#at least most people in the group were patient and willing to do several pulls to actually make it through

[vespertine-legacy]

Why did I agree to join a pug NiM Nefra 16man?

Tanks who lost aggro on pull and because they were guarding the healer in the lowest iRating rather than the dps who is going to have the best opener, Nefra turned around to try to kill the group. Dps who refused (or didn’t know how?) to cleanse themselves. Healers who couldn’t figure out how to cleanse tank first then themself (and yes if you are assigned to cleanse tank and yourself, you do actually have to cleanse both). A healer who straight up wasn’t cleansing themself, so I was cleansing a sniper, a sorc healer, and myself almost every round. I cleansed 5 people on one round, some on classes that I usually would have just let the debuff go off because you’d think you could trust them to use dcds if they didn’t have their cleanse up, but NOPE, and apparently no other healer noticed that those folks didn’t cleanse themselves (eventually earned myself a guard, don’t know if someone told one of the tanks to guard me or if they looked at the threat table and saw that I was about to Cause Problems).

Anyway I baited an offhand for my scoundrel and it dropped a chest piece so 🙃

And the group lead wanted to do Dash after but no fucking thanks lol

[therealvinelle]

Hi! I was reading through your meta (which is reeeeally interesting) and noticed you said you don't like Eleazar? I was wondering why that was?

Tumblr ate this ask when I had almost finished it and I hate everything. Also, thanks for the compliment, I’m really glad you like my things.

Now to try and remember what I wrote about Eleazar…

I think Eleazar is a disagreeable person whose gift wasn’t useful enough to warrant a place in the Volturi guard, and Aro jumped on the Carmen-shaped excuse to give him an honorable discharge.

To start with the gift, we see him use it twice and neither time is particularly impressive.

Siobhan Siobhan has the power of reality manipulation. Her gift is noticeable enough that Carlisle is certain she has it, so when he gets Eleazar and Siobhan in a room together he pulls Eleazar over to see if he was right. Eleazar squints at Siobhan. And he squints. Finally he says, «I’ve got nothing.» Now, gifts are an iffy, complicated matter everyone has their own theories about, but I think that at the end of the day we can all agree it’s a binary, you’re gifted or you’re not. Some gifts may be weak, but those are still gifts. And maybe someone will touch the gray zone of «is it a gift or is Johnny the vampire just really good at juggling?», but Siobhan has the power to manipulate reality, and she must do it a lot for Carlisle to have come to suspect it in the first place. She has a definitive and powerful gift. And even if I’m wrong about gifts being binary, if Eleazar wants to be useful to Aro he should still be able to say: Yes, this person has a gift, or no, this person does not have a gift. Sadly, he is not. When brought before Siobhan he says «She could have a gift, she could also not have a gift.» This means he hasn’t detected her gift, which is bad enough by itself. Being able to tell if someone has a gift or not should be a dealbreaker. The way he answers, though, that she could very well have a gift he doesn’t know about, makes it clear that people having gifts he couldn’t detect has happened enough for him to be open to the possibility that the gift there, and he can’t see it. In other words, Eleazar isn’t reliable for detecting gifts and will give Aro false negatives.

Bella This is an aside but as it’ll inevitably come up later in my blog I’ll just drop here that I think Bella’s gift is something more complex than a shield. She has prophetic dreams, hallucination!Edward, and there’s a weird inconsistency as to who is blocked by her and who isn’t. I think her gift is self-preservation, and the shield is one of its manifestations. Anyway, onto discrediting Eleazar. (I’ll be pretty closely paraphrasing what happens in chapter 31 of Breaking Dawn, but since the interaction goes on for several pages I’m not going to clutter this post by pasting all of it.) To his credit, he does notice Bella right away, and he identifies her as a shield based on the fact that he gets this sense of nothingness from her. This is all he can do, however, and I can’t stress that enough. He assumes that she can block Edward, but he’s shocked to learn that she can block Aro. He’s just as surprised that she can block Jane and Alec. He has to interview her to deduce exactly what her gift does, which again has nothing to do with his gift. Anyone could ask questions, in fact Aro found all this out two books ago, without the help of Eleazar. Eleazar then starts musing aloud about who-would-win in a Renata vs. Bella showdown (more on that later), which is as tactless as it is revealing. The guy genuinely doesn’t know, and it’s because he doesn’t understand their gifts well enough. Eleazar’s power means he can tell Bella that she has a gift, and he knows roughly what it is. He muses that usually he can’t even tell that much, which again is quite damning. He can’t tell her exactly what she does without a game of 20 questions first. She gives him more information than he gives her, which he then regurgitates back to her with slightly different wording, and everybody claps. «My god, Eleazar, you’ve done it again!» (No, really, this is pretty much what happens. Eleazar brought no new information to the table, yet he blew Bella and Edward’s minds.) It’s all fun and games to do this for Bella and Edward, as they for various reasons genuinely didn’t realize she had a gift. For Aro, who figured this one out on his own, one begins to wonder what Eleazar was bringing to the table.

Carlisle Bonus bullet point! I’ll make this one brief. I believe Carlisle in canon has a gift he’s unaware of (Yes, I have a post planned, but it will get ugly long so god knows when it’ll come), which makes him another one of Eleazar’s gift detection fails. In short, I think he’s extremely charismatic, able to win over anybody. To list a few examples - he has an extremely diverse set of friends who in Breaking Dawn are willing to lay down their lives for him, Jacob muses how his instinctive hostility around vampires doesn’t apply to Carlisle, and vampires are terrifying to humans (don’t be fooled by the movies, people) yet Carlisle is able to work as a successful doctor, meaning his patients don’t mind being exposed to a killing machine even when they’re at their most vulnerable. He’s able to keep his family of sociopaths in line. There’s not a single person in the Twilight ‘verse that dislikes him. (Billy and Caius excepted, but Billy has no direct exposure to him until late Eclipse, and Caius is responding to a coven that’s potentially threatening the Volturi) People are free to disagree with me on this one, but if I’m right (and I have a lot of book quotes as well as a theory on what gifts even are to back me up on this one. I’m right, damnit!) then Carlisle is another gifted vampire Eleazar failed to detect.

So. We’ve established that Eleazar’s gift will yield false negatives, and that he can’t tell you much about the gifts he does detect.

I think his power is to point out the obvious.

Which means that Aro’s eyelid was twitching slightly, but alright, Eleazar could still be useful.

Unfortunately, there is the matter of weighing up your pros with your cons.

The Volturi are, at the end of the day, a group of people who live in a commune together. Coven, guard, evil minions, call them what we like but they’re exposed to each other and some sense of agreeability is required. And Chelsea is not omnipotent.

More, I imagine that in a coven as large and old as the Volturi, they’ve developed a culture of their own. This means that newcomers will need social awareness and a willingness to fit in.

Eleazar, from what we see of him in Breaking Dawn, appears to lack both.

It’s in the way he speaks of the people he used to work with. It’s utterly impersonal. He tells us how their gifts work, no more and no less. When he speaks of Aro, he speaks only of actions Aro took and orders he gave, nothing about the man’s personality. Now, considering the context, he was speaking in a context where Jane’s thoughts and feelings were far from relevant, but it’s still notable.

Also notable is the fact that he has no issue contemplating a Renata vs. Bella scenario, even though this would mean the deaths of two people he worked with for years. Perhaps it’s a thought exercise, but it’s not a thought exercise I would have gotten into when it was days away from becoming reality. If Renata can’t deflect Bella’s power, she and Aro die.

I’ll put it this way - I don’t think he’d do a «who would win» like this involving Carmen.

At no point in the book does Eleazar show any concern for the eventuality that members of a guard he used to be a part of may get killed.

It seems he didn’t form personal relationships with the rest of the guard. I suspect he considered himself... if not quite above them, then still someone who could evaluate them. Their gifts is what he looked at in them. I also think it’s likely he asked Aro not to use Chelsea on him, which in turn would have made him stick out even more as there’s nothing making him and Volturi Guard Member X just click in the way I imagine Chelsea can be very helpful with. Which in turn means that the other guard members will feel close to one another in a way they’re not close to Eleazar.

Also… he’s just a douche. I’m sorry, but I don’t make the rules and the whole guy radiates douche. I can’t even point to a specific quote in the book, it’s just is.

I don’t think this guy never really fit into the Volturi guard, and his gift wasn’t useful enough to keep him. Aro was thrilled to have him at first, but as time went on and Eleazar proved to just not be all that, he eventually realized he had to get rid of him.

Because as others have pointed out before me, the Carmen excuse makes no sense. There would be no problem in one more vampire in the castle, yet Aro wouldn’t let her in and Eleazar had to choose.

It was a solution that sent Eleazar on his way with his ego intact, and no hard feelings towards the Volturi. More, Aro is on record doing this with it’s-not-you thing with at least one other vampire. Laurent wanted to join the Volturi, had nothing to bring to the table, and Aro used past association with the Romanians as an excuse for why Laurent couldn’t join rather than tell him to his face that he was useless. With Marcus, Aro, and Chelsea around, the Romanian connection isn’t a problem, meaning Aro was bullshitting.

TL;DR: Aro is the kind of person who’d lie and say his grandma died if he doesn’t want to go to your party, and Eleazar is the kind of person who’d say «My condolences».

[mammons-tax-returns]

Hey! I saw that your ask box was open, so I was wondering if I could request how the brothers (if not all then just Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Leviathan) would react to the mc defending them! Like they get into a fight and their only response was "they were talking bad about you" or something! -🥀 (Also side note, do you right for GN! MC's, or just male?)

BROTHERS REACTING TO MC DEFENDING THEM

Hey anon! Thanks so much for requesting! As for your question, This is TECHNICALLY a male reader blog, however, if it isn’t necessary, I will use he/him pronouns loosely. In other words, if the prompt doesn’t specify/depend on it being a male mc, it will be gn!mc! Hope this clears up some confusion! I’ll start putting whether a post is for a gn or male mc at the very beginning of said post from now on.

✖️GENDER NEUTRAL MC✖️

fluff, some angst :).

Lucifer was more angry than anything to hear that MC had gotten in a fight. The one thing he made sure they did was to stay out of trouble. And yet, they seem to be a magnet for chaos.

He stumbled upon the fight before it got bad, and had the demon dealt with as he accompanied MC to an empty room at RAD.

Although he seemed to be sweating out of exasperation, it was easy to tell that he was simply worried about them.

Well. Kind of.

If you look past the hour-long lecture it is.

MC tries countless times to explain themself, and yet he never fails to reroute the conversation back to his lesson on running from a demon before things get bad.

It gets to a point when MC has to put a hand over his mouth to quiet him.

Only then do they explain what happened, and what caused the fight to begin with.

First, he is absolutely shocked. And he can’t really find the right thing to say.

Then, his eyes relax, and his frown seems to melt away. He truly wants to be mad still, to teach a proper lesson. But he just can’t do it.

“It is true that humans tend not to think things through, I suppose.”

He crosses his arms and continues, “Well, I appreciate it, but I don’t need the protection.”

After ruffling their hair, he smirks a little.

“I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you if you rush into situations like that. Maybe put you on a leash.”

After things are cleared up, he finds the situation a little comical. A human defending a demon.

Luckily, the wounds aren’t bad, or else Lucifer wouldn’t have hesitated giving some sort of consequence to the MC.

Mammon is, unfortunately, not around to witness or intervene into the fight.

So when the next time he sees MC there’s a dark magenta ring around their eye, he loses it.

He wastes no time taking them home from RAD. We know he never really cared for classes anyways.

Unlike Lucifer, he wants to hear them out on the way home.

Although he physically feels himself getting butterflies in his stomach from the idea of being cared for, he clears his throat and tries to push it aside.

He knows that they’re not going to be taken away from him anytime soon. At least, not with his unintentionally vice grip on their wrist they aren’t.

And yet he can’t help but constantly flick his gaze back to them and their wounds.

We were all waiting for this one: he feels horrible that they got hurt because of him, albeit indirectly.

He puts emphasis on steering clear of hotheaded demons— or, all demons that aren’t the brothers for that matter.

“I hear ya, The Great Mammon is a gem that all of devildom should be tryna’ protect! But... You’re better off ignoring that... I mean, look at ya! All beat up and stuff... N-Not that you look bad or anything. Well... Um.”

When MC laughs at him, he’s both relieved that they’re not upset enough to sulk, and embarrassed because of his wording.

So they have to reassure him that they simply find him worth protecting— for exactly this. He cares for them, and is probably willing to protect them too.

As he’s sloppily tending to their bruises, he offers to spend the day with them.

He says its his payment, and that he would defend them when Lucifer found out about today.

But it’s more so the fact that he wishes more than anything to spend every day for the rest of his demonic life with them.

Levi is another brother who is unfortunately not around at the time due to his home schooling.

That’s why he’s one of the last people to find out about it, and he feels guilt hit him like an 18-wheeler.

The injuries are a little more severe, but nothing that would keep someone from going about their daily life. Nonetheless, Levi is demanding to be the one to patch them up.

As soon as MC cuts him off before he can start rambling, they make sure to explain the situation, i.e. “I had to defend you! Or else they would have kept talking bad about you.”

He turns red and covers his mouth, undoubtedly mumbling something about how impossibly romantic the situation was.

But after that, he shakily asks that MC tries not to talk as he takes time to let everything sink in. He still can’t believe it.

So he finds himself shakily asking questions like, “So... You just heard him and decided to-... To defend me? No one asked you to?”

For every reassuring nod that he gets, he feels his head spin a little faster.

It takes him a while, but all the wounds are properly sterilized and taken care off beneath his cold fingers.

He leans back in his seat, and blows out a slow puff of air. “MC... You’re badass. Seriously. I don’t really know what I, a demon, have done to deserve you... But... Thank you.”

The conversation ends with tears, but they couldn’t have been anything but happy.

He just can’t believe someone could go as far as to fight for his sake over a simple ill-intended comment.

Satan witnesses the event. Which... May or may not be a good thing.

MC doesn’t notice him at first. They’re too busy with the demon that has her hands on their uniform collar.

But then they see the green flames licking at their peripherals, emitting from somewhere behind them.

The demon girl in front of them seems to lose all color in her face at the sight of those same flames. She instantly drops MC to their knees, and attempts to run.

As Satan steps forward to grab the female student, he spins MC around with ease so that they won’t have to witness whatever he’s about to do.

MC doesn’t know how much time has passed due to the shock of the moment. It could be seconds or minutes. But when Satan pulls them back up to their feet, he is stone faced.

MC walks stiffly to the House of Lamentation with Satan, careful not to set anything else off in him.

The entire walk to his room is silent. The first time he speaks is when he offers a seat on his bed, nudging books aside with his foot.

He takes a deep breath before he begins diligently tending to the injuries.

“Mind explaining what happened?” He doesn’t sound angry at them, but it’s hard to tell with him.

Satan notices the hesitation in answering, so he gives a small smile. “Are you scared? You shouldn’t be. I’m just a bit... Tense, is all.”

After a moment, MC tells him the reasoning for the fight.

Satan sighs once more and places a hand on theirs. Oh to be so selfless yet still be a fragile human.

“MC... Demons talk. And it’s not always nice. It’s best to just let it go, okay? Well... Give me their name first, but I can’t have you losing a limb for me. Who knows what i’d do then.”

MC can’t completely promise that they’ll simply forget about anyone that talks badly about him, but Satan only gives a helpless sigh.

“What ever will we do with you.” He is much more relaxed than before, and his tone is affectionate.

MC doesn’t know what happened to that girl, and you figure it’s best to never ask.

Asmodeus is preoccupied with a hand mirror, but a circle of gathering demons certainly catches his attention.

He hums, interested. He’s always been one for drama.

But as he peeks over the crowd, his heart sinks impossibly deep in his body.

MC isn’t bloody, but by the looks of it, they may be very soon.

While he’s ridden with shock, a punch lands on their face, and the crowd roars. The yells overtake his own, and he can’t get through the group of people pushing and shoving.

Diavolo and Barbatos were alerted of the congregation of students, and are only just now arriving. And at the sight of them, students scatter like bugs. Leaving MC on the ground and clutching their face in pain.

Diavolo and Barbatos leave MC in the care of Asmodeus while they turn to resolve the problem with the attacker.

Asmodeus is frantic, fanning his face as he helps MC to sit up. He doesn’t know what to do first, does he ask to see the wound? But what’s the point when he doesn’t really know how to treat it in any circumstance? No one has ever socked him in the face before.

So he opts to carry them off to the infirmary, bridal style. All along the way, he gives reassuring words that seem to slightly calm the injuried MC.

“Hey, beautiful! Ughh, the nerve of some demons! I can’t even begin to— Oh right... The ice pack, I’ll get that now, so sit tight, love!”

While he allows them to press the ice to their eye themself, he is massaging his frowning face. All while he seems to be worried about all the wrong things.

“Is this type of injury permanent on humans?? Your face is too good for that!” “That low-level demon... I wish I could ruin his face a hundred times worse than what he’s doing to innocent bystanders!”

MC patiently allows him to vent, because hearing him fret of the most “Asmo” things somehow brought light to the situation and distracted from the throbbing in their face.

An hour must have passed before Asmo actually takes in the situation. “Oh, but I haven’t even asked... What in devildom were you doing with such a grotesque demon? Do I have to replace Mammon in guarding you?”

Finally, MC explains.

He’s less than shocked. Instead, he holds his own arms with an almost sympathetic smile, “Oh, darling... It’s better to talk to Lucifer about things like that... If at all. As the Avatar of Lust, It’s kind of part of the program to get nasty birds twittering about you... Fan behavior.”

MC seems less than convinced, replying with a small, “But...”

Asmo grins and puts a gentle hand on their shoulder. “It’s adorable that you’d do that for me, MC, really. I wish I could just dress you up and show you to the world, show them how special you make me feel! But please. Don’t sacrifice your complexion for a-ny-thing!”

Even Asmo can feel himself get butterflies when MC does the smallest of things for him. But taking care of that face is no joke to him.

Beel is at the gym when it happens, and is the last one to hear about it. The brothers are all discreetly trying to decide whether or not to tell him. We all know how scary he can get.

MC listens to Mammon... For some reason. And that entails avoiding Beel until the scrapes and bruises on your body heal.

Bad idea. Beel now looks like a hurt puppy, and is desperately trying to figure out what he has done.

The fateful moment of realization for him comes on a Tuesday night, less than a week after the incident. MC walks into the kitchen, searching for a late night beverage to drink and also hold against their wounds.

Beel is already there, instantly looking ashamed when he sees them.

“Beel...” MC starts, forgetting that they were supposed to be avoiding him. They stop themselves before hastily pulling their sleeves down to cover the lingering bruises.

This catches Beel’s attention to detail when it comes to others.

His eyebrows furrow a bit, and MC gulps.  There was no getting out of this.

Before completely explaining everything, MC has to calm him.  Because if not, he’d be checking every inch of their body for serious injuries.  And even if there were none, he’d never let them leave bed for the next week.  At least.

They take a deep breath and start with the people poking fun at his soft personality in such an intimidating body.  And then finishing with the plan of steering clear of him to keep him from getting worried.  (you leave out mammon’s part last second)

At first, his eyes are serious as he listens intently, silently going over things more than once in his head to ensure that he was understanding the story properly.

Once MC has finished, his eyes change completely.  They’re soft, and concerned, but not overbearing.

MC felt a bit guilty seeing him like this.

Beel reaches out to hug them, but is hesitant, worried that they’d still be hurt.  So MC has to let him know that their wounds have healed for the most part.

“MC....  Firstly, thank you.” He pulls them into a soft hug.  “It makes me all happy on the inside when you do things like that.” His voice is quiet, but much too unstable.  MC knew that this was a telltale sign that he was near tears.

MC doesn’t hesitate to reach up and stroke the back of his hair, feeling him bury his head into their shoulder.

“Beel? Are you okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

‘you should know better’ is what he wants to say. But maybe they don’t, he thinks. Afterall, when was the last time a human with such limited magical capability was surrounded by demons 24/7?

“I just need you to promise me.” He carefully pulls back and sucks in a breath, keeping himself from imagining MC scared and hurt without him— because of him.

“Promise me that you’ll tell me about things like that first. Before you get yourself hurt, or... Or worse.” There’s another word that he has to stop himself from saying. He doesn’t know how he could handle that thought.

There, he thinks. If they didn’t know before how serious it was, now they did. Hopefully.

The brothers notice that Beel is a bit more normal than the days before, so they assume that things have been cleared up for the two.

Although they have to pretend as if they had never heard about the incident when he mentions it.

Belphie was definitely not there when it happened.

But unlike with every other brother, MC was unable to be saved immediately after having found themselves in a brawl with a low class demon.

MC silently curses as they find themselves limping through the halls of the House of Lamentation.

They’re lucky to have only gotten out of that with an injured ankle, they remind themself. It didn’t seem... Broken. But it definitely needed more medical attention than it received now— A knee-high sock they pulled off of their foot wrapped tightly around a ruler they used as a makeshift splint.

They were sure that the majority of the brothers were at school, so they’d have at least a few hours to figure out what to do.

How would the brothers react if they saw them like this? Would they feel that this was a mere inconvenience? Afterall, this may just be a bad sprain, and now look at them. They can barely limp. Much less walk. But maybe after a bit of rest, it would magically heal.

They decide to head to the music room (?), where they knew that none of the brothers would immediately run into after school.

After finding a stool to sit on, MC hisses when they bump their ankle on the floor. The throbbing seemed to shake their whole body.

“Holy shi—“

“MC?”

A sleepy drawl from the couch behind them causes them to freeze. They wanted to slap themself. Of course Belphie would be sleeping here, why didn’t they think of that?

“What’re you doing h—....” He stops.

MC can already tell that he had noticed the poor job they had done with their ankle. “I fell down the stairs. But it’s okay, I just—“

“MC. I’m not stupid. Why are you home so early, alone? If you skipped or left early, Mammon would have sniffed you out like a dog and be here, too. Spill it.”

If Belphie was good at anything (besides sleeping), it was reading emotions. There was no lying anymore. And so MC simply explained the fight and its causes.

When they turn to look at him, he simply blinks. He doesn’t seem very concerned, but he sleepily walks over to inspect their leg.

He’s careful to support their foot as he lifts their entire leg, checking the swelling.

“... Geez. You’re stupid.” His eyebrows knit together with an unknown emotion. Worry? Irritation? A mix of both? “I don’t care about what such irrelevant demons think, and you shouldn’t either.”

MC is a little speechless, but only laughs. “Yeah. It was a little dumb looking back at it. But you should have heard them, Belphie... There was no way I’d go without a fight, okay?”

Belphie smiles back. “If you wanted to prove yourself to me... There were other ways, you know?”

“Should we get Beel to help us set up the pillow fort?”

“Well, how else are you gonna heal? You can’t get better if you don’t rest with me.”

[stevenbasic]

“Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit.

——

Earlier that day, I’d been told at the front desk that there was a lady from Evolution Pharmaceuticals on the line, and that she’d like to speak with me. Aubrey had always been good about screening out the sales pitches, the irate patients, the people with whom I really never needed to actually talk. So that she was pulling me aside for this call told me that this one might be something I should probably take...

But - ugh. No. I didn’t want to. This had been a long day, a long week so far - and it was only Tuesday! God, the past few months had been more and more exhausting, humiliating and emasculating with each passing hour. And the more I learned, the more it seemed that this company was at the heart of my troubles. Yes, it offered the opportunities of great financial rewards for the practice with this clinical study trial in which we were going to be participating. Since Jeanette, my previous Office Manager, had left, the mismanagement of the business had us in dire straits. Without the money from Evolution’s study and the “Lean In” grant from the women’s advancement group, I’m not sure we’d still be afloat. So, yeah, maybe I should have taken the call.

“I’ll call them later,” I told Aubrey, and grabbed the films I needed for my next patient.

That had been three hours ago, before my little hallway meeting with Melissa. Since then Gianna - some woman who’d wanted to speak to me about the trial - had called two more times. Left messages. Really wanted just fifteen minutes of my afternoon. Needed to speak with me. I refused each call.

Finally done with patients, sitting in my office at the end of the day as darkness crept in from outside, I sighed as Brittni from the desk buzzed me. She said that Gianna was on the line again. “Can I transfer her?”

“No,” I replied on the intercom, noticing that a little green light had blinked to life on the camera I had clipped to my monitor. I hadn’t seen it before, this light. In fact...when did I get a camera on this computer?

“Tell her I'll call tomorrow...” I finished.

I had set back to finishing some patient notes on my desktop when, suddenly, my screen flashed to black. For a quick moment I thought - oh no, a crash - but then a new, unfamiliar window appeared, and my mouse pointer began moving on its own accord. What the…? The window went full screen and next thing I knew I was in a video chat with-

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were avoiding my calls…” the woman onscreen spoke, laughing casually as she tossed her hair...

“oh, uh…” I was immediately agape. This was who’d been trying to call me all day??

“Anyway...Hi Dr J, I’m glad we finally get to chat…”

Holy shit. This girl was gorgeous. Look at those tits.

As I stared, still shell-shocked and speechless from having my computer hijacked out from under me by a bosomy corporate careerist, she went on to introduce herself as Gianna Albertini, from the clinical trials department at Evolution Pharmaceuticals. She explained how excited she and her team was to get the study off the ground at the practice. Things had been fast tracked at the FDA, they were just waiting for some rubber stamps, and everything looked very promising for their product. She apologized for not being able to meet in person, at least for a while. “I’m on some new retroviral treatment, and they have me quarantined at home,” she explained with surprising nonchalance, “yadda yadda yadda…”

Finally, after a good several minutes of watching her talk - and she held my attention easily, her rack possibly rivaling Melissa’s - she let me get a word in edgewise. I was still confused by how in one moment I was working on my patient charts, and then in the next I was in a video chat. “H-how did you…?”

“Sorry,” Gianna laughed, casually waving away any privacy concerns I was currently about to voice, “I had to remote in, take over your desktop. I really needed to speak with you.” Beyond the blatant intrusions tactics she was obviously willing to employ, there was something in this woman’s eyes, her demeanor, that was making me more and more concerned as the conversation - such as it was - continued. She may have been acting relaxed and friendly, decidedly informal, but there was a seriousness just below the surface that even I could see, even through the screen, and even in the face of those enormous tits. “Plus, maybe it’s actually better we do it this way, rather than on the phone,” she said, as she sat up nice and straight, “So we can see one another’s...smiling faces.”

Gahh...

As she got down to brass tacks, this young woman went on to describe to me some of the details of the new wings in our building into which the office would be expanding, how much more space we and Evolution be acquiring to fulfill the needs of the trial, and when it would all be ready. “Construction is ultra-fast tracked,” she said, “should be done within a few weeks.”

Weeks?? I marveled, silently incredulous. I’d seen the plans; it was a huge project. I’d figured months, if it ever really got done at all. But, the teams did seem motivated, and there were a lot of them, working day-in and day-out, all through the night. Maybe, perhaps? Could they pull it off in weeks?

We also talked about the structure of the trial, what it would involve day-to-day, and the long-term forecast. Evolution seemed ready to set up permanent shop with a clinic in the building, by taking over much of the lease of the new space, with the study just the first step in the door.

“You’ll be listed as the lead investigator,” Gianna explained, continuing on to detail the ins-and-outs of the trial, “but don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of people in place. You really won’t have to do too much, or deal with anyone at the main office. You’ll be reporting just to me...”

“r-reporting to you?” I asked, trying to ignore the impressive bosom which filled the screen, cowed me. That had taken me back a bit...'reporting to her'? I had noticed something in this young woman’s tone, through our chat, that led me to believe that she and I possibly had different views as to the, uh, hierarchy of this whole thing. I was the doctor around this place, and had gotten used to expecting a little respect, being top of the food chain. She, on the other hand, maybe had other ideas.

“That's right,” she said, “we’ll do these chats once a week, more if I feel like we need it. I’ll expect a report from you every day, but again don’t worry. It’s basically something you just have to sign, the girls will do it all. Our other providers will be handling most of the work with the patients in the study, entering data, keeping the FDA happy, blah blah blah. Maybe we’ll ask you to go in and talk to, examine a few of the subjects, just to keep things interesting for you.”

If I hadn’t felt totally emasculated and marginalized, my authority crippled by the horde of women who’d apparently taken over my practice recently, this was the clincher. It would appear that for this study I was going to be not much more than a coddled figurehead, a token man of straw, expected to satisfy the whims of some half-rate pharm company and this woman, at her beck and call. No way!

“I’m going to have to insist on directing care for, uh, the trial subjects,” I asserted, finally getting a moment to exert my will, “they will, technically, be my patients.”

“Oh, of course!” Gianna replied, smiling and throwing her hair over her shoulder, “Allowing for some oversight from the other providers we’ll have in place, you’ll have lots of medical-decision-making to keep yourself busy!”

What did she mean, ‘oversight’?

“They’ll be different than your usual patients, the subjects that we’ll be bringing in for the study, but I think you’ll like them,” she continued, trying to reassure me, “maybe a younger crowd, and of course all female. But in general all you’ll have to do is sit back and watch the money coming in.” She sat, looked into the screen for a moment, in thought. “Though I guess we have some people there handling that for you, too, hm?”

That gave me pause, made me rethink the litany of arguments that were beginning to boil up in my throat. I’d seen some of the paperwork, quickly, as it had moved past my desk for my signatures. It involved a lot of money for the practice. Like, a lot of money. I thought of my bills, my expenses, what I still somehow owed on my student loans. If Sheryl wasn’t going to be there to provide for me, help me pay these things…

If any of it remained, there was obviously some pride I was going to need to swallow.

“S-speaking of money,” I began, “what's my compensation going to look like?“

Something about my question, something about how I was holding myself, made Gianna smile again and then sigh, a sigh that told me she knew something I didn’t, I couldn’t help but think. With that she leaned in, her eyes locked on mine through the camera, and a shiver went up my spine. “Oh don’t worry, Dr. J,” she spoke, “you’ll be well taken care of...“

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Muchos Gracias to long-time friend, supporter of the story and behind-the-scenes ninja Antares for helping me assemble these clips.

Newer posts and other goodies at my Patreon

[seriouslysnape]

Ooh yey requests are open 💕 could you write something where reader is the one to propose to severus instead of the traditional way? With a ring and all?

OH STOP THAT’S SO CUTEEEEEEEEE.

__

Indecent Proposal

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

A/N: HAHAHA. This gif doesn’t match this one-shot at all, but I thought it was funny out of context.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,511

“If you wish to ever tell me something, I’m here to listen.”

__

Severus knew the moment that he met you that you were the one. It was a sort of sensation that he couldn’t describe. It was like when he laid eyes on you, the final piece of his puzzle of life fell into place, completing a full picture. He knew that his life was fulfilled with you. It wasn’t until your third or fourth week of dating that he began to think about marriage. He spent several days brainstorming over what kind of ring you might like, or what kind of house you’d want to live in once you were wed.

Severus was never one to just jump right into things. He liked to calculate every aspect of his life, weighing all possible options and considering all scenarios. This was no different. Even though he could have very well gotten down on one knee after just a month of dating, he knew that was far too soon for a marriage proposal. There was no way that either of you were ready or prepared to get married yet. Severus, though, was a patient man when it came to you.

He was willing to wait as long as it took.

Fast forward to a year and a half later, Severus was beginning to feel that proposal itch once more. He knew the time was getting right, and he wouldn’t be able to overlook his heart’s wishes much longer. He was ready to spend the rest of his life with you. He wanted his proposal to be nothing short of exemplary. He had already bought a ring about a week ago, one that you had mentioned in passing that you liked. He made sure to make a note of it, going back and purchasing it when you weren’t with him. He had kept it in the box in his pocket ever since, waiting until he felt like the moment was right.

He wanted nothing to be out of place. He wanted every little detail to be exactly to his liking. All of this would take time to plan out, which was why he was planning to propose to you the following week to make sure he was ready beforehand.

However, you had been acting strangely over the last few days. You were jittery, almost nervous around him. When it was just the two of you, he couldn’t help but notice the way your leg bounced anxiously and you couldn’t keep your attention on him for longer than a few passing moments.

He watched how skittish you were during dinner. You couldn’t sit still for the life of you and you weren’t speaking much. When you did speak, your diction was so fast that he could barely keep up with what you were saying. He could tell you were preoccupied with something.

“Are you alright, [Y/N]?” He asked gently, catching your attention.

You visibly jumped in your seat. Your fork spazzed from your hand and hit your plate with a loud clatter, the sound echoing in your ears. He paused hard and stared at you like you were a mad woman. He furrowed his brows in confusion and curiosity.

“Yep!” You squeaked; “I’m fine, I’m great! Why wouldn’t I be alright?” You rocketed off rapidly.

He set his own utensils down, folding his hands and looking harder into you. You were straight as a board as you sat, your shoulders pushed way further back than normal. He was worried that something was bothering you that you weren’t telling him about.

“Darling, you’re so flushed.” He pointed out, looking at how your face looked quite spectral.

You shook your head vigorously, continuing to dig yourself into a deeper hole with your odd behavior.

“I think it’s just hot in here...is it hot in here? I think it’s a little hot in here.” You rambled.

Now he REALLY knew something was up. You always complained about how cold he kept his Hogwarts’ living space. There wasn’t a fire crackling in the fireplace, so there was no way you were overly warm. He didn’t question it, only smiling kindly and standing from his chair. He approached you, putting his hands on the back of your chair to persuade you to get up.

“Why don’t we get out and get some fresh air, yes? We can finish dinner later.” He suggested, taking your clammy hand into his.

He was afraid that maybe you were coming down with something, but you didn’t look or act sickly. He guided you from your chair, leaving a soft kiss to your forehead. He felt your shoulders relax at the motion. You felt a bit comforted for now, his touch putting you at ease.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” You said in a more standard tone.

He linked his arm into yours, sweeping you away and outside into the cool evening. It was a beautiful spring night, for there was not a cloud in the steadily darkening sky. The sun had mostly set below the horizon, just a few minutes needed to go by before it was fully dark. You and Severus strolled alongside each other, making small talk as he tried to gauge what had you so uptight.

He never wanted you to be upset. It absolutely broke his heart anytime something was wrong and draining you of any happiness. However, you didn’t seem unhappy or sad. You were simply just nervous about something, but he couldn’t even begin to think of what it could be. He was stumped.

Your hand fiddled in your pocket. Your fingertips clutched the silver, metal ring that was housed there. The material was smooth against your skin as you refused to let it go. You had been holding on to it for at least two weeks now, and the entire time you had been terrified of losing it.

You knew that a woman proposing to a man wasn’t conventional. It was very traditional for the man to propose to the woman with a stunning ring that is supposed to fit perfectly and they’re supposed to cry at the new chapter of their life that’s been opened. You had been through it all in your head already.

Naturally, you had originally wanted Severus to be the one to ask for your hand in marriage. You had been waiting for him to suddenly get on one knee and pull out a ring and ask you to spend forever with him. But the longer you waited, the more impatient you became. With each passing day, you reminded yourself that you weren’t getting any younger, and you wanted to be with him for as long as possible.

That’s when you got the idea.

You could just as easily plan a proposal. You could go out and buy a ring that you knew he’d like. You knew he’d want something private, quiet, and not in front of a crowd of people. That was a win-win, because at least if you were to be mocked for proposing first, it would be just Severus and not a group of others. You felt a little out of your mind for this, but you knew it could be really sweet and romantic. Either way, it wasn’t really about the proposal.

It was about spending forever with the one you loved the most.

At one point, he stopped walking with you. You were just faintly illuminated by the light of the moon far above your heads. He was taking in how pretty you were. In every moment of every day, you were the most beautiful woman in the world. He had never felt so fortunate to have such a stunning human being in his life. A charming, alluring woman with an even purer heart and soul.

“My beautiful girl,” He said, cupping the side of your face and stroking his cheek with his thumb. Your heart beat began to quicken. You knew this was the moment; “If you wish to ever tell me something, I’m here to listen.”

You were trying to disregard how shaky your breathing was every time you inhaled. You weren’t sure how he’d react to this, but either way you knew he’d say yes. Even then, you still couldn’t shake off the edgy feeling in your gut.

“Yeah, of course.” You said with an encouraging smile.

“If something has you disturbed, then I want to help you if I can. I don’t want you to believe that you have to deal with things on your own. I’m here for you.” He claimed.

This was one of the many reasons you loved him. He was always in your corner, and he never let you forget it. He would walk through fire for you. He’d do anything as long as it meant that you were happy. Your happiness topped anything else in his life. You were all that mattered.

“It’s nothing like that, S. I’ve just had something on my mind lately.” You explained.

As secure as Severus felt in your relationship, he still felt a drop in his chest. After saying that and the way you had been acting, he thought that maybe you were thinking of ending this. His head and heart were both getting ready to fight for you if you were. He couldn’t just let you walk out of his life, despite his internal panic, he remained level headed.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” He asked, bringing one of your hands to his lips and leaving a soft kiss. He brought your hand to his chest, just in case this was the last time he’d ever feel you.

If you had known that’s what he was thinking, you’d probably start crying. Severus was so used to rejection and disappointment in his life, before he met you. He still shrank into his old thinking ways, preparing for the worst every time he thought something was going wrong.

But he didn’t know that his life was about to get even better than it was.

This was it. You knew you could do it. With your other hand, you fished in your pocket for the ring as you replied.

“Well, yes...but there’s something I want to ask you.” You said, successfully retrieving the ring and holding it to where he could see it.

He eyed the silver ring, still holding your other hand to him. His other hand fell from your face as he stared blankly at the handsome piece of jewelry in your palm. He looked to you for an explanation, relieved now that you probably weren’t breaking up with him based on the blinding grin on your face.

“Severus Snape,” You said, almost as a whisper; “Will you marry me?”

His entire nervous system shut down for a millisecond and restarted. He felt a rush of static and something else that even he couldn’t identify.

Now, Severus knew there were a million different ways to react to this. Undoubtedly, the first thought that came to his head when he came to the realization that you were proposing was that you had officially lost your marbles. He had always envisioned himself being the one to ask you to marry him, not the other way around. He wasn’t at all miffed that you had decided to take matters into your own hands. If anything, he felt a little bad that he had taken so long that you felt the need to do it yourself.

Everything clicked in his head. Your nervous behavior was evidently because you had built this up in your mind and were afraid of how it would go. When he looked into your eyes and saw how they were filled with suspense and elation, he knew exactly how to react in the most honest, intentional way.

You half expected him to burst into laughter and make fun of you for doing it yourself. You even thought for a second that he might say no because HE wanted to be the one to do it. Instead, Severus caught you in a kiss so lovingly faultless and personable that it made you weak in the knees. He kissed you for a long time, standing under the gleaming stars and inky black sky. It was such a long kiss, in fact, that you wondered for a split second if he was stalling so he didn’t have to give an answer.

However, when he pulled away, his words were as clear as ever and his voice was as content as it had ever been.

“Oh, my love...my flower...” He remarked gingerly; “I thought you’d never ask.”

You both fell into tensile rounds of laughter, knowing that he was poking a bit of fun at the situation. You had matching smiles on your faces, so wrapped up in love and partiality that it was almost overwhelming. The ring fit well on his left hand, and made his hands look even more manly. It was a foreign feeling to have a ring on his hand, considering he almost never wore them. He’d grow used to it soon enough.

You kissed him over and over, so thrilled that he had said yes that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You stopped your attack of kisses when he noticed he had pulled something out from his own pocket. You eyed the small red box, your raised brow falling and your eyes widening when he opened it silently to reveal the most breathtaking engagement ring you had ever seen. That’s when you realized it was the same one you had pointed out a while back.

“Sev, is that...?” You trailed off, with a soft giggle.

He nodded with a triumphant grin.

“Yes. I was going to ask you myself next week,” He admitted; “Looks like you beat me to it.”

Your laughter was harder and more chaotic this time, both of you cackling so much that you felt dizzy after a few moments. He slid the ring onto your finger, admiring how it looked so flawless on your hand. He brought you into his arms, your chin resting on his chest as you looked up at him.

“I know this wasn’t traditional, but I just-”

Severus put a slender finger to your lips.

“Shh,” He hushed; “It’s absolutely perfect.”

The two of you stood there in blissful silence, your hearts beating in sync with an inexpressible sense of euphoria. He left kisses in your hair, whispering sweet nothings in your ear every few moments to break the silence. This was far better than any proposal he ever could’ve planned. It was elegant, graceful, and most importantly, memorable.

“I love you.” Your voice rang out, your newly adorned hand brushing some of his hair from his face so you could fully see him.

He smiled once more, kissing the tip of your nose tenderly. He was excited for this new part of his life. He was excited to begin his life that would now be intertwined with yours.

He was unquestionably happy.

“I love you, darling. And now I’ll have forever to do so.”

[jadethest0ne]

When the Moon meets the Morning, Chapter 1 - Fire under the Blood Moon

Summary:  Raphael is going on missions with Captain Jupiter as he always does when he meets an orange-wearing turtle yokai who feels oddly familiar.

Word Count: 2154

Ratings/Warnings: General Audiences; some minor harrowing moments, but mostly fluff, emotional overload, emotional manipulation, self-deprecation

Notes: A longer chapter this time! This was the first thing I wrote for this story. I do enjoy starting out with some action! Big thanks to @undercoverwizardninjaturtle, @fraymotiif, and @frasierverse for helping me workshop this.

Read on AO3 For the RotTMNT Fantasy AU

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The thing about the Unforgiving North was that despite its reputation for being an icy snowscape it wasn't always cold and unforgiving. Sure the summers were maybe only a few weeks long and their spring was just an extended period of slush and snowmelt, but there was a time in the fall where the temperature was okay and not everything was covered in snow. Unfortunately, it was also a time where there was barely any rain either, and all the dry, dead leaves made all too good kindling for causing forest fires, much like the one that Raph had found himself in the middle of combating at the moment.

James Jupiter, the famed heroic bounty hunter, had gotten the call that the nearby forest had caught on fire due to some folks using mushroom fires irresponsibly. It was threatening the neighboring town of Bedu, as well as a group of small woodcutter huts and cabins that were within the forest's borders. As usual it was up to Captain Jupiter, his trusty sidekick Red Fox, and his protege, Raphael the “Red Angel of Preventing Harm” to save the day. Or the night rather.

Raph can feel his power swelling with the rise of the moon as he forms large red projections of his arms down a path among the trees blocking the flames to allow a family from one of the huts to pass through. Raph hears some screams behind him. He sees the Captain at the edge of the forest patiently directing everyone to safety with a confident smirk. The entire night he had been there greeting everyone that Raphael and Red Fox had brought out of the flames and giving them a strong guiding hand, letting them know that everything is going to be okay. Raph thinks wistfully for a moment what it must be like to have that confidence. He could use some of that right about now. He waits until he sees the family make it past the flames to dispel his corporeal magic into a smaller shield around himself. The heat is strong and he wishes he doesn't have his heavy cloak on him, but his shielding spell is at least enough to keep the fire at bay.

He turns towards where he heard the screams. He sees a child in a clearing wreathed with flames looking scared, with desperate eyes scanning the canopies. They look to be like some sort of squirrel yokai. He rushes over, batting away the flames with his magical aura formed into large hands as he goes.

When he reaches the child he imagines how the Captain would act in this situation and he puts on his most heroic face and states in his most heroic voice, "Don't worry, the Red Angel of Preventing Harm is here to save you!" The child stops crying momentarily and gives him a look of confusion. Raph falters. "Er, along with Captain James Jupiter..." That last part seems to make the child perk up and they manage a weak, tear-stained smile. They point a shaky finger up to the trees and say "My family is still up there!"

Raph looks up to see a literal treehouse, mostly in flames with at least half a dozen scared faces of squirrel yokai poking out. That's a lot of people, Raph thinks. It'll be hard to carry them all. But they're small, so Raph can handle it. Probably. With resolve and in a voice more confident than he feels, he calls to the family shouting above the flames, "Jump down! I will catch you!"

The yokai look at each other worriedly, so Raph lifts up his hands allowing his arm projections to expand and cupping his transparent red hands in a makeshift cushion for the family to land on. The family of, five, six, seven, Raph counts, leaps down into his waiting arms. As he lowers them to safety, he hears a cracking sound and sees the tree that the family just leapt from wobble dangerously. There's no time to wait for the family to get their bearings, so he just lifts them all up onto his broad shoulders, and grabs the child around the waist, and flings himself and the family out of the way of the collapsing tree; the rush of flames from the falling branches licking at his heels and tail as he runs. With him focusing on trying to carry the panicky family, it does not allow him much room to maneuver through the fiery forest, and his concentration on trying to avoid the flames prevents him from accessing his magic effectively. Still he does the best he can to move around the burning trees. He thinks he sees a path out, but then he hears a moan. Raph scans the forest and sees another young yokai - some sort of lizard - on the ground and looking very out of it. A nearby fallen tree branch tells him that maybe they got hit in the head. If Raph gets the family out of the forest, he may not be able to make it back to the lizard. But if he grabs the lizard, then both he and the folks he's carrying may not make it out. Raph doesn’t hesitate in his decision.

Raph rushes over to the lizard yokai, and, having no hands left to carry him, bends down and grasps a fold of his clothing in his teeth. Sometimes it's handy to have the strong jaws of a snapping turtle. There’s some more creaking from above and several large limbs from the trees fall down towards Raph and the people he’s carrying. There’s no time to dodge out of the way, and with so many people, he doesn’t think he can. So Raph stands his ground. His eyes darken over, and where his iris and pupil would normally be the shape of a blood-red moon appears, glowing even brighter than the fire surrounding him. He takes a deep breath, and wills his magic form around him. A red projection, mimicking his body’s shape and features, grows from him and surrounds both himself and the yokai he is protecting. Raph grunts as he forces the magic to hold as the blazing branches glance off of it. When the barrage of burning wood stops, Raph shakes off any errant cinders and dissipates his large red form.

He whirls around to try to get back to the path to safety but he can no longer see it. Everything is in flames now and the heat is really starting to get to him. The smoke is stinging his eyes, and he takes some heavy breaths through his nose, trying not to choke on the hot air or on his own rising anxiety. What would the Captain do in this situation? Would someone like him let a stupid fire stop him? Would he be disappointed at Raph for the tears threatening to spill over right now? They're from the smoke, not fear, Raph tells himself, of course, but his mind still conjures that disappointed look of the Captain in his brain. Raph has to remind himself to not bite down hard on the fabric that is in his mouth keeping the lizard yokai in place.

That's when he sees a flash of green through the blaze.

There's a section within the maelstrom of fire that contains no flames. A pocket of darker coolness that is inhabited by a freckle-faced yokai. He looks to be about Raph's age, maybe a little younger, and definitely much smaller. But he's wearing this brilliant smile and seems to be completely unfazed by the situation he's in. The boy cups a hand over his mouth and flames seem to come from it. Anger fills Raph’s gut and he's about to shout at the yokai as he momentarily thinks that the guy is adding to his troubles. However, Raph stops when he realizes that the kid is not breathing out fire, but sucking it in.

The yokai's already round face puffs out and becomes rounder as if storing the fire in his cheeks. The yellow freckles on his face stand out on his green skin, even among the yellow flames. The boy pulls in a deep breath, extinguishing enough of the fire to allow for a path out of the forest and to safety. Raph looks at the boy in wonder for just a second as he looks over cheerfully at him and winks. A sense of familiarity comes over Raph as he looks at the yokai. He's not sure why, but Raph is sure that he's a turtle yokai despite his orange clothes covering up where his shell would be. The smaller turtle yokai gives an "after you" gesture at Raph which snaps him out of his thoughts, and he quickly barrels through the burnt, but no longer flaming, woods.

He makes it out to where Captain Jupiter is still directing folks to safety. Once in the clear, Raph heaves a huge sigh of relief and lowers his load to the ground. The family of squirrel yokai scramble off of him and quickly go over to the Captain, excited to meet the famed hero. Captain Jupiter soaks in the praise and pats the heads of the younger yokai as he sends them on their way. Man, the Captain is so cool, just remaining calm this whole time, Raph thinks. He doesn’t even look like he’s got a burn on him - not even singed clothing! That’s in direct contrast to Raph’s soot stained clothes, and dirty face and claws, which he now feels somewhat self-conscious about as the Captain looks over to him.

The Captain gives Raph a toothy grin. "What have you got there, my boy," he says, smile fading into a grimace, "...in your teeth?”

Raph raises his brow realizing he’s still carrying the lizard yokai. He opens his mouth and gently places the young yokai in his arms, taking care to cradle his injured head. "Oh, um," Raph starts nervously. The Captain didn't like it when he used his more turtle-y features. "I, uh, ran out of arms to carry people with," he explains.

The Captain gives a discouraging look. “Remember, lad, ‘act like a beast, become a beast,’” he says tapping at his own teeth where Raph’s snaggletooth would be. He waves over his sidekick that Raph only just noticed was there, "Better let Red Fox take him then. Don't want you injuring him further, after all."

"Ah yeah," Raph says, wilting a bit as he lowers the lizard guy down to the sweet-faced red panda yokai in question. She’s also covered in no small amount of soot, and he can see some of her normally tidy auburn fur is lightly singed.

Red Fox looks up to him in concern and asks in her usual motherly tone, "Are you hurt?" She sniffs the air around him as if trying to discern his state by smell, causing the pink scar above her nose to crinkle and stand out behind the soot dusting her face.

Raph gives what he hopes is an encouraging smile and says, "Yeah, I'm fine." He gestures behind him to where he last saw the turtle yokai, saying, "It was really thanks to--" but he cuts himself off when he sees that no one is there. "Where did he go?" Raph asks himself.

There was a turtle yokai there, wasn't there? The smoke and fire hadn’t messed with his brain that much, had they? His thoughts are interrupted when he hears the Captain give his usual rundown of the situation. "Well that seems to be everybody, and it even seems as though the fire is dying down now, so that is some luck. All families are accounted for thanks to my steady guidance. Red Fox did well to listen to my commands, too. But kid, please do not rush off into the woods recklessly again, it may be too much to handle for a protege like yourself."

Raph’s shoulders sag under the Captain’s criticisms, but gives a "Yessir" all the same.

The Captain turns away to gather the victims of the fire to him, gaining statements and directing them to the necessary healing houses if need be. Raph watches on, and not for the first time tries to imagine what it's like to have such a leaderly tone that folks automatically respect.

He feels a warm hand placed on his own and he looks down to see Red Fox giving him a proud grin, "You did great out there, Raphael."

A smile spreads on Raph's face at her words and she gives a wink as she walks away with the lizard yokai in her arms.

Raph looks back at the once blazing forest, now mellowed out to a light flicker, and wonders what happened to the yokai that gave him a similarly kind wink and why he felt like he'd met the guy before…

<--previous   ///   next-->

[clefdefah]

Sing with Me

Hello my fellows DamiRae stans. I would like to share this fic totally inspired by NANA. It’s the first time I’m writing on tumblr, and also english it’s not my first language, so be patient to me lol. Hope you like this AU

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“C’mon, it’s gonna be fun!”

Gar’s words were still fresh in her mind. Although they have been friends for a long time, she had never watched one of his band concerts before.  She doesn’t like crowds. She even barely knows the others band members, while always heard stories about them.

But tonight was special; being the first time they would open for another famous group. Gar had been bragging about for days about getting a bigger place to play, so she couldn’t simply ignore him.

When the gate opened, there’s already a big crowd waiting like crazy to enter, what pissed her off.

It’s okay; it’s only a few minutes. Just listen to Gar’s band and go away. She thought as the place was getting more and more crowded. She could feel a headache coming.

The audience got excited when they took the stage. Gar waved at them with the bass on his hands, showing his tongue like the good goof he was. The drummer, Jaime was his name if she remembered well, spun the drumsticks in preparation. So there was the singer, Damian, the problem guy. She heard stories about him, that he was even arrested once, and he had the profile of someone that would. How he was friends with Gar, was a mystery.

Damian got near the microphone with a very sharp gaze as he adjusted the guitar over his shoulders.

“We are the Urban Titans!” He shouted at the sound of cymbal beatings and guitar howls.

The audience went crazy with the chords and beats coming from the stage. The energy they emanate to the people was insane. Punk rock was didn’t exactly make her style, but she was unable to take her eyes from the stage. Damian singing gave a different impression of the rebel stories she heard about him, at the same time it only confirmed them.

He had a very peculiar voice, with a kind of strong accent. His fingers ran though his guitar’s strings like himself would like to run. She could see the tense muscles of his neck every time song got intense. The iron chain swayed over the bare chest as he’s dressing only a leather jacket.

She had the impression their eyes met for a brief moment, a moment it seemed to last several minutes, with none of them wanting to look away. But that could be. There’s no way he could look just at her in a dark and crowded space like that. That was a good thing. She wouldn’t be able to maintain eye contact if it was the case.

If she had a headache, she forgot about it.

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

After the show, she was at the back alley, like some other fans, waiting for the group to leave. They talk a little with the fans, and when Gar saw her, jumped onto her completely electric.  

“Did you saw us? Did you saw us? I told you that would be cool!”

“Yeah, yeah…” She responded as she trying to get rid of him.

“That was awesome! We need to celebrate!” Jaime yelled.

“That’s right! Come with us, Rachel!” Gar pulled her arm toward his friends.

“It’s better not… I need to go…”

“Nooo it’s gonna be fun! And it’s not like I gonna just let you come back alone so late in the night!”

She tried to protest, but it was hard to her just say “no” to her friend, especially when he’s so cheerful. Her gaze fell onto Damian for a second time, still looking at her with those sharp eyes, and she turned her head away before she gets flushed.

When she realized, she was with the guys at a local pub, with snacks and drinks lifting the mood even more. Just a shot of brandy was enough to her at the moment, once she didn’t want to overdo the drink again. They stayed there for more a few hours until Gar needed to be dragged out for not being able to stand. He always was weak to alcohol.

Everyone walked to the little apartment where Gar lived and Rachel tried to say goodbye again, just to have her friend interrupt her.

“No way…” He said, barely understandable “You can come inside… There’s place for everyone…”

“I don’t want to bother…”

“Bother who…? I bet there’s no even a working bus at this time anyway…”

She sighed, once more unable to deny something to him.

Even though he invited her to stay, it was her who put him to sleep, like a babysitter. Jaime thanked her and said she could sleep on his bed as he dragged himself with a blanket to sleep on the couch.

Even with the silence and privacy she waited for so long after some very noisy hours, she couldn’t sleep. She opened the door, tip toeing through the room where Jaime snore deeply and opened the door to the balcony carefully so she doesn’t wake anyone.

The morning will come soon and she couldn’t bring herself to sleep. That was a mess. Looking at the buildings outside, the cigarette smell came before his voice.

“Can’t you sleep?”

She looked surprised beside her and saw Damian sitting at the balcony floor. A cigarette between his fingers, supported on his knees; looking at her with the same sharp eyes.

“Yeah… Kinda…” She responded shyly, looking away to gaze at the skyline full of buildings.

Damian arched one eyebrow, intrigued. Put his cigarette between his lips and got up, standing by her side with his back turned to the city.

Her heart jumped at his nearness. She could feel his gaze upon her.

“That must have been boring to you huh…” He said.

“What?”

“The show… I have never seen someone so stiff during one of ours concerts…”

So he was indeed staring at her at that moment. She was cursing herself internally for looking like a fool, standing still like a statue during a rock concert.

“It’s not like that… I was just surprised, and it was my first time at a concert. Also, moshing it’s not my style…”

“Surprised positively?”

“Yeah… I couldn’t imagine that Gar’s delinquent friend had so much talent…”

Why did she say that? It’s gonna make her sound condescending to him, or a weird flirt. None of these opinions are any good. At least, it didn’t look like he took as offense. Almost could see a trace of a smile.

“I guess talent comes with the anger…” He said, without elaborating. She wanted to know more, but didn’t want to sound too nosy.

“Anger…?” She asked.

He didn’t answer. Not immediately. With his back turned to the city, he looking at nowhere, enigmatic. She looked at his face with attention. The cigarette delicately between his lips, the smoking being blowing away by the breeze. It was like his eyes were searching for something, far away. His eyes were green? She didn’t even notice before.

“I’m the bastard of the Wayne Al’ Ghul” He said after a long silence.

“That’s not funny…” There’s no way the singer of a backyard rock band would be related to the two most powerful families in the world, she though.

“It’s true…” He turned, leaning on the balcony, looking at the immensity of buildings. She noticed how he got closer to her as doing this.

“I was conceived to unite the two companies, but disagreements between my father and grandfather led to a dispute over which business I will inherit… I refuse to be a tool”. He said as he throws the cigarette tip far away; little ashes dancing at the breeze until disappearing.

“Parents, am I right?” She said with a trace of sadness in her voice “You can’t live with them, can’t live without them…”

“Controlling?”

“Abusive” She responded. “My father was everything I had; so when he died, I had no place to go. I jumped to foster house to foster house until I was eighteen and get kicked out the orphanage. A friend welcomed me at her coffee shop. I have been living there ever since.”

They shared a respectful silence that last for several minutes while both just looked at the city.

“So… Do you sing…?”

That sudden question caught her off guard.

“W-what?”

“Gar talked about you before. You two went to a karaoke once, right? He said you have a lovely voice.”

“I’m gonna kill him…” She said under her breath. She could clearly feel the blush growing on her face.

“So…?”

“He was exaggerating! It was his birthday and I was drunk. Otherwise I would never do such a thing with so many people staring at me!”

“Oh, you’re shy?” He showed a faint smile at her reaction.

She was obviously too embarrassed to respond like she wanted, or even looking at his eyes. When she tried, he put his hand carefully over her face, covering her sight.

“Now you can’t see anyone looking at you. Sing to me.”

Her heart race inside her chest, willing to jump out her mouth. His hand was kind of cold and just imagining her flustered face warming his skin make her even more embarrassed. Would be better just end this already, but she couldn’t bring herself to think in something to sing. Just though the first song it came in her mind, one that her Friend Kori liked to listen over and over, so she began to sing Heart of Glass.

Her voice was particularly harsh and the nervousness didn’t help her. She avoided imagining what he was thinking of her singing, especially after knowing how he sounded like.

When she finished, Damian took his hand over her face but she was still had her eyes closed, waiting for his judgment or mockery. She didn’t get any of these. Opening her eyes again, he was looking at her, intensely. She didn’t even realize how close they were to each other. Those intense green eyes were just staring at her, oddly, not as sharp as before.

“It sounded like an angel…” He said in a deep and low voice, barely listenable.

“What?” She asked softly.

“That’s was what Gar had said…” He muffled a laugh.

She turned her head, bitter. He was mocking her, she could tell. She would respond something snarky when Damian touched her chin, making her look directly at him. They were so close that they could feel the warm of each other. She repressed the urge to touch his bare chest.

“I’m looking for a new singer, did you knew? How about you sing with us?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to respond while hypnotized by his green eyes and the absurd idea of joining his band. Why this all of sudden? What was he thinking?

He brushed his thumb over her lip so softly that she could barely feel it. He stroked her face as he walked away, giving her a final look before opening the balcony door again.

“Think about it” He said and he was gone.

She finally came out of what looked like a trance. She should accept? Why was he asking her that? She wanted to accept that. She felt like she wanted that more than anything.

She looked back at the skyline. Since when had it dawn?

[dessarious]

Broken Harmony Pt2

Master List 1   Master List 2     Prologue   Beginning   Next

Part 2. for now most of this story is going to be Damian’s PoV. I might switch back to Mari, or redo some of it in her PoV but I haven’t decided yet.

When they reached the hotel Damian didn’t even bother to go to his room. Jet-lagged and ready to fight anything and everything in his path he took to the streets of Paris letting the song guide him. He vaguely heard his father calling after him as he exited the hotel but after that nothing really penetrated. He just kept walking and listening. He was forced to backtrack multiple times as a street wound away from his soulmate. It was after midday when he came to a stop in front of a school.

Looking around at all the teenagers he just wanted to rip into someone. The closer he’d gotten to his soulmate the stronger he felt her worry and something else… fear maybe? It hadn’t been there before but he wasn’t sure if it was new or if the distance between them had masked it. It didn’t matter though. Once he found her things would be different. He was willing to burn Paris to the ground if that’s what it took to make her happy again.

He could feel eyes on him from every direction and Damian had a feeling his murderous intent was plain for all to see. Judging from the fact that they were all milling about outside he assumed they were on lunch or possibly in between classes. Since he had no real idea how schools worked in France finding his soulmate felt like a race against the clock. He wanted, no needed, to find her before classes resumed. Deep down he knew that waiting until the end of the day would have disastrous consequences. 

“How could you?!” The shrill voice drew Damian’s attention to the left side of the courtyard where a crowd was gathering. At its center were three girls. One was hanging off the second while pretending to cry. He could tell it was fake from where he stood and wondered how any of these idiots believed her act. The second was where the voice originated. He took them it at a glance but it was the third person that captured his attention.

 She was smaller than almost everyone around her but her presence was so much larger. Even with her shoulders slumped in resignation or maybe defeat she was still a bastion of strength and power. He started moving towards her without realizing it. The song had led him here and there was no doubt in his mind that this was his soulmate. 

“Alya, I don’t know what she told you but…” Her words were cut off by a resounding slap. Damian watched as his soulmate, his Angel staggered back and ended up being tripped by one of the others and falling to the ground. The shock and hurt on her face matched the song in his head and he picked up his pace to get to her but before he could the group closed in around her.

Her pain, hurt, and despair were singing strong enough to make him feel like he was drowning. He knew there was sound but couldn’t make out specifics through the fog of rage engulfing him. He forcefully moved bodies out of his way with no regard for how much if any damage he caused. Once he made it through the mass of bodies he found his soulmate on the ground, curled up and covering her head as some people were still aiming kicks at her. 

“Next person who touches her won’t live to regret it.” 

Damian didn’t know if it was his tone or the look on his face that got the majority to back off and he didn’t care. It was taking all of his self control not to commit mass murder. The only thing holding him back was the need to make sure his Angel was okay, or at least didn’t need to go to the hospital. 

As he walked closer to her the vibrations from the resonance started to take over and drown out even his barely suppressed anger. He’d never really known what to expect when meeting his soulmate, but this… he couldn’t even describe it. There was a feeling of rightness, of calm even. But it was suddenly feeling whole for the first time in his life that really caught him off guard. His entire life he’d been missing something and hadn’t even known it. 

He knelt down next to her, almost scared to touch her as the resonance hummed insistently throughout his body. He wasn’t sure he could survive it getting much stronger even though he knew that was foolish. No one died from their soulmate bond, though more than a few had gone insane once their partner died. When you’ve lived your whole life with the song in your head the sudden silence was maddening. 

“Are you alright Angel?” He tried to soften his voice but she flinched at the sound. Before he could make another attempt the shrew who had slapped her spoke again.

“This is none of your business. We’re just giving a bully what’s coming to them.” Literally everyone else had taken one look at Damian and backed off. Everyone except this self-righteous harpy. 

“Turn and walk away if you value your pathetic life little girl.” Damian’s voice came out as more of a growl and the girl finally seemed to sense the danger coming off of him. At least that was his assumption when she slowly backed up without responding. Taking a deep breath he turns back to his soulmate who hasn’t moved. His anger is slowly being replaced by worry and panic. If they had really hurt her they would pay in blood.

“Angel I need you to talk to me. Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” He still didn’t touch her not sure if she was ready for him to. 

“She’s fine. You can stop with the dramatics and get up Mari. I know you’re not actually hurt.”

His rage ramped back up turning white hot as he glared at the blonde boy leaning against the wall. He had been a spectator the entire time. Not a part of it but not bothering to step in and stop it in any way.

“How the hell would you know? Were you the one that got slapped? The one who was kicked over and over again?”

The boy had the audacity to sigh in annoyance and his tone when he next spoke was as if he was patiently explaining something to a toddler. “She’s fine. Mari just overreacts to things. There’s no need for you to be here or get involved.”

Damian was about to lunge for the boy’s throat when a hand settled lightly on his wrist. The song in his head exploded into a symphony where it was once more like a quartet. He could hear the combination of both of their emotions blending together seamlessly while still being able to pick out each one individually. One of those emotions was fading but it stopped him in his tracks. A lot of her fear had been of him, not the people around them. Something in his own emotions was obviously making that fear go away but it still hurt that it was there in the first place.

When he looked up from where her hand touched him Damian stopped breathing entirely. Even with a bruised cheek and split lip from being slapped, she was gorgeous. As much as he wanted to go after the ones who had hurt her he could feel her want, no need, to just get away. Now that the bond was fully formed he could also tell how much pain she was in. Her injuries weren’t life threatening but she really did need to go to a hospital.

“Can you stand?” He kept his volume low in the hopes that the idiot from before wouldn’t hear him. Damian wasn’t sure he’d be able to restrain himself if that idiot spoke again. She blinked at him almost as if coming out of a trance and nodded once. He wondered if it was just from the bond or if she had a head injury too.  

He stood up and carefully helped her off the ground. In the process he noticed that a couple fingers on her right hand looked to be broken. Judging by her movements and the pain nearly screaming at him through the bond it was a good bet her ribs were, at best, bruised as well. Still she didn’t show it at all. No crying, yelling, or even a wince. Her face was a blank mask and his blood began to boil once more at the thought that this obviously wasn’t the first time she’d suffered injuries this severe.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Her words forced him back out of his head. She was in so much pain, physically and emotionally, but here she was trying to reassure him. She wasn’t just saying the words either, he could actually feel a warmth through the bond trying to sooth him. He was so busy trying to figure out how someone so caring could exist at all, let alone with whatever she’d been going through, that it took him a moment to realize this was the first time he’d heard her voice.

Given the intimacy of their connection her voice shouldn’t have been a big deal. Somehow it was, and the bond actually seemed to enhance it. Physically he heard the weariness in her voice, the smallness of it. Mentally he felt all her pain and exhaustion, the lack of self confidence, and the almost desperate want for someone to care about her. He’d known before that her life had been in a downward spiral but he hadn’t expected her to be so broken.

“Yes, you will be fine because this will never happen again.” Damian glared at everyone still standing around the courtyard. “I’m taking you to the hospital and once they’ve said you’re okay to leave we’re talking to my Father and your parents and fixing this situation. Starting with pulling you out of this school of idiots and cowards.” He may not have any idea what was actually going on but the fact the all those not involved simply sat by and watched as his soulmate was attacked made him feel the description was accurate. 

She just blinked at him. The feelings he recognized through the bond were making his temper rise again. The one that really got to him was surprise. It was as if she was shocked he seemed to care for her or was putting her well-being as a priority. Before her song changed he got the feeling she was social. He’d felt loneliness very rarely in her song. Now it seemed to be constant. Could neglect have caused this in six months? He didn’t know but he was going to make damn sure she was put first from now on. 

“I really don’t need to go to the hospital. It’s not that bad.” She was fidgeting and wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Angel I can feel your pain.” He gently grabbed her wrists and looked at her hands and arms. “And I’m not blind. You’ve got at least three broken fingers, probably more fractured. There are cuts and bruises already forming all along your arms and that’s just what I can see. Given that you were covering your head I’m hopeful you don’t have a concussion but it means any shots to your ribs were unobstructed. I’m taking you to a hospital. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

Her eyes shot up to his and her cheeks turned pink. Looking into her eyes he could have gotten lost if not for the fact that apparently that shrew had slapped her hard enough to burst a blood vessel in her eye in addition to splitting her lip. At least he hoped it was all from the slap. 

“Okay. There’s a hospital nearby we can walk to.” She paused and uncertainty tinged the music in his head. “I’m Marinette.” Damian mentally slapped himself. He’d been so caught up in what was happening he hadn’t even bothered to introduce himself. She giggled, he assumed at his embarrassment coming through the bond, before wincing as the movement must have hurt her ribs.

“I’m Damian.” The smile she gave him was so bright and happy he wasn’t sure how to react. No one had ever looked at him like that. “Shall we go?” He wanted to take her hand or put an arm around her to lead her away from this nightmare but he was afraid of touching her. The last thing he wanted was to cause her more pain.

Her smile shifted into something softer, something that felt private somehow. She obviously sensed his reticence and took his hand in hers, the one without the broken fingers, and slowly walked him out of the courtyard. As they walked he went over everything that had happened in his head again and kept going back to the moment she touched him and her fear.

“You want to ask me something.” It wasn’t a question, she could probably feel it though the bond.

“You weren’t scared of them even though they were hurting you, but you were scared of me. Why?” She frowned and he could feel her concentration through the bond. She started biting her lip before hitting the cut and wincing.

“I wasn’t scared of them because I’m used to their anger.” She paused and shot a furtive look at his face. “I was worried you would be mad at me.” Her voice was so soft and unsure. Now that he knew what it was he could feel the worry though the bond. She was still scared that he would get upset with her. 

“Why would I be mad at you? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Once again he wanted to destroy whoever had caused her to be so uncertain of herself.

“You’ve been angry ever since… since my song had to have changed. I thought maybe you were upset with me about it.” 

“You what?” His astonishment seemed to cause a rush of relief in her. He pulled her to a stop and made her face him. He knew she would be able to feel his sincerity through the bond but he still wanted her to see it in his face as well. “I was never mad at you. I was furious that you had been hurt so badly and worried that it felt so different. I wanted to rip off the head of who or whatever had dimmed the joy you had always radiated.” 

“Thank you.” The words were whispered and she had tears in her eyes. She was actually thanking him for being mad for her rather than at her. His grip on her hand tightened and he cupped her unbruised cheek with the other.

“You never have to thank me for being on your side. I hear you, the real you. Just like you hear the real me. I may not know what happened but I do know without question you aren’t at fault. Even though you blame yourself.”

She gave him another one of those soft, private smiles and the song in his head created a harmony so pure it was almost painful in its perfection. It receded slowly as some of her pain resurfaced and it brought him back to his current destination. He ran his thumb lightly over her cheek before pulling away and tugging them both back into motion.

Master List 1   Master List 2    Prologue   Beginning   Next

[bearwithegg]

EVERYTHING ABOUT US || Joel Miller x OC || Part 1

I had this idea for a hot minute and thought I'd share this with y'all 🥺 this is a SUPER SUPER fckn slow burn so y'all have been warned 👀👀👀

Lots of words! Gore and language!

PART 2

THEY weren’t sure what they had expected, the last thing they did expect was for her to run the way she did. A woman covered head to toe with blood, as if a bucket full of it had been dumped over her in some sick practical joke — she had her arms raised ready to give them what they wanted in an instantly recognisable sign of surrender, but at the last second she bolted. They had almost mistaken her for infected, the skin that wasn’t covered with viscus blood was stained red, her hair was no doubt already a darker colour but no one could tell with the amount of blood soaked through it.

As nimble as she may be, avoiding the gunshots, they would track her down eventually. She had scuttled away, like a wounded animal trying to avoid the inevitable cycle of life that would catch up to her. 

Gunshots drew unwanted attention through the abandoned town, attracting a variety of infected like a moth to a flame. As intelligent as hunters may be, they didn’t think this one through once they had been swarmed by a horde of runners and the odd clicker. 

It appeared that the cycle wouldn’t catch up to the woman as quickly as they anticipated, by them, anyway. No doubt she would make a tasty treat to the numerous infected lurking around the town — that is if other hunters hadn’t got to her first. That likelihood dwindled as she slowed her pace down, now hearing the shouts and rounds of fire through just a mere echo.

Fucking idiots.  

The thought crossed through her mind, reminding herself why she had long abandoned firearms many years ago. It drew too much attention by both parties, those parties being Infected and Hunters of course. Both terrifying and formidable enemies in the current state of the world, but nothing was more terrifying than coming up against groups of people .

At least Cordyceps had the decency to regress a person down to their most primal instinctual need to kill, scavenge and survive. People did what they did, because they were bored or they just wanted fun and the world they lived in provided those sick individuals opportunistically. 

This wasn’t going to be her final fight, throwing down with a bunch of Hunters while they pulled her apart for supplies, fun or meat. A person alone was terrifying, but nothing compared to a person who had nothing left to lose but one bittersweet and potentially fatal final wish. 

“Oh, fuck me.” She hissed, ducking low behind the cover of a dumpster upon catching sight of more Hunters scrounging through the abandoned town. The location had been optimal for her, it wasn’t too far away from her own residence and had more than enough supplies for her to scour through. Of course, situations change.

Vastly outnumbered on both accounts, the pressure increased on her to find a way out by doing the least amount of work. Exhaustion had already set its course through her after a tiring altercation with several runners and a clicker, the last thing she needed was to misstep and be gunned down by a group of Hunters for the sake of it. 

Five hunters… Three eastbound by the post office… Two preoccupied with a horde…

She drew a heavy breath, knowing her perpetually insulting luck there were bound to be more around the wooded area in the treetops. It wasn’t her first run in with snipers, and it would be an incredibly stupid oversight to not at least anticipate the possibility of them. Cornered in a dingy alleyway behind a dumpster, she needed to think fast, hard and smart about her next movements or she might as well die right here on the spot. 

Backdoor access through the bakery and out onto the main strip would leave me vulnerable if deadshots saw me… rooftop would give me an advantage on grounders…

The window of opportunity was getting slimmer by the second, weighing out all potential options took time and time was of the essence. She was patient. Her family had always been patient. Rushing things made larger room for mistake and mistakes led to an untimely death, something she considered not too long ago but wouldn’t let it happen. Not here . 

Reaching over her shoulder, she drew her crossbow, quickly and carefully counting her dwindling number of bolts left. Six . They weren’t all that difficult to make, no — but supplies had been thin for her and as if timing hadn’t been anymore… Taunting… Her trusted carpenters knife had long exceeded its lifespan after numerous skulls it cut through and crossbow bolts whittled.

It was now a matter of a simple waiting game, she had boxed herself into this corner and by god if she wasn’t going to make the best out of a shit time. The distant gunfire had since ceased, now the atmosphere merely filled with ambience and the occasional humane shout.

Today had been a shit show for everyone it seemed, not just for her - who was always prepared for the worst - but also for the Hunters, who didn’t anticipate one woman causing them so much trouble. 

Regardless how grim it was panning out, she kept her eyes on all her openings as she crept forward in the alley, edging out just before hitting the street. Her head very cautiously poked around the corner, catching a glance at a target as they stopped in front of the bakery. Hand cupped to the window to get a better look at what contents remained behind closed doors. 

She took her opening, raising the crossbow like it was muscle memory and firing off a bolt. The sound of it piercing through his skull still made her grimace, no matter how many times she heard it beforehand, the inherent action of killing someone in self defence or not was enough to add yet another internal weight on her already heavy shoulders. 

As swift as the death was, she was even quicker crouching by the newly made corpse and retrieved her bolt. The over hanging rooftop of the bakery provided her enough cover if there were anyone in the trees close by, but what lie ahead was a naked street that screamed ‘risky’. It was a gamble, but not one she was willing to bet her life on. 

That was until she heard more gunfire.

Her ears piqued at the sound, instead of the rain of bullets being followed up by the sound of the infected and inevitable blood curdling screams of their victims. These gunshots had been echoed by more, which meant she wasn’t the only person in town they were after. 

East… They’re firing east of town… That should clear up the western area.

One glance up at the sky, noting the position of the now rapidly setting sun and a momentary pause in thought was enough for her to get her bearings. The least ideal situation would be if she were stuck here, at night time and twice — now three times the threat. 

There had been no indication of heavy set bullets being fired which meant her initial concern of snipers was completely futile, providing ill comfort for the dire situation. Just because one threat was out of the way didn’t mean she would get careless as she attentively crossed through town, keeping to the store fronts and near cover at any turn. 

Nearing what was presumably a bar before the outbreak, footsteps were heavy across what sounded like old wooden floorboards. She peered in, seeing yet another target searching through the already empty ruins of the bar, much like the one beforehand, she dealt with him quickly. 

His body landed with a decent thud onto an old table which looked as if it would break after years of wood rot and negligence. Unsurprisingly, the sheer weight crippled the furniture and with it, a rather loud noise. No doubt attracting nearby infected if they weren’t already at the gun show across town. 

Not willing to die over one crossbow bolt, she continues her journey through town as the sun had now begun disappearing behind the surrounding tree line. If she didn’t get the fuck out of dodge soon, she’d be giving herself a one way ticket to an early death. 

Keep calm… deep breaths…

She reminded herself, pushing back the overwhelming sense of anxiety that filled her. Stay calm, stay patient. Those two things alone are what got her this far into the end of the world, she’d be lying if she said that it didn’t at least provide comfort and some semblance of attachment to her family. 

Pressing forward was a must, she was losing light and fast. Ideally she’d be out of town by dark but then again… patience was also a must. If she had to stay in the town then so be it, regardless if she wanted to do so or not, which seemed to be the most likely outcome as she crosses an open street with care. 

It was hard to imagine what the street was like prior to the outbreak, of course there were some leftover remnants of what was, but it was still hard to think about life prior to the outbreak. She barely had any memories of living in normalcy, not being able to comprehend a life that was any different than patience, travel, adaptation and survive. 

With yet another wary glance up at the sky, she made the executive decision to hole herself up in what appeared to have been a laundromat. Coming across these had been commonplace when travelling across the country as much as she had — that and it was the only building in town that had fortification, even if the wear and tear of the boarded windows indicated it’s been up since early in the Outbreak. 

It wasn’t much, but it was better than waiting out the night in the middle of the street, there was one entrance and exit and she had no desire to rest until she was home safe. 

‘home’

Sure, as much as a vacant house isolated in the forest could be home. No, home for her was not here.

She loaded a bolt into her weapon, placing it right beside her as she retrieved a small amount of food from her bag. Her eyes never flickered away from the entrance, similarly to how her ears never stop listening to the sounds outside of the building. 

No more gunshots… lets hope they all killed each other .

A grimly optimistic thought, the less people alive the better for her considering she didn’t want to deal with it. As far as food went, whatever she cooked last tasted like shit yet didn’t deter the aggressively grumbling stomach from taking it and using it as essential sustenance. 

Oh how she missed the finer things, what she’d do to kill for at least one can of soup. Minestrone to be more precise. Every grocery store, convenience store, abandoned market turned up nothing while she scoured each place top to bottom for one fucking can of Minestrone soup. Nada. Every. Single. Time.

A grimace pulled at her face, the incredibly chewy meat tasted bland and by the time she had bitten through down to the bone it was more fat than actual protein. She pondered on the way her food tasted like shit when a loud bang kick-started her adrenaline once again. 

She crouched low behind the cover of a dilapidated washing machine, crossbow in hand as two sets of footsteps entered, followed by pained grunts that remained on the opposite side of the room. 

“Think any more of them sons-of-bitches will come?” 

It was a male voice, gruff sounding and exasperated. She could gather two things; he was injured and on the older side of life. 

“Not likely… said they was after a woman, might be out lookin’ for her.” 

Another male voice, younger sounding — both had accents, then again to her everyone had accents and she wasn’t keeping track. She had bigger problems at hand than to worry about accents and a complete comprehensive guide to what people sounded like from whatever part of this Country they resided in. 

“Here’s hopin’ she don’t get caught then.” 

With that she rose from her cover, crossbow raised. At least she was confident these two must have been the source of the secondary set of gunfire she heard not too long ago. Her sudden presence startled the two men, the non-injured and visibly younger of the two drew his pistol.

No words were said, but tension was high. She had an up on the two men, knowing that it was dark and more quiet than usual it wouldn’t be beneficial to either party if a loud gunshot alerted infected. Maybe if the other hadn’t been injured, it might’ve been different. 

She wasn’t one for talking, not to people she didn’t know anyway— so that ruled out every person she had encountered in this apocalyptic hellscape. Despite this, she felt her intentions were conveyed clear enough through the stand off between her and the man before her. 

“‘lright, you’re not gonna hurt us.” He was the first to break away, her intentions had been heard loud and clear even without the presence of words. He held his hands up, placing his pistol on top of a washing machine but never breaking eye contact with her. A remarkably unusual move on his behalf, that was made known by his injured companion.

“Tommy what the fuck are you doin’?” he hissed, clearly unnerved by his choice to drop his arms in the presence of a complete stranger who they’d never seen before. 

Even though she was certain that the two men were much like her, seeking refuge for the night, she just couldn’t be too sure. She backed up until she was flush up against a machine and sat on top of it, weapon still raised, her eyes watching the too men like a hawk — more so now that she got a better look at the injured companion. 

She was surprised at just how old he was, long grey hair and a beard adorning his face, he must at least be in his sixties… seventies maybe… poor old bastard…

“She ain’t gonna hurt us, Eugene…Reckon she’s just glad we ain’t hunters.” Tommy reassured, kneeling down to tend to the older man's leg wounds. He was indeed correct, she was most definitely grateful that they weren’t hunters but that didn’t mean she trusted them wholeheartedly.

Quinn didn’t trust anybody. 

[himbo-buckley]

Why do you think the show treats bucks past/mistakes as SOOO much worse then everyone else’s when in reality most of the characters on the show(Bobby, Eddie, Shannon,Doug, Abby,Hen, Athena and to a lesser extent Chimney) have done objectively worse shit then he did

Hello, friend!

Okay, first of all, thank you for the question, you really made me think there! I had to like put on my Evan Buckley playlist and take a shower to think about it (it’s a process okay?)

Now, while I wholeheartedly agree with you that anything that Buck 1.0 did was no where near as bad as the stuff everyone else pulled, I *do* suing your friend and by extension your whole friend group because you are mad at one of them - not matter if it was justified or not - *is* definitely up there with cheating on your wife or lying to a woman to get laid.

(Also the fact that you omitted Maddie from the above list is very valid, friend!)

I think generally it comes down to three factors, which are the characters who point out Buck’s mistakes for us, his age and this being a TV show.

I would argue that while we see Hen, Athena and Chimney point out some of Buck’s mistakes, aside from Athena in the pilot were she was more than justified in her yelling, it’s usually about making fun of him. Buck, Hen and Chimney especially have a sibling relationship and in such a relationship you do make fun of each other, while Athena in general likes to point out every one else’s mistakes.

Though I do have to say that Athena, next to Buck, has had to endure the most consequences for her actions what with being suspended several times in the course of the show - it’s just that due to her character it doesn’t stick as much as it does with Buck. Also, due to her not being a firefighter like the others her storylines are far more separate from the rest of the main cast, meaning there is less screen time available to do anything about her mistakes.

Which is the first factor that plays into why Buck’s mistakes get pointed out so much more, because they always tie into the main story and are connected to most of the other main characters - because Hen cheating on her wife, Chimney lying to Tatiana or even Eddie doing his best fight club impression were all bad things but generally had hardly any influence on the lives of everyone else. Buck suing them - or even just stealing the firetruck to have sex with a girl - did.

Also due to this there is a lot more available screen time to be dedicated to discussing the things because it affects and involves the others as well.

The other characters we generally (and mostly) see pointing out Buck’s mistakes are Maddie, Eddie, Bobby and Buck himself.

Maddie of course is Buck’s sister and she is older by a few years and feels responsible for him and for taking care of him, so her pointing out when Buck does things wrong comes from a place of concern and trying to keep him from making any worse mistakes.

With Eddie, I think, there is this thing where in my opinion Eddie thought Buck couldn’t really do any wrong until the lawsuit happened. Buck is after all his most trusted person and I do think Eddie has the highest opinion of him - which is why when Buck did let him down it hit way harder than it would have with any one else, because with them Eddie expected it. Also nearly all scenes where Eddie points out Buck’s mistakes, aside from the grocery store fight and the first apology scene, are either him teasing Buck or deflecting because of his own feelings, like in the second apology.

Now Bobby actually ties in with the third factor which is age:

Buck is the only one who begins the series new to the job and unfinished - of course Eddie is new to firefighting as well but the show does put a lot of effort into showing *and* telling us that he already knows his shit in 2.01 and is not an actual probie due to being an army badass. Buck on the other hand side is seen at times struggling with his job and the challenges it presents in Season 1, like in 1.02 or when he tells Abby about his shaking hands in 1.05.

And Buck when we meet him is only 26, has probably never had a real job before (and by real I mean one that actually means something to him and he wants to built a career on because bartending IS a real job) and is in general a little immature, while the other characters have all been at the jobs a while and know what they are doing and how to deal with it, which is why Bobby isn’t as worried about them.

Because no matter what I think about Bobby’s relationship with Buck, I *do* think he feels more responsible for him than he feels for Chimney and Hen and Eddie, because Buck *his* probie and it’s Bobby’s job to teach him and form him. Also Buck really looks up to him. The others all have prior experience they can draw from to make their decisions while Buck at least in Season 1 still needs someone to guide him because he doesn’t have that (which is by the way the source of all the conflict in Season 3 because by now Buck *does* have the experience and *can* make the choice himself but Bobby doesn’t see that).

And because of this Bobby is more inclined to point out Buck’s mistakes as he is less his equal so to speak as the other firefighters / characters who are considered proper adults and firefighters from the get go.

It’s also why Bobby gets involved in his private life way more than he does with the others because he does have somewhat fatherly feelings for him and because Buck, who is always looking for guidance, lets him.

The last and maybe most important point is Buck himself pointing out past mistakes, I’m thinking for example of him referencing to Buck 1.0 in 2.08 or apologising several times to Eddie. You see, friend, sadly our Buck does not see the amazing person he is but does in fact have horrible self esteem and abandonment issues leading to him being a little codependent and far more willing to buy into anything that someone else has to say about him and every and all critic hitting him way harder than it would anyone else and not trusting his judgement sometimes - think of Athena who does suffer consequences as well but just brushes them off because she considered herself to be in the right, while Buck, even when he thinks he is in the right as seen with the lawsuit, lets others opinions of his actions colour that (THE GROCERY STORE! THE GROCERY STORE! THE GROCERY STORE!).

(sidenote: I’m a little mad we never got to see and hear Maddie’s opinion on the lawsuit as she was the only impartial character. It could have been interesting)

Now, a few more things before I let you go:

Bobby obviously hasn’t suffered a consequence since Season 1, which is why I dislike him so much and also am waiting patiently on @chimbuckleys who is currently writing a meta on this exact thing, much like Abby who due to being played by Connie Britton is in the right even when she clearly is in the wrong because the showrunners love the actress.

Doug, since you mentioned him, I would say suffered some pretty dire consequences what with being killed and all - which is also why we might not see anyone point out how bad his actions were. (Also a wife beater is objectively bad and we don’t need the show to keep telling us this, so they give us a ‚the best revenge is to move on’-storyline with Maddie instead.)


Shannon is sort of the same problem what with her being dead. Also I do think the show points out several times how bad her actions were, specifically through Eddie *not* trusting her with Christopher until his hand is sort of forced - which can be contrasted to him letting Buck see Christopher almost immediately after they made up because Eddie does understand by 3.09 why Buck did what he did and he has forgiven him. (Also Eddie isn’t the most verbal person at the best of times and anytime feelings are involved isn’t his best of times which is why we don’t hear him point out her mistakes all the time to her or anyone else.) (Also the whole trying to be a family again thing.) (Plus we should mention his parents who *do* point out her mistakes every episode we see them in.)

And to round this up: The elephant in the room which is Hen and that fucking surgery in the ambulance which I didn’t mind to much on the first watch because I bought into the show just brushing it off but has since become a source of rage and anger for me which is why I am putting it in the same box as the therapist scene in 1.02 which is labeled: Shit the writers wrote because they needed the characters to realise something but didn’t really think about the implications. (The lawsuit keeps getting put in and taken out as well)

ANYWAYS, I hope this „short“ ramble is a satisfying answer, friend and you’ll come back! It is a very layered question and I’m sure if you ask another meta writer they will give you a very different answer

(also I am expecting some hijacking as I think this is a topic a lot of people have feelings on so please, feel free!)

[tsarisfanfiction]

Ruin (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Teen Warnings: major character injury, blood Characters: Law, Shachi, Penguin

Plans sometimes go wrong. Law knew this, had spent the last thirteen years making plans and watching at least half of them crumble away to dust as something went awry. He'd got better at improvising, and even better at making contingencies as experience taught him what failed him the most (his stamina, his nakama's inability to do as they were told if they thought it would leave him in danger). It didn't matter, he'd come to think, if a plan went wrong, because somehow they'd all pull through anyway.

Naïve.

Two years since he'd entered the New World, two years of stronger opponents, wilder fights and crazier possibilities, and he still thought he was ready for anything? Laughable.

Law wasn't laughing now. How could he, when his plans had gone so horribly wrong that his mind – his genius, never failed him, mind – had short-circuited. It was a simple reconnaissance, laying the groundwork for later. Nothing new, nothing his crew hadn't done many times before. There shouldn't have been anything to go wrong, not when he'd taken Penguin and Shachi with him, by far the most experienced in staying low and under the radar. Even if something had gone wrong, they'd been with him all those times before, when his plans crumbled to dust and it became improvise or die. They could handle it.

So why was Penguin frozen next to him, unable to even react, much like Law himself. Other members of his crew – a hand-picked minority of five in total – were in similar condition.

Plans went wrong, but never had a plan gone so horribly wrong.

The gorilla zoan in front of them laughed, a deep laugh that reverberated through his impressive chest and through the ground; Law could feel it through his feet. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. It was condescending, cruel and full of wicked malice, all at once. Beside him, chuckling along with similar sentiments, was the reason everything was wrong. Law didn't know what subtype it was, exactly, but the dog zoan was fast and vicious enough to catch them out, leaving them in their current situation.

Huge hands, far larger than an average gorilla but since when did zoans follow the laws of nature, almost entirely dwarfed the arms they held, the limbs looking like little more than frail twigs as they writhed, their owner desperately trying to worm his way loose, kicking at the air as if he could get enough purchase to wriggle out of the grip.

Shachi was having no success, his bids for freedom doing nothing more than providing a source of amusement for his captors. Of everyone, Shachi was the one Law had always thought (naively, he was too damn naïve) wouldn't be caught. He was the fastest, and had the best observation haki to match. Few opponents could even touch him in a fight (unless he was being a self-sacrificing idiot which was sadly all too common), so to see him bowled over by the canine zoan too fast for him to dodge, a vicious bite to his leg immobilising him just long enough for the dog's gorilla companion to scoop him up was something so incomprehensible Law couldn't react.

And so there they were, frozen in disbelief as the unforeseen, unimaginable scene unfolded before their eyes. Law's body wouldn't move, his eyes fixated on the struggling form of his nakama even as he cursed himself – too slow, too naïve, move you idiot – and from the unnatural stillness of his nakama behind him, he wasn't the only one.

"The Master doesn't appreciate you snooping around in his territory," the dog yapped self-importantly, chest puffed out. Law didn't particularly care, had never cared what his opponents did or did not appreciate. A pirate trying to please people was contradictory at best, and under normal circumstances, Law would take great pleasure in antagonising them further, just because he could.

These were not normal circumstances, and his brain had yet to restart from the mind-numbing shock of seeing Shachi captured so easily, so Law said nothing, trying to find a way to salvage the situation. One of his contingency plans would work, surely, if only he could remember them.

Shachi's flailing landed a solid kick to the gorilla's face, and the zoan's laughter stopped, his face morphing to a disgruntled scowl.

"We don't need them all?" he asked, the dog clearly running the show. (If Law could make observations like that, then why couldn't his brain stop being a blank slate?). The dog shrugged.

"One won't make a difference," he replied, and finally Law's blood started to boil as the implications forced their way in, his brain starting to whirr back into activity.

"Any funny business and you'll be next," the gorilla growled at them, the Heart Pirates still in varying states of frozen. It was cliché, Law managed to think. Clichés had a weakness, too well known, too obvious-

His brain screeched to a stop again as Shachi suddenly went rigid, legs stilling too fast, and the muscles in the gorilla's arms flexed.

The sound of fabric ripping cut harshly through the air, sleeves dividing roughly at the seams as the gorilla pulled. Two and two didn't add up for a moment, Law's brain back to numb as beads of red made themselves known around Shachi's upper arms, where the deltoid connected – had connected. No longer connected.

Shachi didn't scream, but the absence of vocal agony meant so much more. A small, choked-off noise, and clarity finally, finally, crashed over Law.

A flick of the fingers, then another, and Shachi was on the ground. Too close. Too close to the gorilla but that was where the dog had stood and Law wasn't a sadist despite his reputation, but the shriek as spindly limbs tore off and the armless body crashed to the ground in a pile of blood and agonised screams gave him a split second of satisfaction before he reached Shachi's side and reality sank in.

The ginger still had his arms, somehow. The skin was stretched and torn and Law could see a complex surgery in front of them to repair the damage, but they were still there, and that was a small victory he could take. Less victorious was the way he lay in the crumpled heap he'd landed in, still and unmoving. He wasn't unconscious, at least not by standard definitions. His eyes were open, unseeing through the shades and Law got the impression that even if he removed them Shachi wouldn't so much as blink. His breathing was shallow yet rapid and his skin quickly flushed.

Law wanted to finish off the gorilla too, leave him in pieces like he'd been about to do to Shachi and watch him squirm because he wasn't sadistic but he could be vindictive and if the doctor side of his brain wasn't so dominant he'd have done exactly that. He left it to his crew instead, hearing their irate roars as they, too, broke free from the mental numbness and unleashed their fury, because Shachi had gone into severe shock and needed treatment now before it became fatal.

Some back alley that couldn't even pretend to have a modicum of cleanliness was almost as far from ideal as it was possible to get, but that was where Law was and there wasn't time to relocate before he could begin to stabilise Shachi. He stripped off his coat, thankful that he'd chosen to wear it that day, and threw it over the ginger like a blanket before lifting his feet.

"Can you hear me?" he asked, hoping to incite some sort of reaction. "Shachi?" There was no response, as he'd feared, and he threw up another Room to use a Scan. Shachi's arms were a mess, as he'd already surmised. The muscles were frayed, and the humerus had been forced so far out of the socket that all the ligaments had snapped. It wouldn't be inaccurate to say his arms were hanging on by a thread, but impossibly, that wasn't Law's concern, nor the aim of his Scan. He needed Shachi's blood pressure to rise again, just enough to be able to move him and get back to the Tang, where he had access to everything he needed.

It wasn't rising, and Law wasn't willing to wait for it to get around to starting by itself, reaching in with his powers and forcing the blood around until it could sustain the pace without him. A cry tore itself from Shachi's throat, a painful broken sound that was the sweetest music Law could ever hear because it meant he wasn't gone yet, and he judged his patient as safe to move, wrapping the coat more firmly around him and lifting him into his arms.

"Shachi- Is he-?" Penguin was suddenly there in front of him, covered liberally with blood and the black of his haki not yet faded from his skin. The rest of the group of Heart Pirates were behind him in a similar state, dyed red and sporting numerous injuries that Law couldn't treat right then, because Shachi was safe to move but not out of danger and there was nothing else fatal in front of him.

"We need to get back," he said, his voice clipped and strained. Penguin's face fell, horror settling in as the implications struck him. Law, already moving as fast as he dared with his precious cargo, felt bad for him, but false hope was worse than the truth and he would never do that to his nakama.

His boots splashed through the blood on the ground, and while he wasn't consciously looking, he noticed the unmoving bloodied lumps and allowed himself a wry smile. Ordinarily he'd call such ferocity going overboard, but after what they'd done to Shachi it was simply penance and while part of him wished his nakama had left some for him, he was undeniably delighted to see the mangled corpses in his periphery as he hurried past.

Shachi was still breathing when they got back to the Tang, and he left the rest of his party to recount why, exactly, they were coated from head to toe in blood as he finally got the ginger settled in the infirmary, replacing makeshift field treatments with hospital grade equipment and coercing Shachi's body back to its regular performance.

Unsurprisingly, Penguin was first to follow him, silently obeying Law's instructions as the shock finally lifted and Law could safely sedate his patient enough to begin to repair the damage. There was a lot, the arms needing delicate treatment beyond anything conventional surgery could reliably offer and the long-lasting effects of the shock not easily reversed, but Law persevered in the end, allowing his Room to fall after he'd done everything he could.

A moment of black, and then he was on the floor, held awkwardly by Penguin, who had clearly managed to catch him before his head collided with the metal but only just.

"Get some rest, Law," the older man said, and Law absently noted the thickness in his voice that meant he was trying not to cry. He didn't get a chance to reorient himself before he was picked up, Penguin gently depositing him on the next bed over. "I'll wake you if anything changes."

Drained, Law didn't have much of a choice, exhausting forcibly overriding worry and dragging him back down into the realms of unconsciousness.

[basketofverbiage]

The Golden Boy

Okay. I know you all thought I was dead or something since I haven’t posted any writing since Christmas. But...surprise? This is dedicated to @elizabeth-buchanan because she was hella excited when I had the idea. So this is part one of a Wild West Cowboy Jungkook tale, lovingly dubbed JungooYeehaw.

Warnings: armed robbery, brothel, cursing (fuck is my favorite word; sorry, not sorry), gratuitous violence. Let’s get it. 

Namjoon was standing in the vault of the bank, organizing the money that had been dropped off by a stagecoach earlier in the day. He slipped his hand into his vest pocket and pulled out his pocket watch. 4:30 pm. If he was going to get home before dark, he needed to work quickly. There had been rumors around that said it wasn’t safe to walk around town after dark. Jeon Jungkook, The Golden Boy, and his gang had robbed a bank three towns over a few weeks ago and seemed to be heading this way. In the last town, it was said that Jungkook had kidnapped the banker on his way home and his gang members had taken turns beating him overnight until the next morning when they had him open the vault; they’d blindfolded him and stuffed an empty bank bag in his mouth as a gag before locking him in the vault with his hands bound behind his back. The town’s marshal had found him three days later.

Namjoon got back to work quickly, humming softly to himself as he sorted the packets of marked bills into their respective bins. He was so into his work that he hadn’t noticed the presence of another until he knelt to pick up a couple of bundles of hundred-dollar bills and felt the chilled steel of the barrel of a pistol pressed to the back of his head.

“Kim Namjoon,” growled a voice much too musical to be that of a villain. “Stand up slowly and drop the cash in your hands. Don’t try anything brave, because I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Namjoon froze in fear initially, but the loud click of the gun cocking behind him jolted him into action. He dropped all of the bundles in his hand then slowly stretched his long legs to stand.

“Good boy,” the voice said. “J, tie his hands.”

The man who bound Namjoon’s hands was honestly striking. If you met him on the sidewalk, you’d think him completely incapable of running with a dangerous group of bank robbers with a shoot first, ask questions later mentality. He looked much too sweet and innocent to cause harm to anyone. That’s probably why they called him BabyJ; that and his slightly chubby cheeks that fooled people into thinking he was younger than he actually was. After tying Namjoon’s hands with a length of thick-corded rope, he began to stuff bundles of cash into a stagecoach trunk. A taller man with dark, emotionless eyes came around Namjoon and began to help arranging the bundles of cash into the trunk. Once the trunk was full, they closed the lid and stood facing Namjoon but both looking over his shoulders seemingly for their next set of instructions. Before the ringleader could say anything, a new voice came rushing into the room.

“Kook, we’ve gotta go. The marshal and his men have surrounded the front.”

“Fuck. Well, I guess we are going to take ourselves a hostage, boys. Seok, you’ll be with me flanking Namjoon in front while J and Tae carry the trunk. Namjoon, here, will help us out the back way,” he said as Namjoon was spun around to face him.

His first glimpse of Jungkook was a bit surprising. He had assumed the man would be hardened and fierce based on the rumors he’d heard, but he was smiling mischievously as if the danger and adrenaline was what he was looking for more than the cash. He was a few inches shorter than Namjoon, in a cream colored tight fitted linen shirt with a brown leather vest over the top and a battered cowboy hat perched on his head. He smiled brightly at Namjoon even as he tugged him out of the vault.

“We’ll get to know each other a bit once we get out of this alive. Unlock the back door, Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon unlocked the backdoor after struggling a bit to get the ring of keys off of his belt loop with his bound hands, but he finally got it unlocked. Jungkook and the redhead he’d called Seok drug him out the back door with hands under each of his arms and six-shooters raised threateningly. Namjoon glanced over his shoulder to see J and Tae lifting the trunk between them out the door with seemingly minimal effort, J in the lead. Jungkook and Seok had apparently been prepared to be surrounded as they’d tied their horses to a tree in the back yard of a house a few meters from the back door of the bank. Besides the glossy black horse that whinnied softly at Jungkook when he came into view and its gray companion, there was a pair of stark white stallions attached to a covered wagon waiting patiently. J and Tae loaded the trunk into the back of the wagon, then blindfolded Namjoon and unceremoniously tossed him in after it. He groaned a little when his hip whacked into the corner of the trunk.

“Alright, Namjoon. Not another peep, and no peaking. We will take your blindfold off when we get where we are going. And get comfortable. It might be a bit of a bumpy ride.”

Namjoon felt around and scooted back towards the far side of the wagon so that he was out of sight of onlookers then sat there in shock, listening to the sound of the bandits climbing on the horses. After several minutes, he heard a loud, “Hyah” from one of them and they took off. Since he was terrified, every shift and creak of the wagon beneath him seemed incredibly loud; that is, until the shouts of the marshal and several gunshots began to ring out around the outside of the wagon. Namjoon clamped his mouth shut and curled up as small as he could, tucking his legs as close to his torso as he possibly could. He could hear the bandits firing off shots in rapid succession and the scream of at least two different men who absorbed their bullets. After a bit, the shots stopped firing and the only thing Namjoon could hear was the horses hooves and the wooden wagon wheels jarring over the rocky terrain. After what felt like an eternity but was in reality only about an hour and a half later, he felt the wagon stop moving. He was still curled in the fetal position against the side of the trunk when he felt two sets of hands grab him and jerk him out of the wagon. He let out a startled yelp when the blindfold was jerked from his eyes by the man with the emotionless expression.

“Come with us, Namjoon-ssi,” he crooned at Namjoon before tugging him forward by the rope binding his hands through a doorway into a long hallway.

J was walking behind them, singlehandedly dragging the trunk of money. When they reached the end of the hallway, Tae opened a door to the right and drug him out into the main room of a saloon. Jungkook was sitting comfortably at a table with a hot brunette saloon girl in his lap, laughing at Namjoon’s shocked expression.

“Are—are you serious?! You robbed me at gunpoint and kidnapped me to bring me to the damn saloon one town over!” Namjoon yelled indignantly at the gang leader.

“Yep,” Jungkook laughed. “The owner is my older brother, and he lets us crash upstairs for a cut of the profits. Hey, Seok, cut him loose. I think he needs a drink.”

Namjoon stood there with his jaw dropped as Seok approached him with a huge serrated hunting knife, laughing loudly as he severed the length of cord. Namjoon was struggling with comprehending the reality of his situation when another voice that vaguely sounded like tinkling bells caught his attention.

“Oh my, Jungkookie. You really brought me home a treat this time, didn’t you?”

Namjoon had finally gotten his mouth to close before he turned to look in the direction that voice came from, but it flopped back open when he was faced with the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen. The man laughed a contagiously high-pitched laugh at the expression on Namjoon’s face before gently taking his hands and disentangling the remaining rope.

“Hi Gorgeous, my name is Jin. Welcome to my saloon,” the beauty said as he massaged the slightly roughened skin on his wrists where the rope had started to bite in.

“I’m…um…my name is Namjoon,” he stuttered out.

Jin smiled a slightly devilish smile. “My, what a pleasure it is to have you here. Come on, Gorgeous. Let’s get you a drink. I think you might need one.”

 Jungkook’s favorite part of being back home was watching the men he considered his family simply be happy. Hoseok was laughing loudly beside his fiancé as they chatted while Yoongi tinkled the piano keys for the saloon patrons. Seokjin was keeping Namjoon’s glass full, simultaneously getting him horrendously drunk and chatting him up like a pro; Jungkook would be willing to bet his share of the trunk that Seokjin would have him in his bed before Namjoon knew what hit him. Taehyung and Jimin were coupled up together to the left of the piano slow dancing but doing it so erotically that they might as well be naked. It pleased him immensely for them to be happy.

“What are you grinning at, Babyboy?” Y/n whispered in his ear. She ran her hand down one arm as she walked around from behind him to perch on his lap.

“I’m just happy. We did the job and came back safely. My favorite people are all in the same room. Oh, and how could I forget the most beautiful woman in the world is wearing my favorite green dress and is sitting in my lap?” He leaned in and kissed her until he couldn’t keep his giggles at bay any longer.

“You are a sweet talker, Jeon,” she replied between soft kisses. “But I don’t mind. I’ve missed you.”

Even though she technically worked in the brothel above the saloon, it was common knowledge that she belonged to The Golden Boy and if the men who came to visit the brothel wanted to keep their hands, they would keep them to themselves. The part that they didn’t realize is that Jungkook wouldn’t have been the ones to cut their hands off. It would have been Y/n; she always carried more than one blade on her person at all times (a hair dagger, one on each thigh, and one tucked into her left boot) plus she had a small pistol tucked in between her breasts in a special corset holster Jungkook had bought her. Jungkook and Jin had originally hired her to protect their girls in the brothel after one of them had been murdered in her own bed by an ex-customer who had been stalking her. Falling into Jungkook’s bed wasn’t part of her initial plan, but the man had boyishly playful good looks, a sense of humor, and a devilish tongue with demonically wicked hips to match. While the gang members knew that they were a couple, they didn’t realize that Y/n had been an assassin for hire and was a deadlier shot than Jungkook himself—and he never misfired.  

They kept making out at Jungkook’s table in the middle of the brothel until a loud slap caused them to jerk apart. Madeline, one of the other girls, was struggling to pull out of the grasp of a very drunk local ranch-hand. The gang members’ heads all turned at the sound of the man backhanding Madeline as she tried to get away from him. Y/n felt Jungkook growl against her chest.

“Wanna double team that bastard, Babyboy?” she whispered to him.

He nodded slightly in response as she stood off his lap. Jungkook walked across the floor, boots clunking loudly on the floor.

“You’re gonna want to let Madeline go, Hank,” Jungkook snarled at the man.

“What if I don’t, little boy?” he drunkenly sassed back.

Y/n silently slid in behind him and pressed the long dagger from her boot against his throat. “If you don’t let her go, I’ll kill you, Hank. We’ve already had a chat once about you getting drunk and trying to hurt one of my girls. I won’t give you another warning.”

“Psht. You ain’t strong enough to hurt anyone, Y/n. You’re just a puny little girl like Madeline.”

“You don’t want to try me,” she replied. “You wouldn’t be the first man we’ve buried in an unmarked grave out back.”

Hank laughed at the threat, thinking Y/n wouldn’t do anything. Her eyes met Jungkook’s over top of his head and she tilted her head toward Madeline. Jungkook grabbed Madeline’s arm while Hank was laughing and jerked her free, then stepped between her and her drunk harasser.

“Hey! She’s mine!” Hank yelled drunkenly, trying to reach out for the girl.

“That’s it. I’ve had enough,” Y/n sneered in his ear before pressing down on the knife and slitting his throat. He gurgled for just a second before slumping forward onto the table. “Alright, let this serve as an example for the rest of you scum buckets who think you can walk in here and get away with hurting and taking advantage of my girls. If you do it, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Some of the other men in the room nodded quietly in response to Y/n’s statement. Others just stared at her for a moment before continuing nursing their drinks. Yoongi began playing again, and some sound came back into the room.

“Jimin, will you escort Madeline up to her room? Tae, you and Seok help me drag this mess out back.” The gang moved quickly at Jungkook’s command to get the mess taken care of.

“Dammit, Y/n! That’s another bloodstain on my hardwood floor,” Seokjin grumbled. “He deserved it, but blood is hard to get up.”

Y/n just shrugged before cleaning the blood off of her knife on the back of Hank’s shirt before Tae and Hoseok carried the body out the back door wrapped in an old sheet. They wouldn’t really bury him out back; they’d take his body out to the desert the next morning in the wagon and light the whole thing on fire. There were two bodies buried out back, and their graves were not unmarked. Jin and Jungkook’s parents were buried back there, and their resting place wouldn’t be marred with someone like Hank. Their father had been the original owner of the saloon and their mother the original madam of the brothel, but they’d fallen in love and she had retired when Jin was conceived. She managed the other girls, but no longer serviced patrons who came in to have their more carnal needs met. A really bad flu epidemic had raged through the town when Jin had been 19 years old, Jungkook just 14, and both of their parents had fallen ill. When they both died from the flu, Jin took over running the saloon since he’d been helping his dad behind the bar since he was 10. His best friend, Yoongi, was hired to play piano and keep the morale up with drinking songs, and Jungkook was left to do whatever it was he did. It turned out that he, his two best friends, and Yoongi’s then boyfriend, were committing petty larceny while his brother was busy managing the family’s business. Petty larceny (stealing small things from the General Store and pickpocketing newcomers to town) quickly became something more: cattle rustling, hi-jacking a stage coach a few towns over, robbing a train, then bank robberies.

They had gotten really creative about how to pull off their heists, including dressing Jimin and Taehyung as high-class ladies on more than one occasion. They were great at planning and executing the heists mostly for the thrill of it. At this point, they didn’t really even keep 90% of the money. There was a large orphanage a couple of towns over where Hoseok had grown up in until he was adopted at 11 years old, and they left most of the money on the front porch for the kids there.

“Did you really just kill someone? Does that make me a witness or an accessory to murder?” Namjoon groaned. “I thought I was really drunk, but apparently that sobered me right up.”

“Don’t let him fool you. I’ve been filling his gin glass with water for the last 45 minutes, and he hasn’t noticed,” Jin whispered. “He’s gorgeous, and I want him sober as possible so I can ride him off into the sunset.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at that. “What are you going to do if he’d rather ride you instead?” she whispered back, conspiratorially.

Seokjin moaned aloud. “I think exceptions could be made.”

A few hours later and they locked the front door behind the last of their nightly patrons. Y/n had mopped the last of the blood up previously using a peroxide mixture the local doctor provided them with for sanitizing the girls’ rooms. Taehyung and Jimin had already gone upstairs to check in on Madeline before retiring to their own suite. Hoseok and Yoongi lived in a small cabin across the backyard from the saloon, and they left shortly after the body had been stored for disposal.

“Let’s go to bed, Beautiful. Robbing a bank and kidnapping my future brother in law was hard work,” Jungkook whined.

“Well, since you worked so hard, maybe you deserve a little treat,” she replied, straddling his lap.

“Yah! No fucking on my table! Get a room, you brats!” Seokjin yelled.

“Says the man who was eating Namjoon’s face off on the bar-top not even 5 minutes ago,” Jungkook shot back.

“He didn’t eat my face. He just tasted it a little,” Namjoon mumbled through the deep flush appearing on his face.

“And you taste exquisite, Gorgeous. Let me just finish wiping down the bar, and I’ll take you to bed with me.”

 Namjoon woke up to sunlight drifting through the window and instantly noticed a bit of a dull headache. The second thing he noticed as how warm and cozy he felt. He was curled up to a warm body for the first time in a long time, and it felt so amazing that he instantly just snuggled further into it. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but the memories of the night before started flooding in. Namjoon’s eyes flew open when he remembered that he’d been kidnapped at gunpoint and then had witnessed a murder. He sat up quickly, gasping in a couple of breaths, at the realization of the recent events in his life.

“You alright there, Gorgeous?”

Jin had woken up with Namjoon sat up so suddenly and sat up alongside him. Jin ran his hand soothingly across Namjoon’s naked back, trying to calm him. Namjoon looked at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry that I woke you,” Namjoon said softly. “I just remembered some of the events from yesterday.”

Namjoon would never have dreamed that Jin could be more beautiful than he’d been the night before, but he was wrong. There was something more striking about him sitting there stark naked in the early morning light with the sheets barely covering his lower half and his hair deliciously tussled with sex and sleep, trying desperately to calm him down.

“You call me Gorgeous, but damn. You should see yourself right now,” Namjoon whispered, raising his hand to stroke Jin’s cheek. “I shouldn’t do this, but I can’t help myself.”

 The sounds of moaning and sex weren’t a foreign sound in the saloon since there was a brothel upstairs, but they usually weren’t echoing down the halls at 7:30 in the morning. Y/n woke up about the 4th time Jin let out a moan followed by a sharp cry of “Yes, Gorgeous…right there…please.”

“Dammit, Jeon, can’t you make your brother shut up?” she whined into Jungkook’s bare chest.

“Babygirl, you say that like I’m not as traumatized by this as you are. Actually, he’s my brother and I do not want the mental image of him having sex. Why don’t we go downstairs, and I’ll make breakfast? We can slip some whiskey in our coffee to purge that image right out.”

Before Y/n could respond, Jin let out another loud moan coupled with a growl that could only have been Namjoon. They couldn’t get dressed fast enough; Jungkook was still tucking his shirt in when they stumbled into the kitchen to find Jimin sitting shirtless staring into a cup of black coffee like it was telling him his future.

“You guys traumatized too?” Jungkook asked.

“God, yes. Why is Seokjin so fucking loud?” Jimin groaned.

“Don’t you mean why does Seokjin fuck so loud?” Hoseok asked as he and Taehyung came into the kitchen. They’d left early to go get rid of Hank’s body in the desert and had just returned.

Y/n snorted at that as she poured both herself and Jungkook a cup of coffee. Jungkook was leaned over the counter with his forehead pressed to the tabletop and his hands covering his ears. Jungkook straightened up when she walked over with the mug and then pulled Jin’s best whiskey from behind the bar and dumped at least a shot in both cups.

 Jungkook was sipping his second cup of coffee and nibbling on a slice of toast with an egg nearly an hour later when Seokjin and Namjoon stumbled into the kitchen, both giggly and clutching on to each other. Jin was still shirtless, while the top three buttons of Namjoon’s shirt were unbuttoned. Jin’s neck and collarbones were dotted with marks in shades of dark red and purple. Namjoon had a few marks visible, but his cheeks were flushed.

“Damn. Were y’all mauled by the same bear?” Jimin snickered.

“Shut your mouth, Jimin,” Jin growled.

“I could say the same to you. You two woke everyone in the building this morning with your loud shenanigans,” Y/n replied.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/n. I told you I wanted to ride Gorgeous off into the sunset. I just happened to ride him back home this morning.”

Namjoon was standing beside him with his mouth slightly open, and his cheeks bright red from Jin’s boldness. He wasn’t really the type to air his sexual encounters out for the world to see, but Jin didn’t care. Namjoon had figured out that it was probably because he grew up in a brothel, but it was still a little much to take in. As he was standing there processing what was happening, Taehyung shoved a cup of coffee into his hands. He mumbled out a thank you before taking a sip of the strong black liquid. He had barely swallowed the sip before he coughed in surprise.

“What’s in this besides coffee?” he spluttered out.

“Yah! You little shits are drinking my expensive whiskey in your coffee again, aren’t you?” Jin yelled before grabbing the bottle and putting it in its place back behind the bar.

“Here, Cherub. Want a sip?” Namjoon offered.

“Cherub? Ooh. I like that,” Jin purred as he sipped from Namjoon’s mug. “Christ, Taehyung. That’s mostly whiskey. It’s no wonder Namjoon coughed on the first sip.”

Jin made them omelets for breakfast with toast since they were the last downstairs. They sat as closely to each other as possible, laughing and sharing the same cup of coffee and the same plate.

“Well, while you two canoodle, we need to take care of some business. We’ll be back before dinner. Lock the doors behind us and don’t let anyone in until we get back,” Jungkook said.

Y/n pulled him in for a kiss, “It’s alright, Love. I’ll protect the Princess and his Consort while you’re gone.”

 Jungkook and Hoseok loaded the bundles of cash from Namjoon’s bank out of the trunk and into smaller bags. There were 57 bundles of hundred-dollar bills and 30 bundles of twenty-dollar bills inside the trunk. Jungkook, Hoseok, Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, Y/n, and Yoongi all kept 2 bundles of hundreds each and 2 bundles of twenties each. The rest were loaded into saddlebags and strapped on Jimin, Hoseok, Jungkook, and Taehyung’s horses to deliver.

“Alright, Boys. Taehyung and I will deliver our sandbags to Hoseok’s orphanage. Hoseok, you and Jimin, deliver your sandbags to the church in town. I’ve heard from some reliable sources that there is a family just outside of town that they are trying to help out. They have a farm and four kids, and the father died from the flu. The church will make sure that the kids are fed and taken care of.”

Taehyung kissed Jimin softly before climbing in his saddle and jetting off in the direction of the orphanage. Jungkook pulled his bandana over his face in a makeshift mask so that if they passed anyone, they wouldn’t be able to identify him. He galloped off after Taehyung, catching up after a few minutes. In their early days of debauchery, they had kept all of the things they’d stolen. While Jin made a considerable amount of money in the saloon and the brothel, Jungkook wanted to contribute. After a while, they had amassed more money than they’d likely ever spend and started giving most of the newly stolen cash away to people who needed it; Jungkook considered himself the Wild West Robin Hood to an extent. They were riding for maybe a half hour when they reached the town where the orphanage was. They never left the money on the front stoop where anyone could happen upon it. They rounded the corner where the orphanage was and slipped off their horses behind a large bush near the side of the building. They removed the money stashed in their saddlebags into non-descript bags that Jungkook had hand sewn from flour and coffee sacks. It was warm out and the kids were all playing in the dirt in the front lawn of the building, so they snuck around to the back door. There were 3 bags of cash and they stacked them up on the top step, pounded on the door then ran for their horses before anyone could see them. They slipped away, then stopped by the General Store in town to get a few things that they were running low on to take back to the saloon.

 Two hours later, Jungkook unlocked the back door and he and Taehyung carried in the supplies they bought, stacking a case of whiskey, a big bag of rice, a bag of beans, and some other smaller supplies on the bar top.

“Where are Jimin and Seok? They should have beat us back,” Taehyung asked.

“Not back yet,” Y/n replied.

Jungkook was just debating on going out to search when Hoseok threw the back door open and screamed for help. Jin leapt over the bar top and rounded the corner to help Hoseok carry Jimin down the hallway. He’d been shot in the shoulder, and there was blood dripping down his front.

“Fuck! What happened?”

“We had just dropped the money off with the nuns at the church, and we were getting back to our horses when we were ambushed by the marshal and his men. We were trying to get away without firing on them, but I shot three of them when they shot Jimin. He nearly fell off his horse,” Hoseok replied.

“Take him upstairs to my room,” Jin ordered. “I’ll get the kit and be there in a minute.”

Jin ran to the kitchen and pulled bandages, a set of pliers, and the stuff to stitch a wound from a storage cabinet.

“How can I help, Cherub?” Namjoon asked.

“Oh, Gorgeous. How are you with blood?”

“Okay, I guess. I’ve never really been around a lot, but I still wanna help.”

“Alright, come on. You can help hold him down. And grab that bottle of whiskey from under the bar.”

 It turns out that Namjoon actually did alright with the blood. It was the screaming that bothered him. Namjoon and Jungkook held Jimin down while Jin dug the lead slug out of his shoulder. He’d drunk nearly half of the bottle of the whiskey before Jin got started, and bit down on Taehyung’s leather belt while Jin was digging around for the bullet. After nearly a half hour, he finally pulled it free then closed the hole with surprisingly neat stitches. When they left the room, Taehyung was curled up with Jimin’s head on his chest, delicately holding him.

“Where did you learn to do that, Cherub?” Namjoon asked softly as Jin washed the blood off his hands and forearms.

“When my parents were sick, I was dating their doctor. We broke up shortly after they died because Jungkook was first getting into trouble and he didn’t agree. But Jungkook is my brother, and I refuse to walk away from him. One night a few weeks after our parents died, Jungkook and Hoseok got caught trying to rustle some cattle from a ranch just outside of town and one of the ranch hands shot him in the leg. My ex refused to help me, but his nurse came and talked me through what to do. I pulled the bullet out myself with some sharp kitchen tongs and the nurse helped me stitch the wound myself. She came every day for a few weeks to check his progress and make sure that he didn’t get an infection. She even brought me my own stitching kit. My ex eventually left town when another doctor came who had more experience anyway.”

Namjoon swallowed down the flame of jealousy that tried to flare up at the mention of Jin’s ex. He hadn’t known him long enough to feel that level of possessiveness, but it was great to get to know him a bit better.

“Is Jimin going to be okay?”

“He should be as long as there is no infection. We just have to keep an eye out for fevers.”

They were putting everything away when Hoseok came jetting downstairs with Y/n and Jungkook on his heels. “We have a problem. The marshalls have the front of the saloon surrounded.”

They all quickly knelt behind the bar to create a plan. Taehyung would be staying with Jimin to protect them and could fire out Jin’s bedroom window. Jungkook and Y/n would move closer to the saloon window’s on either side of the front door of the saloon. Hoseok would climb up into the attic and fire down on them from the rooftops while Seokjin protected Namjoon. They had decided that the best-case scenario was to hide Namjoon behind the bar and Seokjin had his father’s rifle and a set of six-shooters that were his grandfathers locked and loaded there.

“Golden Boy, we know you’re in there. Come on out and no one will get hurt!” the marshal screamed from the street.

“We both know that’s a lie, Marshall. If you don’t shoot me, you’ll just string me up. And I’m not going down like that,” Jungkook called back.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” he replied before he and his 6 deputies began opening fire.

Namjoon honestly couldn’t think much past the rapid back and forth shots and occasional screams as someone was hit by the gunfire. He kept his eyes closed for a moment until he heard a crash and the back door burst open. A deputy came flying around the corner and aimed at Seokjin who was leaned over the bar firing out the window beside Jungkook. Before Namjoon could say anything he saw the deputy fire his weapon at Jin’s back. Namjoon stood as the deputy pulled the trigger and felt the bullet pierce just below his right shoulder. Jin spun around at Namjoon’s scream of pain and fired his rifle at the deputy’s head. As soon as the deputy went down he knelt down, to check Namjoon.

“Joonie, Gorgeous, are you okay? Why did you do that?” Jin was beginning to panic at the sight of the blood pouring out of Namjoon’s arm.

“I had to. I couldn’t let him shoot you in the back! I couldn’t let him kill you, Cherub. I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

“I’m supposed to be the one protecting you!” Jin screamed. “Jungkook, we need to wrap this up. Joonie’s hurt!”

Jungkook growled out a reply before belly-crawling over to Y/n. “Alright, Babygirl. We have to finish this shit. And now.”

Y/n leaned over enough to peep out the window. “It looks like there are only three left standing, and the marshal hiding behind that water barrel at the store across the street,” she whispered to him. Before she could say anything else, a couple of shots rang out from the roof taking down two of the three deputies. “Looks like Seokie got himself reloaded.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this shit,” Jungkook growled. “They aren’t shooting any more of my fucking family.”

After reloading his gun, Jungkook stood up and threw open the front door of the saloon. The door banging open startled the final deputy enough that Jungkook fired off a shot and took him down with a bullet to the abdomen.

“Marshal Lee, step out and fight me, man to man. Stop hiding behind that barrel like a fucking coward!”

The marshal stayed where he was but called out a response. “No. I don’t trust you to fight fair.”

“I always fight fair. But enough. I’m tired of talking with anything besides my gun.”

Jungkook silently moved to take a step towards the barrel to finish it when the barrel just exploded. He looked over his shoulder to see Yoongi walking across the street with a double barrel shotgun in one hand and a Molotov cocktail in the other. Before the marshal had a chance to react to the barrel exploding, Yoongi launched the Molotov at his back. It smashed on the remnants of the barrel and lit the marshal’s shirt on fire.

“You hurt my Seokie, you motherfucker. No one hurts my Seokie,” Yoongi said before shooting the marshal with the shotgun. Once he was sure the marshal wouldn’t get back up, he turned to Jungkook. “You okay, Kook?”

“I’m good. Namjoon took a bullet for Jin. One of the deputies snuck in and tried to shoot him in the back and they ambushed Jimin and Seok earlier and shot Jimin in the shoulder.”

“Yeah, one of them grazed Hoseok’s side with a shot because the fool climbed out of the attic and was firing off the damn roof. I could see him from our house when I heard the gunfire and came over as quick as I could mix up some potions,” Yoongi replied.

 Since Jimin was in Jin’s bed still recovering from his earlier bullet wound, Taehyung had Jin take Namjoon into his and Jimin’s room. Taehyung helped Jin pull the bullet out of his wound and wrap his bicep tightly to protect the stitches. After washing the blood off his hands, Jin crawled into bed beside Namjoon.

“Gorgeous, I still can’t believe you took a bullet for me. We’ve known each other less than 2 days,” Jin said quietly.

“I just saw them coming and reacted. I wouldn’t say that I love you yet, but I feel really drawn to you, and I think I could love you someday. I couldn’t let them kill you in front of my eyes, Jin. I just couldn’t,” Namjoon whimpered a little at the thought of Jin dying in front of him.

Instead of speaking more, Jin pulled Namjoon into his arms and held him softly until they both drifted off to sleep.

[emeraldbirdcollector]

Alice’s Tale Part III

This is going to be longer than I thought. I haven’t even gotten them out of Lucien yet...

They found the Church before evening, with the Minister and several disciples busily setting out tables and simple meals for fleeing refugees. The Minister was a calm, capable woman, her salt-and-pepper hair neatly braided in tight little braids all over her head, her eyes sharp and friendly, as if she saw straight through people to their worst sins, but loved them anyway. She did not seem fazed by the sudden avalanche of evacuees, but kept her disciples moving with a steady stream of orders, as if directing a dance troupe through a chaotic dress rehearsal.  She looked up at Remington and the children with appraising eyes, and nodded.

“Orphans, I suppose?” Her voice was firm, and tired, but not unkind.

“As of this morning, I'm afraid, ma'am.” Remington dismounted, and carefully helped first Jack down, then Alice. “These are Alice and Jack, and they have no place to go. Could they find refuge with the Church, and perhaps a family to stay with?”

She nodded. “We do not turn away anyone in need if we can help it. Things are...a bit overwhelming at the moment, but there's room enough in the Church for now, if you don't mind sleeping in a blanket on the floor. And then...well, we've missionary groups arriving and departing all the time. One of them will know of a family in need of two such fine children.”

She smiled at them, and reached out her hands. “I am Minister Paulina of the Church of the Light. Welcome, my dears. You may stay as long as you please, and we will find you someplace more permanent as soon as we can. Unless either of you feel a calling to Church service yourselves...”

“I don't know, ma'am. I've never thought about it.” Alice was honest, but took the Minister's hand courteously. Jack, suddenly shy, hid his face, but the Minister seemed not to take offense.

“An honest answer, good. You can explore that question for yourself later. For now, why don't you find a table and have something to eat? Will you join us as well, sir?”

“Thank you for your hospitality, ma'am, but I must get back before sunrise. Captain's orders. May I...have a moment with the children first, to say goodbye?”

Her eyes softened. “Yes, of course. Children, when you're finished, go find a table and get a meal from one of the Sisters or Brothers. And when you're done, come find me and I'll find you a place to stay for now.” She turned, and began the work of supervising and organizing anew.

He took the ration packs from the horse, and handed one to each. Then he knelt and held out his hands to both of them.  “Take care of yourselves, and each other, you hear me? And if you ever make it to Portia...ask for Sam or Arlo, and tell them Remi sent you. Maybe we'll see each other again some day.”

Alice's eyes were suddenly full of tears, but she fought them back, lest her hero see her weakness. Jack was less reserved, and flung himself at Remington in a hug, which ended up enfolding Alice, too. “Thank you for saving our lives,” she got out, and felt ridiculous – surely that wasn't enough for such a momentous action.

“I'm just glad to know there was something I could do today that was right, that saved someone. That...means a lot to me.” She was startled to see him blink back tears himself.  “Here.” He pulled from his pocket a pair of small dangling amulets, and gave one to each. “These are Peach amulets – they make 'em in Portia. It's traditional to give one to someone when you say goodbye for a long time, for luck. I've got a bunch that people gave me before I left – you two keep these for me, OK? Maybe they'll bring you good luck, too.”

“Thank you,” Alice got out, past the lump in her throat. “I wish I had something to give you in return.”

“You did. You gave me some hope on a dark day.” With that, he hugged them both one more time, mounted his horse, and rode back along the road.

Alice watched him until she couldn't see him anymore, holding on to the amulet like a lifeline. Finally, Jack tugged at her sleeve. “I'm hungry. Can we get something to eat?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, and they turned towards the tables.  

In the next few days, Alice was careful to make herself as useful as possible. Jack, along with some of the smaller refugee children, was being given lessons during the day by a very patient Brother, and she hoped that if she did enough work for both of them, he would be allowed to continue his education. She had already learned to read and write and do basic math, and she knew she wasn't particularly gifted, not enough to be sent to university or trained as a Builder or an Architect or a Researcher. But she thought she could learn to run a shop as her parents had done, and make a living for herself and her brother. And Jack, at least, could stay in school for a while.

In the meantime, she busied herself helping with all the tasks the Sisters and Brothers deemed appropriate for a girl her age, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, serving meals, sweeping and dusting, and gathering laundry to be taken to the river for washing. Her favorite job, though, was helping Sister Elena and Brother Marcus in the gardens, weeding and watering, picking bugs off the plants (later to be used as bait for fishing, or to feed the ducks – the Church wasted nothing), and even spreading fertilizer (she got used to the smell after a bit). It was lovely to be out in the sunshine amidst fresh growing things, blooming and sweet. And the work, while hard, helped her block out the worst of her memories, and to sleep more soundly at night, with fewer nightmares.

Jack was not so lucky. They had been given a quiet cell normally used by visiting Sisters or Brothers, sparsely furnished with a chair, a desk, a trunk for their clothes and meager possessions, and two bedrolls which were rolled up and pushed against the wall during the day. Often, Alice woke during the night to find Jack shaking and thrashing, whimpering or crying out in his sleep. All she could do was to hug him close, stroke his hair, and murmur soothing words into his ear – he was impossible to wake in that state, and the best she usually managed was to soothe him into a quieter sleep after a while, when whatever frantic nightmare he was experiencing resolved itself. One particularly bad night, in desperation, she put the Peach amulet Remington had given him into his hand. Immediately his fist closed around it and he took one, two, three deep, rasping breaths and was calm again. From then on, he never slept without it.

Alice kept hers on a thin string around her neck, next to her heart. She would never have admitted to such a silly and childish fantasy, but sometimes when she was busy with particularly dull and repetitive work like dishwashing, she let her mind drift off, making up stories about brave knights and heroic rescues, pirate raids, daring chases on horseback, and fair maidens in dire circumstances. Her villains were moustache-twirling evil on two legs, her maidens strong-willed and pure of heart, and her knights – always, always, they were kind and humble, but noble and princely in their bearing, fiercely courageous yet the soul of courtesy and gentleness to the maidens they rescued. And always, though she would never have confessed it even under the most sacred seal of privacy, they had eyes the color of dark golden-amber.

[toloveawarlord]

Etched in Blood (Ch. 3)

Ch. 3

Pairing: Sophia x Fenrir

Tagging @plumpblueberry​ ^_^

The soldier escorting her to the Civic Center stopped at the bottom of the spiral staircase, giving a salute to her. “They are holding the meeting in the Garden on the rooftop.” He motioned for her to continue on.

Sophia climbed the stairs, no rush in her steps. The large door at the top opened, silently welcoming her into the revered Garden. No normal citizen could enter here without express permission. Seeing it up close held no significance to her. Rosebushes were all the same to her.

“How disgraceful to be late to an important meeting,” Jonah commented, intending his words to be a scolding. The Queen of Hearts already living up to his reputation.

One empty chair in the middle of the line of Black Army soldiers must have been left for her, as all were sitting in order of their rank that led up to the King. She never flinched under his intense gaze. “Would you like to have been the one to inform the Grant family that their son passed away on the table because I had to step away during an emergency surgery?” Her harsh question effectively silencing any other complains. Settling into the chair, Sophia could feel his ridiculous smirk.

The Jack of Hearts thoroughly enjoying this turn of events broke the awkward quiet. “How lovely to see you, Sophia.” A glint of excitement sparkled in his jade eyes.

Only he could make her skin crawl with annoyance.

“You two know each other?” Ray asked, trying to puzzle out the connection. From an outsider’s point of view, the two were an odd pair, their paths not likely to cross.

Sophia remained silent, prompting Edgar to answer in her stead. “Our families have been acquainted for a very long time, but briefly we had a dalliance in our boarding school days. It’s only natural that Sophia and I would have an intimate relationship.” His proclamation brought hushed shock all around.

Questions would arise. Each one more painstakingly irritating than the last. It would be best to put all wrong conjecture to rest.

Dull blue eyes locked on those mischievous jade ones. “Don’t give them the wrong impression. Our families have been feuding for generations. We have been rivals since we were just kids.”

“That only makes our relationship more tragically beautiful.”

Sophia rolled her eyes. Everything about Edgar was fake. He charmed those around him with calculated smiles and phony sweet words to make himself the picturesque Jack of Hearts. The Emerson’s and the Bright’s were mortal enemies. She had studied him, his family, and anything that could be used to assist in taking them down.

And here he sat, grin plastered across his lips, curing his boredom at her expense.

“I remember our time together fondly.”

Impressions were everything, but he’d gotten to her. For a brief moment, fire blazed in her eyes. Those years of childhood lessons ingrained in her very core bubbled up to the surface. If he wanted to play games, surely, she could oblige.

“It seems a conflict of interest might arise,” Jonah interjected, his voice severing the two apart.

As quickly as they had come, those dark intentions sunk back into the depths from which they had crawled out from. Sophia understood the hierarchy here. Regaining her composure, she addressed him calmly. “There will be no conflict.”

“Can we really take your word for it?”

The doctor folded her hands together on the table. “Can I take your word that no conflict of interest will arise with your own brother being in this army?” The question came down upon him as swiftly as the strike of a sword, rendering the Queen of Hearts speechless. “To clear up the embellished relationship, in my final year of high school, the two of us hooked up twice in the janitor’s closet. That’s the extent of it. Anything more would be a blatant lie.”

Edgar’s smile never faulted. “I’m devastated that you find our time together so trivial. I cherish them deeply.”

“It was not that memorable.”

“Enough, 5 of Spades. That is an order.” The King of Hearts ending the two’s quarrel.

Ray’s green eyes narrowed, words mingling in time with Sophia’s.

“I do not take orders from you.” “She does not answer to you.”

Tension around the table rose with the King’s glares growing more intense. Never had Sophia experienced so much animosity between a group. These were the ones in charge of leading the country? Of protecting the people?

“Is there a reason we’re all here besides digging into my personal history?” All she wanted was to return to the clinic. This meeting being pointless.

The King of Hearts inclined his head. “A new drug is sweeping through Cradle. Neither territory or Central Quarter has been spared. It’s turning into an epidemic, and it would seem our investigations are hitting a dead end.”

His statement snuffed out all the excitement over the new Black Army leader. Enemies or not, this issue included all who swore to protect the country. Intel was swapped, but no new leads had presented themselves. Each turn ending in failure. The drugs source remained a mystery as well as how it was being distributed throughout the town.

Sophia skimmed the pile of reports in front of her again, deep in thought. Among the stack, was a medical report. The handwriting nearly illegible, but she understood the main points. The symptoms of the drug were typical, nothing out of the ordinary for any other kind of drug abuse. “This report states that this information comes postmortem.” Sophia said, meeting the golden gaze of the Red Army doctor.

Kyle nodded his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips as a silent welcome. Their shared history to remain a secret from either army. “We’ve yet to find anyone still alive. It’s mostly speculation gained from those who witnessed the man die.”

Giving a hum as her thoughts took over again, she fell silent. A new drug could cause various problems. She dealt with plenty of patients who had been on different medications and abused them.

“Ya figure somethin’ out, Sophia?” Fenrir called, bringing her attention back up from the documents.

All eyes fell on her once again.

Turning her head to address Ray, she tapped her fingers against the papers. “I would have to check our patient files, but I may have treated someone matching these symptoms. His wife said he had tried to overdose on pain killers, but it never presented as that.”

“What makes you think that it’s this drug and not some other cause?” Sirius asked.

She gave a sigh, eyes dropping back down to the report. “Someone described this man as rabid.” Her finger traced across the scribbled words. “And the patient I treated had been foaming at the mouth. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“And he’s alive?” Kyle questioned, suddenly more interested in this investigation. His role limited by only being able to provide medical support, he could help her re-examine the man and possibly gain a new lead.

“Yes, and his records should hold his address.” It would take some time to pull the file. Maybe with the help of her coworkers, someone could remember his name. He’d been a first-time patient, probably a last resort to even come there.

Ray waited for her to finish before beginning to issue orders. “Sophia, find out what you can from this man, take Luka with you. We should begin canvassing the territories, asking about anyone having this new symptom.”

“Kyle will accompany her as well. Since we will be working together to find the source of this drug trade, having an open line of communication between our armies is pivotal. Do you disagree, young king?” Lancelot asked, though he wasn’t truly asking for permission.

She’d hadn’t the need for a bodyguard. Visiting an old patient shouldn’t cause any trouble for her. “It’s the middle of the night. I doubt anyone will be willing to talk at this hour.” The moon cast an ominous light over them.

An agreed upon time to meet in Central Quarter ended the long meeting. The unusual dispersal of the leaders intrigued her. At least this group could be civil about something. Intent on returning to the clinic for the remainder of the night, her name being called out brought her to a halt.

“Are ya headed to search for the file?” Fenrir jogged over to her, having been waiting at the fountain for her to come down.

Sophia nodded in response. “I have a shift to complete. Patients don’t stop coming simply because the moon is out.” Most nights, they did not have quite as many patients, but there was still some trickling in, and many who needed overnight care.

Fenrir broke out in a wide grin. “Mind if I join ya?”

“Why?”

Her question made the Ace of Spades start laughing, and he smacked her on the shoulder. “Because I want to escort you to make sure you make it, and ya might need some help searching for that file.” He put his hand on her lower back, pushing her to walk with him.

Fenrir chatted happily, the one-sided conversation not bothering him at all. He didn’t pry into her life, really all he talked about was the army and how excited they all were to have a new and more capable doctor. The walk back to the clinic seemed to pass quickly.

All eyes were on the man beside her, some nurses at the station nearly drooling. They introduced themselves, Fenrir greeting each one with a warm smile and booming laughter at their jokes. Unlike Edgar, Sophia thought that he genuinely exuded charm.

“My princess returns. Did you enjoy your trip to the magical Garden atop the Civic Center?” Carter rounded the corner, a stack of files in his hand. He set the on the counter, already intrigued by the Ace of Spades just a few feet away.

Sophia completely ignored him. “Kayla, can you help us locate a file? That man who came with the overdose, that was foaming at the mouth, I need his file.” It could take half the night to find the right person.

Kayla took a break from swooning over Fenrir to give Sophia a proper response. “Of course. Oh, and Sophia? He’s been asking for you. Apparently, the news of you leaving the clinic reached him.” Her voice low, as not to let anyone else hear their conversation.

Sophia sighed, but a smile fell across her lips. “He isn’t going to need to mope for long.” She stepped away from the counter, continuing down the hallway to the room at the very end. Peering inside, she found the eight-year-old fast asleep. It brought a soft smile to her lips. Sophia promised silently to tell him the good news in the morning.

The door closed quietly. Sophia moved on to the records room, opening a box of files. “Are you just going to stare at me all night?” She asked, without once looking at the person looming in the doorway. His silence prompted her to address him properly. “Kyle, you didn’t have to follow me here.”

“You can’t search all these files alone. The Ace of Spades is surrounded by nurses, and he wouldn’t know how to read a medical file anyways,” Kyle said, leaning against the doorframe. His gaze fell away from her, an awkward tension filling the space between them. “How… have you been?”

Sophia flipped open a file, but the words on the page were blurred. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”                                                                                                                          

Her shoulders rose and fell under a heavy breath. “Are you?”

The two had hardly spoken in years, only in passing whenever pleasantries were exchanged. Sophia sat back on her heels, finally turning to look at him. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, seeing him rustled those buried emotions within her. “No one knows; and I want to keep it that way. Understand? We’re practically strangers—”

“I get it.” The Seven of Hearts cut her off, his expression twisted in pain from her words. “Not a soul will hear of our history. I promise, but don’t push me away.” All his attempts to reach out to her ended in failure, every letter unreturned, but still he sent them.

Sophia slid a box across the floor to him. “Make yourself useful.”

“Soph-”

“Don’t reopen that wound, Kyle. Neither of us will live through it a second time.” She silenced the other doctor with those words. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget that day. It lingered in her heart, stinging each time she gave it attention. Should the gate be opened to that fateful day, Sophia expected that she could not survive.

More good Sophia to come! It’s still up in the air who she going to end up with! Thanks for reading!

[kamechan98]

Just Stay With Me Forever

Having lived in the 21st century for a few years now, Steve could say with his hand on his heart that things were better here. There was so much better food, no need to boil everything and spare every little crumb you could find because of lack of money, though the habit to save food and not waste too much food still hadn’t really left him, and probably never would. God, he would never get over the wastefulness of this century. Polio being almost entirely gone and vaccines preventing it was fantastic, and of course the Internet. Nowadays information was so much easier to come by these days, much better than having to look everything up in books or newspapers.

Seriously, thank God for Google.

But the best part of this new future was without a doubt his new friends and this kooky, slightly dysfunctional little family they had built together since the Battle of New York. And sure, they had been awkward around each other at first, even after Tony had generously opened up his home to them all with suits made to suit them all individually and doing all he could to make them feel at home. It had taken time for them all to feel comfortable around each other, to feel like friends more than a group of very different and strong-willed people forced to work together. But, against all odds it seemed, they’d eventually managed to make a connection and become a team. And Steve was really thankful that they were now seeing him less like Captain America; Legendary Hero and American Symbol, and more like Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn who liked to try new foods, movies and books, had a dry sense of humor and wasn’t anywhere as sensitive and delicate concerning homosexuality or feminism or other such political subjects that seemed taboo these days.

Natasha and Steve in particular had become really close. Natasha still had moments of acting cold, to all of them besides Clint really, but they both found things to bond over, as they both felt a little isolated in the world due to their pasts, and while she obviously knew more about the 21st century than him, they could sit and talk about books, movies, pop culture, history, politics and other subjects that helped Steve learn more about this new world.

Bruce was fairly easy to befriend. Just as long as you didn’t go out of your way to provoke him, disturb him while he was working in his lab or mess with his personal items, he was friendly enough and probably the most patient with Steve when he didn’t understand a reference or asked too many questions about a subject, which something he could definitely spot in even Natasha’s unreadable facial expressions at times. He also started to relax more around them all and seemed much more comfortable and secure in his own skin than he had been when they’d first met on the Helicarrier.

Clint was Clint. He, just like Tony, had moments of being inappropriate and rude and kind of an ass. He liked to pull pranks on his teammates and sometimes didn’t think before he spoke, but he was a very good friend. While he had taken more a shine to Tony and Thor, and he and Natasha clearly had a strong relationship even before they joined the Avengers, he and Steve got a long pretty well. And he had certain brutal honesty that Steve appreciated from time to time; given how some people still seemed to walk on eggshells around him when trying to explain things to him. Clint had treated him like he treated everyone around him, right from the start. Steve very much appreciated this.

Thor was very easy to like. It seemed everyone on the team seemed to like Thor, almost impossible not to enjoy his company. There was just something in the way he talked and acted, with such a passion and genuine joy that it sometimes left Steve wondering if Thor was a God or a golden retriever that somehow had turned into a human. He was always enthusiastic about learning more about ‘Midgardian culture’ and took genuine interest in everything that he found, from video games to movies to Skype, so he could remain in contact with his ‘ Dearest Lady Jane’ while she was still working in New Mexico. And in all honesty, it felt good that there was someone else on the team who still had things to learn about this world, and not just Steve. It gave him someone to talk to about it and discuss new things with who understood.

And then, of course, there was Tony Stark. To say that he and Tony had gotten a rocky start would be an understatement. Even after they apologized for their harsh words on the Helicarrier, there was just something about Tony that had rubbed Steve the wrong way. There was just something about his attitude, this air of I-don’t-give-a-fuck that irked him a little. That Tony seemed to think he could do whatever he wanted and didn’t care about the consequences. That he didn’t have to listen to orders or directions or ideas from others, because ‘Fuck you, I’m Tony Stark, I do whatever I want’. And it didn’t help that they were oil and water and would get into arguments after every mission.

But, as time went on and they got to know each other better, he started to see Tony, rather than Tony Stark. The Tony who was caring and loyal and generous, just as he was infuriating and obnoxious and an asshole. Who had kept everyone at arm’s length for weeks and had taken a bit of coaxing to bring out of his shell, but tried so hard to hide that he was nervous or unsure around them all. Who tried so hard to hide that was caring and generous and kept up a façade of unlikable, narcissistic asshole who wasn’t a team player, despite ample evidence to the contrary.

Tony Stark who’d, despite Steve’s many attempts to make the stubborn bastard leave him alone to wallow in his own pain and anger and grief by his lonesome, refused to take no for an answer and stubbornly kept at it and eventually managed to break through Steve’s tough walls and sneak his way into his heart.

Tony Stark, who Steve loved with all his heart.

So yeah, living in the future wasn’t so bad anymore.

Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t have bad days. Days when he’d wake up from nightmares about the ice, the dark cold surrounding him and leaving him unable to breathe. Nightmares of Bucky falling off the train and to his death in the mountains, just barely missing Steve’s hand trying to catch him and save him. Or dreams of Peggy and how his life could’ve looked like if he hadn’t been forced to fly the Valkyrie into the ice and had been able to try to have a life with her. Or if he’d just been able to live in the 40’s if the war had never happened at all. Maybe he could’ve just gone to art school, gotten a job drawing comics or something, met a dame and they could’ve had a simple life together. No fighting in a war, no super-soldier serum, no crashing into the ice and being thawed out against his will several decades later. No being forced to live in a world that wasn’t his anymore. And after he woke up from these dreams or nightmares, the dark thoughts barging in uninvited into his brain and wouldn’t leave him alone, sometimes for days on end.

On days like that, when he’s dark thoughts just refused to leave him alone, he’d spend them one of two ways. Either he’d stay in his room and refuse to come out, even for food or water, or he’d be in the gym for hours on end to try and fight off those invasive thoughts, until the equipment broke or he collapsed from hunger or physical and mental exhaustion. Usually both.

His friends, to their credit, tried their best to help him when he had these days. Natasha and Bruce had been very vocal about him talking to a doctor and maybe getting some anti-depressants or other medication or help to deal with these thoughts better, and Clint and Thor tried their best to pull him out of his funks by trying to include him in fun games or activities, like playing video games, watch movies or try to play games with the whole team. And while Steve appreciated their attempts and intentions, he usually just wanted to be left alone one days like these, and sometime the team just didn’t seem or want to understand.

That was except for Tony.

Tony, more than most people, understood the feeling of wanting to be alone with your thoughts and distracting yourself or dealing with them in your own ways, on your own terms. That when you have dark thoughts or felt depressed to the point of not wanting to eat or get out of bed, the last thing you want is for people to shove their advice or help down your throat or try to drag you away from your feelings. Now, that didn’t stop him from bringing him food to their room or the gym and drag him away from whatever he was doing so he could at least eat a sandwich or a few slices or pizza or some soup, or even coaxing him into coming out of join the team for movie night or dinner, just to distract him from his thoughts, if only for an hour or so. And once Steve was out of his funks and ‘functioned properly again’ he’d say that Steve’s coping mechanisms weren’t healthy and he might need help, but at least then, he were a little bit more open to the ideas, if only a little.

And truth be told, Tony was the only person- except Natasha maybe - who could successfully get him out of these funks, if only for a short moment at a time. And while he had learned when to back off when Steve said no and didn’t push until Steve lashed out- that had happened once or twice and Tony knew Steve desperately didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all him- Steve had a certain weakness for Tony. That’s not to say that he always agreed, sometimes he just wanted to be left alone, with Jarvis playing music he recognized from his time or movies from his time and maybe eat some ice cream or candy while doing it.

Though sometimes… well, very often actually, Tony would stay with him. He’d join him in the gym, either to work out himself or just to keep Steve company or sit down next to Steve on their bed, cuddle up to him and stay there for as long as Steve wanted him to. Which, nine times out of ten, ended with both of them falling asleep in each other’s arms. Sometimes, if they were watching a movie, they’d fall asleep before it was over.

It had happened so many times at this point that it was almost like they followed a script, like the words needed to be said, if only because they always said them, but they weren’t needed anymore. Whether it be when Tony woke up beside him while he was crying, or came in with a tray of food for him while he was listening to Sinatra, or when he was pounding the stuffing out of his punching bag in the gym with a snack and some water, Tony always seemed to know when Steve would want him to stay or go, but he always asked, regardless if he knew what the answer would be.

“Do you want me to leave? Do you need to be alone right now?”

And Steve’s response was often, if not always, to pull Tony into his arms and hold him, tight enough to feel him against his own body, warm and real and alive, but always careful so he wouldn’t hurt him. He’d kiss his boyfriend’s cheek, nose, eyelids, hair and everything else he could reach, and then press his face into the crook of Tony’s neck and whisper as the tears started to fall.

“No. Just… please, stay with me Tony. Stay with me.” Tony always nodded into his neck and tightened his hold around his shoulders.

“Always. I’ll stay exactly for as long as you want me too.”

Steve usually doesn’t respond with anything after that; only tightens his grip on Tony and lets himself cry into his boyfriend’s shoulder. But he always thinks the same time.

‘Stay with me forever, honey. I love you so much, and this future wouldn't be half as bearable without you.’

[fusion-ego]

So... 2019, huh?

((LONG post ahead!))

This year has really been something, hasn’t it? I had to quit my second job ever because of my back problems (along with other shit lol), I hardly wrote anything all year, and I started in on my Bachelor’s degree. I moved 1600 miles cross-country to Arizona and I’ve been down here for six months now! I had to leave my Markiplier Nudes Calendar™ back in Illinois because I forgot to take it off my wall before I left and it probably got thrown away by the landlord :c, I let my parents borrow a credit card for the move down here and went into debt as a result of almost single-handedly financing the move, had several breakdowns, and despite my best attempts I haven’t been able to get a job yet, but I’m still trying!

A lot of things happened this year.

I turned 20.

I started liking myself again after years of literally hating myself and that quickly advanced to me loving myself again. Turns out I’m pretty cool, even if I am annoying as fuck.

Turns out that having primarily depressive episodes and not having the motivation or desire to take care of myself doesn’t make me any less of a person. It doesn’t make my struggles invalid just because I’m the one not taking care of myself. It turns out, taking care of yourself is fucking hard sometimes, especially if the combined symptoms of your mental and physical ailments put you in a position where everything feels like too much.

It also turns out that taking care of yourself is difficult when you’ve spent your entire life (or at least the parts where you actually had friends) putting all of the wants and needs of your friends and loved ones above your own.

Taking care of yourself is hard when you were raised to be The Strong One, who doesn’t break down and who doesn’t have any issues, thanks. The one who, sure, they haven’t showered in a week and they feel like crap because they haven’t eaten, but you don’t need to know that! You just go eat and take a shower, hun, The Strong One is okay.

It took until this year for me to learn that being The Strong One didn’t mean I couldn’t break down sometimes. It didn’t mean I couldn’t take time for myself and that I had to be available all the time for my friends. Setting boundaries has been a learning experience for me and everyone else in my friend group, I think. I think I’ve cried more this year than I have since I was a kid, and you know what that is? Growth.

And honestly, I’ve really gotta thank my lovely fiance @goreyglitches for some of that. I am petrified of crying when anyone can see or hear me. I was raised to be The Strong One and The Strong One doesn’t cry. I conditioned myself to not be a “crybaby” and to never, ever, ever cry. And I know that’s bad - repressing negative emotions just makes it worse in the long-run. I figured that out with anger and tried to fix it long before I tried to fix the crying issue, and this year? This year Tobi’s helped a lot. I trust him, and I feel safe with him, so when he shuts the door and pulls the covers over us and holds me and tells me it’s okay to cry, I cry. And I am so grateful to him for that I don’t think I even have words.

And @ashencreations has been a wonderful friend this year, as always, even if both of us have been having issues this year. They’ve, I think, been one of the people I vented to the absolute most and they’ve been a real peach about it and even if I don’t have a whole lot of energy to talk sometimes (most of the time) they still love me and are accommodating of my issues. That’s pretty cool! I know a lot of people who can’t talk to people they’ve dated in the past and I have to admit I wouldn’t have been surprised if we fell out this year, but here we are - finishing another year as best friends. They let me have my space and they check in to make sure I’ve eaten and slept and showered. And I try to do the same but my check-ins have been a little lackluster this year while I find my boundaries so oops for that. I’ll try harder next year!

And really, I have to thank everyone who’s stuck with me through this year. My friends and my followers and even just folks who know me because I’m mutuals with someone they’re friends with - all of you. I know this year has sucked and I’ve been really annoying and I’m constantly asking for money, so thank you for sticking around. I’m trying to get back into the old swing of things and I’ve put in about a billion applications and I’m in University, can you believe that? You guys being patient even when I’m annoying has been really helpful. This is especially true of the folks in Lexi’s server who have to see me venting all the time. Y’all are darlings and I’m sorry I keep dragging my shit in there lmao I’ll try not to so much next year.

I’m especially thankful, though, I think, of the people who are still with me after so many years of knowing me. Like Ran and Ness and Zare and Comedy and even Em, even if we don’t talk. I mean, Em probably the most - she knew me when I was such a shithead that it’s kinda laughable now and yet she’s willing to be mutuals with me now. That’s pretty funny. (Hey, Em, guess who’s still trying to figure out how to write that TMNT thing and make it as interesting as the original idea was?) And of course I’ve known Comedy since elementary school but we didn’t really get close until high school and then I dropped off the face of the earth for like a year lol but she’s been a peach the whole time I’ve known her. And Ran’s been around for a while, we’ve known each other long enough that he probably still remembers when I went by Al. And Ness, who doesn’t have tumblr to my knowledge, well I’ve known her since diapers and she’s going to be the Maid of Honor at mine and Tobi’s wedding when we have the money to do a real ceremony - I would have filled that place at her wedding, too, if her sister-in-law wasn’t a needy bitch who had to have that position or she’d pitch a fit and ruin the entire wedding. And like, don’t even get me started on Zare, who was there when I was the worst shithead I’ve ever been and somehow still likes me even all these years later. I introduced myself to this man as Prussia, y’all. I introduced myself to him as a fallen kingdom because it was easier to pronounce than my legal name.

(It may have also been because I was into Hetalia and projected onto the character really hard because of all the “I’m awesome!” and thought it would help me be more confident, and also perhaps because my legal name being mispronounced led to a lot of people knowing me as a different fallen kingdom so it was a haha funny joak to me)

Also, this year, a certain vine-man turned youtube-man made a video that really, really spoke to me. Thomas introducing Remus and having an entire episode about intrusive thoughts and ‘bad’ creativity was - it meant a lot to me. Because since 2018, when I started writing Ego stuff, I haven’t... Well, I used to write a lot of dark stuff, y’all. I wrote violent shit because I wanted to and it was kinda just my Thing™. But after I started writing Ego stuff I started feeling like that was problematic, like it was a bad thing that I wanted to write nasty stuff like that. No one did anything to make me think that! It was just that, well, that kind of violence just... Seemed out of place. I’ve been in the process of writing a 146K+ word, 43 chapter fic containing ritualistic cannibalism, murder, unsafe sex, and various other nasty things since 2017 and I spent a terrifying amount of time feeling... Bad for that last year and this year. I’ve had to re-learn that it’s okay to write nasty stuff (no matter the moral issues other people take with it) because exploring not-so-great things in fic, especially to cope, is one of the many points of writing fic. And I’ll be honest, my dumpster fire fic was something I was writing to get through my associate’s degree because it was a new and terrifying experience and the prominent theme of running away was a feeling I was dealing with in tandem at the time. Remus’ introduction reminded me that dealing with intrusive thoughts and exploring the ‘bad’ creativity doesn’t make me a bad person, it just means I have nasty ideas and even the best people can have those. At least I can turn them into something I’m proud of writing.

So, going forward, I’m not going to shy away from writing my nasty stuff, and in 2020 I’m going to try and finish Trial and Error. I haven’t updated it since August, 2018, guys, it needs a new chapter.

And on that note, I don’t usually make New Years’ Resolutions. I never saw the point in the past and it wasn’t something super encouraged by anyone around me, so it never seemed important. But I’m making a resolution this year.

Over the years and years of writing, I’ve encountered something I think every writer encounters - I stopped writing. Now, I’m not saying I don’t write. Obviously I do, and have been, for a long time. I’m saying I don’t write like I used to. In 2013/2014 I wrote a 36-chapter Sly Cooper fic featuring an OC that still gets hits to this day, and I wrote it over the course of three months. I started it in November 2013 and it was done and put aside by the third of January 2014. It’s still one of my favorites! But the chapters are short, the storyline needs work, I didn’t spellcheck anything or even remotely try to keep my timeline completely straight. It was the first multi-chapter story exceeding 10 chapters that I ever finished. I wrote a chapter a day, as long as I was capable of doing so, I posted it, and I never looked back. It’s not a great story, but it’s one of my favorites. I loved it then and I love it now. And that’s something I don’t do anymore! When a fic doesn’t live up to my expectations, I don’t love it like I love that old fic, which did not at all live up to my expectations. My perfectionism has developed over the years and it has killed my creativity. I can still make cool stuff, can still make things I like, but it’s not the same anymore.

So my resolution is, in 2020, I’m going to write.

I’m going to write like I used to, but I’m going to put all of my experience into it.

I started writing in 2008 or 2009, maybe even before that - if I can recapture the love I had for it then, then I will be in great shape. I didn’t spellcheck back then and frankly I kinda sucked at writing even in 2013/2014, but if I can love writing like I did then and put all of what I’ve learned into it? Holy shit. I mean, I’ve been rewriting that old Sly Cooper fic for the past couple weeks, so it’s not exactly a mystery how much better things will turn out if I pour my much better spelling and grammar, my better ideas, my better commitment, into my fics going forward. All I need to make them great is to love doing it.

So in 2020, I’m going to write.

2019 has been a wild ride, and I’ve written less than half of what I wrote in 2018, not even counting all of my Ego requests for either year. I’ve spent the last three days in a mad dash to reach 100K written this year on AO3 by writing 30K before midnight tonight. I have 5K left! But even breaching 100K I won’t be halfway there. In 2018 I wrote 225.6K on AO3, not counting Ego stuff. And I think that’s because I haven’t loved doing it like I used to - the fact that I’ve loved the fic I started in order to make my “30K by tonight” goal and I haven’t let myself have enough time to agonize over whether it’s “good” or not has a lot of effect on how much I’ve written. My wordcount per hour has, like, doubled because I actually wanted to work. So I’ll reach my goal by tonight and still have time to celebrate at midnight.

So, again, thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me through this crazy year. Things haven’t been great, I’ll be honest, but I’m hoping next year will be better. They’re already off to a good start - my dad and I have a plan for him to start paying me back for how much money we spent moving here, and if I can get a job it’ll only get easier and it’ll only get better. And on top of that me and Tobi have plans to legalize our Marriage™ in September. It won’t be anything big - we’re waiting to have a real ceremony until we have the money to make sure Zare and Ness and Ran can come. But if all goes well, on 9/20/20 we’ll have the legal shit sorted out and Tobi will officially be my husband so that’s just another thing to be looking forward to.

Happy New Year, y’all! Hope you all have a good one. I speak a good 2020 into existence and I won’t stop until I get it.