setting the fork down with a clatter, “but still, I see him every day when I look in the mirror — and I wonder if I’m any better than him at all.” 

“Rafael, look at me,” you slide closer to him, your fingers intertwined with his, when you tilt his chin up, “you are not your father — far from it. You help victims get justice, you help them tell their stories, you are a good man, one of the best men I know.” 

He sniffs, a small smile on his lips, “Even when I don’t get my coffee?” 

You roll your eyes, shifting again so your knees are either side of his lap, sitting properly on him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Even then — Raf, you are so good, I just wish you’d see it — I wish you’d see yourself.” 

He leans up to kiss you, gently, “Maybe I can see myself through you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours, and you sit in silence for a moment — in peace, before he finally breaks it, “I think it’s because of him that I’m so scared of us — I don’t want to be him.” 

“You could never be him—”  

“But you don’t know that,” he replies, his gaze falling to his lap, dark, as he shifts you softly off of him, “not really.” 

“Rafael—” he rises from the sofa, his back turned away from you, as he heads to the bathroom. 

“I need to shower.” And he leaves you there, without another word. 

“Working late again?” Sonny poked his head into his office, “it’s 2 AM counselor, isn’t anyone expecting you home?” 

You don’t look up from your work, “I could ask you the same — what are you doing here?” Sonny lifted his scarf off your bookshelf, folded neatly on top of some stacked books and briefs. 

“I just finished my shift at the precinct, and thought I’d drop by and see about picking this up,” he glanced at Rafael’s office, light closed, “No Barba?” 

“No, he headed home for the night,” more like you had insisted on him getting some sleep tonight, plying him with sweet kisses, until finally he left — but now you were left with the work to take care of, “I’m wrapping up some work,” you yawn, stretching, blinking at the detective still standing in your doorway, “aren’t you heading home?” 

“Yeah, I’m just waiting on you — the cases will be there in the mornin’,” he steps forward, offering you your coat, “come on.” 

You pout, “But I didn’t get what I said—” 

“Is it something that can be done tomorrow?” 

“Yes, but—” he shuts off your desk lamp, holding your coat out again. 

“I’ll walk you home,” and you sigh, looking between your work and his hand, before hauling yourself to your feet. 

It was not another ten minutes when your stomach started growling, to which Sonny raised an eyebrow, “Like to share something with the class?” 

Your cheeks burned, as you bite your bottom lip, “I may have forgotten to eat today,” and Sonny shook his head. 

“You don’t sleep, you don’t eat — do you and Barba just run on coffee?” 

“And spite,” you add with a shrug, “how do you get time to eat? You’re constantly running around all over the place.” 

“You have to make the time, whether that’s me eating in my car or taking a half hour to go grab a slice, maybe next time I’ll invite you along,” his hands slipped into his pockets. 

“I’d love to right now, but I am a little sick of takeout, and I think I rather crash at this point,” you rubbed at your eyes, “food can wait until tomorrow.” 

“You need to eat, counselor, or your stomach won’t let you,” his brow wrinkled in thought, “do you have anything at home?” 

“Nothing prepared, I have some things frozen, but nothing that’s ready—” 

“I’ll cook you something, dinner—” he glanced at his watch, “I think it's closer to breakfast at this point.” 

“Sonny, you don’t need to do that—” 

“I want to — to thank you for letting me shadow you and Barba,” his smile is so warm, “I assume he wasn’t too pleased with the idea at first.” 

“You don’t need to thank me — it’s fine—” you started, but he cut you off. 

“Are you hungry?” you pouted, as your stomach growled again, “Strike that, you are, and do you have the energy to cook?” 

“No, but—” 

“No buts, come on,” he clapped his hands together, you stood, biting your lip, “are you not okay with this?” 

“It’s not you, Sonny—” it was the concept of this — having a man over late at night, and you trusted Sonny, you did — he was your friend, but it felt misleading, “I just want you to know I’m seeing someone, kind of.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “Kind of?” 

“It’s not a relationship, but it kind of is — we’re keeping things casual for now,” you licked your dry lips, but your throat was a desert compared to it, “I just don’t want to mislead—” 

He cut you off, saying with your name, “It’s fine,” he offered a small smile, “I get it. Consider me friendzoned — now are you hungry or not?” 

“I am.” you hurried along in front of him, shivering in the cold, not noticing his smile slip from his face. 

“How did you learn to cook?” You were told to sit at your island, watching Sonny root through your fridge, “also, I’m sorry again for the state of my fridge, I’m not home a lot so—” 

“Trust me, I get it,” he pulls eggs, cheese, and a can of tomatoes from the fridge, “and I learned from my mother — she had her handful with my sisters, so sometimes I would cook with her or for her. I got used to it and I liked it.”

“Am I allowed to help or do I just watch?” he crossed his arms, evaluating you, making you sit up a bit straighter. 

“Have you ever poached eggs before?” your expression was enough of an answer, “how about you leave the heavy lifting to me and just do what I tell you.” 

“Yes sir,” and you missed him smiling at your cheeky reply, “What’s first?” 

“We both have the same weekday off?” you drop your purse and jacket on his chair, as he pulls you into his arms, “has that ever happened before?” 

“Not in what? Three years of working together?” he trails kisses down your neck, tugging at your collar, “we can’t waste it.” 

“What are you implying, counselor?” you say in mock surprise, as he walked you backwards, pressing you to the nearest wall. 

His eyes lidded and dark, as his fingers toyed with the buttons on your button up, “I’m implying that I want to spend the day f—” 

There was a knock on the door — both of your heads snapping over. You whispered, “were you expecting anyone?” 

“No?” he whispered back, “it might be someone from the squad, wait in the bedroom—” 

You rolled your eyes, as he strode over to the door, straightening his clothes, and adjusting himself noticeably, to which you snorted — earning you a sharp look over his shoulder,  before you slipped into the bedroom, door shut. 

You heard a woman’s voice speaking, heels clicking against the floor. You pressed your ear to the door, but there was no need because the voices grew louder,  “The bedroom is a mess, Mami,” 

Shit. 

There was nowhere to hide in here — but you didn’t want to come off looking rude either — you spotted Rafael’s headphones and a book on his bed stand. 

Well, oblivious is better than idiotic. 

You adjusted your clothes, sitting on the bed, playing music on your phone loudly, flipping the book open to a random page, just as the door opened, “Now, what could be so bad that you don’t want your own mother to—” She cut off, when she saw you, and you peered up, mouth agape — in fake (and real) astonishment, “well hello.” 

“Hi,” you slipped the headphones to your neck, before pulling them off, setting the book side, as you looked from a bewildered Rafael to his appraising mother, “you must be Rafael’s mother, Lucia,” you introduce yourself, holding out your hand, “I work with your son at his office.” 

She repeats your name, elbowing her son, “This is who you’re always talking about?” 

“Excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow at a flustered Rafael, the tips of his ears and bridge of his nose a beautiful red. 

“Mami, I think I neglected to tell you that—” 

“That you and your gorgeous co-worker here are seeing each other? It would seem so,” she slaps him lightly with her purse, before talking your hand warmly, “it’s very nice to meet you, dear. I apologize for my son’s lack of disclosure—” another pointed look at her son, “I wouldn’t have interrupted your day off together otherwise—imagine if I used the key you gave me.” 

Rafael blanched at the thought, his eyes desperately trying to apologize to you, but you kept your eyes on Lucia, “There’s no need to apologize, I’m sorry for surprising you—” you smiled, your nerves pushed to the very edge — imagine if she had walked a few minutes later, “is there something you need from Rafael?” 

“Not in particular, I was going to ask him if he wanted to join me for lunch— I just cooked his favorite, but now that I see he’s busy—” 

“No, you both should go,” you wave her off, “I don’t want to step on any plans—” 

“Why don’t you join us?” Lucia offered, elbowing her son, “if that’s okay with el juez here?” 

“Of course,” he cleared his throat, his smile sincere, “join us, if you want to.” 

Well how could you say no to that? 

“This is delicious, Lucia,” you and Rafael helped her pick up the table, insisting on her sitting, “thank you again for having me over. It means so much.” 

“I was happy to — my son’s personal life has always been a bit of mystery to me,” she walks over, pinching his cheek, “mijo has a mouth he doesn’t mind running except when it involves his personal life.” 

“Mami,” he warned, and she lifted her hands in surrender. 

“On that note, I’m going to wash up, and I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself to the bathroom, washing your hands, and just as you began to step out, you heard them whispering. 

“So what’s the story here, Rafi? You’ve been together for quite a while — any chance you’ll be popping the question anytime soon?” 

Your heart thumped against your ribcage, leaping out of your chest, “It’s not like that between us, Mami — we’re together but—” and your heart sunk in the same motion — down to the floor, “we’re not serious—” small smack and Rafael’s ‘ouch.’ 

“Do not be such an idiot that a keeper will wait for you this long — it’s a miracle you’ve been together this long,” you hear her sigh, “not serious? The way you look at each other? Rafi, not every person is Yelina—” 

“This isn’t about her,” he cuts her off, exasperated, as you rest your forehead against the trim of the bathroom door, “I know what I’m doing.” 

“You know what you’re doing,” she repeats, the clink of the dishes in the sink, “I hope you do, mijo, or you’ll regret it.” 

Regret, you thought, squeezing your eyes shut — you knew a little something about that, as you slipped from Lucia’s apartment, the door shutting behind you. 

There was urgent knocking on your door — and you placed your book down. Well, this was inevitable. 

You had been avoiding Rafael since the lunch with his mother — taking shifts and working out of your office. He had been texting and calling — you hadn’t been replying — the temptation regulated to the charger in the kitchen. He wanted to explain, he wanted to talk — but he always wanted to explain, he always wanted to talk. And he always talked his way back into your pants with plying words and sweet kisses. 

But now there was nothing more to be said. He left nothing else to be said. 

Even so, it wasn’t his fault entirely  — it was your fault for letting this get so far. 

And why had you let it get so far? That was the one question you couldn’t answer yourself. 

And now, you steeled yourself as you approached the door — you supposed he wanted to have it out in person. 

“Who is it?” you asked, arms crossed. 

“It’s Sonny,” you blinked, his voice unsteady and weak, as you threw open the door, finding him grim faced and dull, the color pulled from his face. 

“Sonny, what happened—” 

“Can I, uh, come in?” you stepped aside, letting him in, shutting the door behind you, and he didn’t sit down — or rather he couldn’t. He paced the length of the room, his eyes on the ground, arms across his chest. 

“Sonny?” you ask hesitantly, as you approach him, his back turned, “what’s wrong?” He faces you, tears streaming down his face, “Sonny—” 

“I’m sorry,” he blinks, wiping away the tears, “I’m fine, I shouldn’t’ve come here, I just—” his voice breaks, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows, “I didn’t know where to go.” 

“Sonny, stop, you can always come here,” you squeezes his shoulder gently, “sit down, please.” You lead him to the couch, spotting red specks of blood on his neck and on the collar of his shirt, “what happened?” and he tenses, “we don’t have to talk about it right now, okay?” he buries his face in his hands, elbows on his knees, hunched over, “let me get you some water—” 

“Look, I don’t need water — I just need—” he stammers, “please, just stay beside me, please?” 

And you did, your hand reaching for his, fingers slowly intertwining with his longer ones — even with how gentle Sonny was, with how he dwarfed you in size never failed to surprise you, but then again, he was always full of surprises, wasn’t he? His hand was warm and soft, engulfing with its heat, but trembled under your touch. You squeezed it every few minutes, the ones you sat in silence in, to remind him that you were still there — that he wasn’t alone. And you would never leave him to be alone. 

His first words were quiet in an already still room, “Barba has kept you updated on the Quinn Berris case right?” you nod — the woman who had been raped by her stalker, Ray Wilson. Wilson had been arrested by Sergeant Tom Coles four years ago, “We found out that Quinn wasn’t raped by Ray Wilson — it was Coles.” 

Your jaw dropped, “Coles did it—” 

“We went to his house, to confront him,” his voice shook as he spoke, his eyes hard, fixed on your carpet, but he was somewhere else now — back in Coles’ home, “I moved slowly, I did everything by the book, and I turned around, and he had his gun to my head.” 

“Sonny,” you squeezed his hand again, “what happened?” 

“I thought he was going to kill me,” he swallowed, his eyes unblinking, “I can still feel the metal brushing my forehead, following me as I put my gun down,” he leans back, arms crossed again, “I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t do anything. I could hear myself talking, but I didn’t know what I was saying — it was like everything was underwater. If Liv didn’t shoot him—”  

“But you’re okay, Sonny,” you pulled him closer, arm wrapped around his shoulder, “You’re alive.”

“He didn’t have to die,” he whispers, “he could have just surrendered.” 

“He didn’t want to, Sonny,” you shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks, “he had lost everything, and he wanted to die — and he wanted someone else to go down with him. But you didn’t.”

“You know in the moment, I didn’t even pray,” he gives a bitter chuckle, “years of Catholic schooling and church, but in that moment all I could think of was my family, the squad, you,” he shakes his head, “I’m sorry for coming over and unloading this all on you — I didn’t mean—” 

“Don’t apologize,” you brush away your tears, your hands gently pulling him into a hug, “I’m just so glad you’re okay, Sonny.”  

He rested his chin on your shoulder, finally shutting his eyes for a moment, a peace washing over him for a moment, “Me too.” 

“Not a minute is promised, is it?” you whisper, pulling away, and he shakes his head. 

“Not a second,” and your thoughts fall away to your phone — to Rafael. It could have been him today — or any day. Was it worth holding a grudge, if it meant you wouldn’t see him again? That your last words to him were nothing but silence? 

“Let me get some water, Sonny,” and he nodded, leaning back on the couch, as you slipped away, grabbing a glass, as well as your phone. 

Rafael Barba: Mi amor, please, I’m sorry. Can we talk? 

You: I’m busy today, but tomorrow, we’ll talk. 

“We need to talk,” your office door opened — night had long fallen, the chatter and bustle of the office long died away in the darkness, the washed out fluorescent dimmers flickering in the halls — and there was only one person who would be opening your door right now. 

Rafael stood in your doorway, his knuckles white against the doorknob. Rafael’s brows knitted together, his mouth twisted in a scowl. You leaned back in your chair, raising an eyebrow, “not here.” 

“I can’t step away from this—” 

“You can make time for this,” he hisses, eyes narrowed, but you don’t budge, arms crossed, and he shuts your door, locking it, pulling the shutters down, “You went over my head.” 

You weren’t going to deny it, “I did,” you had went to Jack, talked to him about your concerns about the case you two had been handling together, another case slapped together that Rafael was trying to push through to trial — and you finally had enough, “You didn’t give me much of a choice—” 

“There was a choice — you could have talked to me—” you scoffed, flipping your file closed, “what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Rafael, you’re pushing through cases I don’t agree with — cases without enough information, forcing taxpayer dollars to be used on cases that will not succeed, and yes sometimes that’s necessary, sometimes we have bad cases, but sometimes you’re casting a stigma on people who end up being innocent—” 

“And sometimes casting a stigma is all we can do to warn other potential victims—” 

“And sometimes it just ruins someone’s reputation, and our own when we end up with lawsuits for damages,” you cross your arms, rounding your desk, “just because Liv coerces you into pushing through cases—” 

“Is that what this is about? That you’re jealous of Liv?” he snaps, and you laugh — a bitter noise you don't recognize, “I never thought you would ever let our personal problems affect your judgement.” 

“First of all,” your voice was an eerie calm, a deadly frigid cold permeated your words, “this has nothing to do with your personal life — this has to do with protecting the integrity of this office,” and it was his turn to scoff, "and second of all, what is there to be jealous of, Rafael?" you cross your arms, "We fuck �� that’s it. Period. That’s all we are to each other. A warm body, nothing more and nothing less. You’re too busy saving the rest of the world to care.” and you wouldn’t allow your voice to crack, even though you could feel yourself crumbling with every word that you spit like venom — poisoning him and you from the inside out, “we're not serious,” you echo his words, a sinking feeling in your gut. 

“That was out of context—” 

“It’s not out of context when I heard the entire conversation, Rafael,” you shake your head, turning away from him, to look out your window — lights dotted the streets, the city very much alive with so many other places to be. 

His reply is quiet, “Is that all I am to you?” 

“I should be asking you that,” you sigh, clutching at your forehead, “no matter how much we talk about it — how much we try to fix it, we can’t. We can’t. Call this a failed experiment, call this nothing, say it never existed, it doesn’t matter. It’s done.” 

“No,” you shake your head, grabbing your jacket, brushing past him when he tries to stop you, his hand brushing your shoulder — and you knew what he would do again — ply you with kisses, whisper sweet lies that covered the bitter truth, patching shreds that fell to pieces—  “no, mi amor—” 

“Don’t call me that,” you whirl around, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes — but you hoped your words stung more, “don’t call me that when you never loved me.” 

And they did. 

He whispers your name, “Please—” 

“I can’t do this,” you shake him off, walking out the door, “not now.”

And maybe not ever. 

[let-me-write-shit]

I love your writing! Can you please write a piece where y/n has been a friend of him for years (all one d years too) and she is famous as well (kinda maggie rogers vibe) they write songs together etc. After the heartbreak from Camille she is always there for him and they realise that they have always been in love with each other, a bit of angst ofc 😂 Thank you very much!! 😍😍

A/N: Thanks so much for the request and the kind messages when I was sick, @irelilien. I loved writing this. I know it’s probably not EXACTLY what you were thinking, but I hope you like it!! <3 <3 <3 

Warning:  ANGSTY ANGST ANGST!!!

Word Count: 3,961

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

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Started Off As Friends

“Will you relax, Harry?” you laugh, scooting to the edge of the office chair where you sat, reaching over and grabbing Harry’s hands away from his face to reveal his scrunched up eyebrows and dramatic frown, something he always did when he was frustrated. You took hold of his forearms as he pouted and tugged on your arms, making the wheels of your chair roll closer to him, your knees touching and his forehead falling towards your stomach.

Honestly, he could be such a baby sometimes. But as your hand instinctively plopped onto his head, running your fingers through his curls and massaging his scalp, you couldn’t help but smile. For years it had been like this; you and Harry were inseparable since the day you met. Back then he was still in One Direction and you just helped them write songs. You were one of the youngest songwriters on the team and they were impressed by it. Eventually, you began to release some of your own work, and when Harry went solo he often called on you to help with some of his songs, most of which always ended up on an album or being released.

You were there when his fame kicked off. He was there for you when you lost a family member. The two of you hardly even had so much of a fight, more like little bickers here and there. You were there through all of the One Direction drama including when you and Niall had a brief but scandalous (and absolutely not true) rumor spread that you were secretly dating and eloped, something Harry would cry laugh over whenever it was brought up. After all, if there would be any rumors of secret relationships between you and a member of One Direction, it would be with Harry. You were the closest out of all of them. You two had been through a lot in your friendship. More than most. And that included heartbreak.

You’d met practically every girlfriend he’d ever had. You knew details of his relationships that you really didn’t need to know about. And you’d been the subject of many jealous fights. But he’d always have your back. Until Camille.

Everything started great. You thought things had been going so well between them and Camille seemed to really like you. Oftentimes you’d get together just the two of you and have a girl’s night. But everything changed the night of one of your concerts. You were playing in London and the couple came to support. Throughout the night they had a lot to drink and each time you looked down things seemed to get increasingly more tense between the pair. Towards the end, it looked like a full-blown argument had ensued and they both stormed out of the arena. You assumed they were just going to talk it out and would meet you backstage afterward. You assumed Harry would fill you in on all the details later. But hours had passed and everyone had already backed up to leave. It wasn’t like Harry to just leave without saying anything. You called and texted but got no response. Not until the next day.

‘So sorry for leaving like that. We’ll talk later. -H’

But you never did. He practically ghosted you, only getting brief, cryptic texts or calls at random points in the day. The emotional circle-jerk you went through was next-level. Confusion, anger, sadness, indifference, and back to confusion. It was a never-ending cycle. You had later come to find that he only talked to you when Camille wasn’t around. And if she found out you were in communication, another argument would ensue and you’d hear about it whenever Harry called to complain. That’s all it was; a few calls and texts to whine about his relationship until the texts and calls stopped altogether. You hadn’t even seen his face for nearly seven months. For the longest time, you wanted to cry. You felt betrayed.

And finally, a month ago, after seven months of waiting, you had decided you were going to let him go and stop waiting around for him. But, when your phone rang at 11 PM that same night, your toughness crumbled to the ground. You had half a mind to yell and let it all out, or to just hang up, but you couldn’t. Not to him. Not when his heart was breaking. Instead, you invited him over. You must have drunk two whole bottles of wine by yourself, listening as Harry cried about his breakup and catching you up on all the issues they had. And you helped him through it.

For weeks he stayed with you so he didn’t have to be alone. You’d distract him with movies and games, stay up all hours of the night listening and reassuring him. You’d cry with him, laugh with him, and eventually, you’d help him channel his feelings into music. The two of you had written more songs than you can count about Camille and he finally had a sense of what he wanted his new album to sound like, picking a selection of songs on a demo and bringing it over to get your thoughts.

Listening to it brought on its own type of heartache for you. You remembered writing some of those lyrics with him. You remembered how broken you felt having to act like nothing was wrong and you were just happy to have him back. But the truth was, you were still hurt. You never did find out why he left so suddenly in the first place and coming back to you after all that time felt more like a slap in the face than anything. He knew you’d welcome him back with open arms He knew he could take advantage of your friendship because he knew how much he meant to you. Or, at least, he had an idea.

By the end of the demo, Harry looked so unsure that you were almost certain he’d start to freak out and second-guess himself. He rolled his head on your lap so that his cheek was against your thigh and groaned, “It feels like it’s missing something. Maybe I should have added ‘She’s Flames’.”

You shook your head as he sat up, “No. It’s perfect.”

“But what if-”

“No,” you cut him off, looking deeply into his eyes, “I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a single word, not a single piano key, not a single song, not even a single song order. Harry, it’s perfect.”

He relaxed his shoulders, letting his lips twitch upwards into a smile, and when he finally spoke, he took her hands in his again and said, “What would I do without you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, slipping your hands back and spinning in your chair to face your computer again, clicking away at the screen and layering instrumentals on your own music you were working on before he came over. Having a little makeshift studio in your flat helped when you couldn’t get in any time at a proper studio.

“Probably sulk at your own house instead of mine,” you mumbled, trying your best to sound like you’re joking.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he whined, switching seats to a roller chair next to you.

You ignored him and continued to work while he talked beside you about possible release dates for his album, cover art, and which songs he wanted to have as his singles. You listened, adding your input where needed, as he carried on, grabbing your phone off the desk beside you and entering in your passcode. You didn’t mind, it was something the two of you always did. There was never any malice or reason behind it, it was just out of sheer boredom. You’d often scroll through each other’s social media dashboard or pictures. You had nothing to hide. Or, so you thought.

You became so hyperfocused on what you were doing that you almost didn’t hear it. It blended in with what you were working on so much that the sound of your voice singing from the speaker of the Harry held in his hands almost went unnoticed. But by the time you realized what he was listening to and snapped your attention to him, the damage was already done.

The knife of insight tore its way in me

A brash collision without sympathy

And maybe when the sun goes down I’ll come round, I’ll come out

Maybe we could take some time,

Unwind, figure out

When the knife of insight tore its way in me

Hit me up if you’re feeling down

Give a little, oh we’ll figure this out

Keep me up, keep my mind around

After dark, after light

Let it go if you want get loud

Make a little fuss, oh its all allowed

Beautiful how it all pours out

After dark, after light

Oh the knife of insight brought me to my knees

Broke me down and taught me how to see

And I know and I know and I know

That maybe we should take some time

Get this out, make this right

Maybe when the sun goes down I’ll come round, tell you all about

When the knife of insight brought me to my knees …..

You were at a loss for words, caught off-guard by him finding that voice note of a song you had recorded late one night three months ago. You could hear the wooshing of cars passing by in the background, remembering you recorded it on a drive to meet up with friends for dinner and didn’t want to forget the wave of creativity. Funny thing was, you completely forgot all about it.

You searched his face, hoping he didn’t understand what you were singing about But Harry wasn’t stupid. He’s worked with you long enough now to know your writing style. And with one look at the time stamp of the recording, he could tell this was written in the thick of when he had stopped seeing you.

“What’s this?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

He knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an explanation, though. For weeks you had thought about what to say or how to confront him for what he did. But confrontation was never your strong suit and all the rehearsed speech had suddenly vanished from your memory.

Quickly, you grabbed your phone out of his hand and shut the music off, “Just something I was working on. Forgot it was still on there.”

He watched as your body tensed, hastily shoving your phone in your pocket. He could see right through your nonchalant attitude and he pressed again, “Is it about me?”

“Harry,” you breathed, forcing a laugh. But your refusal to look him in the eyes was your tell.

“It is, isn’t it?” His question sounded more like an answer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“How you felt,” he turned your chair so that you were forced to face him and you looked nervously up at him through your eyelashes, his expression sincere, “Obviously you were hurt about whatever I did.”

Your mouth fell and he seemed to realize almost instantly that he had a poor choice of words. But, before either of you could say anything, Harry’s phone began to ring on the coffee table, catching both of your attention. And by a cruel coincidence, you saw that it was Camille calling him. His eyes widened and hastily silenced his phone, but the damage was done. You let out an incredulous laugh and stood up.

“It’s getting late. I think it’s time for you to leave,” you said firmly, avoiding his gaze.

You heard him stutter. He wasn’t used to you being stern with him. “What? Why? No, please, let’s talk about this.”

“Talk?” You laughed angrily, “You want to talk? Now? That’s rich coming from you! Alright, Harry, let’s talk, then,” your words were like ice and your heart pounded, finally getting the courage to look at him as you let it all out, “Ten years you’ve been one of my best friends. I’ve done so much for you. I’ve put up with a lot being your friend. All the backlash and drama and spite from your horrible girlfriends. But you always had my back Until her,” you motioned towards his phone.

His eyes fluttered, listening to you get angry. It was a side of you that rarely showed. And when your voice began to crack, he gulped.

You continued, “I was always nice to her. Always. Until one random day, she decided to hate me for no reason. And what did you do? Nothing! You ran after her like a lost puppy and avoided me for almost a year!”

“I didn’t avoid you!” Harry shot back, defensively.

“You didn’t avoid me?” you laughed in a hiss. “Harry, you dodged all of my calls and texts! I never saw you! And when we did talk, the Queen herself couldn’t know about it or you’d have another fight!”

“Don’t call her that. That’s not fair,” he pleaded.

“You want to talk about fair? The way you treated me wasn’t fair! All I was to you in those seven months was someone to complain to, but only if I was kept a secret!”

“That’s not true. Besides, it’s not like you ever complained at the time! You should have said something!”

“I shouldn’t have had to! You’ve always had my back and ended things with other girlfriends for a lot less!”

“I can’t keep ending relationships just because you don’t like them!”

“I never asked you to!” your voices were getting louder now, almost certain that if someone was passing by your open window, they’d be able to hear every word. “Never once did I ask you to break up with anyone or even hint at disliking them. You always did that on your own!”

“Because you’re my friend!” he shot back, his eyebrows furrowing and the crinkles by his eyes more prominent. Your back and forth was quicker now. Both of you speaking even faster.

“Then why did it change with her? Friends don’t treat friends as a last resort!”

“How did I treat you like a last resort? Because of a few missed calls and canceled plans? I was busy!”

“For seven months? No, you weren’t, Harry! You were a coward!”

“And you were jealous!”

“So what?” you snapped back. You could see the shock in Harry’s eyes, but you kept going, “So what if I was? It never made me treat you like dog shit on the bottom of my shoe! You ignore me for weeks at a time and when I finally get a response it’s because you’re crying about another fight you had with her and how neither of you trusts each other. Did I complain once? No. I listened. I never turned my back on you because that’s what a good friend does.”

“That’s what a good friend does? So now I’m not a food friend?” Harry scoffed, “I can’t read fucking minds, Y/N! How am I supposed to know you’re upset if you don’t tell me?”

“How am I supposed to tell you if you never answer my calls?!”

“I came back!” Harry yelled, “I’ve seen you almost every day for a month! You’ve had plenty of time!”

“Did I?” you sneered, “Harry, you were heartbroken about your breakup! What would you suppose I do? Tack on some more reasons for you to feel sorry for yourself? Cry about how you were mean and broke my heart? You didn’t need me getting after you! I recorded an idea for a song on my phone, and now you’re mad because I expressed my feelings in a song that you were never meant to hear?”

“You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, Y/N!”

“You think you could have handled the added guilt?” you should back, bordering the edge of condescension, “I helped you write two albums worth of breakup songs about her, Harry! I sat here for hours a day every single day for weeks helping you write lyric after lyric explaining your love for a woman that hated me!” you were on the verge of tears now. “And here I am, the idiot helping you through it, only to find out you’re still talking to her!”

“I’m not talking to her! I called to ask if I could put something in a song!” Harry shot back, “And she didn’t hate you!”

“How can you not see it?” you breathed, wiping a tear from your cheek, “I have to watch a man I care so much about going through shitty relationship after shitty relationship. And I’m here, like always, waiting for you to wake up and see that you deserve better! You can’t even admit what you did because you’re too busy defending a girl that broke your heart!”

“I’m not defending her, Y/N! I’m sorry that I hurt you, but it’s not her fault! She didn’t hate you, she was just jealous and untrusting and she had every reason to feel that way!”

Heat rose to your face and your voice got more fierce, “I always treated her with respect! And I never gave her a reason to feel that way!”

“You didn’t, but I did!”

“What does that even mean?! Why would she hate me for something I didn’t even do? That doesn’t even make any sense, Harry! You avoided me for months and you’d argue if she found out you were talking to me, and you’re saying that it had nothing to do with me?”

“No. I mean, yes. Kind of,” he started to get flustered and began talking faster, “It was my decision, not hers. And I’m not defending her. I wanted to talk to you, Y/N, but I couldn’t!”

You were getting angrier. It felt like you were going around in circles with Harry and you were frustrated that he wouldn’t give a direct answer. “Why? You keep beating around the bush instead of just giving me a reason! What possible reason could you have for dropping a friend of ten years out of nowhere? I didn’t do anything! So, why?”

“Because I accidentally told her that I’m in love with you!” he blurted out.

His voice was loud and perturbed. But as soon as the words left his mouth he knew he might have just made a huge mistake. Harry never meant to tell you. He was perfectly happy with keeping this a secret for as long as it took to get over you.

You froze, sitting backward and raising your eyebrows, mouth ajar, “You what?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he spoke quickly, trying to justify himself, “We were drunk at your concert and, I don’t know, it just kind of came out and we started arguing. I didn’t even realize what I had said until the next morning when she was still angry.”

The memories of the night of your concert came flooding back. Images of their slowly fading happy faces turned to anger and fighting started to make sense. But what he was saying didn’t. He was in love with you? Surely he didn’t mean that. He showed no inclination of romantic feelings towards you. There had to be a misunderstanding. What he meant to say was ‘he loved you like a sister’.

When you didn’t speak, he continued to try and explain himself, hurriedly speaking again; something you hardly ever saw from him. Usually he was calm and cool, even when faced with uncomfortable situations.

“I tried to tell her I didn’t mean it and I had no clue why I said that, but she didn’t believe me. She kept saying ,‘I see the way you look at her’ and ‘Everyone knows it. I’m not stupid!’. So I just kept telling her she was crazy and started talking to you less and less to prove her wrong. But she never trusted me after that. And whenever she found out I was talking to you, it gave her more reason.”

“I-” you tried to speak, but he just kept talking, more unsettled now, “I kept trying to tell myself it was nothing. But when we broke up, the first person I thought of was you. I knew you were probably angry with me, but you helped me anyway. You were there for me like you always are. And I knew that Camille was right. It was always you. And honestly, I hated you for it.”

You recoiled, surprised as he started to get more agitated. He continued, “You were there since the start of it and you made me set this impossibly high standard for my relationships! That’s why they all failed miserably! That’s why they all hated you! Because they knew they couldn’t live up to you!”

“You’re blaming me for this?” you argued back, “I didn’t make you compare anyone to me! I didn’t even know because you were too chicken shit to say anything to me!”

“I couldn’t say anything to you! You were my best friend! I didn’t want to lose you! Those few months we didn’t talk were hell! I thought about you every day! Besides, what difference would it have made if I did tell you? You can’t honestly tell me you felt the same!”

“Stop assuming you know how I feel!”

“Well, am I wrong?!” he shot back, seething.

“Yes! You’re wrong!”

There was silence, the two of you just staring at each other, faces filled with frustration. His eyes flickered across your face, looking for some kind of sign as both of your chests rose and fell. His tongue grazed his lips, wetting them from all the yelling. And like the flash of light, both of you lunged forward at each other.

The mess of hands wildly roaming each other’s bodies and tangling in each other’s hair was dizzying. Hungrily, your tongues circled as if you were starved and the only salvation left was his breath entwined with yours. You both stood, only to be pushed backward on your desk, your keyboard slipping out from under you and crashing to the floor. You could feel your back press against your monitor as you eagerly fidgeted with the buttons on Harry’s shirt and before you could undo the last one, he had already managed to undo yours, pulling it down your arms and tossing it somewhere to the side.

Harry became impatient, finally pulling away from your lips and tanking open his shirt, making the last button pop off and roll underneath the desk. You for your first good look at each other; panting, out of breath. Half-naked, you could see every tattoo on his chest that you had always longed to kiss under the dim light of your flat and the veins in his arms bulged as he gripped onto the desk underneath your thighs. His eyes looked fierce and almost rabid as he looked you up and down. There was a moment of pause and thought. Slowly the two of you cracked a smile. And the smile turned into light laughter.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Harry whispered, pressing his forehead against yours and weaving his fingers through your hair just behind your ears as the warmth of his palms lay flat against your cheek.

You smiled, closing your eyes and placing your hands over top of his, breathing in his scent as you softly spoke, “Probably just as long as I’ve waited for you to do it.” And you gently pressed your lips to his once more.

------------------------------------

Taglist:

@odetostep @mylittleangel9403 @thurhomish @fallingfordolans

[karimac]

...in the details, Part 2

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 2,249

Before you ventured into Westview, a flight of birds overhead reminded you of Redwing and Sam. Poor Sam. That sixth sense you had told you that fight at the compound was going to lead you all into very weird places. And the first one left you very squarely not in the room once again.

This time it was Steve and Bucky being thick as thieves, and you and Sam were…making a sandwich run? Couldn’t exactly get GrubHub to make a delivery to an attack site, could you? Bruce did not want some driver with a cellphone putting video up on Snapchat. “How would that look?” he bemoaned as he worked on the time travel platform. “We’d be getting tourists left and right. I don’t need that.” So off you and Sam went.

“You know, you could just, you know,” Sam started to say as he waved his hands like he thought a wizard would do, “and just poof up a plate of stuff. Right? With extra food for Banner, of course. He inhales tacos like nobody’s business. Just ask Tic Tac.”

“Sam, what have I told all of you before? Magic is the transfer of energy and matter. No suitable food stuff means no sandwiches. I can’t just think about the deli counter at Wegman’s and make a sandwich and a side of coleslaw appear in my hand. So, we’ll order on the app and pick it up. Just like everyone else. Before I hit the button, any changes to your order?”

“No, it’s fine. But don’t tell me you’ve never done shit like that when you’ve had your back against it,” Falcon huffed as you went to the rental car you’d gotten earlier in the day. That, thank Heaven, was easy to get at the local but extremely small airport.

“I’ve killed small rodents and eaten them, and I don’t mean just rabbits. Snakes, too. And, well, birds of prey, like falcons,” you groaned as you started to get into the car, but you stopped and headed back to the passenger side. “And I know you hate my driving, so here you go,” you said as you handed Sam the keys. “Sorry it isn’t a Ferrari. I was lucky to get this Kia. They didn’t exactly have anything race course worthy.”

As Sam climbed in, he saw bags of gear in the back seat. “You pulling a Wanda? Need some me time away from all us testosterone jockeys? Cyborg is going to be pissed.”

“Bucky has other stuff to deal with, trust me,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “He does not need to add Crazy Old Broad to his growing list of things to do and people to take care of this week. I heard him talking to Steve…”

“You? Eavesdropping? You are human!” Sam smirked, but then he saw the comment had hit a nerve. “You know I was kidding, right?”

“I know you are,” you said as you swallowed hard. In reality, you were not exactly buying that last comment. Sam was a sweetheart, but his comment sounded like things Tony and Steve had said about you in the weeks before the Time Heist. It depended on the situation, but one or the other of them seemed to question you, your motives, your powers and what they could do, and, at times, your grasp on reality. You did have a connection to a goddess they couldn’t see. Blaming them for having those questions just was not in your wheelhouse. “And yeah, maybe I just need to go figure a few things out. You guys know how to get me back here if you need me.”

“Somehow I don’t think Steve, Bucky and I would look so great standing and screaming your name in the middle of a fight,” Sam noted as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

“Now who is having issues with gender roles?” you said with a very pronounced side glance. “Sam, we are all human. We all need a save now and then. Maybe you’ll never have to utter my name again after today, unless you guys can’t find something you think I hid? Thor will be back once he’s done exploring the universe, and you can always get him here fast if you have Strange find him. And Wong is just dying for his shot as a full time Avenger. We all know that! And I can go back and do, well, goddess stuff, I guess. And raise horses. Just, please, make sure no one drops the ball on Parker. He lost his parents and his uncle. Losing Tony will hit him harder than anyone likely expects. He’s a good kid. He just needs support and guidance. Now, want to get this thing moving, or do you want me to drive?”

“And have you antagonize the local cops by going Mach 1? No thank you!”

You had to laugh at that one. You did tend to floor it. A lot.

++++++++++

A short time later, you and Sam rolled back to the site Bruce had chosen to set up the time travel platform. After you two handed out all the food, you realized it was really time for you to get going. No, you didn’t have a train, plane or bus to catch or someone to meet. You just knew it was going to get harder to make the break the longer you stayed there.

“She’s pulling a Wanda on us,” Sam said as he finished off the last of the sweet tea he had grabbed at the deli where you’d gotten food. “I think it’s too much he-man macho stuff, but she won’t fess up to that.”

“Wilson, how many brothers did I have?” you asked as you cleaned up the trash from the table Bruce had borrowed from a local park that had been wrecked during the battle. It had a huge hole in the end, but hey, it was good enough for the moment.

“Eight,” Bucky replied before Sam got the chance. “Just don’t quiz me on all their names. I remember your twin, Branan, and the one who was the vampire. Ewan? Right?”

“Yup, that’s right,” you grinned at Buck. “And no quiz. Promise,” you said as you raised your left hand and crossed your heart with your right.

“Why are you leaving?” Bruce asked as he adjusted the sling on his still injured arm, putting extra emphasis on the word “are” as he uttered it. “We need all the help we can get.”

Bruce, heaven help him, was suddenly one of the last active OG Avengers standing on Earth. Thor was off finding himself with the Guardians, and no one could really begrudge him that. He needed time to heal, and you knew all too well that was not easy nor time limited. Clint had more or less retired again after Natasha’s sacrifice on Vormir. Steve was getting ready to take the stones back, but upon his return, he’d likely join up with Sam and Bucky again to root out any remaining Hydra cells. That left Bruce in a very different place this time around.

“Bruce, you don’t really need me being a head case. Trust me. You do not need me giving any news outlets ammunition to blast headlines that make the team look less than spotless. I need to go home, at least for a little while,” you replied, knowing full well you were not telling him or the others everything. “And as I reminded Sam, you guys can just call me, and I’ll be here. Just whisper my name. Or yell it. Whatever works. Text me! If it’s an emergency, and if I’m not in the middle of some new damned war on my end, I’ll come running. But I have a feeling you guys are going to be just fine. Hell, I’ll give you a blessing before I head out.”

Yeah. A blessing. More like the final nail in the coffin. The words to start the spell to make them forget you.

“Big guy, you first,” you said as you put your hands on Bruce’s injured right arm. “And no, I am doing this, Bruce. It won’t be a full healing, but it should speed things up. You got this, big guy. Biggest brain. Biggest heart. May you realize just how much this team was built with your sweat and tears as it was anyone else’s.”

“I can’t change your mind?” Bruce asked as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye and pout a bit. “And I am not asking because you are likely the only one of us who can cook…”

“I’m pretty sure all of you guys can cook something. Maybe not a good Colcannon or a fine Dublin coddle, but you’ll survive. As for the cupcakes, you guys may need to get a bakery on speed dial,” you added with a laugh because you knew they’d make that bakery rich. The Avengers loved their sugary snacks.

“Just don’t bug my sister, Bruce,” Sam noted as he waited for you to come over to him. “I still remember asking why the Cupcake Lady had a sword that night when those demon things attacked near the tower. I never asked. Why the cupcakes?”

“And not why the demons or the sword?” you said as you nearly choked on your words. “You realize that was before Steve saw me at Peggy’s funeral. That night was truly a fluke, Sam. No one was supposed to see that side of me then. As for the cupcakes, they were my entry to your world. Gifts from a fan girl. They’re easy to carry, a synch to personalize when needed, and everyone can have their own without fighting,” you said with a grin as Sam shook his head. “What?”

“You sound like Sarah.”

“Then I am in good company. Tell her the good stuff you’ve told me all these years. The words of wisdom. The little jokes. The pep talks. Tell her often. A single mom with two boys needs that. Be there for her, and drag these guys to see her, too. It would do the boys a world of good to have all their uncles stop by. Now, Samuel,” you said as you gave him a hug, “remember to keep these guys flying right. And if the world drops opportunity in your lap, whatever it might be, do not look at it and push it away without a lot of thought. The world needs Sam Wilson, the hero with a heart.”

And now the hardest part of this good bye had you wiping tears from your eyes. “I know. I’m a big mush. Girls from Brooklyn would laugh at me for this, right? Sorry, but girls from Naas and Athy do cry sometimes. I’m going to miss you two lugs. A lot.”

“Lugs. Last time you called us that was in ’43,” Bucky said as he looked down at his feet for a minute. “Somehow Hydra missed that memory.”

“You’ll see us again,” Steve said as he turned briefly to see where the case with the stones was on the platform. “But this time, it better not take 70 years.”

As you looked at the best friends, something about their auras seemed off. They had been planning something when you almost walked in on their chat a few days ago. You had no idea what it was, and you suddenly didn’t want to hang around to find out what the next act was going to bring.

“Just…watch your back, Steve. From what Clint said about Vormir, that one is going to be tough. And Buck, whatever comes next, I’m rooting for you. Even if you can’t see me doing it.”

“You really don’t have to leave,” Bruce kept insisting as you hefted your backpack on your shoulder.

“Dr. Banner, do you really want to fight my demons after all this? I have enemies. You just haven’t seen them yet. Frankly, the only reason that Hydra didn’t grab me before I hooked up with the Howling Commandos was because I was pulled into another dimension by one of those enemies. It was only by some weird twist of fate that Peggy found me when she did. If the veil between worlds had not been so thin near that camp, I might never have made it back, or Hydra might have found me first. It was pure dumb luck.”

{{And, Heaven help me, part of it was these two lugs over here}} you thought as you turned to head to your car. Then you stopped. This was a lot harder than it had been any time before, but it was the curse of an immortal to have to keep moving on. “I wish you luck, joy and happiness. I wish you peace. And, if you are truly lucky, memories long enough to have little space to spare for the likes of me because they are filled with so much more! See you in my dreams, for now anyway, fellas.”

++++++++++

You rolled out of there before Steve started his mission to return the stones, and you got a text from Bruce hours later telling you everything that had happened. Steve not coming back as planned. Then an older version of Steve shows up, sitting on a bench near the platform, and he gives Sam the shield. Right in front of Bucky.

It was now weeks later. No. It was months later, and here you were staring up at the sign for Westview. You’d gotten out of your rental car so you could get a feeling for the area around this little town.

“You made it back,” a voice said behind you. “How are you, after all that mess with Wanda and that Agatha woman? She was a real piece of work.”

The person speaking to you was Dr. Darcy Lewis. Friend of Thor and Dr. Jane Foster. Why was she even here?

You couldn’t fully figure out what the hell she was talking about. You didn’t remember being here before. Yet, you knew who she was, and you had never met her before. Or at least you couldn’t remember meeting her, here or anywhere else.

“Apparently not as great as I thought I was,” you muttered as you winced again. “Dr. Lewis, how long ago was the blip?”

“Give or take a week, about six months ago,” she replied as you started to pace. “Why?”

“Shit. Not this again,” you hissed as you looked up at the sign once more. “I think I’m going to need your help. How much do you know about Celtic myths and Irish history, Dr. Lewis?”

[birdmas]

The interest check for sketchybirdmas 2021 is now over! Thank you so much for all the responses received!

Now without further ado,

DECK THE HALLS WITH BOUGHS OF BIRDMEN

It is time for the Sketchy Birdmas Challenge!

How does it work?

From now until the 25th of December the @birdmas ask box will be open to prompts. These prompts will then be made available both in individual text and grouped gif form, allowing for multiple means of participation.

The Sketchy Birdmas Prompt Challenge involves picking a prompt and interpreting it in whatever wonderful idea comes to mind in as much time as you need. Post it to the relevant tags and let’s celebrate your creativity!

The Sketchy Birdmas Speed Challenge is much like the first, but with the additional dimension of completing your prompt within a certain timeframe, also chosen from a gif.

With both we want to wow at your wonderful works, so please post it to #birdmas, #birdmas2021 or #birdmen

If you have any questions, please direct them to the @birdmas

blog!

There is no need to sign up and there are no consequences to choosing to opt out.

READ MORE for more Questions!

1. What mediums can I use?

Literally anything! There are no holds barred in either version of the sketchy birdmas challenge. Playlists, Art, Theoryposts, Edits, Writing, Moodboards-- go bird wild.

2. What if I wanted to be assigned a prompt?

That’s totally alright! Shoot a message to the @birdmas blog and you’ll be supplied with prompt post-haste.

3. Is there a deadline?

The tags will be actively observed until December 25th, but any submissions after the fact are still considered valid and will be reblogged.

4. What is NOT allowed?

As usual, absolutely no sexual NSFW.

We have minors in the fandom, and a lot of the characters in the source material are minors as well. Explicit prompts will not be posted.

Please be respectful of our shared space and others within it.

Because the Birdmen series is completed, nothing is considered spoilers. Use whatever character or inspiration you want!

5. So, how does choosing a prompt work?

>>Prompts Challenge

Submitted Prompts will be posted both as single posts similar to below:

Which will include the prompt in a picture, and a text writeup of it below. If you see a prompt that resonates, this is your chance! Feel free to create based on it!

With this, you can take your time creating whatever you wish.

Prompts will also be compiled in a pinned post for ease of access. This post will remain pinned until December 25th.

>>Speed Challenge

For added randomness, there’s also the option of click and drag/screenshot gifs which work like so:

You can screenshot or click and drag for a prompt and corresponding timeframe. Your challenge is to create something while within the time allotted. Can you do it?

>>Submissions

You may either post your creation to the birdmen tag directly or submit it via the birdmas blog! Please remember to add what prompt your work was based on when you post.

6. Can I still submit prompts even if I don't want to create something?

You are very much encouraged to. Please drop an ask in the @birdmas askbox.

That seems like a lot of non-rules.

This is true! Anarchee babee rule of the wild.

Kidding. The idea is to focus more on something fun and lighthearted, especially as the holiday season approaches. Between secret santa’s and other fandom events, this not even including real-life commitments, time can be stretched a little thin.

The Sketchy Birdmas Challenges are meant to be quick and easy, with the flexibility to be completed in 5 minutes between tasks, or over longer periods as time presents itself.

It’s meant to be fun, relaxing, and a bit silly. But also giving allowance for if folks want to take longer with a project or piece. So, less rules.

With all that said,

Have fun, do your best,

and happy flying.

[adrenaline-roulette]

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 8K+ (She’s a doozy!) Warnings: Language, angst, very basic medical procedures *Disclaimer: Hey again guys, so sorry about the delay with this chapter. But I’ll admit, I actually got this posted a lot sooner than I thought I would! So kudos to me I guess? I just want to say a huge thank you to all of those who have been with this story since the beginning, and those who have joined us along the way. This isn’t the end of this story, but I just want to let you all know how much you all mean to me.  And please remember, if you read this story and you like it, give it a like, a comment and maybe even a reblog if you think your followers may like it? I know there isn’t much happening in the 6 Underground fandom these days, but the only way to keep it alive, is if people keep reading and writing for the characters!

All my love my dudes ❤❤❤

Probably best if you check out the other chapters first..... One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Chapter Eleven: Don’t let me fall, at least not alone

“Four? Can you hear me?” Billy felt weak, and highly disoriented. His head was spinning, as if he actually was fighting a migraine, unlike the one he was supposed to be faking…. Faking, why was he faking a migraine again? “Four, stay with us!” The voice continued calling out, though why was this person yelling out a number? A name sure, he could understand that. But calling out random numbers? That just served to confuse him more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” This was a new voice now, one which sounded just as Billy’s eyes had slowly drifted closed against the harsh fluorescent lights above him. How strange, surely these people weren’t addressing him were they?

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” The same voice from before was firing orders, her voice holding an edge of fear and concern. Suddenly a shadow appeared above his closed eyes, and carefully he peeled them open, relieved to not be greeted with bright lights, and instead by a shadowed figure. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.” She was whispering to him, or at least that’s what it sounded like. Though it was hard to be sure, especially as he struggled to keep his eyes from falling shut once more.

How had things turned out like this? The last thing he could recall, was speaking with a woman dressed in white at a reception desk. Then it had all gone blank for him.

*****

You paced around the small living room of the house you had all been calling base for the past few weeks, sucking in deep breath after deep breath, all the while clutching your arms around yourself in a tight embrace. “Nope, I can’t do it. I cannot do this guys!”

Two looked up at you from her gossip magazine, having taken great pleasure in the abundance of French reading material. She was the only one of you in the group to have settled into your temporary accommodation, and was fitting in with the locals perfectly. Rolling her eyes at your outburst, she returned to her reading. It wasn’t that she was being unsupportive, far from it actually. It was just that she had reached her limit of words of support, forty odd minutes ago, at the beginning of your breakdown.

“Yes, you can. You know you can! We’ve been over the plan hundreds of times now, everything is in place. Weapons are stored in the hospital, the Lushnick’s are there, we’ve seen them! Everything is working out according to plan. Four will be on his way to Emergency within a few hours, then it’s all up to us. We can’t leave him.” It was One’s turn to play reassurer this time around, and he was the first to raise Four as if knowing it would get a rise out of you.

You whirl on the spot, eyes growing wide and pupils blown. “I never suggested we leave Four! I ju– I just don’t know if this mission is a good idea is all?”

One sighed, squaring his shoulders before smoothing his hands down his turquoise scrubs. “Eight, if you had one shot, or one opportunity. To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment, would capture it? Or just let it slip?”

You stare at One, blinking slowly as silence fills the room. “Is – Was that Eminem?” You stammer, shaking your head gently, as if to clear the fog which had settled there. Surely you were mistaken, One couldn’t be quoting Lose yourself, right?....

“Does it make it any better or worse knowing this isn’t the first time he’s used that as a motivational speech?” Seven grins, winking at you impishly.

“I think what makes it worse is knowing that no matter what reaction he got last time, he still decided to try it again!”

“Touché, and dude, get yourself a better speech already!” Seven smirks, patting One on the shoulder as he walks by and towards the kitchen. His uniform shirt half buttoned as he goes.

“Why does everyone know that song straight away?” One groans, looking genuinely confused.

“Because it’s the bloody 2020’s! And not to hate on Slim or anything, but for the love of god, replace your ipod shuffle, and listen to some new music. Please!” You plead, as the startling thought of One thinking lose yourself was a new song creeped its way into your mind, causing you to shudder.

Five steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her. Looking like the absolute goddess she is, with her hair wrapped in a fluffy towel, and a robe concealing her, she fixes you with a strong look. “Eight. You are ready for this. Upon our first mission, we were all terrified. But we pulled through, one way or another we did what needed to be done, and look where we are now. I know what you’re feeling, we all do. We’ve all been there, trust me. But the only way this will work, the only way we will be able to get to the Lushnick’s, is if we stick together and work this mission just as we’ve planned. That means all of us. We can’t be a member short, not this time.” Without waiting for your response, Five walks away, closing a bedroom door behind her.

You have no response, no witty retort. Nothing. Not that it would matter, Five wasn’t there to hear it anyway. Chewing on your bottom lip, you turn back to One, who still looked somewhat put out by your ipod comment. “Has anyone seen my uniform?”

*****  

Just after 11am, Billy made his way to the hospital and into the Emergency department, cradling his head between his palms, and groaning in mock agony. His earpiece was safely tucked in his ear, providing him contact with his team. Contact which he had been severely missing these past few weeks. At first it had been bearable, what with your secret texts on your burner phone. But when One had arrived at the safe house, it had been harder to sneak messages, until finally they had ceased all together. But hearing your voice now, ringing through his ears, he felt like he was home. Despite walking into a hospital.

“Genevieve Lushnick is on the move. Last seen leaving Ward 11A.” You advise everyone.

“She finished her rounds in Paediatrics much earlier, not sure where she’s headed now.” Five recalls, the sounds of crying infants in the background of her voice.

“Usually her roster would have her checking on Geriatrics in Ward 7B next. But She’s already been there. That was her second visit of the day.” Seven advises, though he sounds confused. To be fair, so does everyone else. Genevieve was changing up her routine, something she hadn’t done at all during their surveillance of her. So why now?

“Hold on, let me see if I can track her down through the live camera feeds.” You suggest, the sounds of your fingers flying across a keyboard breaking the silence which followed.

Billy’s concentration on the conversation happening in his ear is cut off by a woman dressed in white sat at the Emergency reception desk. A nurse from the looks of her. “Bonjour, comment puis-je vous aider?” She blinks wide amber eyes up at Billy, who stares back confusedly.

“Uh, En-English?” A part of him wants to chastise himself for not learning French for this mission. But knowing he was playing the part of a tourist he allowed himself some leeway in the preparation department.

The nurse smiles further, though the more teeth she shows the more forced it looks. “Of course. How may I help you today sir?”

“I just flew in a few days ago, and I have an awful headache. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. All lights are too bright, I feel weak, my head is pounding, and I feel nauseas.”

“Has this just begun, or is this an ongoing issue?”

“No, it just started this morning. I took a couple of paracetamol to help when I woke up, but they’ve done nothing.”

The nurse nods her head, looking down at her computer, as Billy adds in a groan for effect. Just as the nurse asks for personal details, One appears from the behind the desk. “Goodness, what’s wrong with this man? He looks like death on two legs!”

Billy repeats what he had just told the nurse, with One nodding along, and playing every part the good doctor. “You need to be seated immediately. Someone, bring me a wheelchair!” One calls in the direction of the wardsmen who are stood around the waiting room. “Jennifer, you need to be more familiar with signs of a migraine. This young man, what was your name sir?”

“James.” Billy moans, falling back into the wheelchair once it appears behind him, laying his head back for added effect.

“Yes, James could have collapsed at any moment. Please be more mindful next time.” One warns, a harsh glare in his eyes directed at the young nurse.

“O-of course Doctor Cleavers. It won’t happen again.”

Billy can barley contain his smirk at the sound of One’s alias, covering his attempted chuckle with a well-timed groan.

“Does anyone have eyes on Gregory?” Two whispers harshly into her earpiece, causing Billy to flinch slightly, just as one does the same. Christ, Two needs to keep her tone down!

It’s Three’s turn to respond first now, who sounds quite proud of himself as he speaks. “He’s up in theatres, doing God knows what to God knows who.” The sound of a trolley filled with rattling dishes being pushed, barely making his mumbled voice audible.

One moves around behind Billy, kicking up the brake on the wheelchair, and pushing him towards the swipe pass activated doors, leading to the Emergency treatment area. The deafening silence flowing through both his and Billy’s earpieces cause the two men to glance at each other nervously.

“How long ago did you see Gregory heading to theatres?” You ask, an edge of worry hinting at your tone.

Yet another long pause, until. “During breakfast rounds… I suppose two hours ago, maybe?” Three no longer sounds sure of himself, which sets in a sinking feeling in all those on the team.

“He was scheduled to finish surgery one hour ago. Has anyone seen him this past hour?” You snap back, perhaps more of a bite in your words than you had intended.

“Negative.” Replies One in a quiet voice, while smiling at fellow doctors as he pushed Billy.

“No.” That was Two.

“Nope.” Five now, who had been awfully quiet so far.

“Neither.” Three mumbles, likely feeling as dejected as he sounded.

“Well you know I haven’t.” Billy smirks. It was a risk him speaking to the group like this, but currently with his head tilted back, and staring up at the ceiling as he was being wheeled down a corridor, no one really paid any attention to him.

“I’ve only seen Genevieve. The two haven’t been together all morning sorry.” Seven whispers.

“Fuck me…” You breathe out, slamming your fists down on the desk. “I can’t see either of them on the live feeds!”

Carefully, Billy lifts his head once again, turning over his shoulder to peer up at One, who was frowning and staring dead ahead.  “Is there a problem Doctor Cleavers?” He mumbles, keeping the act up for anyone who may pass.

“There very well may be.” One mutters, only glancing down at Billy for a brief moment.

The two continue down the corridor for another few minutes, the bright clinical lights beginning to bring on a genuine headache for Billy now. Finally, they come to a stop in a large treatment room, multiple beds lining the walls, all encircled by blue curtains. Some had been drawn for patient’s privacy, while others remained opened. In the centre of the room was a large desk where Nurses and Doctors hurried to and from, collecting and depositing various prescriptions and clinical orders. “James, are you able to stand to bring yourself over to the bed?” One asks, raising his voice enough to somewhat put on a show for those nearby.

The temptation to ask One to pick him up is almost too great to pass up, but knowing that somehow it would come back to haunt him, Billy opts for standing himself. “I think I can manage, thank you Doc.” Standing slowly, Billy pivots on the spot, and shuffles over to the bed, hoisting himself up and laying back.

“We’ll need to bring your fluids up, I’m worried about you becoming dehydrated. We’ll need to cannulate you. Have you ever had a cannula before?”  One asks, waving for a nurse to come and assist him.

“No, I don’t think I have.”  

“Not to worry, it’s relatively quick and painless.”

The nurse hurries over, and listens as One fires orders at him, orders which he had picked up from watching medical shows, mostly scrubs…. “We need James on a drip ASAP, get that started now!”

“Right away Doctor Cleavers.” The nurse agrees, before moving off to grab the necessary equipment.

Billy turns his attention to One, raising his eyebrows in concern. “Are you seriously going to stick a needle in me?” He hisses, emerald eyes flashing in fear.

One shrugs lightly, turning away from Billy to keep an eye out for the nurse. “Well, I’m not going to be injecting you. Can’t say the same for the nurse though.”

Billy wants to scream, at no stage during the briefings had there been any mention of him having a needle jabbed into him! Hell, if there had been any discussions of such a thing, he likely would’ve backed out! Perhaps that was why there was no mention? The nurse reappears, and preps his work station, all the while One, or Doctor Cleavers stays around to supervise the proceedings, occasionally chiming in with his theories as to what the cause for his sudden pain could be.

“Four! One! They’re coming!” Your voice breaks through the stinging sensation of the needle, panic flying through Billy’s veins. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for-” Your voice is broken by puffing breaths, and the sound of your feet pounding on the tiles as you sprint from somewhere else in the hospital.

“Emergency.” Billy finishes, as the two people who he had been staring at photographs of for months now, strut into the treatment room, patients and doctors alike parting like the red sea as the couple head towards Billy and One. Four sets of eyes meet, and no member of either team is willing to break concentration.

“We’ve been expecting you.” Genevieve grins, her canine teeth almost too pointed, like fangs brushing against her ruby painted lips.

“Thank you, Eric, you’ve done a wonderful job here.” Gregory turns to the nurse and nods his head, the nurse returning the gesture and leaving the group.

“Eight for Four, come in Four!” Your voice shouts in his ear, causing Billy to flinch away.

“Ah, that must be the rest of your team I take it? Not to worry, we have our people taking care of them as we speak.” Genevieve shrugs, before turning to One. “Seeing as you’re so good at playing Doctor, you’ll be pushing your friend. He won’t be awake much longer. I would hate for him to collapse.”

At these words, Billy shoots up on the bed, his head spinning as he does so. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Genevieve waves him off, her nails painted the same shimmering ruby as her lips. “Surely you don’t expect me to give away our secrets? That’s not how people like us work.”

One steps behind Billy’s bed, and begins driving it forwards, following behind the Lushnick’s with a scowl. Billy could see the wheels in his mind turning, as he tried to formulate a plan of escape, though from every way he looked at it, they were pretty well fucked. He could feel his body growing tired, and his mind becoming clouded and dazed, whatever they had given him, it was taking over his body quickly, and any minute now he would be useless to the team.

*****

Fuck! The entire team had lost the Lushnick’s! How did that even happen? Seven was supposed to be trailing them, he had been doing so every other day perfectly, but what the fuck had gone wrong today? Your fingers fly across the keyboard, frantically switching between all the cameras in the hospital. Some provided a live feed, while others only offered playback, but at this point in time you would take what you could get. Window after window pops open on your monitor, squinting at the slightly pixelated images to try and identify who was being filmed.

“There!” You practically scream, causing one of the guards walking past your office to jump, turning a concerned look your way. “Sorry, just uh – finally got a fly that’s been harassing me all morning.” You blurt out, though with a shrug, the guard walks on, either having bought the lie or not caring enough to question it further. You gaze back at the image on your screen, it was from one of the playback cameras. Both Gregory and Genevieve were spotted seven minutes ago in one of the staff only corridors, leading between the imaging department and emergency. “Seven minutes…. How long does it take to get there?”

“Three! Come in Three!”

“Bloody hell, no need to yell Eight. What is it?”

“On your delivery route, how long does it usually take to get between X-ray and Emergency?”

Three pauses to think, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he does so. “Roughly twenty minutes.”

“We’re fucked.”

“What? What does that mean?!”

You ignore the frantic questions streaming from Three, the others shortly joining in with their own confusion. But you didn’t have time to address their concerns, right now there was only one thing on your mind. Beating the Lushnick’s to the Emergency room. With your heart hammering in your chest, and breathing coming out in desperate gasps you turn back to your computer, snaking your way into the hospital power grid.

You know how to do this, it’s just like what you did for your museum heist way back when you had met One. But for some reason, your brain can’t seem to summon the image of what you need to do. You could try a keyboard smash now that you’re in the controls, but that could seriously damage literally everything… “Come on, just think dammit.” You snarl at yourself, clasping your hands into fists, and pressing them against your temples.

Eyes springing open, you fix a harsh glare at the blinking screen before you, asking for a password. “Y’all Lushnick’s are fucked.” The password it simple to guess, trust the Lushnick’s to use their fucking last name as a password. They may be smart in what they do, but they sure as hell know nothing about internet security. The screen turns black, with a 3D model of the hospital slowly building itself on your screen. With each scroll of your mouse, the model shifts, and enlarges to a new section of the hospital.  A blinking blue bar in the top left of the screen offers a text space, and going on a hunch, you type in ‘Geriatrics’ and press enter. The model disintegrates into tiny pixels, before rebuilding just the section you had searched. “Brilliant…” You whisper to yourself.

The geriatrics ward of the hospital consisted of one main power source, with a backup which would boot up and provide energy to the most necessary equipment and lights in the event of the main grid failing. “Five for Eight, come in?”

“Eight here, what’s going on?”

“I’m being followed. There’s security blocking off just about every exit on this floor, and no matter where I go, there’s someone behind me, or waiting for me.”

“Has anyone else got this issue?” You call out, eagerly awaiting replies. There’s a resounding yes in response, with the only discrepancy coming from Seven.

“A couple of guards caught up to me in 11B, they’ve brought me along to help catch the infiltrators.”

“So they don’t know you’re a part of this?”

“Seems like it. And from what I gather, they aren’t onto you either…”

“Perfect, Seven stay with your team. There’s about to be a Code Blue in geriatrics. I’ll put the call through to all security to get to the ward, that should give the rest of you time to escape. Rendezvous in Staff corridor D.”

You don’t wait to hear the replies from your team, once again your body working quicker than your mind. Your hands already working on shutting down the power to the Geriatrics ward. You should feel worse than you do, you were putting innocent people’s lives at risk. But the one thing which had been drilled into you from the begging was, the team comes first wherever possible. It was Seven who insisted on this. But who were you to argue with him?

Your eyes are glued to your screen as you watch a warning light appear over the 3D model you had been working with. ‘WARNING! Main power grid will be turned off. WARNING!’ It was rather polite of the system to warn you of the damage you were about to inflict, however the flashing red image did little to stop you. With one final mouse click, a new pop up appeared on your screen. This one somehow even more urgent, despite no red flashing lights. ‘WARNING! Main power grid for geriatrics has now been turned off. Back up system now operating.’ An alarm was blaring throughout your office, warning you and all security who remained nearby of a system failure. “All units. Repeat, all units to Geriatric ward immediately. Power failure. All units report.” You instruct through the P/A system.” Instantly, you watch as two security guards’ race past your office, down the hall and towards the stairwell.

“Five, have they gone? Can you get out?” You ask carefully, keeping your voice low in case of any security stragglers.

“Yeah, they’ve all gone now. Jesus Eight, what kind of a system failure did you make?” You can hear her laughing now, though you know the doctor side of her is genuinely concerned as to what chaos you had caused.

“Nothing that should cause any real harm, but it’s done the trick.” You smirk, locking your computer and stepping out of the office.

You knew the security alert wouldn’t deter the Lushnick’s, hell even if the building was on fire, you doubt they would stray from their current target. But if your calculations were correct, you still had at least five minutes to warn One and Four of their impending arrival. Your heavy combat boots pound against the tiles, sprinting your way towards corridor D, praying the others would already be there, or at least arriving soon. Pressing your index finger against your earpiece, your voice sounding frantic even to you. “Four! One! They’re coming!”. They had time, they had to have time….. But with no response from either, you try again. “The Lushnick’s! I finally found them on the cameras, they’re headed straight for Emergency!”

Nothing, not a single word from Four or One. This wasn’t right, they were supposed to have time still, plenty of time to get out of Emergency and meet you and the team. But as you round the corner to Staff corridor D, there’s no One, and sure as hell no Billy. “Thank God you got here alright!” Five gasps, running over to you and wrapping her arms around you. You had never known her to be much of a hugger, but you suppose high stakes situations like this could change a person. Checking over her shoulder you spot Three, Seven, and Two all talking amongst themselves. “Where’re Four and One?” You ask timidly, stepping away from Five’s embrace slowly, and looking between her and the rest of the team.

No one seems inclined to answer you, which only serves to send a deep chill down your spine, and for a solid mass to feel as if it had been lodged in your throat. Pressing on your earpiece again, you try calling for the two again. “Eight for Four and One, come in both of you.”

There’s again no reply, and your heart feels like it’s being strangled. “I heard some of the guards talking. There was talk of a couple of intruders being found…” Seven begins, his dark eyes meeting yours, with a look which could only be described as true sympathy.

Sharp, electric static echoes through your teams ears, all earpieces but yours going haywire for five seconds, before silence once more. “What the fuck was that?” Three snarls, ripping the piece out and glaring at it between his large fingers.

An all too familiar voice speaks slowly now in your ear, but as you look around you realise this voice was only speaking to you. No one else could hear her. “Well, who do we have here. You’re not the Doctor, I would recognise her voice anywhere. And you’re obviously not the French one, unless you’ve managed to disguise your accent, which I truly doubt. So who are you…”

“I’m not playing any of your sick little games Genevieve. Where is the rest of my team?” You hiss, causing the others to look up and over to you.

“Eight? What’s going on?” Two asks carefully, stepping towards you slowly.

“Who are you talking to? Three asks, lifting his brows up.

“Ah, see. There’s the French one! I knew you had to be someone else! Eight was it? Oh how interesting. So what, did another one of your team die? Is that why you’re here?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m not someone’s replacement.”

“Oh aren’t you? Well that just makes this even more special then doesn’t it? Tell me, which one of these charming young men is Four who you seem so concerned about? Is it this ruggishly handsome tall fellow who keeps glaring at me? Or is it the pretty blonde, with the gorgeous green eyes, who’s having a hard time staying awake right now?” It’s an involuntary reaction, but at the mention of Four, your breath catches in your throat, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. “Ah, the blonde it is..”

“What have you done to him? What can’t he stay awake?”

“My my, so many questions! If you didn’t want anything to happen to him, then maybe you shouldn’t have used him a bait silly little girl!”

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I suppose I could tell you, it would be rather enjoyable to see the look on your face as we operate on him, while there’s nothing you can do about it…”

You don’t wait to hear anymore, ripping the earpiece out and throwing it as far down the corridor as possible. “Theatres. The Lushnick’s have Four and One. They’re about to do something to Four.” You gasp out, barely able to catch your breath, as tears prick the backs of your eyes.

“Shhh, Eight it’s going to be fine, I promise.” Five offers, soothing her palm down your back gently.

“Don’t you dare make empty promises.” You growl, shaking her off and racing down the hall, towards the stairwell.

*****  

“What have you given him?” One growls, glaring between both the Lushnick’s and Four who lay on an operating table, barely moving and occasionally groaning. He rattled his arm against the handcuffs which kept him bound to a side railing. He was completely useless, both to himself and to his teammate.

Genevieve turned to him now, regarding him with a cold stare. “I hardly see why that matters now? You can’t do anything to help him, especially not in your current predicament.” She chuckles darkly, before turning her attention back to Gregory. The man barely spoke a word, but the sick sadistic smile which had been growing across his lips these past few minutes, was enough for One to get a better sense of his character.

“At least tell me what you’re going to do to him!” One tries again. He was running out of questions, and by the looks of things, time too. He had hoped he would be able to keep the Lushnick’s occupied long enough for you and the rest of the team to get here, but ever since Genevieve finished her conversation with you, she seemed all the more eager to get this started.

“Well that’s the fun part. Greg doesn’t know yet! Here’s how this works. Greg cuts the patient open, has a bit of a poke and prod around. Takes out what he wants, and then stitches ‘em back up! You never know what will be taken!” Genevieve grins, pressing a red kiss to Gregory’s cheek, who only grins broader.

One has to fight back to urge to both vomit, and throw punches, instead opting to glare at the duo. “You’re both sick, and you’re going to rot in hell once we’re through with you!”

Genevieve waves him off, turning her attention to Four, who was more unconscious than conscious now. Though he occasionally made a slight jolt, or mumbled a quiet sentence. “Should we wait until he is a bit more under before beginning the procedure?”

Gregory turned to her, lifting a brow in curiosity. “And risk the others getting here, before it’s too late for them to rescue him?”

Just as his words die off, a loud crash against the operating theatre door causes both Doctor’s to glance towards the sound. The crash was quickly followed by another, before a gunshot can be heard echoing throughout the circular room, the sound of a heavy body hitting the ground following. “Greg…..” Genevieve whispers, turning to the Doctor, as the double doors slam open. The metallic hingers screeching under the sudden movement.

“Where the fuck is my boyfriend?” You scream, pistol raised, and aimed directly at Genevieve Lushnick.  Seven and Three stand beside you, each holding a gun of their own, with Three aimed at the nurses in the theatre, and Seven poised to fire upon Gregory. Two and Five stand either side of them, aiming at the guards behind them who were writhing on the ground, though they both remained vigilant for any further arrivals.

Gregory lifts a scalpel and hovers it directly above Four’s abdomen, poised and ready to cut. “Ah, you must be Eight.” Genevieve grins, taking a careful step towards you, as Gregory lowers the scalpel closer to Four’s bare skin.

Seven aims at the wall just above where Gregory stands, the bullet ripping a hole in the sterile room, causing Gregory to jump back almost an entire foot. “Don’t even think about trying that again.” Seven hisses, fixing the Doctor with a glare.

“Now now, there will be no need for violence.” Genevieve begins, before taking a look at the guards who were slowly bleeding out in the entry way. “At least, no more violence that is.” She steps forwards again, fixing you with an interested eye. “My goodness you look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I’m positive I would recall meeting someone as wicked and vile as you.” You spit, keeping your pistol trained on your target, your eyes following her every step.

“Hm, yes I suppose so.” You were now engaged in an odd type of dance, Genevieve was slowly circling around you, and you followed her every move, moving in a circle on the spot. “This is where the negotiations begin, I imagine.”

“There will be no negotiations. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we take you to the authorities who will make sure you both rot in a prison cell for the rest of your sorry lives.”

Genevieve shakes her head no, still walking in her slow circle around you. From an outside perspective, it was that of a lion circling its prey, though to your perspective, you had the upper hand. Or at least, you had the weapon. “No, you see that doesn’t work for us.”

“Fine. You tell us what you gave Four, you let him go, and we kill you both right here, right now.”

Genevieve shakes her head again, looking over to Gregory who was clutching the scalpel for dear life. “Eight, something’s wrong…” One calls, looking over to Four. The young man was beginning to convulse on the operating table. His skin was flushed in tiny pinprick sized red dots, and his chest was rising and falling in rapid laboured breaths.

You chance a glance over to Four, and your heart stops. Something was horrendously wrong. “Five, go check on him!” You screech, turning your full attention back on Genevieve as Five races past you. In a split second, you pocket your gun in the back of your jeans, and lurch forwards, fists griping into the collar of Genevieve’s shirt. You hold the fabric with such ferocity the seams popping in her shirt is almost audible, but your blood is pumping too loudly in your ears for you to hear. “Tell me what you gave him!” You’re practically screaming now, directly in her face, yet Genevieve doesn’t seem phased at all. She was used to outbursts such as this, granted they were typically from a grieving mother or father, and not someone threatening her life, but none the less, it felt like just another day in the office.

“Not until we strike a deal!”

There’s only one thing running through your mind as your eyes lock onto Genevieve’s, the training fight you had had with Three all those months ago. Only this time, there was no one fighting back, you had the power. Your leg steps behind Genevieve’s left, and you sweep out with your entire weight, releasing her collar just as her knees gives way and buckle beneath her weight, and she crumbles to the ground bellow you, her back smacking the hard tiled floor with a crack. Instantly, you’re on top of her, kneeling down against her stomach and pinning her to the ground.

“You bitch!” She shrieks, coughing as she attempts to regain the breath you had knocked out of her, though with almost your entire weight leaning into her now, it was unlikely she would.

“I’m terribly sorry. I guess I lost my footing.” You smirk, pressing your knee harder against her. Causing Genevieve to cry out in pain.

Gregory races forwards, his scalpel dropping to the ground in his haste. “Get off of her!” He calls, wrapping her palms over your shoulders and attempting to tear you away.

Three steps in, shoulder barging him in the stomach and sending the Doctor crashing to the ground beside his wife.

“Guys! I think Four’s having a severe allergic reaction to whatever concoction he was pumped full of!” Five yells, a stethoscope looped around her neck, as her frantic eyes meet yours. “Is he allergic to anything you know of?”

You stare back at Five, your mind going completely blank, you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Surely Four would’ve told you if he had any allergies, right? And perhaps he had done just that, but standing here now, with all hope resting on your shoulders, you couldn’t think of a single thing which may be useful in this situation. Shaking your head, a growing sense of dread filling you, as the rest of the team remain silent. “I- I don’t know….”

“I can give him an Epipen, but I need to know what he’s either had, or what he’s allergic to so I can get him the proper antidote!”

Tearing your eyes away from Five, you look over to One, who not only felt but looked entirely useless, chained to a handrail on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes searching his for an answer. Your mission was to capture the Lushnick’s, and right now, that was exactly what you had done. But if you kept them as they were now, as prisoners, Four could die….. Was that a sacrifice you were willing to make?

All One could offer was a gentle half smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly in his compromising position. He couldn’t offer you an answer, hell you couldn’t even offer yourself an answer….

Carefully, you release some of the pressure from Genevieve’s stomach, just enough for her to look up at you in surprise, blinking wide eyes up at you. “Tell me what you gave him, and we’ll let you both go.” You mutter, fighting back the urge to swallow back your own words.

A wicked smirk unravels over Genevieve’s lips. The kind of smirk which one would associate with a wicked stepmother, or evil queen from a Disney film. “Deal.” You release more pressure from your hold on her, until she can breathe properly once more, and Three steps away from Gregory, giving the man a swift boot to the hip just to make his point. “We gave him a combination of penicillin, general anaesthetic, codeine…” Genevieve stands, as does Gregory, both stepping backwards towards the door. Your team moving out of their way upon looking at you for clarification. No one wanted to move, that much was obvious in the frantic looks the others were throwing your way. But at the same time, they all knew the price they would have to pay if they kept the Lushnick’s as they were now. A price no one was prepared for.

“There was some paracetamol mixed in too….” Genevieve continues. They were at the doorway now, hand in hand, gazing behind themselves to make sure the way was clear. “Hm, what else?”

“Gosh, I just can’t recall.” Gregory shrugs, an evil smirk crawling its way over his lips. His eyes glowing with malice. “I simply have no idea what ese they’re may have been!” He calls with enthusiasm, before both pivot on the spot, racing from the theatre.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You shriek, your sight going red as you sprint after them down the corridor, pulling your gun out as you give chase. Genevieve looks at you over her shoulder as they reach the stairwell, regarding you with a look of familiarity.

“Eight! Eight, it’s not worth it!” Two yells from the doorway, watching you with a deep concern. She knew what you were capable of, your whole team did, but not the Lushnick’s. And from the looks of things, they didn’t care either. You stop halfway down the corridor, releasing the safety on your pistol and firing three shots at the door Gregory hand his hand pressed against. He jumps backwards in shock, glaring back at you, pure fury masking his features.

“Yes Eight, listen to your friend. She seems to be the brains of this group. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now would we?” Genevieve snarls, baring too many teeth to be considered even remotely friendly.

Aiming the pistol once more, you line up your sights, finger hovering over the trigger. One shot, that’s all it would take. A bullet to the middle of Genevieve’s forehead would kill her instantly, and Gregory would have no choice but to surrender. “Are you going to kill me? Shall I say hello to Kellie when I see her?”

You stare at Genevieve, her words ringing through your ears, and sending a jolt of shockwaves straight down your spine. In that moment of hesitation, the Lushnick’s push through the stairwell door, and flee.

You’re paralysed on the spot, staring after where the Lushnick’s had stood moments ago. They recognised you. They knew who you were and why you wanted revenge. But how? It had been years since you last saw them, you had been a child! Surely you looked different now from back then? But they knew you! They remembered Kellie… A gun shot rings down the corridor, the sound of metal clanging to the tiled floor following directly after.

“Eight! What happened?” One yells, now free of his handcuffs, and jogging down the corridor to meet you. You hadn’t moved. Still stood with your arms raised, and gun pointed to where Genevieve had stood.

“They – They knew me.” You gulp, putting the pistol away with shaking hands, and turning to look up at One. Tears were brimming in your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. At least not yet.

“What? But how?”

“I don’t know! That’s the fucking problem.” You hiss, storming away from One back towards the theatre. Once back, chaos surrounded Four, with everyone racing around him handing various different equipment and medications to Five, as she prepped some kind of antidote perhaps. “How’s he doing?”

Five looks up at you, regarding you with a careful mix of sympathy and hope. “The EpiPen gave him enough adrenaline to wake up again, though he’s extraordinarily groggy. Now I’m just tyring to figure out exactly what to give him to counteract the other shit that’s pumping through him.”

You nod your head in thanks, knowing you would find the time to thank Five properly once all of this was over. “What can I do to help?”

“We need to try and keep him awake, he keeps coming in and out of consciousness.” Three replies, as he passes Five a vile of clear liquid.

“Four? Can you hear me?” You ask carefully, stepping over to him and squeezing his hand tightly. His warm fingers curl around yours in reply, before falling limp against your palm.

“He’s out again! Wake him up!” Five yells to those in the room.

“Four, stay with us!” You plead, pressing a soft kiss against his knuckles. To hell with anyone seeing the act of intimacy, if One wanted to give you shit for it, he could do so when you were all in the clear. Though checking the room, you can’t find One or Two for that matter, they must still be in the corridor where you had left them?

Slowly, Four blinked his eyes open, frantic emerald flickering around the room and searching for something, or someone. Just as his eyes landed on yours, they fell shut again, and his body spasmed once more.

“Four, god dammit! Keep your fucking eyes open!” It was Seven yelling this time, his voice booming above all other noises in the vast room.

“Four, please just stay with us a little longer! Five, how are you going with those injections?” You can hear the tears in your voice as you beg for him to open his eyes again, but they remain closed. Turning to look at Five, she looks frazzled. Her hair which had started in a neat, slicked back bun, was now hanging loose down her back, and was wild with frizz. She looks up at you, not quite in a glare, but with enough ferocity behind the look that you know better than to bother her anymore.

Leaning down, you card your fingers through Four’s blonde curls, brushing away a few stray locks which were plastered to his forehead with sweat. Barely more than a slit, his eyes open and stare directly up at you. “Billy, please just keep your eyes open for me. You’re going to be fine, I swear.”

Three looks over at you, his ears perking up at the use of his teammates real name. It was one thing to use names in privacy back home. But during a mission, however failed that mission may be, now that was new. Shaking his head, he spots One and Two heading over, but with grim looks on their faces. “What’s the plan?” Two asks, her eyes locking with Three’s.

“There isn’t one, not really. We just need to keep him awake.” Five sighs. “I think I know what to give him to help, but I want him awake when I administer it. If it works correctly then it should knock him out for a bit. If he’s already unconscious when I give it to him, then I won’t know if it’s doing more harm than good.”

One turns his attention over to you now, lifting one brow as you meet his gaze. “Any idea what will keep him awake?”

You pause, clutching Four’s hand tightly, and staring blankly at One. “Trivia. He loves random trivia facts!” You blurt out after a beat of pause. All eyes turn to you in surprise, no one quite knowing how to respond to this information. You shrug lightly, averting your gaze from One’s. “We play a lot of trivial pursuit back at base.”

Seven is the first to break the silence, though not to mock you as you had thought would be the case. Instead, he looks down at Four. “Hey mate, did you know high heels were originally invented for men. Imagine Three chasing down the Lushnick’s in stilettos.” He laughs, which causes Four to stir slightly, his eyes opening just a tad.

“Fuck, you’re right. That did work.” One blinks in surprise, running a hand through his short hair.

“Of course it did. I know Four, I know what works on him.” You mutter quietly.

Without looking up, Five smirks to herself. “You sure do kid.”

There’s no fighting the embarrassment which claws within you. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to be making suggestive comments… “Alright, keep ‘em coming guys!”

“Um okay…. Uh, Canada has more lakes than anywhere in the world.” Seven offers unsurely.

“Those greedy fucks….” Four moans, causing everyone to pause, before laughing quietly. Good, his sense of humour was still intact, that’s surely a good sign!

Two steps closer, and looks down at Four in deep concentration, before leaning back slightly. “David Bowie, he did not in fact have two different coloured eyes. One of his pupils was permanently dilated after he was punched in the eye during an argument over a girl.”

“Bugger me, really?” Five pipes up, both brows raised in surprise. “I always thought he had one blue and one brown eye.” She shrugs, priming a syringe carefully.

Slowly, Four was waking up. Granted he wasn’t exactly moving very much, but his eyes were opening, and he was grinning somewhat at the facts that were being thrown at him.

Staring down at Billy, something pops into your mind, a fact which you had learnt years ago at school but never shared with anyone else. “Okay, here’s one for you. Madonna’s like a prayer, is actually not about praying, it’s about giving someone a blowjob!”

Silence follows, and you swear you could hear crickets chirping. “Why the fuck is that something you know?” Four groans quietly, his eyes searching all over your face, before finally meeting your own.

“Shit, I don’t know… I also didn’t think that would be the fact that would wake you up the most! I was hoping someone else would say something after me!” You grumble through a grin.

“Nothing could possibly beat that fact.” Four chuckles weakly, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could muster.

Five turns around, holding a full syringe in her right hand, and a sterile swab in the other. “Glad you’re awake. What I’m about to give you however, is going to send you right back to sleep. Sorry about that. But I assure you, next time you wake up, you’re going to feel amazing.” She grins, ripping open the swab, and swiping it over the inside of his elbow.

For the second time that day, Four winces in pain as a needle plunges through his skin. Squeezing his eyes shut against both the sight of the injection, and the stinging pain. Whatever Five had given him was fast acting, and soon enough Four finds it nearly impossible to reopen his eyes now that he’s closed them.

“Move him into the wheelchair there, it’ll be easier than carrying him out of here.” You suggest, pointing to the blue cushioned wheelchair in the corner of the room.

One, Three and Seven all nod their agreement, and move around the operating table, getting into position to lift Four. “Count of three…. One, two, three.” Three instructs, as the men lift Four who simply groans in protest. You watch his limp body be carried across the room, your heart aching at the sight. ‘It could be worse… He’s just asleep.’ You repeat to yourself, once again fighting back the tears which had remained ever present at the corners of your eyes.

Three pushes the wheelchair as you all follow in a daze. Your mind felt as if it were a million miles away from the current situation. For the briefest of moments, you had genuinely considered murdering Genevieve. Never once had you thought yourself capable of doing such a thing. But yet, there you had been. Gun poised, and trigger finger rearing to go. If it hadn’t of been for her words, then she would be dead…

The escape route was an easy one, especially with security still trying to figure out what had gone wrong on the geriatrics ward still. Swiping the keys to an ambulance at the docking bay, you load Four inside the back with Five to monitor him. One drives, Three and Two sitting beside him up the front. While you and Seven sit quietly in the back. Occasionally your focus returns to Four, but mostly you stare out of the back windows, watching as traffic zips around you. You nearly killed someone today… What sort of a person were you becoming? And did you even like the person you were turning into?

Four Eighths taglist (If you would like to be added, please let me know!) @sj-thefan  @not-the-cleavers  @jinxfirebolt18902  @softnorris  @dear-vista  @mixer2b  @rintheemolion  @shane-isa-shame  @keithseabrook27  @tammykelly  @himarisolace​  @buckingpeterparker​  @cailin-lefantasy​  @riddikuluslysirius​  @vivalakatee​  @pxroxide-prinxcesss​

My Masterlist for all my other nonsense! 

[floralcalaveraa]

rules and admin pages has been updated :-)

I have recreated my ‘about blog’ tab (which contained my portrayal, rules, and admin page) into carrd. I think it is both desktop and mobile friendly and that convenience attracted me to give it a try! Other than rewriting and adding some things, they are all ready to be read :-) I’ll put the link to the carrd here so that you don’t have to go to my page for it: https://floralcalavera.carrd.co/

Below I’ll add the points that have been dramatically rewritten and newly added so that you don’t have to read any monstrous wall of text and save you the time- They will be ordered by sections: guidelines and admin. I really made no edits to my ‘portrayal’ section.

guidelines

This blog is selective (but with a twist to that selectivity). I’ll only follow back roleplay accounts that show enthusiasm for wanting to roleplay with me. I've learned that following without any initiative to interact leads to silence from both ends. I don't want to follow a blog that won't do much to engage with me. I do not care about proficiency in writing level, fancy aesthetics, or the number of followers. Anyone is free to follow and interact, but continuous engagement such as liking my posts or reaching out in dm's would lead to follows for non-mutuals.

If it's impossible to conjure a thread because of how distant our muses fandoms are, you can interact with my other blogs.

Roleplaying and Messaging. All that I ask is the same dedication to a reply. I don’t judge proficiency of language nor lengths of responses. Neither am I selective with the topics and concepts included. I allow many themes in our interactions. Don't hold back your ideas no matter how non-sensical you think they would be. All that I'll ask is that you give me a heads up so that I can go with your agenda. Any NSFW subject will be tagged the best I could for you to blacklist (tw: word).

I don't support call-outs. Fiction is fiction, not a reflection of reality. More often than not, it's about the content someone writes or it's a dispute that could've been settled between the people involved. Do not ask me to reblog/engage with a call-out post. If this opinion offends you, then I'm just not your guy.

admin

Pronouns: He/Him

Age: drop-out College Student, Young Adult

Languages: English, Spanish, French (Learning), can interpret Italian oddly proficiently simply because Spanish gives me leverage

Traits: Shy and friendly, formal but can be random and enthusiastic

Hi I'm Ulises! I'm fond of rare pairs than popular ships and I love making headcanons over any little detail. Asides from roleplaying, I draw; feel free to share with me your artworks if you draw as well :-)

I know myself for being very slow in my responses, this does not mean that I am bored; I value all of my threads. I'm just likely to be drawing as I have rekindled with it.

I'm never opposed to making friends, but a head's up that I respond at irregular, long intervals. My friends have learned that adding me on Discord does not make the writing process any quicker :')

(At the very bottom of this admin section in Carrd, are buttons that lead to my other blogs.)

Thank you for opening this stupid thing and reading it if you did :’)

[a-lil-perspective]

God these last two weeks have been hellacious and this episode is straight up wrecking me and I’m so very sad for Crosshair and I just want a breather geez.

Frustrated with my brain for no longer being able to process angst (trauma stuff flipped that switch a couple months ago), or anything really. Been going on for awhile and it’s just a lot. Even fluffy thoughts are hard to come by these days. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I don’t like it, and I can’t make sense of it. I know I just sound like a broken record over here. It’s ironic because, this feels like a malfunction. I feel, honestly, like laggy software. It takes me forever to type even small texts like this. Think I’ve been at this for over twenty minutes now. I have to think so hard about it. I have to strain so hard to rearrange my thoughts to form a semblance of coherence. I have so many things I want to say but the words they just… don’t come. They aren’t there. They used to be.

I miss talking to my friends here. You are all so lovely. I don’t know how I got to share the same space with such brilliant people. And I feel like I’ve really let you down, even if you say I haven’t. I miss having a strong connection, being your biggest cheerleader, and I hate just being dead weight over here. There’s a lot I’ve missed out on and fallen behind on, as far as content. As far as my own; I look forward to the weekends because that’s when I have some time to come on here and do my little fluffy thoughts, but like I said, even those are at a rapid dwindle. And it’s somewhat hypocritical because it’s like, if I have time to type this out, then I have time to read/interact with a fic. Your fics. Instead of bitching and rambling on I could’ve diverted that energy towards your work, towards your pride and joys that I just as equally adore, and that I’m truly sorry I haven’t given you all my love for. I’m innately hard on myself so, I take that as a personal failure.

I’m at the end of whatever this little spiel is, and I don’t even remember the point I was trying to make. Prime example. But, anywho. Empty thoughts.

Oh, I remember now. I have a ton of reblogs saved up but I just have not had the energy for tags (again I’m so very sorry) and I’m seriously considering just reblogging these posts straight up, as they are, without any additions… which is hard for me to do because, I’m all about commentary, whether it be in the actual post or the tags. So it would feel weird for me to reblog something with nothing added to it, even though that’s a very normal occurrence on Tumblr. It just doesn’t sit right with me personally. I like to be overt in my affection on here.

If I do decide to do the reblogs with no tags, please know that whatever the post is, be it art, a fic, a GIF set… that I adore it to pieces, that I am in utter awe of it, I admire you for it, more than words could express—literally. And if/when I get the energy, I will go back in and add tags letting you know just that.