#Saints Row. Enough Said

[masschase]

Some Troy and Casey cousins lore as promised the other day!

I'm basically back to saying this is part of my canon now. It's just in a very different form to the original vague hc I had for them.

Once again, yes, maybe there are AUs where they aren't related, and maybe there are AUs where they know they're related. In fact I kind of need there to be because I need to see a teenage Troy being made to babysit Casey as a baby/toddler; the results are gonna be precious and/or hilarious(I hc her being a pretty chill baby as long as she's fed frequently but like... toddlers in general... uhhh good luck Troy 🤣)!

But main universe, they don't really know. They never really know. Now I really like when aspects of my hc just kind of... fall into place? So here's some parts of Casey's backstory I created for entirely different reasons that link in with this really well.

Casey had limited contact with an uncle on her dad's side who taught her to shoot and fight not long before the events of SR1. The uncle was originally aiming to teach her sister Phoebe, who, presuming Casey was around 13, would have been 17 at the time, but she really wasn't that interested. Casey on the other hand was fascinated. It was her first time having a hobby that was more focused on channelling her feelings into a hobby rather than reading which was a lot more for the purposes of escapism.

Casey has some gratitude towards this uncle, but also some cynicism too. "Never checked we had food in the house but, you know, at least I could shoot a gun and punch out a guy twice my size." she points out. But eventually she does process that it was her mom who might have been keeping that side of the family away from her, and while I never confirmed it, I believe that is indeed what happened(her dad, however, is entirely responsible for his own absence).

I've never really got into why this uncle was particularly skilled at/decided to teach them this stuff, why Elizabetta allowed him contact with them when no-one else was allowed that, or why he was so interested on checking up on the kids. But I'm now suggesting that this man is Troy's dad and I think that in itself goes to some way to explaining it.

This uncle wasn't actually Casey and Phoebe's dad's brother as they were told, he just put it that way to simplify things for these two kids who didn't really know him. They obviously just accepted it because they didn't know their dad in that much detail. He was his brother-in-law. His wife was Casey's blood aunt, and Troy's mom, and she took her husband's surname of Bradshaw while, as I've mentioned in a previous post, her brother took his wife's name of Clark until their divorce.

I definitely hc Troy's dad being a cop. This explains would explain why he would have a reasonable amount of expertise in not just combat but teaching combat to a reasonable level. Troy's dad wanted contact with his nieces partially because he felt some duty of care to them, and also because his wife probably suggested they be subtly checked on. "Teaching them to fight because I've seen a lot of shit happen to young women" or something was a good way to frame it that would explain why it's worth travelling halfway across Michigan for.

The fact that he wasn't actually blood related to Stanisław made Elizabetta a little less concerned about letting her daughters see him. But really, her ongoing paranoia about social services involvement made her more inclined to agree with his request in a way she felt she could maintain control over. Because overall, her kids didn't come across as problem kids if seen outside the house.

It seemed to work in that respect. Phoebe seemed sociable and responsible with some typical teen disinterest, Cassandra was shy and intelligent but came out of her shell a lot as he began teaching her. Even if he did have minor concerns, his wife would probably tell him it was fine based on what he'd told her.

Troy's mom was not uncaring about her nieces, not at all. But with a house full of teenagers, pushing for contact with two small children was never her priority. Once her children were grown? Yeah, she may have had some concerns, but unless they were in actual danger, she wasn't going to get involved with a situation where she might end up taking responsibility for them. I hc her having had an OK relationship with her sister-in-law in the past, so less reason for concern. The relationship between her and Stanis I think could be a post in itself, but I think they weren't super close as siblings go, I think again the age gap factored into that.

What does Casey know about her cousins? Pretty much nothing. Her mom didn't allow it. She doesn't know their names. She's never seen a picture. She once asked her mom about them upon seeing a schoolfriend who was close with their cousin, only to be basically told "they're adults, they don't wanna come play with you", so she knows they're all older. By the time she's an adult and could reasonably go looking, she's so disaffected with her family she doesn't do so. Bear in mind that even when her grudge against her sister (who she loves very much) for leaving her with their mom was let go, she still doesn't visit often due to 'not wanting to be around her perfect family'. I make it pretty clear she has issues around stuff like that which she knows she just can't have due to her line of work. When you add in the fact she's secretly got some shades of social anxiety, going to see cousins in their 30s/40s who she's never met and potentially ending up sitting with their perfect little families is her idea of hell. So she never makes contact.

What does Troy know about his cousins? He knows their names. Phoebe, Cassandra. He saw a couple of photos of them that their mom allowed his mom to have before he left home, when they were still pretty young. He would assume they have their dad's second name, Kendziorski, just due to that being more common and knowing their parents were married (his mom making mention of an ex-sister-in-law). He has other young cousins; his uncle's even younger children/Casey's half siblings if he has interest in that sort of connection. But honestly I doubt he's that interested either.

Neither of them know the right things about the other to make the connection when they meet in SR1. Casey has nothing to go on, really, and she's not the type to jump to conclusions about that sort of thing. Troy has a face that's obviously nothing like the picture from when she was 5, a name that doesn't match, at first not even the right gender as both of his estranged cousins are girls and obviously Casey is mistaken for a boy for a while. Casey never talks about her past. Troy doesn't look much like Casey's dad and Casey doesn't look much like Troy's mom. With a closer friendship and more time together they absolutely would have figured it out. But for various reasons they don't have that.

I do think they met once prior to the game though. Casey was just way too young to remember it.

Stanis was miserable around the time of Casey's birth. Elizabetta's keeping up appearances nature would have prevented him feeling he could vent to most of their friends. So I think at some point when she was a few months old he went to his sister's house under the pretense of introducing the new baby to her aunt. He does, but he also really just needs to talk to someone detached enough from the situation; his sister. So baby Cassandra is placed in a little play ring in a corner of the room attempting to put everything within reach into her mouth. Troy is made to sit with her while his mom and uncle talk in hushed whispers on the other side of the room under the pretense of "watching her" when they really just don't want him eavesdropping.

If I wanted to say something poignant and beautiful and rather contrived I could write something about how even then Troy knew he had to protect this kid, even though he didn't know her yet. How their meeting 15 years later would perfectly mirror that one.

But come on! He's a thirteen year old boy! He's a thirteen year old Troy! His thoughts on the situation are "Why the hell am I the one stuck looking after this thing?".

But you know what? That's OK. Because that mirrors his views on their future situation pretty well too. 😉

[dropletpetals]

SAGA AU: Their Grace wishes to adopt the Wanderer. What would his reaction be? (I ask because I want to adopt this boy and be his new mama 🥺)

Wanted Son

(feat. Wanderer)

❥⁠Synopsis: After he was created, he was abandoned by his mother. Would You too abandon him?

❥⁠Content Warnings: SAGAU, cult au, religious themes, abandonment issues, mommy issues, basically just all of Wanderer's issues, yandere behavior.

❥⁠Author's Notes: Wow this is like my 3rd Wanderer fic in a row shhsgs

Disbelief.

Did...

Did he hear that right?

He asked for You to repeat what You just said, trembling.

When he heard once again what You just said, he looked at You, confused and lost. "Why? Why would you...?"

Why would You want him for all that he's done? Why would You want him when he had hurt so many people, including Your first vessel?

Why would You want him as Your son when he wasn't even enough for his original mother? Why would You want him when his own mother threw him away?

Why?

Just...

Why?

But even as disbelief and hesitance covered his entire being...

"Yes. I accept."

He was not a saint, and he may be repenting but he is still a selfish man and all he ever wanted before was his mother's affection.

But here You were, easily offering the parental affection that he had once craved and had buried within himself.

No matter if You're doing this because You're fond of him or for Your own gain, he would still accept. There never was any doubt of him refusing your offer.

After all, You had already given him a name. That was more than he can say of Beelzebub.

After that day You had gained a shadow. Your son always a half-step behind You wherever you go.

He would say that he was protecting You because who else fit to be Your guard but Your own son? But it's also for his own selfish reasons.

He wants to be close to You at all times. He selfishly clings to You when You two are alone, craving and seeking the attention You so easily give him and calling You by whatever You wished him to.

Whether or not You are physically affectionate, his hands would always seek Yours in private, assuring himself that You're still there, that You haven't abandoned him.

In moments of vulnerability, he was like a newborn babe who always calls for his mother, dependent and terrified of being alone.

Sometimes he would think of his first mother and how ironic it was that he was once the son of an Archon, but now he is the son of the Creator, a being more powerful than his first mother.

The petty part of his mind was gleeful while another part of him slightly regrets erasing himself in Irminsoul, if only to shove this on Beelzebub's face.

But he waved it off his mind and focused on the present. He would be a dutiful son if that's what You desire of him. He would help with Your duties if that's what You wish.

He would do the dirty work for You, no need for You to take action because Your son is here. He would strike down those that scorn You, those that earn Your ire, those that do not worship You as they should. He would be the loving son, the helpful and dutiful son as long as You wish.

Because all he had ever wished for was to be wanted, and now he is, so please don't let him be alone again.

❥⁠End Notes: I guess we're still not over Wanderer huh?

❥⁠Q: Since we're in the topic of adoption, who do you want to adopt in Genshin? Cause I would adopt Razor in a heartbeat.

[lover-of-mine]

Welcome to the use of blue and green with 911 couples is not confined to clothing and how I believe this applies to buddie since season 2, a masterpost. (this does contain an explanation of the use of blue and green in the more obvious way, the clothes, so even if you don't believe the other elements of the scene part, this could still bring some clarity on the way blue and green is important)

Okay, so, after 706 a lot of people said they thought about me with the buddie/bathena blue and green scene, and I LOVE THAT, but a few people also came to ask me to explain more about the blue and green in general and why that is important and I realized my blue and green thoughts are scattered into multiple posts because I did figure out more stuff since I wrote the first one and season 7 is giving me more things to support the 2 main color theory theories I have when it comes to buddie/Buck, so I decided I need to write one long post about it all, including thoughts on 706 specifically.

Okay, so easy pattern to spot first, the blue and green thing is used with a lot of couples throughout the show, core couples, adjacent couples, random people in calls, the blue and green is used in a major piece of clothing in a couple, a shirt, a jacket, a dress, after s6 the use of pants was introduced more explicitly, and that has transferred to s7, but it is something heavily used since s2 (I can't find a conclusive example in s1 and the first obvious example is madney's first scene in 206) (this will have a bunch of tiny images because I'm trying to stay within the image limit, but if you click on them you can zoom in if tumblr doesn't decide to hellsite, I made them high quality enough)

And it is not just about meant-to-be couples, it's literally just a way to exemplify romantic connection. And while it is used a lot with most of the couples we see, the easiest couple to track is madney, since they have a lot of blue and green scenes, tracking back all the way down to their first scene, but bathena also have quite a few scenes. I love the scene at the station in 308 (last column, 3rd row down) because the cutout of kid Bobby makes it so there's a double blue Bobby there.

So the clothes element is very easy to track. It is a very real aspect of the show. And that is interesting when you consider the actual color theory aspect of it, because blue and green are analogous colors, which means they are right next to each other in the color wheel, and that's a color scheme used to create a harmonious look, it's about cohesion, creating visual unity, and it is what this accomplishes, the couples look balanced even if we don't fully register why, they just naturally work well together and that translates even if you don't know color theory.

This is the part we know exists in the show, but the thing is, I don't believe the show only uses that with the clothes, and again, madney is the easiest way to track that.

I noticed this while making a 512 set for the hiatus rewatch since I was focusing on the scenery to pick the shots I wanted because something about that episode is that it is green in nature since it is a Saint Patrick's Day episode. But everything about madney that episode is blue and green even when madney isn't dressed in blue and green. Pretty much everything about it has blue or green elements.

Maddie is wearing blue in the video, Chim is wearing green when he watches it, she's in blue while she's alone (even her hospital gown is blue, and that's not a common thing for the show), he's in green when he's alone, so we are still in the color scheme, there is a lot of green in the background that makes Chim and his vest stand out, we have green walls, that green bench, the blue red sox merch on the walls. But when they meet again, they are in neutral-colored clothing, contrasting with the background, and when Maddie tells Chim she wants to go home, both of them have blue and green shirts that are covered by a jacket, so the blue and green are not a focal point even if it's there, probably because they are not back in a place where they can get back together yet, and they are explicitly in blue and green in 601 when they do get back together.

They also did the whole make the episode blue and green with 706.

The backgrounds are very blue or green or both, a lot of the people are wearing blue or green, Maddie's phone is green, Chim's car is blue, there is a lot of blue and green happening there.

Something else about madney being blue and green is that their house has a lot of blue and green decorations. So, I definitely wanna say that the blue and green are being completed by other elements of the scene.

But I obviously have examples with other couples.

While doing the rewatch sets for 606 I noticed there are a few examples using Henren and other elements of the scene, 606 is also the episode that allowed me to include pants into this madness.

The thing about henren is that they don't have a lot of blue and green scenes, the 2 we had before s7, because s7 did gave us a few more, are in when they decide on fostering and when Eva comes back the last time, but since their color palette is based on patterns a lot, I decided maybe I should expand my definition of what counted, that gives us one of the flashbacks, because Karen's pants are patterned in green and Hen's shirt is patterned in blue, they also have Hen in green pants for one of the dates and there's the blue lighting, there's the scene with Hen in a blue hoodie and the green background. So more elements of the scene were being employed there.

Another couple is Eddie and Shannon. I will be honest, it took me a WHILE to clock they had an explicit blue and green moment in the form of Chris' birth. BUT, looking at them season 2 and the flashbacks in Eddie begins, they have moments where Eddie is blue or green and Shannon has blue and green detailing, her jewelry, her nails, her car, background of a scene. Also when they are fighting about Eddie reenlisting, they keep switching holding blue and green stuff. Shannon has a blue cup, Eddie is holding a green bottle, the rag on Eddie's hand is blue, the oven mitt next to Shannon is green, so even though Shannon is never a fully blue or green character, she always has blue and green accents.

Randon addon, but Thomas and Mitchell, the gay couple from Buck, Actually that is the couple that shows Buck what love is supposed to look like, they have a lot of blue and green details in their montage, the car, the driveway, the transition from a green cake to a blue cake, I just love that.

Now that we have all of this established, let's talk blue and green applied to buddie.

So, using the established, just the top, point of focus of the outfit, buddie has 3 blue and green outfits, technically 4, but we will talk about the hangar later, because I have a lot to say lol, the loft scene in 613, the station scene in 617, the hangar scene in 704, and the dispatch scene, the street scene, and the wedding in 706 (I will also talk more about 706 later)

One thing about buddie in blue and green is that they tend to have similar shades to past scenes with past love interests.

I don't know why they repeated the shooting combo, I guess it's just because Taylor's greens tended to be less earthy than Eddie's usual shades, but, I was scrolling through bucktaylor blue and green scenes to see if I could find a match for the hangar, and I do think that works, but I was fully ready to go full delusional here and say Buck's hoodie in 706 matches Shannon's nails in 207, because they do, BUT, that one seems to be a double kill and I don't have to sound all that crazy, because it seems like it is a bucktaylor combo from 509 too (the lighting on the loft is obviously different from two scenes in natural sunlight, but they are similar enough)

(Wait last minute addition that you don't know it's a last minute addition and can read more about here, but all thought s6, Buck and Eddie have matching blue and green phone cases, and the 706 scene seems to also somewhat match the shade of the phone cases from last season)

And these are the explicit ones, I would say the 706 scene is even more on the nose since bathena are also in blue and green right next to them.

Now, for other elements of the scene tho, we can go back down to the beginning. As in the you can have my back any day scene.

(Yes, I know the blue is because of the sirens, and it will eventually be red, but since red is such a prominent color for Buck, I can't really mind that all that much because I also have a color-theory theory that deals with the idea that Buck is red in scenes about doing the right thing about love and what more right for Buck than Eddie?)

But since I'm trying to stay within the image limit, let's rapid-fire some scenes here. If we ignore the uniform (I am choosing to because they don't have a lot of room with the uniform, it is what it is, and sometimes a scene will happen in the firehouse) Eddie is wearing blue after the tsunami and the will reveal, Buck's wearing blue after Chim goes after Maddie, Buck's wearing blue in the kitchen talk in 511 (and yes he's wearing blue because Taylor is wearing green, but he's still in blue), the shirt Buck has under the red jacket during the breakdown is blue, Buck is wearing something blue(ish) when they talk about the couches, Eddie is wearing blue on the poker date, Buck is wearing green on the cemetery. In the Carla scene, when Eddie shows up, they're not in the kitchen, and the backgrounds behind them are somewhat neutral. But funnily enough, it's only green behind Eddie there. (if you read my eddie fell first essay, you know I will die saying this is the moment that Eddie is done for so, love when an insane thought solidifies another lol), after the tsunami, we have green scrubs dude behind Eddie when Eddie sees Buck, even though most scrubs in the show are blue and everything behind Eddie is white, we have Buck and the blue of the tent, when they turn around, there's the green thingie behind Eddie and Chris, and the scrubs behind Buck are blue. Grocery store, the toilet papers behind Buck are blue and the outside along with the flowers behind Eddie are very green. Shooting, whatever that green thing behind Eddie is, Mehta's uniform, more blue uniforms, and a green medical person. 511 I just think are funny because Buck is wearing blue in the kitchen but everything about Eddie is white, and that's a fun contrast to the Carla scene and 517 is funny the way one side of Chris' room is mostly green and red and the other is yellow and blue and how Buck is on the green side and Eddie is on the blue (including his shirt). And the poker date, Eddie is in blue and the tables and chairs are green.

Considering using the pants, we also have the post-tsunami talk, the will reveal, and the 504 talk where Eddie has green pants on. Sure, the post tsunami talk, Eddie is both blue and green and there are no blue elements on Buck, but the will reveal, Eddie is both blue and green and the wall behind Buck is blue, and the 504 talk, Eddie has green pants and Buck has a blue hoodie on, considering the way the season 6 had the pants being in used with henren in 606 and with the girls from the oil well (both queer couples, I might add), I kinda wanna say that the 504 talk is traditionally blue and green lol

We also have my Roman Empire, aka the cemetery scene.

Because here's the thing, the sky is only blue behind Eddie and Buck is dressed in green. And also considering the way that they were being pretty consistent with Eddie being green and Buck being blue and the general breakup feelings surrounding the cemetery scene, the fact that bucktaylor switched colors mid-relationship, aka, when Buck tells her he kissed someone else, this is very interesting to me, because the colors in that scene feel like something that was accomplished on post-production, so they are like that on purpose.

This is also something that is used in the gym scene in 705, because Buck is wearing a green coat and Eddie completes the blue and green with the towel and the bottle, and considering green is Buck there is something wrong color and Buck is beating himself up for lying to Eddie, the switch in colors when applied to Buck usually means something.

With all this, let's talk blue and green in 706. Bathena is in 2 different blue and green outfits, the Buckley parents are in blue and green, bucktommy and buddie.

The bucktommy blue and green is very interesting because for one I had to swatch the color of Tommy's shirt and also because when talking about the blue and green in general, the shades tend to match, so to have Buck in a very light mint green and Tommy in a very dark, almost black blue is... a choice, especially considering that bucktommy did match during their date in 705, and Buck is in green, Buck in green is never a good sign (meta on that here), and considering Buck switches colors during crisis, I'm curious as to why they already switched the colors for them, since green is Buck's breakup color.

And the buddie of it all, well, they spent the whole episode matching, literally with the costumes for the bachelor party, but they also stay in their blue and green combo for the duration.

And to have buddie matching even in the bachelor party when the dude Buck is dating is there during the madney wedding episode is definitely a choice, even more, when you consider the way that Eddie is the one who is supposed to be the third wheel, in the costume design of it all Tommy was the one who was the odd one out, and considering the general married behavior buddie was exhibiting during the episode, it's a choice.

And since I'm already here, let's talk hangar scene.

For starters, with this scene, we had a blue and green scene for buddie 3 episodes in a row, which is something on its own, BUT, I will say that I watched the clip of this scene before 704 aired and said "oh, buddie just went canon", because here's the thing, for starters they are in blue and green and Tommy is in shades of beige, so the color on their clothes is the focus, but they are not really the focus, and they do match, but we have to consider the way Buck is wearing a maroon hoodie under his blue and Eddie is wearing a black jacket over his green. That clearly meant some sort of development was coming they're just not fully there yet. For me at least. Because the show has Eddie in the army green armor and Buck in the red jacket of love, and to have Eddie in the army green but with something over it, not using it to protect himself is something, and Buck not being in his brighter reds is also something.

To have this was very interesting for me, Eddie most of all because he's wearing black a lot and I have theories but I can't figure out why. But those are all colors used when Eddie is protecting himself and Buck is trying to understand something, so interesting. And then there's the actual dialogue of the scene "wait, you're not thinking about jumping ship?" "uh, no, I'm just, you know, keeping my options fluid." There is literally no more on the nose way to say don't jump ship than to literally have Eddie say don't jump ship. All that paired with the very obvious blue and green, definitely meant a plan was just set in motion for me.

I will link my Buck and the use of green and red again if you feel like reading more color theory theories. And also a theory about the use of blue and yellow this season.

Anyway, I think this is all, if you read this I love you 💜

tagging the ones of you who asked me about this or interacted with the post I asked about this: @dangerpronebuddie @missmagooglie @steadfastsaturnsrings @millymaki @inell @bella-bothered-and-bewildered @sparkedblaze @frihetstyrke @ilostyou @your-catfish-friend @estheticpotaeto @marmarthehatterverse @planetlet263 @mirrorbuck @lolpuppy

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! Super super in love with your writing. Completely just *muah*! I don’t know if you’ve ever done it before, sorry if you have, but would you be interested in writing a little scene where the villain approaches the very tired and very under-appreciated hero (who was once bright eyed and full of love) and offers to make everything better for them. To make the city regret not seeing how much of a savior they are and all the hero has to do is say yes (and maybe even a hint of romance). I’m super in love with the way you write villain and hero dynamics, you’re like amazing! Thank you either way!

"You look worn down to the bone."

It was probably true, but the hero didn't even find themselves jumping or tensing at the unexpected voice. It may as well have been another inevitable shit show that was going to happen one way or another. They did turn, though, after a beat to clock the villain standing a few rows behind them.

The church was empty, somewhere between peaceful and eerie in the solitude, heavy with dust and expectation.

"Am I interrupting your praying?" the villain asked. Their lip quirked, as if amused.

The hero shook their head, and turned forward again, turning their face up to the light filtering through the stained glass windows. A kaleidoscope of sacrifice and martyrdom and suffering.

The villain moved closer, stopping behind their pew, fingers curling into the wood on either side of the hero's shoulders. The hero stayed as they were, leaned back, feeling the back of their head brush against the villain's chest as it rose and fell with metronome breaths.

"People never come and talk to me in here," the hero offered, after a moment of silence.

"I'm not people."

"If you're here to fight, I'd rather take it outside."

"I'm not here to fight."

The hero glanced up at them.

The villain's hand rose immediately, palm tracing the air an inch above the line of the hero's throat, not quite touching. Mapping. "I remember that you used to pray," the villain mused.

"I remember that I used to do a lot of things."

"Mm. You were a bright eyed thing - all shiny. All new. So hopeful."

"I can still kick your-"

The villain laughed, softly, and curled their fingers around the hero's throat. Gently. More like they wanted to cradle the hero's pulse in their hands, like a baby bird, then do anything especially untoward. Or, perhaps, more like they wanted the hero's eyes on them instead of the icons and the saints and old hopes of the city before superheroes came along.

"Yes," the villain said. "You could."

The hero stopped talking, more out of surprise than anything else.

The villain looked down at them with such blazing, breath-taking fondness.

"I told you they'd wear you down," the villain said, and their kindness was almost cruel, or maybe their cruelty was almost kind. The hero wasn't sure which was which, only that the villain loomed over them with enough presence to fill entire cathedrals. "I told you that the tide would turn, and as the miracle of you became mundane, everyday, they would stop appreciating you." The villain squeezed, just slightly. "All gods die. All pedestals crumble. All heroes must fall."

"Ah, I see." The hero kept their hands at their side, unafraid or perhaps uncaring. "You came to gloat."

"Not especially."

"You sound like you're gloating. It's very speechy. Did you practice?"

The villain's lips quirked again. "I have...considered approaching you many times, if you would like to call that practice."

The hero's brow furrowed.

The villain's grip loosened once more, but the hero kept their head tipped back lazily against the bench, watching the villain inverted and upside down.

"I come with an offer," the villain said.

The hero raised an eyebrow.

"You have saved this city from me time and time again," the villain said, "more times than anyone can possibly know about."

"It's in the job description, yeah."

"But they know enough. Enough to know better. Enough to treat you better."

The hero's head tilted. They blinked up at the villain and (perhaps, always perhaps) there was - if not fondness in the hero's eyes, than something more enduring. Understanding. "And you would make them pay for that," the hero said. They finally moved their hand, but only to set it atop the villain's on the edge of the pew. They squeezed, too, gently. "You're always so ready to make someone pay."

"They deserve it."

"Maybe," the hero shrugged. "But I don't."

The villain frowned.

"I didn't work this hard to help them, just to let you have them now," the hero said.

"I know you're tired."

"So you thought you'd try me when my defences were down?"

"That's not - I'm not-"

"No," the hero said, a little wondering, "you're not, are you?"

The villain yanked their hand back. Their jaw clenched.

The hero twisted on the seat, so they were facing the villain properly.

"You're a fool," the villain spat.

"It's the one bit of me I haven't lost yet."

The villain closed their eyes.

The hero's lips curled in a smile. They reached out again, taking the villain's hand and winding their fingers together. "But, in defence of my foolishness, you do give me hope occasionally."

"One day you'll say yes."

"One day you'll say no."

The villain did laugh again at that, seemingly despite themselves, a bitter thing. Their eyes opened and they looked at each other - both exhausted and both relentless.

"I would be your dark side."

"And I would be your good."

"They don't deserve you," the villain said, again.

"And do I deserve you?"

The villain, it seemed, had nothing to say to that.

The hero pulled the villain's knuckle to their lips, and pressed a kiss to it, before letting go.

"Thank you," the hero said. "For offering. Really."

"I'll ask again tomorrow."

And, every day, the villain did.

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

d. di. dillo ml <3 could i maybe perhaps get hcs for the boys and a theatre kid! s/o? <3

A/N: I’m a stage manager so I feel qualified to answer these asks. I went down the high school theater train here because it felt the most applicable and I felt most confident writing it so…yeah. Hope you enjoy!

DARRY CURTIS

This man is an absolute saint and unofficially joined your set building crew once your show started because he works in construction kinda sorta and figured what better way to help your show than to help build everything you need

The rest of the cast and crew goes absolutely wild when he shows up the first time because let’s be real folks, Darry is absolutely stunning, incredibly strong, and an absolute gentlemen

He’s wonderful at helping you with lines too, if you need some assistance with memorizing or just someone to talk through them with, Dare is more than happy to help you out

Dare’ll give up his free time for that too, like in the evenings when he wants to do is crawl into bed and catch some rest before having to work again tomorrow, he’ll sit with you in the living room and recite lines until you feel confident

Come show time, he’s sitting in the front row with his brothers, grinning up at you when you’re on stage, clapping the loudest when it’s done <3

He brings you flowers too, a nice little bouquet that he gives to you after you’re done, congratulating you on such a good performance, he’ll tell you every show you do was even better than your last, no matter what happens

SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop absolutely loves that you’re an actor, he thinks it’s super duper cool and is literally so in awe of your talent no matter how talented you think you actually are-

He likes to joke, that if he were still in school, he’d be up on stage with you, acting right alongside you, playing every love interest you could ever have on that big stage

The theater director, I’m sure, would have loved to have Sodapop in the plays/musicals because just look at that man’s face and I will bet you actual money that Sodapop can sing too

On those rough days, the days where you can’t remember any of your lines, can’t hit any of your notes, miss every single one of your cues, Sodapop will be there to help you through it

Those days happen, I see them all the time, but Sodapop, with the gentlest voice you’ve ever heard and the sweetest smile on his face, will offer to help you with everything

Come showtime, Sodapop is sitting in that front row, right in the center of the stage, hearts in his eyes and flowers in his hands, eager for you to perform so he can see you doing your thing <3

PONYBOY CURTIS

Guess what buds, Ponyboy Curtis a stage crew kiddo because I said so and now it’s canon in this universe in which these headcanons exist-

He does lights or something, something where he’s around the cast enough to develop a huge crush on you but still separate enough so that he has to make an effort to see you

But once you start dating, Ponyboy finds himself being dragged into the cast circles and into your friend groups more often, being brought more into the acting group of people

One time, and I swear to you it happened one time, he was working one of the spotlights for a rehearsal and was so in awe of your acting talent that he just…forgot…to spot you during your big monologue…

When he notices that he missed his cue, he apologizes like a million times once he finds you again, and when you realize why he missed the cue, please give him a million more kisses because that’s really cute

After you guys finish your show, Ponyboy takes you out to the diner or something and have a little date with you and congratulate you on your job well done!

DALLAS WINSTON

After talking with my dearest friend, thanks a bunch @a-person-who-didnt-wanna-be-here, I finally figured out what I was gonna say about this boyo, I stared at his section for WAY too long

But anyway! If you’re dating Dallas and you’re doing high school theater, prepare yourself for him either asking a shit ton of questions about what you’re working on or absolutely not caring about anything at all

For sure, he’ll show up at your shows and give you a rinky-dink little bouquet of flowers and congratulate you on a job well done and have absolutely no clue about what show you just performed

Dallas will literally get up in the middle of the show and leave because he’s bored when you’re not on the stage and he’ll just hang out outside and smoke until he’s bored of being outside and wants to go back in

If you find yourself in the unfortunate situation where you have to kiss one of your fellow actors for a scene, you don’t have any good options regarding Dallas

Either you tell him before and have to deal with him complaining and threatening your fellow actor or you don’t tell him and run the risk of him finding out <3 good luck!

JOHNNY CADE

Supportive! Boyfriend! To! The! Max! Johnny is absolutely wonderful with a theater kid partner and I just know it all the way done to the marrow in my bones

He would help you run lines, hanging out at your house until the late hours of the night until you’ve got all your lines down and just help you remember them because he just likes you so much

Johnny doesn’t want to be in the plays/musicals and he doesn’t want to be involved with the stage crew either, but he hangs around rehearsals when he can because it beats going home and he likes being able to walk you back to your house when it gets late and stuff

The rest of the cast loves him though, he’s a sweetheart and a little cutie and ya know, he just, he never does anything wrong. He’s a little baby boy and I love him-

He comes to all your shows! You can always find him sitting in the audience cheering for you at curtain calls and waving when he catches your attention

Johnnykid tries to get the rest of the boys to come with him too, mostly Ponyboy, because he wants to show off how talented you are and all that good jazz!

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two-Bit is not in any of the shows. He’s never on a cast list, never in the crew, he doesn’t help with anything at all. But he’s always at rehearsals-

Why is he wasting his time at rehearsals you may ask? Why is he spending afternoons in that old theater, sitting in the uncomfortable seats and watching people practice a show he’s not even in? Oh, it’s because of you, of course!

He doesn’t do much, especially not when he’s got you sitting next to him, and a majority of his time is spent sitting with you and running his mouth about the other cast members and stuff

A large chunk of what he says are compliments on your acting and mumbled remarks into your ear about how you’re better than whoever is on stage or how the two of you could be off somewhere else, doing something else…

But everyone else thinks he’s kinda funny and he doesn’t cause too many problems when he’s around cause you keep him on enough of a leash that anything he does can be considered more funny than problematic

When opening weekend rolls around, he tells everyone he knows to come see you perform, hyping you up consistently and making sure when you come out for bows, you’ve got an audience full of people waiting there to cheer you on!

STEVE RANDLE

I feel like I boil Steve’s character down to a cheerleader boyfriend way too often but like- that’s just the way he is- I don’t know what else you want me to say-

But anyways, just imagine for a moment, sitting in the garage of the DX while Steve’s covered in grease, working underneath a car, while you sit pretty by the toolboxes and run lines with him

He offers to pick you up from rehearsals and drive you home for multiple reasons because a) he likes taking care of you, b) he likes hearing about your rehearsal, and c) he’d never miss an opportunity to drive you around

He drags Sodapop along to your shows because he feels weird going by himself but still really wants to show up out of the blue and surprise you by sitting in the audience with flowers

Triple bonus boyfriend points, he takes you out for dinner after your final show to congratulate you on a job well done and treat you to something while simultaneously showing you off!

While you’re rehearsing and stuff, he calls you his superstar because he’s goofy like that and will state how you’re the next rising star and compare you to all these famous actors/actresses and ask you not to forget about him once you make it to Broadway

TIM SHEPARD

Tim popped by your rehearsal one time because…I don’t even know why, probably cause you forgot your script at his house or something and everyone absolutely lost it cause Big Bad Tim Shepard is at a theater rehearsal

He doesn’t really talk to anyone but you, handing over that script and offering to pick you up after you’re done and take you out to dinner or something <3

Tim’s a pain in the ass to work on lines with, but he’ll help you out if you really need a hand with memorizing them-

I’m getting this visual of you sitting in the Shepard kitchen late at night, deep in thought at the kitchen table while Tim sits on the opposite side and reads from your script, feeding you lines when you need a little hint

He drops you off at the theater on opening day, way earlier than the actual showtime because call times are a thing and they absolutely suck, but he sends you off on your way with a good luck kiss

Tim doesn’t sit in the front row, doesn’t sit with your family, doesn’t bring anyone else along with him, but he’s there at your shows and always gives you a little wave when you bow, winking at you when he manages to catch your eye

CURLY SHEPARD

Imma just be real with you, there’s a really high chance that Curly might be thrown in reform during your show run, he’s a delinquent and ya know, he has a rough time staying out of the pen sometimes

In that case ^^ he sends Tim in his stead so that Tim can tell him all about how you did so that Curly can shower you with praise once he gets out

If he’s not in the pen! Yay! He comes to all of your shows and never buys a ticket, sneaking in every time because no one’s gonna stop him from seeing you perform during your big moments

He hangs out during rehearsals, causing a ruckus when he can and loping off with a smug smirk when he gets kicked out, after blowing you a kiss of course

Curly’s not gonna bring you flowers but it’s not because he doesn’t care it’s just cause he doesn’t have the money or the memory to get you flowers so he just gives you a bunch of kisses instead!

Random to finish, but don’t ever try and get Curly to run your lines with you because he’ll end up turning it into some sort of, remember-a-line-and-you-get-a-kiss game and then y’all will just end up making out instead of working on memorizing lines sooooo……yeah

[thebrickinbrick]

Preparations

THE journals of the day which said that that nearly impregnable structure of the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, as they call it, reached to the level of the first floor, were mistaken. The fact is, that it did not exceed an average height of six or seven feet. It was built in such a manner that the combatants could, at their will, either disappear behind it or dominate the barrier and even scale its crest by means of a quadruple row of paving-stones placed on top of each other and arranged as steps in the interior. On the outside, the front of the barricade, composed of piles of paving-stones and casks bound together by beams and planks, which were entangled in the wheels of Anceau's dray and of the overturned omnibus, had a bristling and inextricable aspect.

An aperture large enough to allow a man to pass through had been made between the wall of the houses and the extremity of the barricade which was furthest from the wine-shop, so that an exit was possible at this point. The pole of the omnibus was placed upright and held up with ropes, and a red flag, fastened to this pole, floated over the barricade.

The little Mondétour barricade, hidden behind the wine-shop building, was not visible. The two barricades united formed a veritable redoubt. Enjolras and Courfeyrac had not thought fit to barricade the other fragment of the Rue Mondétour which opens through the Rue des Prêcheurs an issue into the Halles, wishing, no doubt, to preserve a possible communication with the outside, and not entertaining much fear of an attack through the dangerous and difficult street of the Rue des Prêcheurs.

With the exception of this issue which was left free, and which constituted what Folard in his strategical style would have termed a branch, and taking into account, also, the narrow cutting arranged on the Rue de la Chanvrerie, the interior of the barricade, where the wine-shop formed a salient angle, presented an irregular square, closed on all sides. There existed an interval of twenty paces between the grand barrier and the lofty houses which formed the background of the street, so that one might say that the barricade rested on these houses, all inhabited, but closed from top to bottom.

All this work was performed without any hindrance, in less than an hour, and without this handful of bold men seeing a single bear-skin cap or a single bayonet make their appearance. The very bourgeois who still ventured at this hour of riot to enter the Rue Saint-Denis, cast a glance at the Rue de la Chanvrerie, caught sight of the barricade, and redoubled their pace.

The two barricades being finished, and the flag run up, a table was dragged out of the wine-shop; and Courfeyrac mounted on the table.

Enjolras brought the square coffer, and Courfeyrac opened it. This coffer was filled with cartridges. When the mob saw the cartridges, a tremor ran through the bravest, and a momentary silence ensued.

Courfeyrac distributed them with a smile.

Each one received thirty cartridges. Many had powder, and set about making others with the bullets which they had run.

As for the barrel of powder, it stood on a table on one side, near the door, and was held in reserve.

The alarm beat which ran through all Paris, did not cease, but it had finally come to be nothing more than a monotonous noise to which they no longer paid any attention. This noise retreated at times, and again drew near, with melancholy undulations.

They loaded the guns and carbines, all together, without haste, with solemn gravity. Enjolras went and stationed three sentinels outside the barricades, one in the Rue de la Chanvrerie, the second in the Rue des Prêcheurs, the third at the corner of the Rue de la Petite Truanderie.

Then, the barricades having been built, the posts assigned, the guns loaded, the sentinels stationed, they waited, alone in those redoubtable streets through which no one passed any longer, surrounded by those dumb houses which seemed dead and in which no human movement palpitated, enveloped in the deepening shades of twilight which was drawing on, in the midst of that silence through which something could be felt advancing, and which had about it something tragic and terrifying, isolated, armed, determined, and tranquil.

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 3) Chapter Ten

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Ten: One Hell of a Parade

Summary: The Sapphire Owls celebrate their victory, and (Y/N) and Sebastian have their own fun.

            “So this is the cox costume that has been passed down in Blue House for generations?” remarked Sebastian. He gazed at Ciel with a furrowed brow, and (Y/N) concealed a chuckle. “My, that is quite something…”

            Ciel was swimming in the costume due to being thirteen and small for his age. He huffed from beneath the long, cloak-like jacket.

            “Your appearance is far and away more than even I had expected,” said Sebastian.

            “It certainly is interesting,” said (Y/N).

            “Hold your tongue!” snapped Ciel. “Normally, it’d be an upperclassman in the parade. So we’ll have to make do. Sebastian, tailor these to fit, would you?”

            “There is no need,” said Sebastian.

            “Eh?”

            (Y/N) opened a chest they had brought in. “You said you would win.”

            “It goes without saying that we, as your butler and maid, would have made the necessary preparations,” said Sebastian, lifting an appropriately sized costume from the chest.

            Ciel smirked. “Very well done.”

            (Y/N) and Sebastian exchanged smirks.

            “Of course, my lord.”

l

            As the sun lowered in the sky over the Thames, the preparations for the boat parade concluded. While Blue House would sail towards Windsor Castle, remove their hats for the Queen, and cast their flowers into the water as the victors, the rest of the houses set up the parade. Once sunset appeared, Edward and Clayton organized the other students into teams to light all the lanterns from Saint George’s flame.

            And then it was the Sapphire Owls’ entrance. (Y/N) and Sebastian stood and applauded with the rest of the school faculty, students, and families as the well-dressed group emerged. They had a photo taken, and then they sat in their boat with the lanterns above.

            “Ready? Go,” said Ciel. “Catch, row. Catch, row.”

            The boat moved smoothly down the river, and in the darkness of the water, the lanterns reflected like stars. It was truly one of the most beautiful moments human beings could create.

            (Y/N) lifted their hand and linked their gloved hand to Sebastian’s. They linked their pinky with his, the movement small enough that no one but them noticed. Sebastian glanced down at their hands and smiled slightly.

            “There, on the bridge!” said someone suddenly as the boat approached. “Her Majesty, the Queen!”

            Ciel stood and gazed at the Queen, a somber look in his eyes. As everyone else saluted the Queen with deference and adoration, Ciel stood with deference and a grave expression. After all, he had sworn to do his job as the Queen’s Guard Dog. He had a job to complete at Weston College.

            “Long live Her Majesty!”

            Ciel extended his sword to the Queen. “Salute Her Majesty the Queen!”

            The rest of his boat stood. The moment after they saluted the Queen, they wobbled. (Y/N) and Sebastian chuckled. Apparently, Blue House had worked so hard on strategy for the games they hadn’t prepared at all for boating.

            Splash!

            The boat overturned and sent students and flowers into the Thames. Cheers and laughs went up in the crowd, and even (Y/N) and Sebastian let out chuckles at the amusing sight.

            “That’s Blue House for you!” cheered the students, no malice anywhere to be found.

            Above the crowd’s heads, fireworks exploded, sending showers of light dashing across the water.

            “Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Ciel.

            “It’s dazzling.” Bluewer smiled. “It’s so dazzling that I feel my eyes sting.”

            (Y/N) gazed up at the fireworks, and a slight smile appeared on their face. Their eyes softened, and Sebastian found himself unable to look away from their lovely expression and face.

            “My, my, humans are strange,” said (Y/N). “To go through so much and to yet have these moments…” They laughed. “How amusing they are.”

            “You, my—” Sebastian nearly let his pet name slip free and instead smiled. “Yes. How amusing.” He shifted his hand to properly hold theirs. “And you have that strength and so much more.”

            “We have that strength,” said (Y/N). “We.”

            Humans were transient—their own life had been—but all the briefness of their life, they found such joys within it. Even when they suffered and fail—like Blue House over and over—they found something to celebrate, something to smile about. (Y/N) supposed that is why they still found humans so amusing, so entertaining. They had predictable ways, but, every so often, they created a moment like this that made (Y/N) remember why their human self—the memories so faded—had done so much for others, even when it ended in nothing but their own ruin.

            They held no regrets.

            And now because of all that failure and their “fall from grace,” (Y/N) stood beside Corvus, the demon they loved and who loved them in return for all that they were.

            They had won.

l

            The celebration did not end with the parade, not at all. The people were having too good a time to leave yet, and everyone wanted to laugh and smile more, pretending the moment could freeze like that—joyous—forever.

            Ciel tried to escape, but Soma, McMillan, and Elizabeth dragged him back to the tables of food, tents of games, and crowds of people. The Queen’s Butlers, the Double Charleses, showed up due to being alumni, and the P4 had never seemed so nervous to talk to people in their lives (fans, apparently).

            Sebastian and (Y/N) carefully stepped aside to avoid them since the sharp eyes of Charles Grey might notice who they were. Fortunately, Grey was focused on food as much as ever and gorging himself silly. Phipps, on the other hand, had found a chicken and allowed it to sit on his shoulder. His tall, silent, and intimidating persona was very much disrupted by it, but it produced quite a few smiles and chuckles.

            Cheslock found his violin and approached the Blue House band. They were nervous for a moment that they would be reprimanded for their slightly underhanded strategy, but, instead of his usual abrasiveness, Cheslock asked for them to join him. Together, Blue House and Cheslock struck up and created energetic, playful music.

            People beamed, and they instantly cleared a space to dance. Elizabeth pulled Ciel to the dance floor, and her parents joined them. Francis was a strict woman, but she smiled softly as her husband offered her an arm. They did truly love one another, and the dancing was lively, even for their more proper stance. On the other hand, Elizabeth had pushed Edward and Paula to dance together, and the pair blushed, unsure how to proceed. Soma had no problem grabbing any willing partner for a dance and pulled Mey-Rin, who blushed as a servant, to dance. They linked arms and energetically spun around the dance floor until Mey-Rin and Soma were beaming and laughing wildly.

            Soon enough, a variety of students were also dancing. Bluewer was dragged out by one of his sisters, and his other sisters grabbed the other prefects and the prefects’ drudges, which was entertaining to say the least.

            “I believe there are several people who wish to dance with you,” said Sebastian, glancing at the various women looking at (Y/N).

            “It could be you they wish to dance with, Mr. Michaelis,” said (Y/N), smirking.

            “Both of us, then,” amended Sebastian.

            “I am not inclined to dance with them,” said (Y/N). They smirked. “Actually, I believe Mr. Noir will retire for the evening.”

            “Oh? Shall I accompany you—back to the house, that is?” said Sebastian.

            “Nonsense,” said (Y/N). “Wait here.”

            Sebastian furrowed his brow, and (Y/N) winked before disappearing. Sebastian tilted his head, but barely a moment later, someone approached on his other side. Sebastian smirked as he looked at them.

            “Hello, Mr. Michaelis,” said (Y/N), now dressed in a long black dress with all the markings of a titled family. “Might I inquire if you wish to dance?”

            Sebastian’s sharp grin became a true smile. “Ordinarily, the man asks, but I admire your forwardness. I admit I am enticed.” He offered a hand.

            “I’ve been told my fierceness is attractive,” said (Y/N) playfully while they took his hand.

            “I am inclined to agree, if I may be so forward,” said Sebastian, leading them to the dance floor.

            (Y/N) chuckled as his other hand went to his waist and their placed theirs on his shoulder. The music was still lively, and they moved gracefully across the dance floor among the other couples.

            Several women—and now men due to (Y/N) wearing a dress once more and them not noticing they had been Mr. Noir—stared in jealousy at the pair, but it merely added to (Y/N) and Sebastian’s amusement. After all, they loved each other, which made their dancing pleasant already, but to also have people wishing they held the demon that (Y/N) or Sebastian loved allowed them to thrive off of the jealousy. They were possessive demons.

            “What a skilled dancer you are,” said Sebastian, spinning (Y/N) before pulling them in again.

            “I had an excellent teacher,” teased (Y/N).

            “I must pay him compliments, then,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) rolled their eyes with a chuckle. What a vain demon they loved. Still, they loved every part of him, pride included. And he had no ego he didn’t deserve to have—he was as skilled as he acted. A man who pretended to have skill when he didn’t was terrible and (Y/N)’s least favorite kind of human, but Sebastian was no common man. He respected them, let them be who they wished, and didn’t need anyone to act less strong or skilled to feel secure in his own skill. Truly, it was one of Sebastian’s finest characteristics and one of the first (Y/N) that had attracted (Y/N) to him.

            “You should. He’s quite the man,” said (Y/N), playing along.

            “How lucky I am to steal you away from him for a time,” said Sebastian.

            “Be careful,” said (Y/N). They smirked and spoke under their breath as he pulled them in to the music. “He is quite possessive~”

            “I can compete,” said Sebastian. His eyes flicked to their lips and flashed fuchsia for a moment. Unfortunately, it would be improper to lean in and kiss them due to being “strangers,” but he was already imagining all he could do later—in privacy.

            “Oh? Can you? What a statement,” said (Y/N). They smirked. “You’ll have to prove it, sir.”

            Sebastian smirked. “I shall.”

l

            Sebastian lazily languished kisses across (Y/N)’s cheeks and neck as they lay on their bed beneath the moonlight. It streaked them in silver light, illuminating their every curve. Sebastian thought (Y/N) looked like deity, and, though he was a proud demon, he would gladly worship them. He already had, and yet he hadn’t had enough. He wished to adore (Y/N) every day.

            “Midnight is upon us,” said (Y/N), smiling as Sebastian looked up through his lashes at them.

            “The witching hour approaches,” said Sebastian, knowing they were referring to the tea party beginning but instead teasing them.

            “It is also the devil’s hour,” said (Y/N), chuckling.

            “Then if the pair of us together, it could be our hour,” said Sebastian, lifting his head to kiss them.

            “We have had quite a few hours tonight,” said (Y/N), chuckling and kissing him.

            Sebastian smirked. “Well, it takes quite some time to properly show you love.”

            “I know,” said (Y/N). “Because I ensure I use it to show my love as well.”

            “And you do so perfectly,” said Sebastian. He kissed them. “But I suppose we will have more hours in the future.”

            “Yes,” said (Y/N). “Shall we prepare until then?”

            “We shall,” said Sebastian, his hand tracing their contract seal before rising to dress.

            As much as he teased that they could spend longer together, they both knew they had to be prepared for danger. After the traces of nonhumanness with the Headmaster, Ciel could be in danger at any moment, so (Y/N) and Sebastian had to remain watchful.

            And so, they dressed one another, waiting for Ciel’s call.

            Barely ten minutes passed until Sebastian straightened. His contract seal glowed as he pulled his glove on, and his eyes turned fuchsia.

            “I have been summoned,” said Sebastian, throwing the window open.

            “And so the mystery shall unravel,” said (Y/N), smirking and taking his hand as he guided them onto the windowsill.

            Under the moonlight, the two demons stole into the night. It was time for the truth to be discovered—whether through words or blood, it would be revealed.

Taglist:

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[psycho-lizard9]

There are many Saints Row fans that only like the first 2 games, and I can see why, it became a bit of a circus from 3 on but, honestly, I enjoy playing the circus that is Saints Row The Third, IV and Gat out of Hell. But... I do hate what happened after that... Agents of Mayhem and especially that fucking Saints Row reboot... idc about em, and it's sad cause Gat out of Hell had 5 endings, it's fun and all that they made the "rebuild the planet" ending canon but, first of all, they could have done that better... they could have remade the original SR1 with changes, making it just different enough to be worth playing instead of the original SR1 which is almost lost now as it was Xbox only (*cough* play it on an emulator *cough*) but from the "find a new home planet" and "let Johnny Gat be the new leader of Hell" they could have made games too. On the new home planet ending Kinzie said it'll be our toughest fight yet... I wanna play that. And Johnny as the new leader of Hell? I loved Gat out of Hell, even tho it is really short... I would have loved more of that... they really did the worst possible thing with that reboot... give me Johnny as the new Satan or let me take over a new planet with the crew 😭

[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 13

Pairing: Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, reader is referred to by her stage name of Angel, reader is an exotic dancer, pet names, angry/controlling/domineering/asshole-ish mob boss Bucky, sir/daddy kink, everybody has secrets, reader is insecure and self deprecating, mentions of past d/s smut, reader in a dangerous situation, dom/sub relationship, angst.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NS/FW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated.

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

You giggled into his mouth for the third time in a row.

Bucky's hands were holding your face to his tenderly, unwilling to release your lips from his kiss. He had an incredibly important meeting tonight during your shift at the club, which would cause him to miss your stage time. It was the first time since you'd gotten together, and he was not dealing well with it. You playfully pushed against his rock hard abs in another attempt at freedom- he'd held you captive in his arms for going on ten minutes now- but that only made him growl at you and tighten his grip. You giggled again and jerked your head backwards.

"BUCKY," you gasped, finally able to breathe through your mouth. His answering grunt reverberated on the underside of your jaw, where he'd instantly relocated his lips after you "so rudely" (in his mind anyways) pulled away. Your knees nearly buckled as he hit that sweet spot along the column of your throat, but you had to remain strong. "You are going to be late."

"I'm the boss. They can wait," he murmured, continuing the exploration of your neck with his lips.

"You told me that this was the only time the others could meet, so you have to go with their schedule."

"I'm still the boss."

"I'm NOT the boss, though, and I can't be late either."

"I own your boss. You can be late."

"Oh, I think Natasha might heartily disagree with you there, and NO, I can't."

When he heard those words, Bucky finally straightened up and looked you dead in the eye. "You wanna bet?" he said, his voice taking on that dominant tone that turned your insides to water. He cocked one eyebrow at you with that dangerous look that you knew better than to question.

It had been a blissful two months. Bucky was charming, sweet, wickedly funny, and it was obvious that he adored you. But in the quiet moments, his dark and feral side came out. And the quiet moments ranged from any time he noticed you were thinking poorly of yourself to anytime you got too sassy. Then he got quiet. And you were in trouble.

You had gone into this relationship knowing that he was a Dom, and once you had both discussed your limits, needs, and desires, this man fucking delivered. You had been fucked in every conceivable position and location, and been worshipped in those ways as well. He was utterly devoted to you. But he was quick to snap you back in line when you needed it. You'd always been a bit of a pain puppy, so anytime he had spanked you for your own good it had always felt so right. So right that someone loved you enough to correct you, discipline you, and help you with that glorious mix of pain and pleasure. It was the best of both worlds.

Not to mention the orgasms afterwards had always sent you over the moon.

He wasn't overtly controlling, but you had learned that a cocked eyebrow in your direction meant you were dangerously close to doing or saying something that he didn't like, and unless you were gunning for a sore ass you'd better back off. Not that you necessarily minded the sore ass- but it was a metaphorical pain in the ass to try to mask a burning backside when you were a freaking exotic dancer.

"I'm sorry," you said, tilting your head contritely and looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes.

"Sorry what?" he replied, his eyes darkening with lust.

"Sorry, Sir."

"That's better," he growled low, before pulling you in for a kiss again. You surrendered, knowing that he was going to dig his heels in now. It wasn't that Bucky Barnes didn't go down without a fight. The man simply did not go down when it came to the fight. Besides, kissing Bucky was one of the best things in life, so...why were you arguing with him again?

Finally, when HE decided it was enough, Bucky released your lips with a sigh, then gently touched foreheads with you. "I'm sorry about this, Angel."

"Bucky, it's okay, I promise," you said in that soothing tone that usually made the stress crinkles in his eyes go away. "You've seen me dance every shift for the last two months. One night off isn't going to kill us." You gently ran your fingers along his smooth cheek. He'd shaved for this meeting- you knew this meant it was important. Even though he refused to tell you anything about his...job...he had told you that this was a huge, not-to-be-missed deal.

"Yeah, but...." he said, your big scary mob boss melting into an adorable pouting puppy of a man. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, but it will be okay."

"I...I don't like being away from you."

"You've been away from me maybe a grand total of 3 hours in the past two months. How do you even know you don't like being away from me?"

"Because every single one of those seconds I was away from you burned a hole in my chest." You melted on the spot. The way he could sweep you off your feet with his words was unparalleled. "I don't wanna miss anything. I want every second of you I can get."

"Well, come over to my place the second your meeting is done, and make me forget we were every apart," you said coyly, giving him your best shit-eating grin. He rolled his eyes, grinning in response.

"Ha ha, very funny," he drolled. "I'll have Clint pick you up after your shift and take you to the house."

You took a deep breath. Here goes. "Well, about that..." you bit your lip and looked away, just knowing that he was cocking his eyebrow at you. "I was thinking that maybe I could go back to my apartment tonight, and that you could come over to my place instead?"

"No."

Not even a moment of thought. You weren't surprised, but you had held the tiniest bit of hope. And it made you a little mad. "But Bucky..."

"I said no."

You looked up into his face. His don't-fuck-with-me-I-am-made-of-steel mask was firmly fixed on his face. You took a breath, then adopted your own no-nonsense look. "Baby, I've been paying for that place for the past two months and I've barely been in it for more than an hour in that entire time."

"This is supposed to sway me to your side? What have I been telling you about moving in with me?"

"I know, I know, but...I just need a little more time."

"Time for what?!"

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. "Can we please not do this now?" you asked quietly.

Bucky gritted his teeth and dropped his hands, flexing them in irritation as he took a step back. He took a breath of his own, before replying in a tightly controlled voice. "Fine, we won't do this now. But you know this isn't the end of it."

"I know, and....just....we'll get there, okay?" His ice blue eyes snapped to yours, making you rearrange your words instantly. "Sorry...I'LL get there. Sorry, Daddy." At that, his face relaxed a bit. "But...maybe if I go to my place tonight and then YOU come over....well, it might be the push that I need to..." you dropped off, still blushing at the thought of moving in with him. And Bucky sensed it immediately. He stepped right back towards you, his hands back on either side of your face.

"To...?" he prompted, willing you to say it. You sighed and smiled.

"To...be okay with what I already know I'm going to do," you whispered shyly. You fooled yourself into believing you didn't know why you were so nervous about this. This man had tied you up, splayed you open, and had his feral way with you more times than you could remember, but for some reason, this was what still brought the blush to your cheeks. The other memories brought the blush to other places.

If you were being honest, you knew exactly why you were so nervous. The feelings that you had for Bucky were so deep and intense, it stole your breath every time you thought about them. Being away from him was torture. It felt like the blood in your veins ran with shattered glass when he wasn't near. You needed him. Desperately. And to have that kind of intensity was overwhelming and overstimulating. But you would rather go through all of it than spend a moment without him.

In response to what he saw in your eyes, Bucky fervently pressed his lips to yours again- demanding, begging, worshipping. You placed your hands on top of his as you moaned into his kiss. Finally, he let you up for air again. "Now that's worth you going back to that...." He stopped as you pursed your lips at him in consternation. "....that PLACE of yours," he finished gallantly, both of you aware that he'd really wanted to call it that 'dump' of yours. "Clint will still pick you up and escort you to your apartment."

"That's not necessary," you said quickly, still feeling like an imposition every time he did this. "I used to walk home from the club alone all the time. It's only like 15 blocks, I'll be fine."

The steel mask slipped back in place. "That's not an option," he said in his dominant tone. "You WILL be escorted back to your place so I know that you're safe. Don't toy with me on this."

"Yes, Sir," you whispered, slinking your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest to hide your feelings of guilt at both making him mad and putting Clint out from doing something probably more important, as well as the joy of his need to protect you. He sighed and wrapped his arms around you, laying his cheek on top of your head. His metal fingers gently drew lines up and down your back.

"Baby, I need to know you're safe," he said in a surprisingly husky tone, like his throat was closing. "I can't handle it if I don't know you're safe. Please don't ask that of me."

"Okay, Daddy, I'll go with Clint," you said, leaning back and looking at him full in the eye so he knew you were serious. "I'll be good, I promise." The tight eye crinkles disappeared, making your smile even bigger.

"Thank you, Angel," he said softly, before giving you one last kiss. "Now go kick some ass on that stage tonight."

"I will. You go kick ass at....whatever it is you're meeting about. What was it again?"

"Lame attempt. You know I'm not telling you."

You giggled again and shrugged playfully, making him laugh.

*****************************************************

You were trying to wait patiently in the dressing room. It was three hours past the end of your shift, and Clint still hadn't shown up yet. Bucky had arranged for Clint to pick you up at the back entrance where you usually exited, but there was no point in waiting outside until he got there. Besides, Bucky would probably pitch a fit at you being outside and alone, and you really didn't want to piss him off. Not when you were both this close to the next step in your relationship.

You shivered in delight, examining the way your eyes lit up in the mirror at the thought of moving in with him. Some part of you screamed that it was too soon- probably the part of you that was still wired with the super conservative only-child mindset you'd been raised with. But the greater part of you knew that you loved this man with a passion that you'd never believed was actually possible. He was your drug. And you were hooked for life, no going back. You weren't sure how long he was going to feel this way about you, so you had to make the most of every moment that you were given. Carpe Diem.

Your phone suddenly gave a short vibration, letting you know you had a text. Your body was suddenly flush with feeling when you realized it was from Bucky. What kind of hold did this man have on you, that just getting a text from him made you feel this way?

Much to your disappointment, however, it was incredibly brief. "Clint late" were the only two words he'd written. That was it? Three hours late and he was telling you something you already knew? You shut your eyes, trying to remember that he was in an important meeting and that he probably couldn't text more than that. You tried to remember to be grateful that he had told you himself instead of sending one of his men to do it. And who the FUCK had that many men at his beck and call all the time anyway?! Just what exactly- NOPE.

You stopped that line of thought in its tracks. You knew who he was. You knew...sort of...what he did. He kept things from you to protect you, and probably to protect his business too. He was a master at operating from the shadows, and he wasn't going to throw away his entire life's work just because he was fucking you. You probably didn't want to be in on the day-to-day of his empire anyways...right?

You sighed heavily, and text back "Ok" followed by a sparkly heart emoji. He knew you hated waiting- and had used that to his wicked advantage a couple times. You chewed on your lip in thought. So if Clint was late, what did that mean? Probably that he wasn't going to be coming at all. So then who WAS coming? Steve was with Bucky, as was Sam, one of his...what was that word?....caporegimes, that's right. You brushed aside the annoyance that those two, along with Clint and Natasha, were the only 2 employees that you knew who worked directly with him. Why didn't he trust you to meet more of his family? Why...no, STOP.

You didn't want to bother Natasha. She'd been on edge all night, clearly in on whatever the deal was, but needing to stay on the premises to keep up appearances. Gamora wasn't working tonight, and you had kept your distance from the others, afraid that you'd accidentally reveal your relationship with Bucky. There was no way in hell you'd ask Nebula to walk home with you- she managed to make you feel her icy sneer from all the way across the floor tonight after her set. Ugh. Fury needed to stay on the premises, Rhodey was still on mic for the next two hours, and little Sprite...well, you still weren't even sure how Sprite was old enough to work here, so that was out. You couldn't bring yourself to spend money on a cab or an Uber for 15 blocks. Besides, Bucky wouldn't be happy if you told him you got in a car with a driver that he hadn't personally selected. Screw it. You were walking. You needed the time to yourself, anyways.

You quietly slipped out the back, so as not to attract attention. You gripped your keys in one hand and your pepper spray in the other. You knew how to take care of yourself in this city. It was fine. You were fine.

You let your mind wander a bit as you walked, wondering what Bucky would think of your apartment when he actually saw it. Then as your mind started drifting to all the surfaces in your apartment that the two of you could christen, you heard a small scuffle. Instantly on alert, you felt the tension and heightened adrenaline flood your system. Chances were it was a mouse or a leaf, but you wouldn't take any chances. You let your ears do the listening. And they told you that there was someone walking along the street behind you, quite a bit away, but still there.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath. This was New York City. People walked everywhere. It wasn't like you had a claim on the sidewalk. You kept your pace the same and your posture neutral, getting a grip on the fear before it turned into something that it wasn't. You listened carefully as the footsteps didn't increase in speed, but they got closer. The person clearly had long legs and was taking longer strides than you.

"Hey sugar."

The voice from behind you scared you, calling out like that from a distance. You clenched your muscles, determined not to answer or show fear. You picked up your pace ever so slightly...and so did the footsteps.

You willed yourself to stay calm, taking a deep breath. And that's when you suddenly realized that you didn't hear anything behind you anymore.

Before you could stop to think about the wisdom of your actions, you whipped around. The street was empty. No one was there. Your wide eyes scanned the area, but you saw nothing save the garbage blowing in the wind, the small alley that you'd passed ten seconds ago, and the reflected glow of the neon signs propped up in a few windows. You took a step forwards before you realized how insane of an idea that was. You turned back around the direction you had been going and power walked the rest of the way home with no further incidents. It had probably been your overactive imagination- that guy could have been calling out to anyone, and he'd clearly found them. He wasn't pursuing you.

When you'd finally gotten to your apartment, locking and bolting the door behind you, you released a long, shaky sigh. You decided to hop into the shower, letting the heat and steam soothe your nerves. You convinced yourself more and more that you had overreacted as the hot water did its magic. As you dried off and put on a pair of cotton shorts and a teeshirt, it suddenly occurred to you that you should text Bucky and let him know you'd gotten home safely. You bit your lip, knowing that he'd be irritated that you walked home AND that you'd been fine, ultimately. He didn't need to know about your overactive imagination. A devious smile crossed your face. Maybe he'd punish you for your naughty behavior...

Just as you were picking up your phone to text him, a loud and sudden BANG in the hallway outside your apartment scared the shit out of you. "ANGEL!" a voice bellowed from the hallway, followed by three more earth-shaking thumps on your door. You knew that voice...and the sound of a metal hand pounding on wood.

Still catching the breath that had been knocked out of you, you rushed to the door, quickly unbolting and unlocking it before he broke it down. The second you twisted the knob, Bucky came barreling into the room, absolutely seething.

"Why the FUCK didn't you stay at the club?" he roared at you. His normally handsome features were twisted with rage. It scared you so badly, seeing him like this, that you were completely frozen in place. Bucky took that opportunity to get right into your personal space, placing his hands on either side of your face, gripping it so tightly it ached. "What the FUCK were you thinking?" he hissed, before kissing you with a fury that knocked the rest of the wind out of you. He kept his lips pressed so painfully to yours that you found yourself gripping at his wrists, trying to pull his hands away to give you some relief. He wasn't having it though. He kept your lips locked until he was damn well ready to release you, pouring his anger and fear and terror and frustrations into that kiss. He backed you up against a wall, keeping you pinned in place until he had to release to you to take a breath.

He leaned right down, his icy blue eyes locking on yours. "You ain't gonna be able to sit down for a WEEK after I'm through with you," he growled. He suddenly dropped his hands and pushed himself away from the wall, turning away from you and breathing heavily as he tried to get a hold of himself.

"And hi to you too," you said after you regained enough breath to speak, attempting a bit of levity to break the tension.

Wrong move.

Bucky whipped around so fast you almost missed it. "Don't you try getting cute on me now, it's not gonna save your ass," he hissed, before running his hands over his head, trying to dump the excessive furious energy he felt. "Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?"

Actually, yes you did, but that was definitely not going to calm him down. "Bucky, I'm fine," you said, adopting that soothing tone of voice that usually worked when he was angry. Hopefully it would work now. "I made it home just fine, just like I used to. It's okay."

"I TOLD you Clint was running late, why didn't you stay put?"

"You told me he was late three hours after he was supposed to show!"

"I text you the second I found out, ten minutes before the end of your shift."

"Well, it didn't pop up until three hours later. I don't know what happened. I was trying to wait, but I thought that you all had just gotten caught up in your meeting and you finally confirming that he was late was you saying that he wasn't actually coming."

"How the FUCK did you get to that conclusion?!"

"It was three hours after he was supposed to pick me up! What the hell else was I supposed to think?"

"You watch your tone, little girl. I'm pissed as hell and you don't wanna make this worse on yourself. I told you I couldn't handle knowing if you weren't safe. And then you pulled this stunt." He stepped back, gesturing to his entire self. "Well, here ya go. I can't handle it. And I'm not used to feeling like this. You've completely unhinged me all because you couldn't be bothered to keep yourself safe like I asked you to. And I'm furious and relieved and angry and scared and I can't figure out if I want to bend you over the edge of your bed to spank the shit out of you or lose myself in you because I am so goddamn relieved that you are okay." He finally spluttered to a halt, having lanced the boil of his feelings. That's when you noticed his blue eyes were wet.

Bucky never cried.

You stepped carefully to him, and when he didn't react angrily, you bolted into his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. "I'm so sorry, Bucky, I didn't mean to cause you that much worry. I really didn't, I swear. Please believe me."

His arms were already around you as he sighed heavily, squeezing you even tighter. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said begrudgingly. You couldn't help but giggle at the pouting tone in his voice. "I do believe you, Angel. You're still in trouble, but I believe you."

"Thank you, Daddy."

"But for fuck's sake, can you please just stay put next time?" Bucky released his tight grip and leaned away to see your face. You were relieved to see the tiny twinkle in his eye. "No, fuck it. There won't be a next time. I'm not letting you out of my sight again. I'm having you surgically attached to me tomorrow."

"And I suppose I have no say in this?"

"None."

"Well, that's going to make my job interesting. How do you feel about stripping?"

"....you're going to need to find a new job."

"Okay, NOW you're going too far."

Bucky finally laughed, and the air released around you both as you snuggled into each other. He sighed again, but this time it was full of relief. "When I think of what could have happened to you on that street..."

The footsteps from the alley suddenly sounded in your ears, and the fear that you had felt came rushing back. You jerked back, looking him full in the face. "What do you mean?" you asked cautiously.

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" he asked, his eyebrows wrinkling. "It's New York City. It's late. You're walking out of an exotic dance hall. Anything could have happened to you."

"Yeah, but..." you trailed off.

His eyes narrowed. "But what?" he asked. You bit your lip. If you told him what happened, you wouldn't be surprised if he followed through on his threat to make you two conjoined twins while you were sleeping. And whereas you loved the heart behind his worries, you absolutely did not want to make him worry or get upset again. Besides, you had just been overreacting. Nothing had happened. You were fine. Just an overactive imagination.

"But nothing," you said. "I'm sorry I made you worry about my safety."

His eyes took on that feral glint that immediately sent shivers down your spine. "Sorry ain't gonna cut it, little girl," he growled with a wicked smile. He put his metal finger under your chin and tilted your head up. "I believe someone needs to be punished."

Chapter 14

[venus-haze]

Bad Ritual (Vincent Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: Some pageant queens sit on parade floats. Being crowned Miss Ambrose requires you to get your hands a little dirty.  [This is an AU]

Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. Heavily inspired by The Wicker Man and Midnight Mass, as well as my own spin on St. Ambrose, who, among other things, is the patron saint of wax melters. Since this is a cult AU, please check the warnings before reading. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Emotional and spiritual manipulation, morally gray reader, religious sex negativity/sex shaming, elements of Catholicism, human sacrifice. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The stage lights threatened to melt your carefully applied makeup off. You held a wide smile for so long your cheeks ached. Your eyes nervously flitted about the crowd of Ambrose’s residents, just barely able to fill three-quarters of the movie theater for the event. When your gaze fell on Vincent in the front row, he gave you a small nod of encouragement that manifested butterflies in your already twisted stomach. Could you help being hopelessly in love with your best friend?

“After much deliberation by myself and the other judges,” Trudy began in her soft drawl, harsh on the edges from her decades-long smoking habit, “we agree without a doubt, the winner of the third Miss Ambrose contest is—“

The microphone screeched when Trudy spoke your name, and the dam broke, bringing about uncontrollable tears of joy and relief. The sound of cheers and applause filled the theater, almost dictating the rhythm of your heartbeat. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if you lost. In the weeks prior to the competition, you craved victory so badly that it filled the marrow of your bones.

With tears blurring your vision, you made your way over to Trudy. She smiled, placing the ornate wax tiara on your head and satin sash reading ‘Miss Ambrose’ in glittering crimson lettering over your shoulder. She wrapped her arms around you in an unexpected hug.

“Congratulations,” she whispered. “You deserve it.”

Hardly able to utter your thanks, you attempted to compose yourself while she addressed the crowd again.

“I believe we can all agree that this young woman here exemplifies the qualities this community holds dear,” she said, her gaze shifting to you with pride evident in her features, leaving you overwhelmed at the praise of your community’s leader. “If you’d like to share a few words, honey, now’s your chance.”

You nodded, trembling as you stood in front of the microphone. “First, I wanna thank the judges, Ms. Trudy, Father Julian, and Ms. Louann for giving me such a great honor. I also wanna thank my parents for believing in me as much as they believe in this town. Most of all, I wanna say that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than Ambrose, and I just—“ the tears began to flow again, and you managed to get a hold of yourself long enough to add, “I’m so grateful to St. Ambrose for everything he’s done for us. I don’t feel worthy to represent him on his feast day, but I’ll do my best. Thank you.”

Taking a step back from the microphone, you smiled as Louann handed you a bouquet of flowers. Louann was the previous Miss Ambrose and as such had the privilege of serving on the judge’s panel to decide who her successor would be. You were sure she would’ve preferred her own daughter, but she wasn’t interested in competing, an oddly reclusive girl around your age you’d long since given up befriending. Since there were so few people in Ambrose, the pool of young women eligible for the coveted crown was small, and therefore the competition could only be held once every seven or so years. Besides the feast day of your town’s namesake patron saint, the Miss Ambrose competition was one of the most highly anticipated events around.

Being Miss Ambrose was a commitment, but one you’d taken on with pride. Besides helping lead the usual procession through town, you’d serve as an ambassador to the hundreds of tourists who flooded your small town to view the spectacle. Most importantly, you’d finally be allowed to attend the celebratory mass held the night of the Feast of St. Ambrose. You weren’t sure what exactly the criteria for attendance was, but being Miss Ambrose surely meant you were worthy enough to finally go.

You were too young to remember Ambrose being on the verge of ruin when the sugar mill shut down, but your parents never failed to remind you how Trudy convinced them and the other families that comprised your close-knit community to stay. Her unorthodox ideas of shifting the town’s economy to reflect that of its patron saint was risky, but it worked, and Ambrose had carved out a niche for itself in beekeeping, wax-melting, and the artistry associated with it. As such, she was the person everyone deferred to for just about everything. Her word uncontested law. And why not? You all had it pretty good in Ambrose compared to the horrors you’d heard of going on outside the town’s limits.

The festival’s celebrations brought in abundant tourists who would patronize your small town’s shops and businesses en masse. While you understood the importance of the tourism during the festival, you found the raucous way they acted almost disrespectful to St. Ambrose and the reverence he deserved for providing so much for you.

At the very least, photography wasn’t allowed in the church. It was there that the town’s offering to St. Ambrose was displayed, a wax figure, always carefully detailed to look almost indistinguishable from a real person. Tourists could marvel at the statue, but not document it. You didn’t care for them and how they seemed to regard you all as sideshow freaks for being so insular. It especially bothered you that Vincent had to wear his mask whenever they were around. You’d hear them whisper about it, speculating why he wore it. They had no idea it was because of them.

Otherwise, he presented his bare face to your community who regarded it with normalcy. When your family would join the Sinclairs in the pew at mass, you’d occasionally end up sitting next to Vincent. You’d feel his hands, strong and soft from his work, holding the one next to you a little tighter than you normally would during the Our Father. For the sign of peace, in which you’d exchange blessings between clasped hands and chaste kisses on the cheek, he presented the unscarred half of his face to you. Still, you silently wondered what the other half would feel like against your lips.

It felt like you blinked, and you were surrounded by the people you’d grown up with, all looking at you with an unfamiliar yet welcome respect. You basked in the attention like a sunbathing snake, each compliment and affirmation filling your chest with a warm pride.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” your mother said, giving you a hug with tears in her eyes.

Your father agreed, giving you a pat on the back. “You earned it! We’re so proud of you.”

“Y’all did a great job with this one,” Trudy said.

Your family was one of the dozen or so original families that stayed in Ambrose at Trudy’s urging. She never forgot your family’s loyalty and trust in her, and it wasn’t uncommon for you to sit with them at mass or be invited to their house for a meal or a holiday. You reveled in any extra time you got to spend with Vincent, although being in the presence of your town’s savior always left you in awe.

“C’mon, a lot of that’s thanks to you, Trudy, mentoring the kids and teaching catechism on top of everything else you do,” your mother said.

While Father Julian was the parish’s pastor, most spiritual matters went to Trudy, and her decision was final. She taught catechism and set the standards for receiving sacraments. It caused friction with the larger diocese, and not long after you made your first communion, St. Ambrose’s parish split from the Vatican. Trudy had explained they lost their way, and that Ambrose was the only place practicing real Catholicism. That was why new families moved in, looking for the truth. You felt lucky to live in such a place.

“I’ve got big plans for you, girl,” Trudy said. “‘Specially with the festival coming up.”

You nodded. “Of course, Ms. Trudy. Whatever you need.”

She walked away, and you noticed Vincent subtly motioning toward the service exit behind the stage. 

“Ready to head home?” your mother asked.

“I’ll catch up. There are a few people I want to talk to first,” you said.

Your father nodded. “Alright, well, don’t stay out too late.”

Once they had left, you didn’t see Vincent in the theater anymore, and managed to slip outside undetected a few minutes later, fending off your horde of admirers. There was only one person whose attention you really wanted, anyway.

He stood outside, waiting for you in the shadows of the building. Your heels clicked against the asphalt as you walked over to him.

“Congrats, Miss Ambrose,” Vincent signed. He smiled, reaching up to adjust the tiara atop your head.

“I don’t look ridiculous, do I?”

He shook his head. Your face heated up when his hands made gentle contact with your skin. He traced your gestures with the pads of his thumbs, brushing your forehead, down to your cheeks, and finally to your lips. Vincent cradled your face in his hands for a moment longer before kissing you.

Without hesitation, you kissed him back, taking in the texture of his lips, the warmth of his body. His hands fell to your hips, pulling you closer. Steadying yourself on his bicep, you silently marveled at his strength, gasping into the kiss and allowing his tongue access to your mouth. 

Despite having heard homilies at mass and ramblings from Trudy about the sin of fornication outside of marriage, you didn’t know what exactly they were talking about until the summer after you started high school. Bo had taken pleasure in explaining the dirty details, offering to give you a demonstration. You rejected him in disgust at how lewd he made the act sound, and until then, in Vincent’s arms, you didn’t understand how anyone could fall into that trap. 

You whined softly when he pulled away from the kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he signed.

“Why did you wait?”

He nodded toward the door. His mother. For how similar he and Trudy were, they always seemed to butt heads. Still, he was the son she spoke most highly of. Vincent, the focused, dutiful son who’d inherited his mother’s artistic ability and connection to the spiritual core of the town. Her feelings on Bo changed with the weather, though it seemed he was poised to become the public face of Ambrose. A good fit, he could talk his way in or out of almost anything. Lester kept a lower profile, but he was always around to help whenever someone needed a hand. If you were being honest with yourself, you thought he was the best fit to take over Trudy’s leadership duties in Ambrose, but she always had a clear preference for the twins. 

With Vincent being Trudy’s favorite, she’d be incredibly selective about who his potential partner would be. All relationships in town had to be cleared by her. She’d shut people’s requests down for petty reasons. Now that you were Miss Ambrose, there was no reasonable way she could object to you being with Vincent.

“Maybe after the festival, we can ask her,” you whispered hopefully.

He nodded, though he practically jumped away from you when the door outside swung open, clanging against the brick wall behind it. 

Bo stood in the doorway, a knowing grin on his face, partially obscured by the shadows. “Lookit you. Bagged Miss Ambrose herself. Never thought you had it in ya, Vinny.”

“What?” Vincent signed.

“Mama’s lookin’ for y’all. I can tell her you’re busy.”

Vincent rolled his eye at Bo, “We’ll be right there.”

When the door slammed shut, Vincent kissed you again, more quickly this time, and the two of you set off to find Trudy. 

Still backstage, socializing of course, her time was a precious resource nearly everyone in town was vying for. The Miss Ambrose contest was as good of a time as any for people to catch a few minutes with her, bring up concerns or ask for advice while she was available. Her eyes lit up when she saw you and Vincent together. 

“Just the people I wanted to see,” she said, as if she hadn’t sent Bo searching for you. “Vincent’s gonna be making the offering for the festival this year, some other things too to help his old mama out. Can’t do as much as I used to. You’ll help around too, won’t you?”

“I’d love to. Anything you need, just tell me.” 

“You got a good head on your shoulders. Wouldn’t’ve dreamed of crownin’ those other two. Daphne had some nerve even competing after that stupid stunt she pulled last year,” Trudy spat.

The previous year, Daphne had publicly challenged Trudy on a new directive regarding new families that moved into town and their church attendance. It was an innocent enough remark, but the principle of the thing got to Trudy. She was spiteful and vindictive, one to hold a mean grudge, but you supposed those traits were necessary to be a leader like she was. 

“Then that Christine’s a hussy. Tried to make my Bo stumble.”

You had a sinking feeling it was the other way around, and Bo had sold his mama some backwards story after his advances were spurned. You once heard someone say he could flirt the panties off of a nun. Not entirely untrue, but he was too impatient and entitled to accept anything other than complete compliance with his sexual desires. 

“I’m sure you’re not surprised Louann’s daughter didn’t bother. Might’ve given you a run for your money,” she said, looking almost unimpressed by you for a split second.

“Well, I guess we’ll never know,” you said. “I can’t tell you enough how much this means to me.”

“You deserved it, honey. Gonna be a lot of work for you the next few weeks, but I think you can handle it.”

She shooed you away, telling you to go home before it got too dark. You almost laughed. In your small community, everyone knew each other. You were just as safe walking around at 2pm as 2am. Nothing bad ever happened in Ambrose. At least, not like the horrors of the outside world you’d gleaned from the few times you bothered to watch the nightly news. All it did was confirm how lucky you were to live in a place like Ambrose, where you wanted for nothing and had few worries, didn’t have to fear what could be lurking in the dark.

“I’ll walk her home,” Vincent volunteered.

Trudy nodded. “Good. You give my parents my best, now.”

“Of course, have a good night,” you said.

When you were a safe distance from the movie theater, far from wandering eyes, Vincent took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the top of it. The walk to your house would be short, but you wished for miles more to spend walking alongside him. Alone. He stole half a dozen more kisses from you while the two of you dragged out the walk to your front porch. If not a kiss, then his hands would be on you–the small of your back to guide you along or intertwined with yours as his thumb brushed soft circles on the top of your hand.

“I’m not going to see much of you for a while, am I?” you asked softly as your house finally came into view.

He shook his head. From what you understood, the offering was the most important part of the Feast of St. Ambrose. He’d already gotten lost in his work, whether additions to the wax museum or personal projects, but something so crucial would be sure to consume him until the day arrived.

A sad smile spread across your lips, though you understood. 

The next few days, you didn’t see much of Trudy or Vincent, instead helping around town with the various preparations for the Feast of St. Ambrose. You decorated the statue in the middle of town, an elaborate wax effigy of the patron saint, created by Trudy herself. As you covered it with carefully crafted floral wreaths and vines, people already began leaving small offerings at the base of the statue.

Just before the festival, you found time to visit Vincent, basking in the warmth of his studio, practically a furnace. Opera music grew louder as you approached. You’d spent time with him down there before, able to find your way from any of the subterranean entrances throughout town. 

Either the music was too loud, or he was too entranced in his work to notice you enter. His broad back was turned to you as he leaned over a work table in deep focus. A woman. Nude, bound to the table yet seemingly unable to move otherwise. Still you heard them through her gag. Her moans. Vincent’s hands were all over her body, caressing her curves with care, fingers tracing her features. A blinding envy flashed through you. 

“Vincent,” you snapped.

He turned around, shock that quickly twisted to rage. “What are you doing here?” he signed. “Get out!”

“No! Who is she?”

“It’s not what you think—“

“I’m Miss Ambrose!” you shouted. “Me! What does she have that I—“

“She’s the offering,” he signed.

You froze, your gaze shifting to the bound woman once more. “That’s not–you’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“You’re going to kill her?”

He nodded. Her muffled screams grew louder. “The offering is killed and then encased in wax for St. Ambrose.”

No wonder photos weren’t allowed in the church during the festival. He eyed you cautiously, expecting you to run away screaming.

“Can I watch you do it?”

He hesitated. 

“Please, Vincent?” you asked softly. 

“I just don’t want you to think of me any differently.”

“For doing what’s right? For making sure we’re provided for? We’re not messed up. The rest of the world is.”

With a newfound confidence, he grabbed the knife on the tray next to the bound woman, and you watched in awe as he lifted his arm above her chest and swiftly plunged it perfectly through her heart. Before he could pull the knife from her still warm flesh, you placed your hand over his and dug the blade in a little deeper. 

[awanderingtortoise]

my love mine all mine (zoyalai short fic, 600 words)

i miss these dumbasses sm i picked up right from the end of the confession scene in RoW ('she obliged him') and extended it because damn JUST one kiss?? we all needed more than that. so heres like-- two more kisses i think.

They are general and ruler but they are also just them, just Nikolai and Zoya; young and tired and tried and tested in wars of country and heart. So when she draws him back to her, she does it like an act of surrender: need and love and longing bared in the motions of her hands, her lips. Damn pride and damn reason, he was here and he was hers.

Nikolai responds in kind, still kneeling before her; ever golden, ever earnest. There is nothing trite or clever in the way he kisses her, only an desirous honesty; mouth fallen open, hand reaching desperately to cup her face, thumb run across her cheek, insistent, over and over again; that rapid fire, joyous beat of his pulse that resonates through her rib cage when she holds him closer than she has ever dared to even dream of. Neither of them are ever much good at saying what they really, truly feel, but there is no need for words, now; she thinks. There is no need to say what she can feel through every inch of her skin.

When they part it is only in a rush for air like it is the secondary need and closeness the first, wordlessness ceasing only when he speaks, solely to say her name; to gasp it on the millisecond he takes for breath; Zoya, voice breaking on the verge of delirium, then he is kissing her, again and again. At some point she regains enough self possession to throw one hand out and slide the deadbolts of the door closed with a gust of wind at the same time as her other drags at the buttons of his shirt. Nikolai pulls back suddenly, and the sound that escapes her as he does makes his own breath hitch so sharply he wonders how he still remembers he intended to say anything at all.

“They’ll— be expecting- us,” he manages, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. “To— speak. Again. Just so you— truth be told I can’t make myself give a damn but I know you might be— I mean. It would be practical. To give another address. To—“

“Nikolai.”

“Mm.”

“Right now,” she starts, pushing his hair back from where it had begun to plaster haphazardly on his forehead, and he melts easily into the touch. “I really don’t care.”

“Oh,” he says helplessly, his gaze falling back down to her lips. “Really? Fantastic. Well, in that case—“

She rolls her eyes and he laughs a little, dropping his forehead against hers.

“All Saints,” he breathes, his gaze locked with hers. “I love you. Have I said that yet? I love you, Zoya. I’ll love you for a lifetime if you’ll let me.”

He had said it, a hundred times over: in gazes held and stolen glances, in touches meant and yet never given meaning. But to hear it aloud, fervent like a wish, soft like a prayer– a quiet ache rises in her chest, her throat.

“You’re a fool, Nikolai.”

“Yours,” he counters, and she feels the breath of the word warm against her lips.

She only smiles, turning her head to kiss him once more, wordless, and yet every cell of his body feels her reply. Yours, yours. Mine. 

[flowerflamestars]

Where the middle meets snippet

Llewellyn recognized the great love of Dick’s childhood by her cracked ribs. 

Watched her plow politely through the crowd, red hair bright a sea of black. She wasn’t quite as good at pretending she wasn’t in pain as Dick was, but then again, no one was. The grimace would probably be attributed to grief anyway.

“Thank god,” Were the first words Barbara Gordon ever said to him, huffing out a breath, “Tell me you’re here to ride herd on Dick.”

No was too much of an understatement, and his real answer didn’t belong in a church.

“Taping’s not standard treatment anymore,” Llewellyn was staring down the nave. A moving ocean of people filled Gotham’s cathedral, with one clear demarcation: Bruce Wayne, already seated, several feet of emptied space around him.

Llewellyn glanced down in time to catch Barbara's scowl. “What?”

“You’re increasing your pneumonia risk,” Wells told her, getting one long, disbelieving blink in response. “Further complications.”

She switched her purse from one side to the other, brisk little motion snappy. “Do you know he went out this morning? In civvies. He’s in too much pain to care what he breaks right now. We need to keep the city from imploding”-

“Hi Babs,” Dick interrupted, manifesting over her shoulder, despite having disappeared in the opposite direction. He dipped over to kiss her on the cheek before stepping right into Llewellyn’s side, pressing in shoulder to ankle. “You met Wells.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, gaze moving between them. “I’m so sorry, Dick.”

Llewellyn could only tell he’d gone tense because they were so close.

“Me too. Me too.” Dick answered, dead voiced. “Let’s sit.”

He didn’t say the goodbye Barbara clearly expected. Did not acknowledge a single person on their way through the church, no amount of opulent Gotham mourning enough to make him blink. Dick was moving quickly enough, sleekly untouched by the crowd, it was hard to keep up. Silently too, down to his steps on the vast marble floor.

Barbara Gordon was wrong about one thing: Dick cared.

Dick cared so much it was eating him alive, a black hole at the center of his person, gravity well yanking away daytime lies until a little too much of his true, devastated face peeked out.

That didn’t mean he was going to fuck up the double life he’d been living since he was ten years old.

Dick seemed to realize what he’d been doing as they drew abreast with the front pews. Turned to find Wells still right there, lifeless expression briefly melting.

There was nothing to say. Nothing that would actually help. Llewellyn held out his hand instead, and Dick took it. 

They sat.

Soft, gleaming, perfect cherry wood, ice cold. Not a single dent, even a child’s scrawled scratch, no homey living history, only the finest here in the heart of this part of Gotham. Wells didn’t remember the last time he’d sat on a pew, much less been in a church for service. Tattoos busy climbing to his throat in nerves, Dicks juddering knees- the only person on their row who looked like they belonged was Bruce Wayne, head ducked low.

Dick had sunk down several feet away from his father.

“What happens now?”

Llewellyn gave up on manners, drew in both Dick’s hands to his lap. “Mass? I’ve never been.” Dick nodded. “Was Jason Catholic?”

Another nod, flat gaze going glassy, before Dick said, softly, “His mom was. He used to wear a little saint Catherine.” Dick shook his head, smile fighting out like hell, “He punched a priest once.”

[zepp-l1n]

Proposals

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!reader

summary: Nikolai's proposal doesn't go as he'd planned. fic type - angst, hurt/no comfort, Little Women esc warning - sad shit, Nikolai gets his feelings hurt. word count - 1,271 a/n: so this is basically just the story version of the Little Women/Nikolai post I made a little while ago. this hurt so much more to write than the "incorrect quote" version.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

The Grand Palace's gardens were constantly the meeting place of the Nikolai and (Y/N). For decades, when the two would be at the Grand Palace, they would be found in those gardens. And just like those times, the duo were walking through the gardens after a small gathering for Nikolai's coronation. They walked side by side, taking in the rows of flowers and various arch-shaped bushes. The scene felt just as calming and serene as it always did.

The two softly talked back and forth as they went along - sharing small jokes and stories. "Nina running off with her Fjerdan. Zoya off to Kerch. And now that you're king, you'll be off in meetings and trips. I'm just not good like Alina, so I'm angry and restless." (Y/N) complained to the blonde boy. She reached out to Nikolai and swayed around, causing the two to stumble a bit.

Nikolai glanced down at her and hesitantly laughed. "You don't have to stay here, (Y/N)." he softly smiled at her.

(Y/N) stumbled forward, chuckling and waving her arms haphazardly. "Why? Should we run off and join a pirate ship again?" she laughed. The girl moved around in front of Nikolai, and stood in her old sword-wielding stance. When she didn't get a response from her friend she slowly turned around. The serious look on his face caused her happy one to drop. "No. No."

Nikolai tried to get closer to the girl. "It's no use, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) stepped back. "Please don't."

"(Y/N), we've got to have it out." he pleaded.

Nikolai tried to reach out for his friend but she hurriedly moved away. "No. Sobachka..."

"I have loved you ever since I've known you, (Y/N). I couldn't help it. And I tried to show you and you wouldn't let me, which is fine." Nikolai's voice came out shaky, and he had to pause half way through his words. (Y/N) tried to throw out another 'no' but was swiftly cut off by him. "But I must make you hear me now and give me an answer, because I cannot go on like this any longer!"

This time, (Y/N) was quick to get a few words in after he paused to take a sharp inhale. "Sobachka, please. Please don't."

"I gave up being tailored. I gave up everything you didn't like. I'm happy I did. It's fine. And I waited, and I never complained because I... You know, I figured you'd love me, (Y/N)." Nikolai cried out. Silence rang through the gardens. (Y/N) didn't know what to say next - she didn't know what to say at all. To her surprise, Nikolai continued again, his voice growing weaker and more choked. "And I realize I'm not half good enough, and I'm not this great man and-"

"No! Yes, yes, yes you are. You're a great deal too good for me, and I'm so grateful to you, and I'm so proud of you, and I just... I don't see why I can't love you as you want me to. I don't know why." (Y/N) cut him off.

The look on Nikolai's face caused (Y/N) chest to blossom with pain. "You can't?" he quietly asked.

(Y/N) though of her words before she answered the blonde, wanting to make sure she said the right thing. "No. I can't. I can't change how I feel, and... It would be a lie to say I do when I don't. I'm so sorry, Sobachka. I'm so sorry, but I just can't help it."

"I can't love anyone else, (Y/N). I only love you." he mumbled.

"Sobachka, It would be a disaster if we married." (Y/N) tried to reason with Nikolai.

Nikolai grew defensive at her words. "It wouldn't be a disaster." Nikolai's tone of voice raised as he tried to make a point.

"We'd be miserable!"

"I'd be a perfect saint!" Nikolai's voiced continued to raise.

(Y/N) raised her voice to match his. "I can't! I can't! I've tried it and I failed."

"Why does everyone expect it?" Nikolai asked, trying to add his own point to the conversation.

"I can't." the shorter girl's voice broke as she mumbled.

"Then why does your family and my mother expect it? Why are you saying this? Say yes. Let's be happy together, (Y/N)!" Nikolai pleaded to her. Both Ravkans' eyes had begun to water.

(Y/N) moved closer to the boy, taking his hands in hers. "I can't say yes truly, so I'm not going to say it at all. And you will see that I'm right eventually, and you'll thank me for it." she hesitantly glanced up at the boy, trying to truly get her point across.

The two stood in silence - the only noises being the soft chirps of nearby birds and their heavy breathing. The air between them was thick enough that one of the kitchen knives could've cut through. They both took the time to try and gather their thoughts. (Y/N)'s loud breathing slowly became more raspy, telling Nikolai how broken this conversation was making her.

"I'd rather hang myself than realize this, (Y/N)." Nikolai muttered.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened. "Sobachka..."

"I would rather be dead." his voice started to raise once again.

"Sobachka, don't say that." (Y/N) begged. Nikolai turned away from the girl, and tried to walk away. His pace was slow, making known how this conversation was affecting him as well. "Sobachka!" she called out. (Y/N) hurriedly followed after him, pulling her skirt up a bit to gain on him. Reaching out, (Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to stop his movements. "Listen, you'll find some lovely, accomplished person who will love you and adore you and, and they're gonna make a fine queen for your fine kingdom, but I wouldn't. Alright?"

Nikolai stopped causing (Y/N) to stumble forward. The two stood in front of each other, eyes watery and red, and emotions all over the place. "Yes you would, (Y/N)."

"Look at me. I'm homely and I'm awkward, and I'm odd."

"I love you, (Y/N)." Nikolai interjected.

"And you'd be ashamed of me." (Y/N) added.

Once again Nikolai spoke, "I love you, (Y/N)."

"And we would quarrel because we can't help it, even now." another watery-spoken comment came from (Y/N). "And I'd hate elegant society, you'd hate my scribbling, and we would be unhappy. And we'd wish we hadn't done it, and everything would be horrid." she cried out.

Nikolai looked down, silently taking in everything. "Is there anything more?"

"No. Nothing more."

"Alright." he quietly muttered.

Nikolai turned to walk away but was stopped by (Y/N)'s voice. "Except that..." Nikolai turned back around to face the girl. "Sobachka, I don't believe I will ever marry. I'm happy as I am, and I love my liberty too well to be in any hurry to give it up." her voice came out exhausted and mournful.

"I think you're wrong about that, (Y/N)." as the king spoke his hands reached down into his trouser pockets. Soft blonde curls strayed from his groomed hair and fell down in front of his forehead, matching their disheveled attitudes.

"No." she tried to add.

"I think you will marry, (Y/N). I think you'll find someone and love them. And you will live and die for them because that's your way, and you will." Nikolai's voice matched (Y/N)'s tired tone. "And I'll watch."

Nikolai turned away again, finally making his leave of the gardens. (Y/N) watched as he went, sobs racking through her body as the closet friend she had walked away from their shattered friendship.

[puckish-rogue]

I will forever be endlessly fascinated by the way Julius decides to pin everything that happened by the end of the first game entirely on the Boss. Like ignoring the various plot points that were more or less dropped in the sequel, it's kind of amazing how the man seemingly refused to take any accountability for what the Saints had started to turn into during their first iteration. For a man who was the founder and leader of the gang it sure seems like the kid he saved on the street was the real MASTERMIND behind everything.

To paraphrase a post I read that led me to think about this in the first place; people have a tendency to take what Julius said at face value. They just willingly accept the idea that the Boss was just "always like that" and Julius was not only justified in putting them into a coma, but able to see their true colors. But I highly doubt that. I mean, if you pay close enough attention to the first game, there's plenty of material that can lead you to believe that whatever "good intentions" he may have had in forming the Saints to being with was misguided at best and self-serving at worst.

Whatever "valid" reasons he may have had in dropping his flags with the VK's means jack shit as soon as you realize two things during a mission with his former friend/former leader of the VK's Ben King; the first is that Julius lies to everyone's face about coming from the Row, as he originally hailed from the neighborhood of Sunnyvale. The second is that the speech he gives towards the Saints is a direct copy of one Ben had given. Julius wants the same kind of power his best friend had. He wants the recognition, the respect, and everything that comes with running the biggest and baddest gang in the city.

With my specific portrayal of the Boss I've always said that before joining the Saints there was just something fundamentally wrong with him. Something that had been brewing for years and was finally able to be released by the time he wound up in the gang, acting as a sort of catalyst. Does this mean Julius was right all along? Maybe to an extent. But in no way can I say he was justified entirely. Because for a man who seemingly regrets the way things turned out, he sure as hell seemed pretty fine with everything the gang had done prior to his arrest. I mean shit, even the death of one of his lieutenants was met with a "she knew the risks of this life".

And it's not only that, but I can only imagine that the fallout from disbanding the Saints was pretty fucking bad. People getting arrested, murdered, and who the hell knows what else. Not to mention the large power vacuum that was ultimately filled up by three new gangs during those five years. Everything had basically gone to shit just so Julius could save his own ass.

Which brings me back to the Boss. Or I suppose Django to be specific. Make no mistake, I don't excuse anything he or the gang does. For all the ways in which I make him likeable there is no changing the fact that he is a villain protagonist through and through. But that's not going to prevent me from talking about frankly ridiculous it is that Julius could have the audacity to blame everything on him. That he could so easily try and assassinate his golden boy via explosives all because he saw him as both an ultimate evil and expendable.

I'm sure the man's had moments where he questions what he's done. Where he wonders if he made the right choice. And I know for sure that at least in my interpretation of the series and what I consider canon on here, Julius will convince himself time and time again that he was correct. That it had to be done. That the kid needed to go. It's fine. He's fine. It's all over now. There will come a day where the ghosts of his past will stop haunting him, and he can finally get that peaceful night of sleep he's desired for so long now.

Unfortunately for him some spirits are just that restless.

[writingamarie]

👶🌊⛪

🌊 the only easy day (3 part buddie. angst. hurt. hea)

“You gotta tell ‘em,” she could hear the child more clearly. “He’s on medicine. My dad said he can’t get hurt or he’ll bleed too much!” Maddie’s heart sank a little. If the man was on blood thinners then having bled out for an unknown amount of time was even more dangerous than normal. Even a standard injury could have become deadly if he’d bled too much. She added the note into the system and checked on their estimated arrival time. It was still longer than she would have liked but she understood they couldn’t make the roads safer. “Buck, Buck wake up!” the kid yelled out as clear as if he had been sitting right next to her at dispatch and Maddie froze. The nearest team was still minutes away.

⛪️ best kept secret (catholic school au buddie, not hea)

“Hi, Soph,” Evan said with a sad smile. She grabbed half his sandwich and took a bite before her nose scrunched up in disgust. He would have warned her there was salami on it if she’d asked but she had a habit of eating his food without questioning him about it. Besides Eddie, Sophia was the only real friend he had made since he started at Saint Mary’s. Part of him wondered if he had only started talking to her because she was Eddie’s sister while the other part wondered if he felt connected to her –they were both outsiders after all. He was the new kid from out of state and she… well Evan didn’t understand why the other kids didn’t like her. “What’s got you looking like a kicked puppy?” He couldn’t answer her. There was no easy explanation for the Eddie of it all.

👶🏻 tba title (age gap buddie fic -like real age gap)

Eddie didn’t make it a habit to go out to the bars. He spent most of his time at work or with Christopher. Having a few free nights in a row where there was no one depending on him would have normally meant taking time to finally clean his house; except, he wasn’t nearly that old. Eddie hadn’t crossed the bridge into his forties yet so he forced himself to get decent looking and stay up just late enough to go to one of the local bars. Chris was in LA for spring break visiting Shannon and a friend from his dorm. So there was no harm in Eddie letting loose for one night. The El Paso scene wasn’t too crazy for him.

link to another the only easy day snippet

link to another best kept secret snippet

link to og emoji wip game post

[wordsarelife]

I love your stories! Whats your favourite so far?

I feel like theres not enough kipps fics so could you do one with the song paper rings?

—paper rings

pairing: quill kipps x reader

summary: you and quill have been together so long, you're practically married by now. all this time and quill is still trying to muster up the strength to ask you the question of questions

warnings: none

authors note: thank you so much! I think one of my favs is actually "peace", because I live for those private moments with a loved one (and sometimes a bit of angst too)

"hey!" you called softly upon noticing the group make its way out the huge house

"y/n!" Quill called back, walking forward and engulfing you in a hug, plastering a few quick kisses on your mouth he smiled, stepping back "what are you doing here?"

you smiled nonchalantly "I thought you guys could need something to eat" you looked behind Quill, noticing Lockwood walking out. his eyes searched the place and a smile entered his face upon seeing you.

"hi" he called, hugging you quickly

"hey, Tony" you smiled. you were the only one who was officially allowed to call him that. "I made your favourite" your hand went into your bag and you pulled out a packaged pb+j sandwich

"oh, y/n" Lockwood grinned "you're a saint"

you laughed at his expression. Quill grinned at you bitterly, but you could cheer him up a bit by taking out his favourite from your bag "thank you, darling"

Lockwood and Quill watched you go down the row of agents (Lucy, George, Kat, Bobby and Ned) handing each one their favourite sandwich and smiling upon the joy they send you

you had first met Lockwood when he was just twelve years old. you were seventeen at the time and had started dating Quill. Quill wasn't especially happy about your loving relationship with the younger boy, but he quickly understood that you loved Lockwood like a sister would.

Lockwood looked up to you and since meeting, you had become the only family he had left. visiting him and making sure he was save, caring for him when he was ill.

your care never vanished and eventually Quill understood the importance of your relationship. but..he still continued to dislike the boy.

"you better marry her" Lockwood muttered while eating his sandwich and Quill watched in silent happiness how you looked up from your bag and found his eyes across the yard, smiling at him.

"of course I will" Quill rolled his eyes at the boy, who had a bit of peanut butter stuck on his left cheek

"well, its taking you remarkably long" Lockwood shrugged

"listen, Tony. just because y/n's playing mommy for you doesn't mean you have a say in our relationship"

Lockwood raised his eyebrows in confusion "y/n isn't playing mommy for me, Kipps"

you had made your way back without them noticing, not really listening to what they were saying "oh, sweetheart, you've got something on your cheek" before he could protest, you had licked your finger and got rid of the peanut butter from his cheek

Quill's features grew into a toothy grin as his eyes found Lockwood's

"just this once" Lockwood muttered and Quill watched as he took another bite from the sandwich. Lockwood noticed Quill watching him and quickly wrapped up the sandwich "not that hungry"

"oh, that's weird" you exclaimed worryingly "you're always hungry after a mission. are you getting a cold?" you stepped forward, about to take his temperature with your lips, but Lockwood stepped back

"its fine, y/n" he said quickly, walking away from you both

"well, what's going on with him?" you asked Quill, who just shrugged

"as if I would know"

***

"do I really have to come with?" you were practically dragging Quill through the streets of london, while you listened to his pleading about being allowed to return back home.

"yes" you smiled "you're my-" you paused, thinking "assistant"

you unlocked the door with your key and went inside, waiting for your boyfriend to follow you "yeah, sure, assistant, as if i'm normally allowed in the kitchen"

"haha" you took off your coat and hung it up, walking down the steps to the kitchen, you ordered Quill to sit down at the table. "I brought a magazine" you took out the magazine and handed it to him, giggling as he rolled his eyes with affection

"if you need me, i'll be just sitting here, with absolutely no purpose"

"thank you, that's all I need from you" you started taking out your mothers old cookbook and began to search for the ingredients, luckily having brought everything you were sure, couldn't be found in the kitchen of portland row

you finished up cooking about two hours later, Quill having finished the magazine and started asking you unnecessary questions instead. eventually, he was helping you set the table as the front door got unlocked.

"hey" George smiled when he entered the kitchen "Kipps" he greeted upon noticing the older boy

closely behind was Lucy, who stepped around the bespectacled boy to hug you and give Quill an high-five

"hey" Lockwood smiled as he finally entered the kitchen as well

"how was the case?" you asked while you shooed them to finally sit down and start their meal. Quill and you were sitting across, beginning to eat as well

"eventful" said George

"and long" added Lucy, throwing a glance at the clock

"I'm sure you did great" you smiled encouraginly and Quill noticed how everyone seemed to switch into a little better mood at your words

"thank you for this, y/n" Lockwood smiled "...and Quill" he added "you really shouldn't have"

"you told me the case wouldn't be easy, so I thought I could at least make the night a little more easy for you guys. after you've finished I want to see you all go to bed. it's already super late and god knows you need the sleep" you immediately noticed the growing protests coming from the teenagers "I'll even do a bed control to make sure you've all listened"

"Kipps" the three whined at almost the same time

"oh now you want me to help you?" Quill grinned from ear to ear "nah, you've heard the lady"

so against all their protests, they went up to their rooms after dinner.

"I think some day you'll be a great mother" Quill smiled fondly

you turned your head and looked at him, intertwining your fingers across the table "so will you" he raised his brows "obviously a good father, you know what I mean"

he laughed at your annoyed expression, before he turned his arm, looking at his watch "it's been ten minutes"

"alright" you said, getting up and leaving the kitchen to do the previously announced bed control. Quill smiled to himself as he watched you leave

***

you were sitting in bed, reading, while Quill was lying next to you, just watching your face change it's expression every time the scene changed

"hey, y/n?" he asked softly and waited until you had put the book to rest in your lap

"yeah, Quill?" you pursed your lips smiling at the man

"will you marry me?"

you opened your mouth slowly, stunned by his words. he turned around to grab something from off the bedside table. it wasn't anything fancy, not a big ring or a shining diamond. it was a little self-made paper ring

"I know it's not nearly as good as the ones you used to make, but I thought you would like it"

you smiled softly, tearing up "of course I like it" you sobbed "and yes, obviously I will marry you" you outstretched your hand, letting him slip the ring onto your finger

you leaned forward, taking his face into your hands and kissed him softly

"this was more perfect than anything I could've imagined, Quill" you said, still stunned at what was happening

you were amazed at how well he knew you, not doing anything big or fancy or god forbid in public with loads of people watching. he knew that you liked those quiet moments, times you would spend alone with those closest to you

"I thought you would like this" he laughed

you both stayed up half the whole night, discussing how your wedding would be, who you would invite (Quill begrudgingly nodded at Lockwood being one of the first people you had suggested), how you would decorate the location and overall how big the festivity should be

"now we only have to get a real ring for you"

"are you kidding? i will never take this off" you replied cheerfully, posing your hand in the air. "you're the one that I want, I'd even marry you with paper rings"

"oh god, what have I started?" Quill asked, burying his head in the pillow. you laughed at his antics, still admiring the little folded ring

"okay, what if we get you an actual ring and we frame that one? so nothing will happen to it, what do you think?"

"sounds like a plan" you shrugged

you made yourself comfortable in his arm, you were excited to go look for a beautiful ring, but for tonight you would wear the paper ring, and that made your heart swell with joy