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helen-with-an-a · 12 days

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I am an adult pt 4

Hi. So this is pt 4 of the I am an adult. I really liked writing it and hope you enjoy it too. I definitely want to do a 5th part but I'm not sure about how many more after that I will do (if you get what I mean). Also, all of the German and Spanish is from google/google translate so if it's wrong, I apologise

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4

Description: Lena gets the talk

Word Count: 4.1k

TW: Slight smut (undescribed/suggestive rather than outright)

You weren’t used to waiting at airports for people. Usually, you were the one who was walking off the plane to visit friends and family. But you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up – just thinking about who would be walking through the door made you smile. You didn’t quite know the protocol for meeting your long-distance girlfriend off a flight. You were nervous about it – wanting to do it right. You may have gotten into a bit of a TikTok wormhole over couples reuniting; most people went with flowers and a sign, but you were staying in an unfamiliar city for both of you, and you did have a match to play. It was something you agonised over for days before the arrival. Having consulted an unhelpful Ona, a laughing Patri and an amused Jana, you settled on asking Alexia. That was an adult thing to talk about, right?

“Um … Ale, can I … can I ask you something?” You said as you curled up on her sofa.

“Of course, pequeña. Esta todo bien?”

“Yeh, um … it’s about Lena, actually” That might have been a bad way to phrase it. Alexia’s face dropped, her gaze becoming a little icy.

“Que hizo ella?” Her voice was just as cold.

“Nothing, nothing, prometo.” You reassured her. “I wanted to ask you what to get her for the airport,” you explained quietly, a little apprehensive over her response.

“Oh, cariño.” Alexia cooed, pulling her legs up to tuck underneath her as she twisted to face you, her hand reaching along the back of the sofa to pick at the corner of the cushion. “Honestly, I don’t think she’d be expecting anything. I certainly wouldn’t if Olga and I met somewhere in the middle.” Her look softened even more as you nodded furiously, eyes locked on her patterned carpet. She could see you sag ever so slightly – clearly, you wanted to get Lena something. “I think, if you really want to get her something,” she continued, smiling as you perked up at her response. “You could do something small – like a … ugh, what’s the word …” She was so fluent in English you often forgot that it was technically her third language. “It’s small and fluffy; you give it to niñas,” she clicked frantically, clearly trying hard to remember. “Un oso de peluche,” she sighed, wracking her brain to remember the English word.

“A teddy bear?” You asked, helping her out slightly.

“Sí, sí, a teddy bear. You could get her one of those? It would be small enough for her to pack away when she travels, and it is something she can keep with her when she’s back in Germany.” You smiled at her suggestion – nodding happily at her words.

The day was finally here. You were finally seeing Lena again. Madrid airport was a little struggle to navigate but you stood, buzzing with excitement, as you waited at arrivals. You looked down at the goodies you had with you – a little bag filled with a very cute and very fluffy teddy bear, some Spanish sweets, and an iced coffee in your hand. You had also packed a few extra jumpers to sneak into Lena’s bag before she left.

L💚: Just got through passport control and stuff

L💚: I’ll be maybe 5/10 more mins

[Initial] ❤️💙: eeeeeeeeeeeeee

[Initial] ❤️💙: ok – I’m like right by the exit

[Initial] ❤️💙: turn left when u walk through it and im by the pillar post thingy

5 to 10 more minutes … you could do that. With every passing minute, your excitement and anticipation grew. It had been a long few months without Lena by your side. Yes, you texted every day; Yes, you Facetimed 5 times a week minimum; but seeing her in person, being able to hug her and hold her and kiss her and smell her and touch her and … you couldn’t be more excited.

“Hola, mi amor.” Very poorly pronounced Spanish whispered to you as strong, familiar arms wrapped around your waist.

“Lena,” you squealed, clearly having missed her walk up – far too much in your own head.

“mmmm, ich habe dich vermisst,” she sighed happily as you twisted in her grip to hug her tightly. She was warm and soft and smelt of cinnamon.

“I’ve mis- no, wait,” you cut yourself off. She tilted her head to the side, drawing back to look at you. “Ich habe dich auch so sehr vermisst,” you stumbled slightly but the big, wide grin on Lena’s face told you, you had said it right.

“Can I kiss you, Schatz?” she asked gently. You blinked slightly, not expecting her to ask you that in such a public space. “I, we, don’t have to. It’s just it’s been so long, and,” she rushed to get out, hating the fact that she had made you even the smallest bit uncomfortable.

“Liebe,” you cut her off, waiting until she looked at you before you continued. When her warm chocolate eyes met yours, you struggled not to float away in them. “Please, kiss me.” You smiled as she let out a breath of relief. You met halfway, and it was just as perfect as all the other kisses you two had shared, if not more so after such a long time apart.

“As …” she cleared her throat as she pulled away slightly. “As much as I want to continue. We should get going … but later, ich verspreche.” She vowed and picked her bag up off the floor. And extending her hand for you to take.

“No, wait, gimme that.” You gestured for her bag, forcing it from her when she hesitated to hand it over. “Also, these are for you,” you said with a proud smile, giving her the now slightly watery coffee and bag of goodies.

“Schatz, you shouldn’t have.” She began, but you shook your head, denying her the chance to complain. You stuck your tongue out at her, intertwined your fingers and pulled her towards the exit.

Taking the metro back to your hotel reminded you a lot of your first date. Lena looking slightly puzzled over the Spanish being spoken all around you. On your first date, you had shyly stood next to her, closer than two friends would be not enough to make her feel uncomfortable, and quietly translated a bit of the conversation between two girls nearby; you added the voices to differentiate between the two girls and jokingly copied any actions they did. This time, you let her lean against you, one arm sneaking around her waist to fiddle with the belt loops on her jeans and the other holding tightly onto the handrail. Her head dropped into your neck, muttering something in German.

“What was that, Liebe?” You asked softly, mindful that your mouth was quite close to her ear despite the busy train.

“Müde,” she said again into your neck. It took you a minute to sift through the German in your head. You pouted when you finally understood what she was saying. She was tired. That you could understand, travelling was difficult when you understood the language, let alone one where you landed in a country where the language was entirely different and almost no familiarity to yours. You pressed a chaste kiss to her hairline, hoping to comfort her a little.

“Naw,” you cooed. "It’s okay. We’re almost back to the hotel. We can have a nap if you want,” you pressed another kiss to her head. "But Alexia says she has to see you at some point tonight,” you reminded her.

“Forgot ‘bout Alexia,” she whined tiredly, her grip tightening on you.

“I’m sorry, Liebe. I promise she won’t be too harsh or scary. I know she can come off a bit..." you struggled for the right word. “Intense? But I promise she’s really sweet.”

You finally made it to your stop, and you filtered off the train, fingers laced together so neither of you got lost (mainly Lena, as she didn’t know a lick of Spanish). Just as you were walking up the steps outside, a flustered woman appeared next to you.

“Lamento mucho molestarte. Pero estoy intentando llegar al aeropuerto y tienes una maleta. Sabes cómo conseguirlos?” The flurry of Spanish through you off for a second as you had been conversing in English almost all day.

“No, no te preocupes en absoluto. Um, sólo necesitas …” As you explained the directions to the woman, Lena couldn’t help but watch in awe. She knew you could speak Spanish – you lived in Spain, you played for Barcelona, and she’d seen you talking in Spanish on the football pitch. Hell, the first time she had met you, you were finishing a conversation in Spanish with the film and media crews. It had done something to her then, and it was doing something to her now, too. She couldn’t understand a word of what you were saying, but the accent, the rapid words, the hand gestures, your kind smile … she suddenly wasn’t as tired as she felt on the train.

“Sorry, Liebe,” you said as you finished, waving to the woman as she sped down the steps towards the platform. She was asking about getting to the airport—she had seen your bag and guessed we had just come from there.” You explained, taking her (now slightly clammy) hand and leading her towards your hotel.

The hotel room was big and welcoming, a large bed in the centre with your things thrown haphazardly across it called to Lena as she walked through the door. She left her stuff by the wall and flopped heavily down, sighing at the softness that surrounded her. You looked at her from your vantage point by the door. Her top had ridden up, exposing her abs slightly, her biceps were on full display, and the veins in her arms rippled slightly as she twisted her fingers in the bedding underneath her. She was doing things to you – maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex a good few months (it was currently the longest you had ever gone without since you started having sex); maybe it was because she looked so at home amongst your things; perhaps it was the fact that your girlfriend was finally within touching distance. You also realised you didn’t quite care enough to figure it out.

“Incoming,” you yelled as you launched yourself at her.

“Oof,” she huffed, her breath leaving her body as your weight settled on top of her, both of you laughing quietly at your behaviour.

“Hi,” you smiled at her, arms either side of her head, legs straddling her hips.

“Hi,” she smiled back, lift her hands to stroke her thumbs across your exposed skin.

“I…” should you say it? “I’ve missed you,” you chicken out from what you really wanted to say. You knew you told her at the airport that you missed her, but you needed her to know just how much her absence affected you.

“I’m sorry.” She knew the distance was difficult for both of you. You shook your head, refusing to let her think that this was her fault.

“No, there’s nothing that can be done at the moment. I’m at Barca; you’re at Wolfsburg. It is what it is.” You shrugged, hoping it would ease her sadness a little. “But … you’re here now, we have this weekend. And that is all that matters.” You smiled, the wide, soft smile full of love and tenderness that only Lena got to see often. You felt rather than saw Lena crane her neck up to try to kiss you; your smile shifted into a cheeky grin as you pulled back just out of her reach. She stopped looking at you offendedly.

“Nuh, uh, uh,” you teased, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I...” You kiss her forehead. This was your chance. “Missed.” You kissed her cheek, backing out again. “You.” You kissed her other cheek.

“And I’ve missed you, Schatz.” Her hands left your waist, coming up to cradle your face, holding to exactly where she wanted. She waited a few moments, letting her eyes scan your face, trying to commit everything to memory (even though she had already done that well before you left Germany at New Year’s). “So much,” she whispered as she finally tugged you down to meet her lips.

The kiss started out slow, sweet and tender, as your love was poured into it. As you parted, her darkened eyes roamed your body, one hand cementing itself in your hair, tugging lightly as the other moved to trace along the waistband of your shorts. Your kisses weren’t a battle for dominance, but you were falling into a pattern of give and take that was uniquely yours. Your top was the first to come off, hers following not too long afterwards. Buttons were undone, drawstrings loosened and more clothing adding to the mess on the floor. Her hands grasped at any available flesh as your fingers slipped inside. Dark spots were bitten into supple skin, moans were melodies as you rediscovered each other.

“Don’t stop,” You panted into her skin as she guided you to the brink of ecstasy.

“Never,” came her reply, equally as breathless.

“What happened to being tired?” You laughed as she snuggled into your side, her once-eager fingers tracing light shapes into your skin. She groaned at your teasing, pressing more weight onto you. You fiddled with her hair as you waited for an explanation.

“Dein Spanisch. Mit dieser Dame am Bahnhof … Es hat etwas mit mir gemacht” You didn’t understand it fully. Spanish … train station? You were a little confused.

“Sorry, I got something about my Spanish and the lady at the train station. What was the last bit?” You were trying to learn German, but you had started with the most practical things – the greetings, stuff that happened in daily life, cheesy lines you could say to Lena to make her blush.

“Um … it’s a bit embarrassing, really … you were speaking Spanish to that lady at the station,” she blushed profusely. You just smiled, letting your fingers comb through the mess her hair had become. “Es war wirklich sexy.” Your grin doubled in size. So, you speaking Spanish turned her on? That was useful to know.

“Well,” you said after a moment of silence. “If me giving directions to the airport is sexy, you should hear me when I say something truly seductive,” you teased, squeezing her gently as she buried her head in your neck again.

“Mmmm, déjame pensar. Cuando llegue a casa, debo acordarme de llamar al administrador del edificio.” You laughed as you felt her blush, the new heat obvious against your skin. You also couldn’t help but notice the slight shift of Lena’s hips against your thigh. “Liebe, I just said I needed to call my building manager – that is not sexy.” She pulled away from your skin.

“Uh, everything you do is sexy,” she countered. “Say something else? Something that’s actually hot,” she begged, ignoring your teasing smile, and raised eyebrow.

“Hm, vale, vale,” you wracked your brains, trying to think of something that you actually considered sexual. “Quiero que me tengas en todas las formas que quieras. Quiero destrozarte una y otra y otra vez.” You usually weren’t that explicit about your wants, but you were reliant on Lena not really knowing what you were saying. Lena was gobsmacked. She had not a clue what you had just said but the way you had said it – the slight rasp in your voice, the rosy hue to your skin, the sticky sheen of sweat, the hickeys she had sucked into your skin. She rolled you over, balancing above you as her legs slotted between yours.

“Redonda Dos?” You asked. She knew enough Spanish for that.

Just as things were getting interesting again, your door swung up.

“Y/N? ¿Estás aquí? Ale te ha estado enviando mensajes de texto toda la tar -” Ona cut herself off with a shrill scream.

“Me arden los ojos.” She gagged dramatically. “Ew, mis ojos.”

“Oni, qué carajo en realidad?” You shouted back, dragging the duvet up to cover the both of you.

“Do you want to introduce me?” She grinned evilly.

“No, get out!” You glowered at her. When she made no effort to move, you threw a pillow at her.

“Ale says to come to her room.” You flicked your finger at her, letting her know your displeasure. Turning uour attention was fixed back on Lena, you heard her cackling outside.

“Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße. Alexia wird mich töten. Ich bin tot. Ich werde sterben. Ich hatte praktisch Sex mit ihrer kleinen Schwester. Oh, mein Gott. Ich werde sterben. Fuck.” Lena was panicking – real, genuine anxiety spread throughout her chest as she sat up against the pillows.

“Liebe, it’s ok,” you soothed, grabbing one hand in yours and swinging your other arm across her shoulders. “Liebe?” you tried again.

“Alexia is going to kill me.” Lena said, looking into your eyes for what she genuinely thought might be the final time.

“No, she won’t.” You smiled softly, not wanting to laugh at Lena’s ridiculousness. “I won’t let her,” you vowed, squeezing her hand tight in promise. “Now, we should probably get some clothes on and head to Ale’s room.”

As you reached for your hoodie, your world darkened suddenly as fabric landed on your head. You lifted it up to reveal a very familiar Adidas hoodie, turning back to see a sheepish Lena.

“How did that get there?” She asked innocently.

“I don’t know, Liebe. How did it get there?” You played along. “There’s only one Adidas athlete in this room, and it’s not me.” She shrugged, snatching your Barca hoodie out of your reach.

“I don’t know, Schatz. But it looks like it’s your only hoodie, and I want you to stay warm.” She was a terrible actor.

“If you wanted me to wear your clothes, you could have just asked,” you laughed as you slipped on the material, getting slightly lost as you tried to find the head hole. You heard a sigh and footsteps before the fabric was rearranged on you as your head burst through the top.

“Guten Tag,” you beamed at her.

“Hallo, Schatz,” she smiled at you before stealing a kiss. You hummed gently, allowing yourself to melt into her just slightly.

“Vamos, vamos.” You spun her around to face the door. “Let’s not keep Ale waiting,” you laughed and tapped her on the bum to get her moving.

Alexia’s room was exactly the same as yours – a wide, comforting bed with a mountain of pillows dominating the space. You tapped on the door, knowing that she would probably have at least 3 of the other girls in her room with her.

“Schatz, I know I said I would endure this for you … for us,” Lena said when it was clear Alexia was making you wait a little. Was she second guessing this? Was she regretting you? “And I will, I will.” She added when your head snapped back to look at her. “But I’m really freaking out here.” You softened.

“Oh, Liebe. It’s ok,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “I understand, really, I do. This isn’t exactly how I wanted you to meet Ale, but I promise you,” you squeezed her to emphasise your point. “She’s a giant softy with a tendency for affectionate bullying. If she starts speaking in Catalan, just ignore her; that’s what I do,” you joked, trying to lighten her mood a little. “She’s just like Alex and Svenja are to you. She’s just looking out for me – even though I don’t need her to and certainly not in this case,” you were rambling now, unknowingly easing Lena’s anxieties in an instant.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, cutting your talking off. Lucy. You smiled at her, pushing past as you guided Lena to sit on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in both of yours when you sat next to her – providing quiet but noticeable support. There were more people in the room than you were expecting. You knew Alexia would call on Lucy, Irene and probably Paños and Marta to give the talk, but Ingrid’s presence surprised you, as did Ona’s and Patri’s.

“Entonces, quieres presentarnos a Lena?” Alexia asked, leaning against the desk in front of you, Paños on her left, Lucy on her right. Irene and Marta stood blocking the path to the door – all of them with what they thought were tough expressions on their faces. Ingrid looked annoyed to be there, Ona was trying to look hard, and Patri had an amused smile dancing on her lips.

“In English, Alexia. It’s not fair on Lena to speak in a language she doesn’t know.” You said calmly, breathing deeply to keep your emotions in check. They had promised not to treat you like a child.

“Do you want to introduce us to Lena?” She asked again, voice artificially calm.

“Not if you’re going to treat us like children.” You raised an eyebrow, reminding all of them of their promises to treat you more adult-like.

“That was before we found out you were having sex,” Lucy started. She stood up from where she was leaning, you matching her behaviour by squaring your shoulders.

“Suficiente, vosotros dos.” Alexia ordered before you had the chance to comment. As much as she wanted to give a protective big sister talk, she realised that maybe this was what you meant when you said that you wanted to be treated more like an adult. It was silent as she studied you and Lena – sitting so close you were practically on top of each other, your thumb never wavering in its soothing motion against the back of Lena’s hand, the way Lena’s eyes kept flitting back to your face in search of any discomfort. She didn’t need to do the grandiose speech she was planning to give – she didn’t need to let every one of the older girls chime in with their threats. If Lena harmed you, Lena wouldn’t harm you – of that, Alexia was sure. “Everyone out. Not you or Lena,” she said as you shifted to leave. “Ona, quédate también por favor.” Alexia ignored the other’s protests; Lucy’s whining was heard even with the door closed. She had allowed Ona to stay in her role as your best friend – she wasn’t about to deny her this opportunity (especially since she knew you had promised Lucy you would exact a painful revenge if Ona ever came to you crying over something about their relationship).

“Lena. I am going to say this one time,” Alexia began, watching as Lena’s eyes grew wide and gulped noticeably. You just rolled your eyes at her antics. “If you hurt her,” she paused for dramatic effect. “I will hunt you down … and end you.” Alexia was quite pleased with herself – she considered that to be restrained enough to appease you whilst instilling enough fear in Lena to make her slightly nervous. Lena nodded, taking a breath to start making promises of never ever hurting you.

Ona cleared her throat from her perch on the windowsill, drawing all of your attention to her. She took a deep breath before letting out the sentence she had been practising since you first mentioned a German footballer had caught your eye, “Ich werde dir die Beine brechen.” The pronunciation was horrendous, but Lena knew what she meant. It was the worst threat Ona could think of with Lena being a footballer.

“Oni,” you whined, although you had no leg to stand on – your threat to Lucy had been so much worse.

“There, we have said what was needed to be said. Let’s go to dinner, sí?” Alexia smiled at the three of you, the polar opposite of the menacing Captain that stood in her place moments before. Ona laughed, looping her arm through Alexia’s and heading to the door.

“That wasn’t so bad,” You joked, nudging Lena. The tension was still very much in her body, however.

“I need them to know, and you need to know it too. I won’t hurt you, ever, Schatz. I promise, ich verspreche, prometo.” She looked deep into your eyes, willing you to understand how deep her vow went. She made the promise to herself in the shower after your first date; her mind kept replaying your almost-kiss, your bubbly laugh and the feel of your soft hand in hers. She had vowed that day to never let your smile fade, and she wanted … no, needed … you to know that.

“Liebe, I know that. They know that.” You reached up to cradle her face in your hands. You took a deep breath and said the words that had been playing on your mind for weeks now: “I love you.”

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

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delfiore · 1 month

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—I'LL NEVER WIN YOUR HEART.

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

synopsis: aside from endless hatred and devastating love, you don’t know anything else when it comes to alexia.

word count: 2k

tw: aNGST, spicy stuff, enemies to lovers to ……….?

a/n: wow has it really been a month since i last posted that's insane (i'm not being sarcastic i'm actually so shook at how fast time passes).

now playing:

Her eyebrows narrowed. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes lasered in like a hawk.

Even from across the club, several of your teammates knew to get the hell out of her way when she made a beeline towards you.

Alexia was scary when she was angry. There was an untouchable force to her that made one cower under her steely gaze. You used to feel the effect of it, once upon a time, but recently it was almost a weekly occurrence that she would direct her hardened gaze at you.

And now, as she fixed that deathly glare onto you, you felt your arm being yanked just as you were about to kiss the beautiful stranger you met mere minutes ago.

“What the fuck, Alexia!” Admittedly, you were buzzed, and any obstruction to your enjoyment would irritate you.

“Come with me,” she gritted her teeth.

“No! Let me go!”

She tugged on your arm and dragged you away despite your protests. The bathroom at the back of this club was filthy, and the door barely did anything to block out the thumping music outside, but Alexia pushed you into one of the stalls anyway, caging you in between her arms on either side of your head.

You had half a heart to slap her across the face when she shoved you against the divider and kissed you like a barbarian, lips and teeth clashing against one another in a heated mess. She had no right to do this, but her entitlement made it so you were trapped in her grasp again.

The worst part was that you enjoyed it, very much, especially when she went on her knees to do what she always did best.

It happened not too dissimilar to how it started. Your frustration mixed with her only ensured you both collided in the most spectacular way. You remembered arguing with her after a horrible game, both of you throwing blame at each other. It happened so quickly, that before you knew it, your hatred had turned to lust. Hatefucking, as one might call it. Suddenly, all you could think about each day was how much you hated Alexia and couldn't wait to fall into bed with her.

“You can’t just do that and pretend like nothing happened.”

Your words came out rushed as you were still trying to catch your breath. Alexia exited the stall and went to wash her hands, doing so with a frustrating nonchalance.

She met your gaze in the mirror. “Can’t I?”

You scoffed. “Why do I bother? La Reina never gets off her high horse, does she? You’ve never respected me, ever.”

“That’s not true.” Her eyes flickered, and you thought you could see unspoken words behind them.

“Then what was that earlier?” You asked, irritated.

“I should ask you the same question,” she said firmly. “I thought we were fine. And now I see you grinding on some girl at the club? I mean—what is this, Y/N?”

It was always like that with Alexia, and if she didn’t say what she wanted to say, then you couldn’t help her.

“It’s not like you care,” you gritted your teeth. “I hope you had fun with Olga, by the way.”

Now it was her turn to scoff. “She’s my friend.”

“She was also your ex.”

“Can’t I be friends with my ex? And who are you to tell me who I should and shouldn’t hang out with?”

She was right. You had no place in her life to be telling her that. It was purely your desire, or a lack thereof, to hold a special place in her heart, but maybe you were foolish to wish for it when there has been so much history between you.

You chewed on your bottom lip, a habit you had since you were young. You suddenly felt the bathroom walls closing in on you—you needed to get out of there quickly.

Wordlessly, you shoved past her and returned to the club, the music once again deafening and pumping in your chest. You expelled a breath; the cute stranger was nowhere to be seen, and neither were Patri and Pina, with whom you came. That’s fine, there was an entire nightclub’s worth of people. You would find at least one person who would make you forget how much you despised Alexia and—maybe for the night—how much you loved her.

The story could have gone so differently. You two were similar in age, grew within the ranks of the Spanish youth teams together, then played at Barcelona together. You both played in midfield and younger players looked to you for guidance and leadership. Yet, it was known among your teammates that the two of you couldn’t stand to be in the same room. Ever since you were young, your similar play styles and clashing personalities ensured that you always butt heads on the field, and eventually, off it too. You grew up with this hatred of Alexia, as she did of you, but you could barely remember why. You were brazen and Alexia was cold, and that never worked for either of you.

It seemed she had had enough of your attitude one day, and shoved you so hard in training you thought you might have sprained an ankle. Some of the other girls noticed her distaste for you and started to distance themselves to gain favor with her. Then, Alexia became the best player in Spain, and you were always in her shadow. The media called you her ‘healthy rivalry’, even when you played for the same club. If you didn’t hate her as much as you did, they all ensured that you would never be able to get along ever again.

There was a memory that you buried deep inside, but it would easily surface again on nights like this. It made you question everything you’ve felt for Alexia, this thorn in your side that has never let you know peace

It was the summer of 2012 at a Spain U-19 camp. You had barely gotten any sleep the night before you came because it was your first call-up to represent your country. Alexia, of course, had become a familiar face in the team by the time you arrived. She wasn’t seen at breakfast one morning, and a coach said that she was dealing with personal matters. What you didn’t anticipate was finding her sitting alone by the steps of an entrance bawling her eyes out. You had tried to retreat, but Alexia had looked up before you could go.

“S-Sorry, I’ll just—”

“Mi papá . . .” Her voice was quiet like she didn’t want you to hear. Then, she burst into tears again. You had never seen Alexia like this, so distraught and vulnerable. The friends she liked to keep around were nowhere to be seen either. She never liked to appear weak in front of others.

Against your better judgment, you approached and sat next to her. “What happened?”

Exhaling shakily, she answered. “He was very sick. I just got the call from my mom.”

Your mouth hung open, unable to form words. As Alexia smeared her tears away with the back of her sleeve, she suddenly appeared younger and unlike the captain that you’ve come to know her. She was just a girl, who’d had something terrible happen to her, and you would be the biggest jerk not to push whatever you had between you aside.

“I’m sorry,” you only managed to say.

She said nothing and rested her face on the inside of her elbows.

“I’m sure he was very proud of you.”

“Please don’t say anything,” she breathed out, making you wince.

“Okay.”

Alexia sniffled. “I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. You didn’t like talking about your feelings either. It was the first thing you found Alexia and you had in common.

You started to feel sick. Your head spun like you had just stepped out of a washing machine, but still, you reached for the passing bartender who looked at you with patronizing eyes.

“Another.”

“Y/N, that’s enough.”

You pushed her hand away, mentally cursing at her interruption.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m gonna have to explain to Jona why you’re still shitfaced at training tomorrow.”

“Fuck. Off. I don’t fucking care.”

Then, you heard her say something she had never said to you before. “Please. Let’s go home.”

The truth was, you never wanted to protest her. Maybe the years have softened you, but you didn’t want to admit how much you craved her affection. There were times when you despised her and thought her the lowest form of a human being.

“Please don’t do this,” you pleaded. You felt your heart hammering in your chest, as you watched her frantically spring out of bed.

“I—uh, have to go. I’m meeting someone for lunch.” She replied, reaching for her pants strewn across the floor.

“Ale, I’m sorry . . .” You managed a pathetic whimper, tears threatening to fall. “Can we just pretend I never said anything?”

How is it that she had made you feel so euphoric merely moments later, and now you felt like you had hit rock bottom? Only because those stupid words slipped out of your mouth.

. . . But was it such a crime to tell her that you loved her, when it was your truth?

You learned the hard way that Alexia didn’t want what you wanted. Maybe it was just her, or maybe it was you, and she didn’t want anything to do with you. If that were true, you were foolish to think for even a second that she would. You never gave her much to like anyway.

But still, you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have any feelings for her. But aside from endless hatred and devastating love, you don’t know anything else when it comes to Alexia.

She had brought you back to your apartment, supporting you by holding you close and guiding you inside gradually.

The moment you hit the mattress, you groaned at the snugness of your own bed. Your eyes were barely open, but you saw the way she pulled your shoes off your feet and coaxed you to sit up so she could shed your outer coat.

But that was it. She was afraid to help you further, as it would resurface emotions Alexia thought should be buried, emotions that reminded her of sleepless nights and passion.

“Why are you so quick to get away from me?” You mumbled into your pillow.

You heard her sigh. “I brought you home, didn’t I?”

“Am I really that detestable that you wouldn’t even look at me?”

Her eyes met yours, but unlike earlier in the night, they now held a softness. “You know I don’t hate you. I never did.”

“Then stay.” You whispered, your head still spinning, but all you could focus on was her. “Stay with me. Please, we won’t do anything. I just don’t want to be alone.”

You didn’t care that you were begging her. You were tired of being pulled from end to end, and it was so much easier to love than to hate her.

You thought she would laugh in your face, pack her things and leave. Yet, when you opened your eyes again, she was lying in bed next to you, under the cover and all. She had changed into your clothes, so much more time had passed than you had thought.

“Go to sleep. We have training tomorrow,” Alexia whispered, her lips brushing your forehead softly.

You obliged, nuzzling your head into her chest as you let the comfort of her embrace lull you to sleep. You were too tired to fight it, to tell her no, that you would talk to her seriously about the two of you, even if you were drunk. It wasn’t the first time you had fallen for Alexia’s lies; all the other times, she left you in the dirt after giving you her everything for you to pick up the pieces yourself.

You hated her because you loved her. But maybe this is enough, you thought before sleep took over, just for tonight.

Maybe tomorrow will be different.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas angst #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagines #woso angst #Spotify

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metalkitty21 · 3 months

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Apollo Justice

just finished Apollo Justice and what a game! Even while going into it with some knowledge it was still such an exciting and enjoyable game!

So you guys get to suffer with me going into details about my thoughts of the case /hj

all details under cut!

Case 1: Turnabout Trump

I went into this case knowing that Phoenix was the defendant and that was it. Kristoph was such a dick in the best way possible and probably my favourite villain of ace attorney. He's such a villain, even in just this first case. Phoenix is a good defendant, Payne is...well Payne, and Trucy is adorable and no one can stop me from loving her. Olga is a great witness. She goes from adorable Russian gal to a fucking pirate, what else do you want in a gal?

Case 2: Turnabout Corner

Worst case of the game, but not horrendous. The mixture of the a murder and theft is a cool idea, I don't know the panty aspect of it wasnt completely needed. Wocky is probably my favourite defendant of the entire game. He's a goofy goober who just loves his fiancé and didn't know he was dying. I was so happy when he appeared in credits enjoying life with his family to the fullest. Eldoon was brilliant, despite the pun name, he was a fun guy, with a dog called Spoon, a mascot called Salty and gave me the betray of the century when he took the ramen wig off. Anita(?) was an okay villain. Nothing special. Stickler didn't ruin the case, but he made it a little hard to deal with at times. Ema's return was nice, but this was my first experience with her since I never played Rise from the Ashes. The forensic stuff was fun and she ended up being one of my favourite characters! Klavier is golden! He takes the cake for the gayness introduce in Ace Attorney history and just flirts with Apollo the entire game and I fucking love this man to no end.

Case 3: Turnabout Serenade

I went into Serenade knowing a lot, like Machi wasn't blind, it was Lamroir who was, I even knew Daryan was the killer. Yet this case, despite all the hate it gets, is my absolute favourite case of this game. The events happening with the lyrics is such a good concept and execution so well. Daryan was a pretty good villain, and his murder attempt on Lamroir was unexpected ans I like they included it. Machi was a bit meh honestly. Lamroir though, she was great. Such a good character with all the twists and turns and just a character as a whole she's amazing! (We'll get back to her) the mixing board was a tad annoying at times but hunting through to find the gunshots while Lamroir was singing was such a good choice to make.

Case 4: Turnabout Sucession

In trust AA fansion, the final case is brilliant, but sometime holds it back and we'll talk about him last. The case seven years ago was absolutely painful to do because of the knowledge the evidence was forged. Zak was fun, baby Trucy was extra cute, FUCKING GUMSHOE, Valent is probably one of my favourite characters because of this case, he's such a good character. The incident was Thalassa is honestly heartbreaking and that fact she's fucking ALIVE AND LAMROIR is such a good twist (which I called because I'd seen Trucy's mother before and thought Lamroir looked similar) but a good twist nonetheless. Valent was fun in Serenade and was even more fun in Case 4. The actual case for Case 4 thought was great. Being a ploy by Kristoph that ended up because delayed seven years because Vera wanted the stamp was brilliant and actually made a lot of sense. Klavier broke my heart, and Kristoph breakdown was satisfying as fuck. the MASON system was so fun, my part part of the case. It was confusing at times, but I'm also stupid, so. Hopping between past and future and having it explain by a camera in Phoenix's hat is such a good explanation. Yet...

spark Brushel...ruined everything. he's a bad character and not a fun witness at all, but he would have been manageable if he stayed in the first day of the court BUT HE KEEPS COMING BACK AND IT FUCKING SUCKS

Overall View

It's a great game! Would recommend! Apollo, Trucy, Klavier, and Valent are probably my favourite new characters from AJAA Case rankings are Case 3, Case 4, Case 1, Case 2. Favourite defendant is Wocky, closely fellowed by Vera and Zak. Guilt love fucking slaps

#ace attorney #apollo justice #ace attorney apollo justice #ajaa #aa4 #ajaa spoilers #aa4 spoilers

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twistedtummies2 · 1 year

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The Price May Be Right - Number 20

Welcome to “The Price May Be Right!” I’m counting down My Top 31 Favorite Vincent Price Performances & Appearances! The countdown will cover movies, TV productions, and many more forms of media. Today we move into the Top 20 for this countdown! The time has come to focus on my choice for Number 20: Egghead, from the 60s Batman Series.

In recent years, the 1960s Batman TV Series – starring Adam West & Burt Ward as the Caped Crusader and the Boy Wonder – has been making a bit of a comeback. This pleases me, because I’ve always loved the series, but for many years, the show was treated in a very backhanded and dismissive manner: people believed it ruined the world of comics, since for a long time it was blamed for the perception of comics as silly kid’s stuff and campy nonsense. Ironically, with so many comics and their adaptations nowadays growing darker and more “edgy” as time has gone on, especially on DC’s side of the market, this has led to a resurgence of popularity with the goofiness of the Silly Sixties. The 60s Batman show featured many great villains from the comics, all portrayed excellently for the time (and sometimes for ALL time) by fine actors of the period. However, it also had its fair share of original villains made just for the series itself. Most of these characters – such as Shame, the Minstrel, and Zelda the Great – never really caught on or went anywhere. A few of these original villains, however, were pretty popular, and often proved to be antagonists just as effective as such famous rogues as the Joker or the Penguin. One of the most well-known of these original villains was Vincent Price’s memorable mastermind, Egghead. His true name unknown (which was the case for most of the villains in the show, to be fair), Egghead was a supervillain who claimed to be the second smartest man in the world. His intelligence was attributed to his unusually oversized and incredibly bald cranium, which was the cause of his alias. Garbed in a dapper cream-and-gold suit, he was one of the slickest sleazebags the Dynamic Duo ever faced. Egghead lived up to his name well: not only was Price’s dialogue littered with egg puns in just about every line, but the character apparently ate nothing but eggs and bacon, and used a variety of explosive gadgets hidden inside of eggshells. From tear gas grenades to pressure-based bombs, his egg-scruciating weapons were no yolk! Of course, he’d always be caught at the end of each story, proving that the life of an outlaw was not all it was cracked up to be. …I am SO sorry, I won’t make any more egg puns, I swear. XD Anywho…Vincent always claimed that playing Egghead was one of the most fun jobs he had, and the character remains iconic, as well as one of Price’s most lauded performances. My only issue with Egghead is that, as the show went on, it felt like the character went through a sort of de-evolution: in his first two-parter appearance, Egghead basically worked alone, barring the usual band of hired mooks and his personal biographer, Miss Bacon. However, later appearances teamed him up with another original villain – Olga, Queen of the Cossacks – and it often felt like the two stepped on each other’s toes. In some episodes, Olga seemed like little more than an overblown moll; in other episodes, it seemed like Egghead had gone from being a crafty crook in his own right to just becoming a bumbling stooge for the Queen of the Cossacks. Still, the character was fun no matter how smart he actually seemed. Fun fact: not so long before his sad departure, Adam West visited my hometown for our local ComicCon. I sadly did not get the opportunity to meet him, but a friend of mine did, and agreed to ask a question for me. They asked Adam West what it was like working with Vincent Price. West apparently answered: “Well, it was exactly what you would imagine it would be like, working with a man who loved his wine, loved his art, and loved his work. In that order.” How I wish I could have heard those golden words firsthand. Tomorrow, the countdown continues with Number 19!

#list #countdown #best #favorites #the price may be right #top 31 vincent price performances #vincent price #actors #acting #tv #dc #batman #batman '66 #60s batman #adam west #burt ward #egghead #number 20

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asseater3k · 9 months

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Metal Gear Mania Day 3

Game: MGS2

Major spoilers below the cut!

Today started with an unfortunate back to back case of forgotting to save I hadn’t saved the previous night after learning about the patriots and had to repeat the Nikita puzzle and acquisition before i went of to save Emma I did the Vamp boss fight and got to her and brought her back to the boss arena where I then accidentally cartwheeled into the death water and then accidentally pressed exit instead of continue so i had to repeat the boss fight and do the cool water level again. The E.E. Part of the game was welcomingly straight forward and simple after really getting blasted with patriot knowledge and especially in contrast of what’s to come I like Jennifer Hale in just about anything and she did a really good job here, enough to make me forget she was Naomi in the last game. She was charming enough though on a side not i found the conversations with with roses Mary weird at this point some of them make sense later and some of them didn’t I really didn’t like the one were she get jealous of Emma no real big judgment on the scene just made me uncomfortable as did a the serene where she’s dying and says stuff about her wanting otacon to see her as a woman and then otacon says he had affair with their mom both things I really want to gloss over. I did get pretty effected by Emmas death. A combo of seeing otacon just get totally ruined and myself being close with my siblings made me feel some type of way also final heroic gesture being ineffective or halted despite the effort they took always guts me in stuff since I was a kid and we got that with the computer virus, also The Fucking Handshake. Ive seen gifs of it before but when you hear the meta gear theme playing for the first time in the game and the emotions of the proceeding scene fresh it just hits in a such a way, and I think that might be the last normal cutscene in the game. The last like 40-50 minutes of this game is fucking insane. I talked earlier about the slow unraveling of threads and this point they take the spool and yank leaving you spinning. Revealing that Olga is Mr. X was pretty cool i dint see it coming but i also didn’t really think about Mr.Xs identity a lot and had zero theories still i really liked Olga by the end her kid being held by the patriots and her willing to get super own zoned because only raidens life signs needed to be up for her kid to survive was cool and I liked that it wasn’t like super overplayed and didn’t overstay its welcome. I like when a charter is like “oh I’ll for sure die to achieve my goals / save my friends” but is chill about it. The fucking Russian nesting doll of reveals on top of arsenal gear made me feel things I can’t articulate some combo of getting hype fro the reveal in terms of like narrative and gameplay execution and the first person bewilderment to match raidens. A while back my brother watched a documentary about Hawkeye a program used in tennis do determine out of bounds calls and some other stuff and he came back from it kinda shaken something about objective reality and perceptions of it or something I didnt get what he meant then. I think I do now. The last part of that game deals a lot with stuff about the self and personal identity and if we can really know anything about ourselves other or the world around us even though it leaves with an assertion that to an extent what we choose to believe and be is just as real as any objective truth, I really liked that the face of all these big uncertainties and questions from raiden snake just said “fuck that we are what we are our beliefs thoughts and actions subjective as they are make us people and people should and can do so much good if they put themselves to it”

The last things i want to talk about are how well done all the stuff with Campbell turning out to be an AI was and how the reveals of the s3 plan recontextualize the fucking design of the game. I talked at length yesterday about how effective Campbell is at creating this sense of unease in the early and middle parts of the game. I love scenes of layered flashbacks revealing stuff at the end of mystery stores and hearing Campbell acting goody towards the end and raiden saying how he realized he’d never met him in person gave me, the player on of those in real life every sitlted response every out of character action replayed in my head that was now also armed with the knowledge that the patriots have AI capabilities and I went nuts the best kind of mystery story telling lets you have these moments and similar things happened to my brain during the first s3 plan reveal. The fact that the game having a lot of similar set pieces moments and structure to the first went from an understandable if unremarkable product of making a sequel to making real diagetic sense and having a naritive purpose is insane. Ive never seen a game weaponize the fact that during gameplay you’re at some point going to see things as they which is to say designed by a person. That’s just a fact of the experience its not good or bad it just is but using that as a part of the story is geniuinly brilliant and some of the best example of something very uniquely suited to the medium

That’s about all I have I dont think i was able to put my feelings into words as well as i was yesterday but thats most likely cause so much of them are still very fresh and raw right now

If your able you should absolutely play MGS2 its one of the best games Ive played in a while and I’m so unbelievably excited to move on to

#metalgearmania #mgs2 spoilers #excited for 3 haven’t played it outside of the dress up sequence on my brothers 3ds copy ages ago

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gcv-imagines · 1 year

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these creatures are vampires, they’re killing by the night

summary: the gang robs a train and ends up having to get the law off their backs

characters: olga, alice, alex

content warnings: pg-13 violence, inferiority complex

pov: third, limited/omniscient

word count: 8.1k

Hooves trampled on moonlit dirt, unhurried and relaxed. The night was a clear one, devoid of fog and gusts of wind or dust. It was rather peaceful one, just the way Olga preferred, even though it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Alice was at the forefront of the group as always, back straight and eyes alert before the action had even begun. Behind her to the right, Alex followed by, with Olga at his left, all three of them clad in black. Although it wasn’t aligned with her usual style of expression, Olga wore a shirt and pants like the rest of the team to allow for better movement should the need for combat arise.

Although she preferred not to target innocents, she trusted in Alice to make the best decisions she could. She trusted that she’d do everything in her power to spill as little blood as possible.

The three of them led their horses up a hill looking over a train track, with the Lannahechee River running along the other side. It was a breathtaking sight, when one took th time to look closely at the way the moon luminated the water; at the moment, it served as the calm before the storm. Although, if everything went to plan, there didn’t have to be a storm at all.

“When’s the train due?”

“About ten minutes. I made sure we left early so we didn’t have to bother chasing it.” Alex snapped his pocketwatch shut, putting it back where it belonged.

“Good thinking,” Olga took a bite of the dried opossum meat she took with her along the road. She was grateful that Alex and Alice usually took care of all the planning and groundwork that went into these heists. She wasn’t dumb - all three members of the gang were smart in their own way. But while Olga could have created a strategy, there was a chance it wouldn’t work as smoothly as Alex’s usually did, or Alice’s, when she put thought into that sort of thing. She just rather wouldn’t think about that kind of stuff in the first place, honestly. “I just hope it’s worth us coming all the way here.”

The three were located south of Annesburg, nearly as far from their camp as possible. Coming all the way from the north side of West Elizabeth to the very east of New Hanover was by no means a small trip; it took a few days to traverse, maybe a couple if they really pushed their horses. Having to camp out in an unfamiliar location where anyone could just come by and ambush them didn’t sit right with Olga, but she knew Alice and Alex knew what they were doing. She knew there was merit to making sure the heists they pulled weren’t anywhere near camp.

“Should be. I looked into it pretty well; should be a whole bunch of magnates if I’m not mistaken.”

“Good,” Olga mused, swallowing down the last of her jerky. Robbing the less fortunate always left a sour taste in her mouth, but the well off…? That was a different story. They could live without their fancy jewelry.

Just as Alex predicted, the gang waited for about ten minutes or so under the slight cover of shade, silently watching the river in front of them flow. They heard the train before they saw it; even without any whistle, the thunder of the wheels racing across the tracks echoed for no small distance. Instantly, the three of them perked up.

“Everyone remember where we’re meeting up if we get separated?” Alex checked in, positioning his horse to face the way off of their hill.

“Emerald Ranch, ain’t it?” Olga mimicked his actions, as did Alice, reins gripped tightly in hand.

“Yeah.”

Before the train even crossed their sight, Alice gestured with her hand forward, and the gang led their horses off the hill. They had learned to move and act according to Alice’s orders, relying on her use of hand signals that they agreed upon for their each and every move. Although sign language also worked, it was much more efficient to use exaggerated movements that incorporated the whole arm. It made the signals easier to understand and harder to miss.

The train barreled across the tracks past them just as they made it down the hill. One move from Alice, and they urged their horses to gallop alongside it, pushing them to reach the front. Silently, the woman in charge ordered the two behind her to follow her lead. Instinctively knowing what she had in mind, Alex and Olga staggered their horses.

The two of them watched as Alice only pushed past the first passenger car, where, luckily, there was an open car, wooden and laden with boxes of supplies. Alice tensed her body, removing her feet from their stirrups and bracing them against the saddle. Timing her movements flawlessly, she leaped off her horse, landing smack dab in the middle of the car. She then picked herself up to her feet, whistling at her horse to follow the train and gesturing for the other two to join her. Olga couldn’t speak for Alex, but Alice’s skill never seemed to cease to amaze her. There wasn’t any denying she was good at what she did, almost like she was made for it. If she wanted work that made her do what she was best at, she couldn’t have picked a better occupation (if you considered crime one).

Having staggered his horse ahead of Olga’s, Alex was the second to jump off his horse, bracing his fall deftly. He was also noticeably skilled; good dexterity, quick and analytical. Olga didn’t know how much of his skill came from natural talent and how much from experience in bounty hunting, but it was impressive regardless.

Once Alex called off his horse to lag behind, Olga quickly followed suit, a small grunt escaping her as her forearms made contact with the wooden floor of the car. She was quick to recover, standing up and wiping off the dust on her sleeves before giving her horse a whistle.

As someone who was rather sheltered in comparison to those with more… troubled backgrounds, her skillset seemed to pale next to those of her partners’. But something that nearly everyone that wasn’t born into wealth in the west shared in common was their experience in struggle for survival. One way or another, everyone had to learn something that would get them farther ahead, that would keep their head above water and allow them to survive. Hunting and trading, marketing and exploitation, seduction and prostitution, the list went on. So when she compared herself to other women her age that focused on expanding their skillset in things like sewing and cooking in order to land themselves in a marriage with someone as influential as possible, Olga felt like she was doing rather okay for herself. Cooking and sewing she could learn, but becoming desensitized to the weight of guns on your back, bruises on your face, and blood on your hands was something best done as early as possible.

The brunette took a small second to admire the scenery the train was rushing past, smiling against the wind while it whipped her in the face. She didn’t dwell long; her fingers soon reached into the collar of her shirt to pull a monochrome mask over her face. Alice and Alex did the same.

“We all ready?”

Vibe nodding and Goose detaching an old leather sack from her belt served as her answer. The latter of the two signaled towards the front of the train; Vibe picked up on the message instantly, pivoting his body in the same direction. “Good luck, you two!” he yelled, voice almost lost to the wind billowing past.

“You too, partner!”

The two women opened the door to the first passenger car, with Goose at the lead and Cheshire following at her heels.

As they did so, Vibe clambered up onto the coal car on the opposite side, calmly slapping his gloves free of soot and resting one hand over the rope attached to his belt. Even as he hopped down on the other side of the car, the conductor failed to notice him up until Vibe was nearly breathing over his neck. The man recoiled in surprise, a shocked yell escaping him. “Wha-! Who are you?! You can’t be heremm-!!”

Barely giving him the time of day (or night, rather), Vibe grasped his wrist with his left hand and pulled the slightly stouter man back towards him, his other arm coming to weave its way around the man’s neck. Once secure, he let go with his left hand, repositioning the crook of his elbow under his right. Now in a chokehold, the man was desperately beating at Vibe’s arms, side, and legs, incoherent choked words fumbling out of his lips. It took a bit, but eventually, the man’s energy was sapped into nothingness, and the fight all but left him, as did his consciousness. Vibe let go of him carefully, unclasping his rope to wrap it around the man’s body.

Experience as a bounty hunter had its perks, he supposed.

He propped the man in the corner of the cab, out of the way, before taking a look at the controls.

Not too far away, Goose and Cheshire stormed into the first passenger car, their eyes narrowed and threatening. Olga held a gun in her hand, pointing it up at the roof. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery!”

Immediately, sounds of panic flooded throughout the magnates, merging into an incoherent mess of fear and anger. “Simply cooperate and no one has to get hurt! Understood?!”

Perpetually resting one hand on her revolver, Goose marched towards the first set of seats to glare at the single man seated at the right. He was a frightened thing, pressed up against the side and glass of the train, perspiration built up on his brow. Despite Goose only being slightly taller than him while he was sat and cowered, the mere effect her gaze had on him was undeniable.

She was intimidating by all accounts; whatever compassion and goodheartedness dwelled in the eyes of the women this man had previously met was almost completely absent in Goose’s own steely gaze. Her eyes seemed to be piercing right through him, as if she could see his soul and was glaring daggers at it. She held out the open bag in her hands towards him. The man took a small look at it, then back up at her, gulping. It didn’t seem like she would give him any answers, so he looked towards the woman behind her. “W-W-What does she want?!”

Did he… not know how a robbery worked?

“You slow or somethin’?” Cheshire quirked a condescending brow. “Money!”

The man yelped a little, his shaking hands patting over the pockets in his suit, almost as if he had forgotten where he’d put anything in his state of panic. “O-Okay!” His hands pulled out a thin wad of cash, which he dropped into the sack.

“Any other valuables or gold or silver you have go in the bag as well! Anyone who doesn’t empty their pockets eats lead, y’hear?!” Steeling her resolve, Cheshire pointed the sawed-off shotgun in her hand at the window on the opposite side of the man, promptly pulling the trigger and blasting a hole through the glass to prove her point. Her body felt like it was on fire, sweating and trembling from the mixture of excitement, adrenaline, and most of all, dread that was coursing through her body. She loved the thrill she’d occasionally get when breaking the law, even with something as simple as shoplifting, but it only ever served as a temporary mask for the guilt brewing underneath.

Unlike Goose, Cheshire did give a damn about this man’s life; she gave a damn about all the people’s lives on the train, rich or not. She didn’t want to have to kill any of them, but she knew she had to put on a front or else risk exposing how vulnerable she felt in front of all the passengers, and putting her friends’ lives on the line in the process. To a certain extent, they were relying on everyone’s fear to carry them through the robbery as smoothly as possible. If everyone on the train (or even a few of them, honestly) united and decided to fight back, they’d have quite the problem on their hands. Of course, Cheshire had no doubt that her and Goose would be able to take out a good sum of them with their combined abilities and firepower, but eventually they’d have to reload, or be overwhelmed, or be overpowered, eventually, eventually, eventually…

A needless amount of people would die, and the two women would most likely follow soon after- if not at the hands of the men, then at the hands of the law. Hesitating wasn’t an option.

But… if she’d had to choose, she’d let every person aboard the train bite the dust if it meant Alice walked out unscathed in the end. Yes, she was frightened, and tense, but over all the emotions swirling in her eyes, protectiveness reigned supreme.

Cheshire and Goose moved on along the line of passengers, the latter pointing the bag and the former pointing the gun in various directions while shouting to keep the pressure on. The first train car robbery moved along rather quickly. Women gave up their belongings without question, whereas men took notice of the small statures of the robbers. Cheshire could tell if any of them got any bad ideas based by the looks on their faces alone, but one cold press of her shotgun to their temple and they were quick to swallow their ideas.

Goose rustled the bag in her hands, listening to the valuables inside jingle against each other. It was almost addictive; once they got rolling, she was almost insatiable. She found herself unable to stop until the gold and silver was overflowing, coming to her by the handfuls. It was rather worrying, in Cheshire’s eyes. It would be in Vibe’s too, eventually.

The woman left the first train car and opened the door to the second, a growing twinkle in her eye. Cheshire followed behind like a guard dog. The process was repeated- this is a robbery, valuables in the bag. No one has to get hurt. Most passengers reacted the same way as they did in the first car; but to Cheshire’s exasperation, there always had to be that one guy.

Goose held out the sack in her hands towards the man in the back left corner expectantly. There was fear in his eyes, no doubt, but he held a rather incredulous look. Anger was brewing.

“Ain’t no way in hell I’m givin’ no one my money. ‘Specially to no dumb broad!”

Goose raised her brows. She had half the mind to stick a gun in his mouth then and there, but the presence behind her made her hesitate.

“Pardon…?”

Cheshire rounded Goose’s body, eyes wide. Whatever innocent impression she’d had of the man by default was just torn to shreds and shot down the drain. “I’d like to hear you say that again.”

The man turned to look at her, looking up from below his fancy top hat. “You heard damn well what I said. Ain’t no way I’m giving up my money to some bluffin’ bimbos who prolly don’t even know what a gun is, yet alone know how to shoot one. Go make a quick buck elsewhere.”

Goose didn’t need to turn around to know Cheshire was smiling behind her mask. As much as she wanted to take care of the situation herself, she’d feel a little bad robbing Cheshire of her fun. She decided to settle, whipping out the gun in her holster in the blink of an eye and pulling the trigger. A woman’s scream rang out through the car.

Although unnoticeable at first amidst the chaos and fear, the walls and floors of the train car remained free of blood splatters. The bullet had gone through the window again, this time no more than a centimeter away from the man’s head. A petrified look crossed his face.

“You’ve got one more chance, mister. Either put your fucking money in the bag, or we do things the hard way.”

The man was shivering, face pale and lips aquiver. His eyes were glazed over in shock, struggling to come to terms with the fragility of his life, how it could have been stolen from him but mere seconds ago, how everything he ever knew and ever would know had fallen to rest precariously on the whim of a woman half his size. It was easy to tell from his eyes that he wasn’t all there, and yet his lips fell and tongue moved to let broken words fall from his mouth in a whisper. ”... dumb bitch could’ve killed me…”

Cheshire closed her eyes, hidden smile almost growing wider as she put her gun back in its holster. Whatever fate he had been close to subscribing to, his last words had cemented in front of Cheshire. Goose shut her eyes as well and turned away, raising her gun towards the roof in silent prayer before she let it fall to her shoulder level again. She supposed she probably wouldn’t miss the loot of one man amongst 50 too badly. The woman approached the next passenger, sack held out in an unimpressed manner, with the outstretched gun pointed directly at his face. This one didn’t fight back, nor say a word, merely dropped his money and pocketwatch in the bag shakily. (A thud rang out behind her, followed by an angry, yet unmistakably frightened yell. “What the hell?!”)

The woman moved along to each passenger that sat mortified in their seats. Her gun remained pointed towards anyone she approached; whoever decided to be snarky next would serve to be the second example, but in a much quicker way. (Glass behind her shattered. There was a struggle going on, but it seemed quite one sided, with what sounded like several punches echoing through the car. “Stop! Let go of me, you fucking looney!”)

Goose calmly made her way all the way down to the end of the car, not having had to shoot anyone in the process. She could let herself relish in how the bag was beginning to feel heavier by the second, and turned around just in time to see the man that had cursed at her halfway out the window, legs kicking. His yells could be heard from outside despite the billowing wind, but the woman who had pushed him out seemed wholly unaffected. She almost looked bored as she kept his legs away from her with one hand while the other searched his pockets (to Goose’s inner satisfaction), successfully retrieving a fat wad of cash. Seemingly satisfied, she grabbed hold of the legs at her side and pushed them all the way through the window. Several women screamed as the men flew out, his terrified yell fading by the second, cut short by the sound of a loud thud outside. Cheshire grabbed her shotgun again, making her way back to Goose.

Oftentimes, it seemed the only thing keeping the people around her from death was one small word about the woman she associated herself with, no matter how friendly the relations between them and Cheshire appeared to be at first. It was as if “goodness” was defined by how they treated Goose; as if respect towards her was the automatic expected default, and anyone who didn’t fall under it was abnormal and deserving of death. It seemed that with just one wrong move, one wrong word, Cheshire’s prior steadfast motives and ideals melted away instantaneously and flew out the window, much like the man just now did.

In any case, there was a good chance he didn’t die. For a while now, the train had been slowing down. Vibe no doubt had taken control. He was clever, quick both in wit and on his feet and his teammates fully acknowledged it. They didn’t have to bother with fetching large wagons in order to block and bait trains into stopping because they trusted Vibe to be able to not only apprehend the conductor, but take his place as well. With hands on experience, he learned things quickly, and never seemed to need a manual to do so. He and Goose were the same in that regard, Cheshire noticed.

Goose waited for Cheshire to catch up to her, the tension and anger slowly beginning to dissipate from the latter’s muscles. Fortunately, they didn’t have to worry about a repeat situation. Cheshire knew better than to spend the entire time just testing people; they didn’t exactly have all the time in the world. Plus, now that she had been able to unleash any pent up anger she had had up until now on someone, she could carry out any other “lessons” more quickly without getting too into them. She gave her boss a quick nod, urging them to proceed onto the next car and repeat the process all over again. They were halfway done.

Luckily, the next passenger car posed no problems. Cheshire and Goose had nearly finished robbing half of it by the time the train rolled to a complete stop. A mere two minutes later, Vibe came running in.

“Nice of you to join us.”

“Yeah, thanks, uh… I haven’t seen any lawmen yet. Doesn’t mean they won’t be here soon, though. I’d hurry if I were you.”

“Yeah, we’re on it. Had a bit of setback. We’ve just got one more car and then the baggage- then we can split.”

Vibe didn’t bother asking for clarification on the “setback”, choosing to rather look at Goose for further instructions. Still holding out the bag for a passenger to drop her rings into, the woman signaled outside without even bothering to look away from the loot. Vibe nodded, taking his rifle off his back as he ran into the next car. “Keep your eyes and ears open!”

“Will do!” Cheshire called back, not sparing Vibe a glance. In order to speed things along, she was helping Goose gather valuables, holding out her hand (and pointing her gun) to passengers they hadn’t robbed yet and then dropping their belongings in the bag.

With a hurried pace, they made their way onto the next car, working together to grab everything they could as quickly as possible. A couple of men got bright ideas when they did so, but they were quickly shut down, the first being struck in the temple with the handle of Cheshire’s shotgun, his pockets searched thereafter, and the second being punched twice in the jaw and once in the cheekbone, at which point his screaming wife convinced him to give in. If she hadn’t been rattled with anxiety and apprehension for everything to be finished quickly, the guit brewing in Cheshire’s chest would hurt a lot more.

When they finally left the final passenger car, Cheshire released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. They were at yet another empty car, open from all sides (save for the handrails) and littered with boxes and supplies. The car after it was the baggage car.

Cheshire looked around, at a loss for a moment or two, until she spotted Vibe on top of the passenger car they had just come out of. He was lying on his stomach, peeking through the scope of his rifle. Most likely, he was using the height advantage to give them more time to make a getaway upon spotting law enforcement.

“See anything?”

“I don’t think so. I’d only give it another five minutes or so, honestly. Hurry.”

“Right,” Cheshire nodded, following Goose to the next car. There were bags, chests, and shelves to sort through. Cheshire took it upon herself to look through the chests and personal belongings while Goose rummaged through any deeds and paperwork, as well as any locked bills or coins to nab. The former threw anything she managed to get her hands on in the bag that Goose gave her, feeling it become heavier by the second. She had just finished throwing in a few bracelets when she heard Vibe whispering out to her.

“Goose. Cheshire.” The man had moved down from the roof to hide right inside the baggage car while peeking outside.

“Yeah?” She didn’t really have to even ask, she already knew what was coming; Cheshire’s movements grew rather frantic, yet she still tried to be as quiet as possible. They were probably running on mere seconds of time. She could hear Goose growing antsy behind her as well.

“They’ll be here real soon- I saw their lanterns. I’d split right fucking now if I were you two.”

“Okay.” Cheshire gave the bag she was searching through one last sweep; seeing nothing, she took out a small rope from her pocket to tie the end of the open bag securely. Quietly, she snuck out of the car to the other side, where another empty car lay. To their luck, their horses stood by it. “Guys…! We can split right now…! … Guys?”

When there was no response, Cheshire turned to see Vibe still hiding. Upon seeing her expression, his eyebrows furrowed. Goose was still looking through the papers and safes, scraping coins into her hands and shoving them in her pockets. “Goose…! We’re out of time, we have to go…!”

She didn’t know if Goose just outright didn’t hear her or was ignoring her, but it made Cheshire bite her lip in frustration regardless. She shuffled back on her tiptoes, hand reaching out to grab Goose’s arm. “Goose!”

To her further frustration, said woman slapped her hand away, continuing to rapidly look for anything valuable that caught her eye.

Cheshire cursed under her breath, hands curling to make fists by her sides. She couldn’t see outside the car from her position, but she bet Vibe could- and both of them could hear the sheriffs outside.

“Hey! We know you thieves are out there! You folks come out now, y’hear?!”

Vibe held up two of his fingers towards her, and Cheshire mentally ran through her options. She could try to remove her mask and the rifle from her back, run out faking distress and pretending that she was held hostage in the baggage car. She could say the robbers fled already, lead the officers on a dead trail- but in the circumstance they didn’t fall for her crocodile tears… she was a dead man. She didn’t have the trigger finger Goose did; she couldn’t whip out a pistol from its holster and shoot the forehead in record speed. Not to mention, even if she was half the crackshot Goose was, she only had her sawed off shotguns hidden by her side. They were exclusively short range. Even if she was somehow able to hit her mark from her position in front, it most likely wouldn’t kill anyone. Her only bet would be shooting the horses, but… God, she hated doing that. At that point, it would just be a race to the horses against the bullets, before backup arrived to boot. Maybe she could depend on Vibe to take out the men once the horses had fallen… Yeah, that could work.

Cheshire exhaled deeply, hands dropping the bag of loot then rising to lift her rifle up and over herself, Vibe’s eyes narrowing in the process. Before she could drop it, however, a gunshot echoed outside, and a stray bullet whizzed past Vibe’s face to ricochet off the corner. It continued on its trajectory, leaving Cheshire no choice but to immediately reach out, roughly grab Goose by the shoulder, and throw both of them aside, out of the bullet’s way. The bullet continued to go haywire for a few seconds, but it did little to nullify the sound of Goose and Cheshire’s bodies thudding against the ground. Their position had been given away- and now the men outside sounded like they were losing what little patience they had.

“I said show yourselves!”

Cheshire’s wide, alert gaze met Goose’s own. It seemed the latter had fallen out of her greedy trance, but her eyes that had previously sported a glazed look were now narrowing in rage. The slightly smaller woman ripped her shoulder out of Cheshire’s grip (not too unkindly) before removing her revolvers from their holsters and scurrying to the opposite end of the baggage car, in the direction of the horses. For a moment, a spark of hope ignited in Cheshire’s belly, but it was extinguished almost as quickly. Against Cheshire’s wishes, Goose ignored the horses on the right in favor of peeking out to the left; whether ignoring them was accidental or purposeful in spite of her tunnel vision, Cheshire didn’t know. The woman’s lips tightened as she watched Goose sneakily peek around the side of the baggage car, lifting her revolvers. Cheshire found herself frozen for the mere two seconds and a half seconds that passed between the time Goose raised her gun and fired.

A pained yell rang out outside the car. Another shot echoed. A horse’s whinny pierced the night air, and something hit the ground with a thud. Cheshire felt herself snap back to reality as a chorus of shouts and shooting suddenly attacked her ears. Goose visibly stiffened before her, and amidst the newfound chaos, she found herself flinging her gaze back to Vibe, whose yell she could distinctly make out among the dozen others.

“They brought backup!”

Cheshire cursed, bringing herself up to her feet. “What do we do?!”

Vibe grimaced behind his mask, taking a quick look outside. “We can’t afford to have them all give chase. We’ll have to cull them here before making a break for it.”

Cheshire felt her insides tighten with dread, but she nodded grimly at her partner nevertheless. “Fighting, it is.” Her hands came to tighten around her rifle in resolve. Cheshire and Vibe exchanged nods before breaking apart, with the former heading in Goose’s direction and the latter in the opposite. Cheshire spared a quick look at their horses as she snuck her way outside, but ultimately ignored them. The woman crouched slightly over Goose and lifted her rifle hesitantly, breath held anxiously behind her pursed lips. Before she even managed to put her finger on the trigger, Goose caught her attention by quickly reloading her revolvers and smoothly sliding them back in their holsters. Cheshire didn’t even have the time to ask her what she was doing before Goose lifted up her hand, pinkie and ring finger curled with the others outstretched, mimicking the silhouette of a gun, and pretended to shoot it towards the officers galloping around the area. The corners of Cheshire’s lips fell even more. The message was clear- “shoot”. Goose needed Cheshire to cover her while she did… whatever it was she wanted to. And as much as the thought unnerved her, sickened her, Cheshire’s one trait that she felt defined her above all was her unwavering loyalty. If Goose said “shoot”, she shot, no questions asked.

Inhaling deeply, the brunette raised her trusty bolt action, properly this time, aligning the scope with her eye and positioning her finger on the trigger. There were several officers traversing the area with their horses, guns pointed in their direction, bullets whizzing past and shouts echoing. Cheshire settled her eyes on the man closest to them, painfully aware of how it was another human she was aiming at and not a ruminant animal. She had a job to do though, and she knew it; there wasn’t time for what-if’s or hesitation while Goose and Vibe were depending on her assistance, so the woman straightened her gun once more before pulling the trigger. The bullet rocketed outwards, swiftly burying its way in and back out of the man’s forehead. His body crumpled on impact, falling to the side as his horse whinnied in fright and took off with its former owner dragged along by the stirrups. Cheshire ignored the sickening sensation in the back of her throat and shifted her sights onto the next man, deciding to hide the shame and guilt under the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her next bullet struck the man’s shoulder, eliciting a pained yell that she cut short with another bullet to the chest. Second one down.

One, two, reload, three more bullets and two more men dropped dead, their own bullets missing their mark by a mile. Cheshire could see Goose frantically doing something in her peripheral, and for a just a second, she decided to grant herself the luxury of looking away from the scene in front of her to glance down at her leader. It proved to be a second too long, though, as another bullet flew by her. Cheshire’s gaze shot back up at the officer approaching on his horse, his revolver glued in her direction. In the darkness, she could barely make out his teeth that were bared in thinly restrained fury as he roared at her. “You fucking bitch! You’ll pay for that!”

Cheshire felt panic surge through her as she frantically went to align her scope with his head. With unsteady fingers, she shot before he did, but there was little point to it, as her bullet whizzed by his ear and left him unscathed. She felt her blood run cold in that moment, body freezing up as it prepared itself for impact. Another shot echoed out.

To Cheshire’s surprise, her body remained standing, but the one of the man who had nearly killed her fell from its horse. His fate had come from the left, where Cheshire knew Vibe was situated. Whether or not he was aware that he had just saved her life, or if it was on purpose, she didn’t know, but she sent him a silent grateful prayer before focusing her eyesight on her next victim.

Even though she was flooded with relief, her shoulders remained tense, too rigid from the guilt and horror of the fact that she had put not only her life on the line, but Goose’s as well with her carelessness. She was angry with herself beyond measure, but knew at this point better than to dwell on it. Instead, she redirected it onto the men before her, emptying bullets into their flesh with little remorse. She managed to down two more men by the time Goose had finished her side project. Cheshire only noticed upon lowering her rifle to reload it again, stopping short once realization gripped her. “Goose-”

Her boss had her arm reared back, and leaving Cheshire no room to complain, she threw it forward, the bottle in her hand leaving her grasp and flipping in and over itself as it soared towards its target. Cheshire’s humanity hit her again, knocking the air out of her lungs as she followed the bottle’s trajectory right up until it hit the horse of an angry officer with frightening precision, shattering against its chest. Color bloomed amidst the darkness of the night, engulfing the body of the steed and its owner in flame that sprayed and trickled outwards, feeding on grass and using it as fuel to spread and grow throughout the field. Cheshire barely had the time to acknowledge what had happened before Goose had taken another bottle in hand and tossed it right outside the rails of the train, encompassing the grass mere feet away from them in fire. Their horses behind them reared in fear, but Cheshire couldn’t will herself to move just yet, finding herself transfixed, rooted in place as the flames before her rose and tickled her skin with heat. To her relief, Goose snapped her out of her trance by heading back into the baggage car, leaving her alone outside.

With a deep breath, she took initiative, putting her rifle on her back and whirling around to quickly grab the reins of their horses in hand before they could flee, reaching out to stroke their muzzles for comfort. It was a struggle, settling their nerves, but Cheshire didn’t blame them, not when all she could do was replay the scene that had transpired before her over and over again in her head, watching as the horse and its rider shrieked in mutual agony as the fire burned at their flesh. Had she witnessed worse? Many times, but it still struck deep to know that someone’s last moments would be engraved in her head while his family would be left behind with nothing but charred flesh. Cheshire laughed breathily despite herself. Maybe she just needed him to have insulted Goose prior to his demise.

Speaking of, her boss was now making her way back out again, this time with their sack of valuables in hand and Vibe with rifle and bag of valuables in hand hot on her heels. Cheshire spared them a glance. “What’s the move?!” They most likely didn’t have long before the flames dissipated, leaving them at the mercy of the officers once more.

“We make a break for it. The fire should give us enough cover to make it out of here safely.” Vibe put his bolt action on his back and stepped over the train car’s railing to make his way over to Javik. In one fluid motion, he situated himself onto the saddle, tying their loot to his hip with the rope he had on him. Cheshire nodded affirmatively. Mimicking Vibe’s actions, she and Goose stepped over the railing and mounted their horses. Two quick snaps of the reins and the three were off in tandem, leaving behind the officers on the opposite side of the train in their fear and disorientation.

Two quick snaps of the reins and the three were off in tandem, leaving behind the officers on the opposite side of the train in their fear and disorientation. There was only silence between them as they rode, one heavier than Cheshire liked. It weighed on her chest like a burden, forcing the air from her lungs in a silent sigh. Despite her best efforts, they’d had to kill people anyway. She knew she’d get over it in a couple of days, but for now, she figured she just had to deal with the way her hands felt rigid and shaky all at once. The three continued to lead their horses along the windy path, coming up on the Kamassa River within minutes. It seemed as though they had made a clean getaway, but as soon as their shoulders began to sink in relief, they were tensed again by the sound of gunshots behind them. Several officers turned out to be in hot pursuit, revolvers held in hand and pointed dangerously.

“Shit! They weren’t supposed to-” Vibe pursed his lips, taking a moment to think to himself. He exchanged eye contact with the two women in front and alongside him. There were occasionally moments when Goose left the decisions to him, trusting his reading of the situation to be accurate and his judgement to be beneficial to them. “Alright, O-Cheshire! Goose and I will cover you while you take valuables and get out of here, you know where to go!”

Cheshire’s lips fell open. “But what about you two?!”

She wanted to ask why the escape was delegated to her, but the answer was fairly obvious. Although she could shoot a gun, if she were put lined up next to her partners, her skills would appear rudimentary compared to theirs. That went double for horseback and revolvers. Hunting was usually her job because she enjoyed it the most and didn’t mind pouring hours into it at a time, but not because she was the best shot.

“Cheshire!”

That being said, being aware of the fact didn’t disregard the feeling of inferiority that came with it. Still, her concerns weren’t something she felt comfortable airing out. At least, definitely not right now. She knew the group had enough faith in her to keep the valuables safe while they stayed behind, and that was what mattered, what she had to believe in. Anything else could be discussed later.

Getting over her brief moment of uncertainty, the woman nodded grimly. “Alright!”

Vibe untied the bag from his waist, urging his horse to flank Cheshire’s own and pass her the bag, as it was too heavy (and valuable) to throw. Cheshire grabbed it and positioned it before the horn of her saddle, throwing Goose a quick look, who had already been looking back at her. Goose nodded, and Cheshire felt her available hand grow steadier on the reins. “You two stay alive, got it?! Hyah!”

“Was planning on it!”

With a small laugh, Cheshire pushed her gray mare ahead of the trio, leaning forward into the wind as Goose and Vibe apart in separate directions like birds to circle back and face the men on their trail with lead. Cheshire’s horse galloped across the river in swift bounds, the bag of valuables jingling heavily against its side with every step. Cheshire continued heading west, not daring to turn southwest just yet until she was positive no one had gotten past her partners. The wind whipped sharply against her eyes as she urged her horse forward, the sound of gunshots behind her fading away into an apprehensive nothingness.

She didn’t know how much distance she had traversed in the time she was alone, but it wasn’t long until she heard gunshots yet again. She grit her teeth as she looked back behind her. To her relief, only two men seemed to be following her, but it was still two men more than she wanted. She couldn’t pull her rifle off her back; shooting it was a two-hand job and would require her to take one hand off the bag that was sitting snuggly between her legs. Using her sawed-off shotgun would require her to get up-close and personal, which she didn’t want to risk just yet with two of them. That left her one option.

She reached for the rope she kept in her personal bag, using her free hand to frantically tie a quick knot into its length. Once satisfied,the woman looked behind her again, keeping her eyes on the men behind her as she raised her hand, spinning the lasso she had just fashioned continuously in circular motions. She paused, canine digging into her lip as time slowed for just a moment before her. Taking the time to picture a buck behind her and not a person, Cheshire breathed in. She held her breath for a few seconds, watching as the men gained on her horse, closer, closer, and- she breathed out, and released the rope. The lasso soared behind her, its end coming to land over and around one of the men’s waists. As soon as her throw was successful, Cheshire tightened her grasp around the rope, gritting her teeth and leaning to the side as she jerked her arm forward, narrowly avoiding getting shot by the other lawman in the process. “Motherfucker-!”

The lasso tightened around the man’s waist and he was sent flying over his horse with a shout of horror. His back made impact with the ground with a thud that surely knocked the breath from his body soon after. Taking the thud as her signal, Cheshire squeezed her legs against her horses’s sides, pushing her to go faster. Wild Girl took off, and the man followed behind, screaming in agony as he was sent helplessly bouncing and sliding along the road. Cheshire willed herself to keep going, not stopping or letting go until the man’s screams behind her grew silent. Once they did, she discarded the rope and grabbed her sawed-off shotgun and rein in one hand, pulling the latter to the side to turn her horse around and race towards the remaining lawman she nearly left in the dust. Seeing her approach, the officer shot again, but the bullet only flew past Cheshire who had ducked prematurely. By the time he was able to get another shot off, Cheshire had managed to close the distance between them with her horse and swiftly blow his brains out, turning his head to mush.

She turned back around yet again, releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The silence was back again now, but she was able to relish in this one, appreciating it and letting her grip on the rein grow lax. Wild Girl’s pace slowed on the track, and within fifteen minutes Cheshire felt comfortable enough to lead her on the track to Emerald Ranch.

It was dawn when Alex and Alice spotted Emerald Ranch on the horizon atop their horses. Alex still felt the sting of where a bullet had whizzed past his shoulder, but having had sustained much worse before, he had no doubt the scratch would be gone in less than a week. Maybe he’d let Olga try out one of those oils she had been making on it. Maybe.

The two of them lead their horses calmly down the path they were on, the adrenaline now having left their system. Despite both of them sporting neutral looks, they both knew the lack of sleep in their system would take its toll soon.

Alice perked up slightly, seeing a faint stream of smoke off in the distance, right behind the buildings they were heading towards. Alex noticed it soon after her, and without needing to exchange any words or signals, the two headed towards it. Within mere minutes, they were met with the sight of Olga on a blanket on the grass, a small campfire alongside her and bag full of loot by her hip. A pot of boiling water stood nearby, as well as two tin mugs. Olga had a third in her hand, from which she was currently sipping a beverage. She smiled upon seeing them from above the rim of her cup. “Good to see you two are still up and running.” Although she laughed as she said it, it was easy to tell the sentiment was genuine. She looked up at them for just a few moments too long, keeping the desire to run up and hug them suppressed while she watched them dismount their horses. She knew that was something kept for when they were blackout drunk on cheap moonshine, and she was fine with it. As long as she was able to keep on seeing them the way they are now, everything else was optional.

“Wouldn’t wanna give you the satisfaction of dropping dead, now would we?”

Olga chuckled “That’s too bad. Maybe next time.” She lifted her mug in their direction. “Coffee?”

“Don’t go jinxing it!” Vibe stretched his arms out, leading Javik next to Wild Girl, and Alice doing the same with Samantha. “But god, yes please.”

“Help yourself then.” Olga shifted on her blanket to make room for her partners, pushing their bag of rewards towards them. “Feel free to look through that. Not a half bad haul, if you ask me. I was thinking we could sell a good sum of it here, then follow up in Valentine and grab an inn there for the night before finishing the sell in Strawberry.”

“Sounds good.” Alex sat himself on the opposite side of the blanket, allowing room for Alice to sit in the middle and put her grubby hands all over the loot like they knew she loved. She did just that, her shoulders ever so slightly rubbing up against Alex’s and Olga’s own. Both of the latter exhaled somewhat peacefully, one of them pouring the available coffee grinds into his mug while the other watched.

“It’s good that we did this. Now that we’ve got this score, I won’t have to deal with you running up to me and begging to do a run for Cripps for… what, a week, two weeks?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.”

Olga laughed out loud, leaning back before bending forward and leaning on Alice slightly in the process. She didn’t need to look up to know Alex had a grin of his own, and the certainty of that, as well as the certainty that Alice was content by them, helped Olga feel like she was washing the blood on her hands away more than soap and water ever could.

“Oh, by the way, I forgot to thank you. For saving my life back there.”

0 notes

rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Kinky stuff you said?

so... i have this idea

I know we all collectively as a fandom have decided that Andrea is a fluff ball lmao

but I'm rooting for him because...I don't know, like when he got angry when he found out about the letter and started to play the violin all annoyed and how he raised his voice and there is also the look that he gave Olga he gives me the feelings like~

Andrea spank me with that violin bow (we can buy a new one later)

Something like Teach me a lesson sweet boy

Dancing the dance [Andrea Marowski x Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Smut (fingering, spanking, mentions of cheating)

Author’s note: Do I have to say something? I mean the request is amazing enough

It was just a day like any other in the little village, you opened your bookshop, a small little thing that your uncle run and you were proud to call it your precious jewel.

You worked hard to keep it afloat, you went by bicycle to the bigger cities nearby to get the best books yourself or the classics, you were determined not to let it die on you, but it was every day harder.

It was almost the end of your day when you saw Mr Barnes come inside, he was a war veteran that suffered terrible injuries, but also an avid reader who would come even twice a week.

“Don’t you tell me you have already finished it, James”

You smiled at him and he shrugged, his playful smirk running over his lips. “I like this Agatha Christie author and her Belgian detective, what can I say?”

He was a player, you knew it and didn’t expect anything less from him, he is handsome and he knows it. But you never took him seriously and even less since a certain shipwrecked violinist made his way to your heart, but truth to be told, you indulged him. Sure, he was a passionate reader, but he loved to come and flirt with you and you need him and his coins to call it a day.

“Well, what’s next then?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, you’re the bookworm, aren’t you?”

His smirk was playful but you ignored it and smiled only moving away from the counter, making your away around the books to try the one you were meaning to offer him next. You always planned one in advance, or even two, just to make sure to give him enough attention but not too much.

“What about…” you begun, your tongue sticking a little put as you’re focused, eyebrows furrowed as you read the titles.

“You’d look even more the part with glasses” he interrupted you and you chuckled

“I know, I know, I should wear them but..”

“No, I mean that you’d look even more attractive with them on”

You kept quiet as he moved closer, his arm leaning against the shelf in front of you as you mumbled a thank you.

He stared at you following your every move, your hand picking a thin book and handing it to him.

“The Great Gatsby” he read out loud “Is it new?” “No, just American, it was published in 1925”

He nodded looking at it as he moved page after page, his lips pursed in concentration as you tried to move past him, but he just stood still and board in front of you.

“What do you do after work?”

“Oh, well I have some chores to do at home, study new purchases for the shop”

“You always do” he said closing the book with a loud snap making you jolt in your spot

“Let’s have a date night, we could dine at the tavern and you can tell me more about those orders you always have to do” he said taking a step forward as you mimicked him taking a step back.

“Y/N” he murmured “we are dancing this dance from a long time, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what you mean”

You replied only as you tried to move past him

“You’re very attractive, still unmarried, incredibly tempting for every man in town, you should expect it”

The truth was that you weren’t completely far from anything love related, but Dr Mead advised you to keep your little ‘entanglement’ with Andrea s secret for the time being. Most people still didn’t get the difference of him being Polish and not German and it would only make your life harder for no reason. So you obliged, you closed the curtains at night when he sneaked into your room, you visited him often with the excuse of bringing him books, you pretend not to wish his touch on you every time of the day.

“I said I can’t already”

You took the chance to move past James and take the broom to clean.

He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as his eyes travelled on you. He was patient, but not that patient, nevertheless you were a delicious eye candy to his eyes. He put his hand to his pocket still holding the book into the other one. He pulled out some coins and left them on the table, there was also a tip from you.

“I like this game Y/N” he said bluntly to you and he looked at the book “also. such a small book makes me think you want me to come back soon”

You looked at him, you matched his smirk, oh he loved to be kept on the edge, didn’t he?

“See you next week” you only said and he gave you a light military salutation to you saying something about being at your orders.

You smirked biting the inside of your cheek as you enjoyed the game for sure, or the dance as he called it, but you were realising how you had to probably tone it down. He was liking it a bit too much and going over the simple play, plus you were losing the plot of it since Andrea came into the picture.

After you closed the day, recorded all the sells and cleaned the shop you wrapped yourself up in a coat, taking an easy children book for Andrea to practice with. On your way out you noticed some scattered flowers on the ground, but you didn’t pay much attention to it.

You made your way to Ursula and Janet’s house, the violin being played out loud, a very dramatic and strong melody going off, almost violent.

As you knocked at the door Janet welcomed you quickly.

“Oh Y/N, please try to talk to him, at least you know German” she said and you looked at her confused “he went out for a walk and came back so angry, he shouted at poor Ursula, she is so bumped, I can’t look after the two of them” Janet said in her own way that made it sound almost funny, if not sarcastic.

You nodded taking off your coat and hat, you walked upstairs holding the book with you, the music getting louder as you took the stairs until his room, you got inside without knocking because it would be impossible for him to hear anyway. The first thing you noticed was his back wrapped in that white shirt and the pants kept up by his suspenders. You still remember vividly the first time you pulled those suspenders off his shoulders, it is still one of your favourite things to do as a prelude of what is about to come.

“Andrea” you called him as you closed the door behind your back, locking it just because you know how much Ursula likes to peak in.

He turned around suddenly, almost scaring you off as he held his violin in one hand and the thin bow into his other hand, his eyes on fire, jaw clenched and his back straight like a soldier.

“You bezwstydny” he shouted at you and you looked at him even more confused “schamlos” he said then in German.

“Shameless? Why?” You asked frowning, you had the luck to know German because your family immigrated to Cornwall before the WWI to join your uncle’s business, but that didn’t help when Andrea was so mad to decide not to tolerate any other language by his own like now.

“I saw you” he said spitting venom “You think funny?”

“But what?”

“You with that man in bookshop!” He growled putting down the violin because it was at serious risk of being thrown on the floor.

You parted your lips in shock as he said that, so those flowers were his?

“Did you come to pick me up?”

He nodded but his lips pressed against each other in disgust.

“Andrea, don’t make that face, he is just a client acting up”

“You act up”

You looked at him shaking your head “you don’t understand” you said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“oh no, I do understand”

His voice was different, his accent thicker than ever, there was no trace of the usual sweet smile, almost mischievous, that he always had on his lips.

He sat down on the chair were Ursula watched him for nights on “on my lap”

You frowned “no”

He raised his eyebrows “I think you not understand” he said threateningly “Are you playing with two men?”

You shook your head vehemently “You know it is not like this” you stated “I want only you”

He didn’t seem impressed, he pursed his lips in disbelief and let out a sarcastic chuckle twirling the bow between his fingers.

“Then prove it”

His accent hitting you again, you loved it, but the way he said it, that didn’t feel comforting.

You stared at him, you didn’t want to argue with him, he was already too mad and to hold a conversation was to ask too much.

So you obliged leaving the book aside and making your way to his lap sitting on it.

“No this way” he said wiggling underneath you to make you stand up

“gebückt” he said in German waving the bow to you. Oh, so he wanted you bent over it?

You stood uncomfortable for a moment but then you nodded again, you needed to get past this crisis, no?

So you moved your dress a bit to make your way onto his lap, you wanted to ask what now but then you felt distinctively the way he pulled your skirts up.

“Andrea” you hissed at him but by now he held you in that position pushing your panties down, the cold air hitting your bum, your cheeks bringing from embarrassment.

“You like play, so you get to be punish like little kid”

You blushed even more if possible, you wiggled but he held you down firmly until you stopped struggling and settled in the position he wanted.

“Repeat numbers in English for me” he said and you whimpered as he smacked that bow onto your ass earning a gasp, your shoulders trembled inward as it was more painful than expected.

“Number?”

“One” you replied immediately, how much do you have to count, you wondered.

You whimpered as other two snaps to the stick followed very quick together

“Andrea, please stop” “If you wanted me to stop you’d not act to earn it” his words an hiss between his teeth “we begin again now, you didn’t count”

You groaned but another slap reduced you to a forced obedience “one”

He smirked widely as he twirled the bow in his hand, you could’t see him but you could ear the way it cut the air around.

You obeyed and counted all the three snaps that followed, your breath itching and your hands trying to reach out to the floor to gain some advantage in the positioning, which still felt too embarrassing, the constrictive exposure of your bottom making you feel uneasy.

Andrea saw that movement and he reached down with his free hand clasping onto your jaw making you look up like some animal in need to be tamed. Another whip hit you.

“Five” you groaned as now your position felt even more humiliating, you shivered as he chuckled

“Now you will be good during more strokes, if you manage to come to dziesięć then you’ll be free”

You groaned, how much is that? The confusion in you was showing as your body stiffened. The unknown scaring you, your core clenched shamelessly, your wetness revealing a pleasure that was evident, a dirtiness of your own that you didn’t expect to meet.

“Only five more”

He whispered and smacked your ass again, you whined squeezing your eyes

“Six”

Oh, to see you so obedient.

“You like to be a tease, don’t you? You love it, showing off like a whore to that man, to all the men, you sell them the whole experience for few coins? You make them believe they can fuck you?”

He smirked hitting your ass again, your hips buckling against his leg as you were looking for relief from that desire

“Seven”

“You love it, you love to be desired by many don’t you?”

“Eight”

“You want them to dream of you at night, to desire to fuck you and smack your ass like I am doing now, these skirts only making them dream more”

“Nine”

You were sobbing by now, his hand on your jaw making it hard to breathe and speak

“Who is a whore?” “I am”

“Who is my whore?

“I am”

He smirked, he was pleased giving you one last whip, the hair of the bow falling down as some of them broke, oh you know too well how much that will cost you, Andrea wasn’t one to easily ruin something like that.

“Ten!”

You almost shouted it, your thighs trembling and knees kept closing and parting trying to find some relief.

Andrea leaned down kissing the back of your neck as he gave you time to calm down, let the humiliation sink in.

“Andrea” Ursula’s voice rang from behind the door “Are you quite alright? Dinner is almost ready”

“I am! Y/N and I need a moment” he said, his voice completely different and far from the dark threatening voice that poured over you a second before “We will be down in ten!” As he spoke he touched over your wet slit, how shamelessly you were patching his pants with all that excitement, so slowly began playing with you, you winced biting on the fabric of his tailored cloths trying to hold back any sound while those skilled violist fingers kept scissoring inside of you. “We haven’t done yet”

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl

Let me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

#andrea marowski #andrea marowski x you #andrea marowski fanfiction #andrea marowski smut #andrea marowski fanfic #andrea marowski x reader #andrea marowski fic

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dragon-kazansky · 3 years

Text

Sweet wonderful Andrea | Andrea Marowski

Part 1

Andrea kept to his word and returned the following day, violin in hand. The moment you opened the door, he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek. You assumed this was your new greeting now.

He stayed for tea, played his violin, and spent a few hours talking to you. He wanted to know every little thing about you. You told him as much as you could.

This went on for days. He would come looking for you at your house, sometimes with his violin, sometimes without. Every single time he greeted you with a kiss. The pair of you were getting closer every single day.

Andrea would hold your hand. Plant kisses to your forehead because he liked how shy you were after. He would hug you close to his chest. Every time he played the violin, he told you he was playing for you. Andrea had fallen in love with you.

And you most certainly fell for him.

Anyone with eyes could see that. Janet would sometimes spot you both on the beach, his head in your lap, your fingers in his hair. Sometimes you would be holding hands and walking up to the house with him.

Ursula was jealous. She couldn't deny that, but she never really said anything. At least not to you. To Andrea, though, she had asked on a few occasions if he would rather spend the day at the house, or go down to the beach with her.

He would deny, politely, and make his way to see you. Andrea only ever wanted to spend time with you.

One night he even told them how he felt about you. The reactions were mixed.

His visits began to mellow out. You didn't see him quite as often, but on the days he did come to see you, he spent every waking hour with you.

It would appear he had met someone who was staying in the village. A woman by the name of Olga. She was visiting apperently. He talked about her quite fondly. You tried not to let it get to you, but jealously was an annoying bug that was hard to shake off.

Still, you put on a happy face for him. It's not as if anything was official between you two, but you were so sure all his little gestures meant something. Even now as he treated his head on your lap, looking up at you with sparkly eyes and soft smile.

He only ever looked at you that way.

One afternoon, while tending to your garden, Andrea came by. Your heart leaped in your chest as he entered your little haven. He was quick to come over and kiss your cheeks as usual, arms snug around you.

"I missed you."

You chuckle, "I missed you too. Where have you been?"

"Seeing Olga."

"Oh." You step away slightly, turning back to the flowerbed you had been tending to.

Andrea frowns at your reaction.

"Do you not like Olga?"

"She seems nice," you say, not wanting to give an actual answer.

Andrea kneels down beside you, eyes full of hope that you will look up at him. You don't. He reaches out with one hand and gently stops you from your work. You look at his hand on yours.

"I did not mean to upset you."

You put a smile on your face and look up, hoping it will ease him. It doesn't.

"I'm not upset."

"Yes, you are. I want to tell you something."

"What is it?"

Andrea pulls you up to your feet. He places both of his hands on your shoulders and makes you look at him. He smiles softly at you, excitement flashing before his eyes.

"kocham Cię."

You stare at him blankly. Andrea stands there smiling like a fool. He knew you wouldn't understand. You didn't speak a word of Polish.

"kocham Cię," he says again.

"Andrea, I don't know what that means."

Andrea begins to crack up, laughing with full joy. The sound makes you smile as you watch him. What a wonderful sound it was.

"Andrea."

"Sorry. Sorry." He continues to laugh. You shake your head at him.

"What does it mean?"

"How you say..." he pretends not to know. Andrea seems to love teasing you.

He hadn't gone to the sisters to ask for the translation. He was concerned they weren't very fond of you, but it was hard for him to tell. He had asked Olga. She had seen him with you and he trusted her.

"kocham Cię."

"No really, you keep saying it, but I don't understand," you're still chuckling softly. He's just winding you up.

"I love you."

You can only stare at him. His goody grin, his big brown eyes.

"Andrea..."

"I love you. I mean it. kocham Cię."

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, unable to settle your racing heart. Andrea eagerly returns the gesture, having wanted to kiss you this way for some time now.

You pull away just to look at him, only for him to kiss you again, and again.

He pulls away himself. He looks at you.

"Do you?"

You smile at him.

"Of course I do! I love you, so much."

He hugs you tightly, laughing in your ear. You just made him the happiest man in the world.

"There is something else I must tell you."

"Oh? I don't think it can beat that but go on." You hold his hands, smiling up at him.

"I may have chance to go to London, I need to ask if you would come with me."

You're nice again left speechless.

"Andrea... London, that's... I mean, that's amazing, but..."

"But?"

"I can't just run away to London."

"No? I refuse to go if you do not come," he states, serious face on.

"That's quite a statement to make."

"I mean it. I go with you, or not at all."

"But, won't London be wonderful for you? I assume this has something to with that musician you mentioned."

"Yes, but if you don't come, I don't go," he tells you. There was no more teasing now.

"Can I think about it?"

"Yes. I do not know when train to London leaves, but I will wait." He squeezes your hands.

"Alright. I'll think about it. Andrea?"

"Yes?"

"Do they know about London?" You ask, referring to the sisters.

"No."

"Alright. Give me some time. I'll have an answer for you."

That wonderful smile returns and be kisses you again.

"kocham Cię, Y/N. kocham Cię."

"I love you too, Andrea."

He stands there and holds you to him for a while. Your mind is buzzing away. If you don't go with him, Andrea will miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.

The answer should be obvious.

part 3

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97

#andrea marowski #andrea marowski x reader #ladies in lavender #daniel brühl

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dogbearinggifts · 4 years

Note

What are your thoughts on tua S2? Did you feel like the characters grew? What did you like? What did you not? I’m interested in your perspective. Your analysis are super thoughtful and interesting!

Aw, thanks, Anon!

Overall, I really enjoyed S2 and thought it was a solid follow-up to S1. I do have my quibbles about it, so I think (for ease of reference and because my thoughts are a little scattered today) I’ll list some of my personal highlights (in no particular order) before getting into what I didn’t like as much.

Big spoilers ahead.

Allison. I thought they handled her storyline especially well. Of all the siblings, I think she had the most difficult obstacles placed in her way (not only is she a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas, but she’s a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas who can’t even speak in her own defense for a year) and they sugarcoated exactly none of it. The writers pulled no punches when showing what civil rights protesters went through, which just made their nonviolent response all the more breathtaking. Allison’s fear and anger during those scenes were palpable even as she kept them hidden. But along with that horror, we see the kindness and warmth of the Dallas Black community, the women who take her in simply because she needs their help, and her love for Ray, perhaps heretofore THE most thoughtful husband ever portrayed on screen. I loved him, and I loved him and Allison together. While I understand and respect his choice to stay in 1963, I wish they’d gotten more time together. They both deserved it.

Vanya. We got to see how much the baggage from her past affected her by glimpsing what she might be like if it were taken away. It’s an interesting philosophical question, and it was explored well, in my opinion. She finds it easier to love and be loved, and she stands up for herself more readily—but she also doesn’t hesitate to use powers she can’t quite control and threatens Five without fully realizing how dire her threat is (or how it might dredge up traumatic memories she doesn’t know exist). The moment where Ben finds her curled up, fully convinced she’s a monster, was heartbreaking. I loved watching her find happiness with Sissy, even if that was fleeting (and dear god, Sissy deserved her happy ending with Vanya, dammit, I don’t care if it would fuck up the timeline). Her patience and sweetness with Harlan were just beautiful. And the way she used the confidence she gained during her amnesia to fully come into her own not to exact revenge on her siblings, but to save them, was fucking phenomenal.

The humor. There was a lot more humor this season, and it was awesome. So many iconic scenes—Olga Foroga, Luther babysitting two homicidal Fives, Elliot awkwardly lecturing his guests on the history of Jello, “NEW TIMELINE NEW ME,” “Your vagina needs glasses,” AJ the fish gobbling up the cigarette bubbles, Five getting to say “fuck”….this season was a lot funnier than the previous one, and I think that was one of its strengths.

Klaus’ cult. It was played for laughs, which I both expected and thought was the best way to handle it. He didn’t want to start a new religion with himself at the center; he just wanted to not get thrown out of any more diners, but Destiny’s Children had other ideas. The “I too am a fraud!” scene was hilarious and tickled the question of whether or not a religion founded on false pretenses can still help those within it find meaning.

Luther. Getting him away from his dad, his siblings, and the Academy was exactly what he needed to become the pure of heart and dumb of ass genius we always knew he was, but his first major step in that direction was heartbreaking. We all knew he’d be rejected once he got to the Academy. We all knew Reginald would rip his heart out and stomp on it in his admittedly fashionable shoes. It gets Luther out on his own and forces him to become his own person apart from his dad, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. He got the positive character development he needed, but the catalyst was tragic.

Diego. We see, for the first time, exactly how Reginald kept him in line—not with meds or with PTSD-inducing torture, but with words. Even when he knows Diego as little more than a stranger, Reginald is able to rip off his skin and fling it in his face with a single diatribe; and even at 30, with years away from his dad, Diego is left unable to speak, feeling as if all of his accomplishments up to that point were the work of a dumb kid who thought he was smarter and more capable than he actually was.

Luther and Diego sharing a braincell. Luther has bad ideas. Diego has bad ideas. When they put their bad ideas together, they get terrible ideas. I loved watching them work together as a team, rather than being at each others’ throats for most of the season, even if I’m left hoping Olga Foroga had a pleasant and quiet day after that phone call.

Reginald. At first glance, it may look like the writers were trying to make him likable so they could parade him around as your average abusive-parent-with-a-soft-side. But it’s more nuanced than that. Abusive parents (and abusers in general) often fly under the radar because they fool outsiders into thinking they’re good people. They’re active in their communities. They give to charity. They have friends who attest to their virtue, significant others who think they’re the greatest. And that’s what we see with Reginald. We see him as the rest of the world did: an intelligent, eccentric man with a sharp sense of humor who cared deeply about scientific advancement. That’s how he evaded suspicion—because there were stories from years past of lively parties at his mansion, of what a gentleman he was to Grace and of how he did everything he could to save little Pogo. But those stories would all have come from people he considered his equals. When he’s with people he considers his inferiors—aka, the Umbrella kids—he’s openly condescending and demeaning. We get to see how he fooled the world, and it is chilling.

Elliot. He deserved better, and you can ship him with any one of the Hargreeves kids and get the cutest thing ever.

The Swedes. They said so much while speaking very little.

Ben. He got more personality and screen time, and it was glorious. His love of his family and resentment toward Klaus practically leapt off the screen. The way he says “I’ve missed you all…so much” once they’ve all left was one of those right-in-the-feels moments; and watching him get so much of what he’s wanted for years when he possesses Klaus was beautiful.

Now, as for things I took issue with….

Ben. I understand why they ended his arc the way they did. I get that they were probably afraid the Klaus/Ben dynamic would grow stale if they didn’t change it somehow and wanted to give him a larger role in S3. His death(???) was heartbreaking and extremely well-done. But it also wasn’t foreshadowed. We never got any sense of what ghosts in the TUA ‘verse are, so the fact they can be destroyed by a ton of sound-turned-energy or by going too far into someone’s psyche or whatever happened….it’s not that it doesn’t make sense so much as there’s not enough evidence to determine whether or not it makes sense. It feels like the writers just kinda made that up so they’d have a reason to change Ben’s relationship dynamics, but if that’s the case, couldn’t they have done it another way? Couldn’t they have made it so the immense energy or psychic woo-woo or whatever gave him a power-up instead of destroying him? Vanya transferred some of her energy into Harlan and brought him back to life. Couldn’t something similar have happened with Ben? And if it tied him to Vanya as well as to Klaus, great! More fodder for angst and humor! (”Vannyyyyyyyy, stop hogging Ben!” “You got him for 17 years, Klaus, you can part with him for 20 minutes.” “Guys, don’t I get a say in this?”) I’m glad they didn’t write him out of the series entirely, but I still wish they’d kept him and all the character development he’d gotten throughout S2.

Episode 10. It looks like they tried to cram half a season’s worth of developments into 45 minutes. Twenty minutes in, I’d already said “Wait what the fuck” half a dozen times. A lot of those moments were explained later on, and I was able to make enough inferences to fill in any lingering plot holes, but…still. Too much stuff, too little time. E9 was a perfectly satisfying ending to the season. Yes, it leaves the siblings stranded in 1963, but they could’ve tied up those loose ends in the S3 premiere.

Lila. She’s an incredibly fun character, but her arc is kind of a mess. Most of that is due to E10, and I do feel that more time to let her arc breathe would’ve worked wonders, but I’m left feeling like her turn from “Handler is the best mom ever and I lurve Diego too” to “KILL DIEGO AND HIS EVIL FAMILY” to “Handler is a bad mom and Diego is right” happened too quickly.

The Commission. Okay, so, the Handler announces the entire Board has been killed, and she’s stepping in as director even though everyone appears to know she’s been demoted (and demoted pretty severely—she went from having an office bigger than some apartments to being a case management drone). There’s suspicion and lots of it. But then, La Resistance is….ten or so people in a single room? And when she calls the temps agents to her side, thousands of them show up ready and willing to fight and die? I dunno. Just seems like there should’ve been more splintering going on there. Again, I think they needed more time to tie everything up.

Aside from those complaints, I loved the season. I set aside most of a day to binge it, and I do not regret that decision at all.

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thessaliah · 3 years

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thoughts about nasu's latest blog post?

The Solomon anime one? Mildly exasperated he needs to do blog posts to 'explain' what should have been clear in the adaption. One thing is clarifying and adding info that was cut, but another is to explain the scene animated was "supposed to portray." Speculation+meta about Mash's and Roman's relationship:

On the other hand, it did confirm something I had thought back in 2016. When Goetia launched his Noble Phantasm and Mash blocked it, I thought he meant to target everyone not just Guda, but how the scene is framed in the game made me think Mash only blocked it for her Master's well-being, however now he soft-retcons clarifies Goetia was targeting Chaldea behind:

（ゲーティアの宝具はあれ、背後にあるカルデアベースそのものを狙ってたんだよ）

Well, they would get hit too, but that was his target. This should have been important to highlight before because Ash-Savior criticised Mash's lack of resolve in Avalon. About how Galahad doesn't answer her because she's not actually fighting for what she wants to fight with all her heart. She battles out obligation, but there's a void in her heart. This could be "oh she'll fight to save Olga, that's why." But Mash resolved to fight to "take back Olga" in Olympus already. Nothing changed about her status. I mean no doubt Olga is going to be a goal, but she fought with all her heart in part 1 while she was dead. Now we have Nasu saying what Mash was protecting was Chaldea, not just her Master behind her. This stuff is important because is going to answer what Mash has been dodging from the beginning of the arc because IMO she has no idea how to cope with her feelings. Was it the place? If was the place, why didn't Galahad answer her in the prologue of part 2? Even when Da Vinci was alive and the staff was in danger? What is missing?

Roman is missing.

IMO, Mash always fought to protect him, and go back home with him. She didn't realize this. Rie Takahashi spoke in one of the Solomon staff streams Mash doesn't realize how much she loves Roman and wants to show her gratitude to him because she took him for granted. Like children do to their parents. So she was 'distracted' by meeting new people and having her senpai took the foreground because the foundation was always there. But suddenly isn't? Mash would have risked everyone, including senpai to irrationally turn back to stay at Roman's room when she snapped and had a breakdown in the Prologue of part 2. I think the movie Singularity also served as a parallel to their relationship: Gabriella loses her foster father and is surrounded by many people who care for her and she could even live a potential romance, but she realizes only Miguel loved her unconditionally and she loved him above everyone. That's why Mash and Roman pushed for Murasaki's work to be portrayed even if they had a different undercurrent reason than the author.

Mash needs to become honest about her feelings from the beginning to advance. It doesn’t mean Mash doesn’t care about those other people, but her heart is incomplete right now because she lost one of the biggest reasons (if not the biggest) why she had that resolve and still lacks self-awareness to realize it. That’s the gist of this. Besides her wish to show her thanks, Mash was a defender. She knew she was going to die, she still went forward this and burned herself out. Then she got granted a second chance (a joyous one!) and returned back to her home and the person she probably wanted to protect the most was missing. Died. Gone. In a way, even if it was not her fault, she probably thought this was her failure. She was ready to die for years, but she wasn’t ready to lose the person she cared the most and was protecting. This even happened while she was unable to do anything, even say goodbye.

#fgo ask #mash kyrielight #romani archaman

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader

Chapter 7- Öga for öga

Summary: The meeting with Sir Reginald Hargreeves went just as smoothly as you’d expected, so not at all. Elliot’s dead, and things just keep getting weirder. Go Team Zero!

Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @thatfandombitcch @2cuteforyourlies @fandomoverlord221 @la-vie-en-amour1 If you want tagged just hit me up.

Pulling out one of his own knifes from Elliot’s chest, Diego looks on, a hard expression clear on his face. You fold your arms as a sick feeling creeps over you, your eyes studying the message written in blood scrawled out on the floor below.

“I can’t believe Elliot’s dead.” Luther says sadly, whilst draping a blanket over Elliot’s lifeless body.

“I’ll fucking slit the throat of whoever did this to him.” You hiss quietly, pissed that you weren’t here to defend him.

“He was a good guy.” Luther says.

“Deserves better then this.” Diego adds.

“Yeah.” You and Luther say simultaneously. All of you a mix of shock, anger, and sadness. This should never have happened, everywhere the Hargreeves go they only seem to ever bring trouble.

“Elliot must’ve been getting close to the truth. It smells like the feds.” Diego says, looking out at the blood written writing.

“No way. Someone more sinister definitely pulled this off.” You tell him earnestly, dreadfully suspicious that this was indeed your guy’s fault.

“I agree with Y/N, I mean seriously Diego, if this was the federal government, they would take him somewhere and question him. They wouldn’t...do this.” Luther explains, pointing at the mess before him.

“This is 100% the work of a psychopath.” You tell him bluntly, the fuck is going on in his head right now, federal government my ass.

“Oga Feroga.” Diego says, looking over the balcony again, thinking deeply about what it could mean. “That a name?” He wonders.

Both you and Luther look over the bloody words as well. Confused, as to what the true meaning could be? A name? A phrase? A place, maybe?

“Let’s look her up.” Luther says, turning around to find the phone book. You make a confused face as the two of them walk over to call this, person?

——

You lean against the table behind Luther, as Diego leans against the main kitchen table to your right.

“Okay.” Luther flips through the phone book, trying to find her name.

Crossing your arms over your chest you tell them sarcastically, “Oh come on guys, how do we even know if it’s an actual persons name? It could mean, trash for lions, for all we know...and why would we call them, if this is the actual killer...like their really gonna answer with, Oh yes hello it is us the crazed lunatics who killed your friend our bad.”

“Holy shit, here it is?” Luther says surprised, both him and Diego ignoring your protests to stop jumping to conclusions. “Olga Feroga. That must be her.” He says matter-of-factly, showing the name to Diego.

“Call the bitch.” Diego says angrily.

“On it, and Y/N, don’t stop me....please.” He says while reaching for the wall phone, phone book still in hand, while Diego looks between the two of you.

Shaking your head at them in annoyance, keeping your arms crossed. You move around Diego and walk past him to lean against the kitchen counter on the opposite wall, waiting for whatever’s about to happen next. Right on cue, you hear Five teleporting inside, then run up the stairs to the three of you.

“It’s ringing.” Whispers Luther at Diego, glancing at you for a second, scared you might do something to stop him. “Uh, hello, Olga?” He questions. “It’s her. She sounds old. What should I say?” Looking to Diego for guidance. It’s the blind leading the blind, you think to yourself. Clearing his throat, Luther continues, “Excuse me, ma’am. Um, I was just wondering...what? My name? Is, uh, Luther Hargreeves, and...” suddenly Diego takes the phone out of Luther’s hand, raising it up to speak. “You killed one of ours, Olga, now we’re coming after you. You will be dead. by. nightfall.” He ends, in the most try-hard intimidating voice you’ve ever heard. You snort, Five then walks up to the three of you, splattered with blood.

“Hey. It’s Öga för Öga, idiots. Swedish for “an eye for an eye.” Five tells them, while taking off his blazer.

They both turn to your smirking face, “And who was right? Not, you two dipshits.” You tell them, giving Diego a wink. The two of them just turn back to Five deciding to look elsewhere.

“It means the Swedes killed Elliot.” Five explains to them.

Diego brings the phone back up to speak into it again, “Wrong number. Have a lovely day.” He ends the call faintly smiling, avoiding your amused gaze. He turns to Luther, “We would have gotten there. Eventually.”

“Yeah.”

Five takes off his uniform jacket, walking briskly past the three of you. And straight into the bathroom.

“Uh, you have some blood on you.” Diego tells Five, a concerned expression on his face.

“A lot of blood, actually.” Luther stating the obvious.

“And all not yours.” You add with a raised eyebrow. What did he just do?

“Five, what did you do?” Luther demands, all three of you staring at Five expectantly.

——

You, Luther, and Diego start putting on your most essentially badass clothing for the day. Apparently we’re wearing all black today, you think, while putting on your dark red leather jacket. Well almost all black, gotta stand out right.

“So I found a way home.” Five tells you guys, while still in the bathroom putting on his tie.

“What? How?” Luther quickly says, tucking in his undershirt.

“All the details are irrelevant, but...I made a deal to get back to our timeline.”

“What about doomsday?” Diego wonders, looking in on Five.

“Won’t happen.” He replies, much to your shock and doubt.

“And the 2019 apocalypse?” You ask Five, as you stand in between Diego and Luther.

“Everything will be back to normal. All right? Now, no more questions. We gotta go.” He tells the three of you as he walks back into the kitchen adjusting his white shirt caller. “We have to find the others, right?”

“Yeah.” Luther says quickly, looking down at Five.

“Luther, get Allison.” Five begins. “Okay.” Says Luther with a nod.

“Diego and Y/N, Klaus. I’ll get Vanya.” Turning to leave he walks over putting on his jacket, turning back around to finish. “Now, we meet back in the arrival alley in 77 minutes.” He pulls two watches out of his pocket, handing one to you and the other to Luther. “Here. I’ve synchronized these watches.”

“Okay, lets do this.” Adds Luther.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on.” Diego says, stopping Five from leaving. “You show up drenched in blood and expect us to believe everything’s gonna go back to normal if we go home now?”

“Elliot just got killed because of us.” Five exclaims just wanting to leave already.

“What about Dad? What about JFK?” Diego questions, yet again still refusing to give up on his concerns about them.

“Diego, we have a chance to go home and make things right. We are taking it.” Five snaps, trying to get through to Diego about why everyone has to leave.

Not feeling right about the whole, leaving Lila to fend for herself situation, you speak up, “I at least gotta say goodbye to Lila, I feel wrong to just leave her hanging like that.” Five suddenly gets an exasperated face, throwing his agitation at you. “Lila doesn’t give a shit about any of you, she never did. She’s one of them. She’s a member of the Commission.” He yells throwing his arms up in frustration.

Your face twists in confusion, she was different for sure. But you didn’t expect her to be apart of the actual fucking Commission. What the hell.

“No. How could she?” You ask flabbergasted, Diego feeling the same way.

“She was just using you two, to get to me.” He tells you angrily, about to walk away. “Congratulations you’ve actually achieved something stupider then I thought you were capable of.” Five rudely adds, turning around again and heading towards the stairs. Okay then.

Stepping past Diego, you yell at Five, “Listen here you little shit, I just wanted to see my friend one last time. If you haven’t noticed I don’t exactly have many of them left.” You snap.

A flash later he’s in front of you, pointing up at your angry face with his own one. “If you don’t do this, I’ll kill you myself. And promise me, I could find a way. Got it.” He’s says sharply, irritation flashing in his eyes. You glare down at him.

“Fine.” You force out through clenched teeth, watching him as he teleports away.

Diego puts a hand on your shoulder, “Come on. Let’s go get Klaus.”

You may not have enjoyed the part where Lila was lying to you. But she didn’t hurt anyone, and you truly did enjoy her company. She was funny, sassy, and great at playing darts. How was she apart of the fucking Commission, how was she tied into all that shit. Whatever.

——

You and Diego arrive at Klaus’ ridiculously large mansion. Like how the fuck. Getting out of the car, you both begin walking down the sidewalk leading to the also incredibly large backyard. You close your eyes listening intently for the sound of his voice, you hear a familiar giggle coming from somewhere near the hedge.

“I found him. Let’s go.” You tell Diego, walking towards the designated destination.

Turning a corner you spot Klaus and some other woman sitting in each other’s laps while making out on the grass. You share a knowing look with Diego, as you walk forward.

“Hey, daddy.” Diego says bluntly at Klaus, taking him off guard.

“You got a sec, hot stuff.” You smirk at him, clearly amused by the current compromising situation in front of you.

He suddenly looks up at the two of you, his eyes going wide in excitement. “Diego! Y/N!” He exclaims breathlessly. Wait, that sounded like? No way?

Diego beckons him to go with the two of you, Klaus saying goodbye to his, friend? Uh. Who knows? Then the three of you are up and walking swiftly through the grass, heading for the car. “Five found a way home.” Diego tells him, as a random follower of Klaus’ tells him good morning.

“It’s so great to talk to you again, Diego. You hear what I just said?” Klaus questions, sounding so much like Ben. You’re so confused trying to put the pieces together, is he currently possessed?

“Are you high, Klaus?” Diego inquires, sharing a confused glance with you.

“No, I’m not Klaus.” He says seriously, stopping the both of you from walking. You knew it! “I’m Ben.” He whispers, leaning in like it’s the biggest secret in the world.

“You are high. Look we don’t have time for this.” Diego says brushing him off. He doesn’t understand.

“He’s telling us the truth. I can hear your voice Ben, every time you speak.” You tell him softly, trying to properly process your happy-sad emotions. Klaus err Ben, gives you a giant smile, before looking up to a still doubting Diego. “I can prove it. Ask me something only Ben would know.”

Diego looks to the ground for a second, thinking of what to ask him. “Okay. When we were little, what did you reprogram Allison’s Teddy Ruxpin to say?”

Ben looks at the two of you and without skipping a beat he begins in a sing-songy voice, “Luther sniffs Dad’s underwear.” He ends smiling fondly at Diego’s now incredibly shocked face.

“Holy shit.” He says, glad to be talking to Ben after all this time. A second later you pull Ben into a bear hug, overwhelmed with joy. Diego doing the same, the three of you in a tiny family group hug.

Pulling away again, Diego wonders, “I don’t get it, I mean. How is this even possible?”

“I can posses him now and it’s freakin’ awesome!” He says excitedly at the two of you.

“Okay, you can tell us all about it on the way back to 2019. Okay? We gotta go.” You rush, trying to get things rolling again, times a tickin after all.

Ben then wonders about the fate of Destiny’s Children, saying goodbye to the two of you for now and promptly returning to Klaus’ cult to set things straight. You and Diego heading out, with 30 minutes to spare you know what should be done next.

——

After playing an intense match of rock, paper, scissors for who gets to shovel Elliot’s grave first, you and Diego decide to take turns. Standing off to the side in your grey tank top, slightly sweaty from shoveling most of the hole. You watch Diego work up a sweat of his own, as you drop your leather jacket to the ground, putting your hands on your hips. Attempting to air out the best you can in the autumn Texas heat. Hearing the sound of someone walking up to the two of you, you look up quickly, relaxing again when you notice it’s only Lila. Uh, this will be interesting, you think.

“Oh good. It’s you and your stupid face.” Diego says huffing, annoyed that she just randomly showed up, after her apparent lies from earlier.

“Weird time to garden.” She states, jokingly. “Can we all talk? The truth this time.” She adds while looking at you.

You scoff, “Oh, we know the truth. You used us Lila. I became your friend when Diego wanted to leave you behind. You’re a liar. Admittedly a good one at that.” You sneer, tilting your head to the side in annoyance.

She smiles, “Oh, come on. What did I really lie about?”

“Who you are. Who you work for, why you’re here, what you want from us. All that fun shit.” You tell her bluntly, curious as to what she’s going to say next. Diego stays focused on shoveling, humming in agreement.

She nods, smiling, “Yeah, but the rest is true. Everyone lies, and...and I was only lying to protect the both of you.” She says while slowly walking closer to the two of you. “Mostly.” Looking off to the side for a second. Diego stops shoveling, sharing a look with you, then focusing is attention back on Lila. Who’s still trying to make an attempt at apologizing.

“Do you know how hard it is to trust people, when your whole childhood was bullshit manipulation?” Diego asks her.

She looks down for a second, “Uh-Huh.” She says while avoiding both of your harsh gazes.

“Then why would you do that to us?” You mutter, disappointed in your ex-friend. If there’s even a word for it. She doesn’t answer you.

“Tell you what, I’m gonna finish this hole...save the world alongside Y/N, and forget we ever met.” He says with a grunt, as he sinks his shovel back into the dry earth. You nodding in agreement, as you fold your arms glancing at the bloody blanket draped over Elliot.

Following your gaze, Lila suddenly spots the blood soaked blanket, “Wait, is that dentist-chair guy?” She questions with a surprised look on her face, looking to you for an answer.

“Elliot. Your Swedish buddies got him.” You deadpan, just wanting her to leave.

“Oh, shit.” She blurts out, not expecting to find him here. Or even dead for that matter. Putting the blanket back down, she smiles, fondly remembering how pleasantly annoying he was. “I liked that shit-muppet.” She says, almost sadly. Moving her left arm around behind her, she pulls out a silver flask, twisting the top off, “Well, here’s to Elliot, I guess.” She says looking over to the blanket again. “Uh, I’ll miss his crazy theories, and I’ll miss third wheeling you guys, and playing darts with you, Y/N.” Lifting up the flask and offering the first sip to you, you shake your head at the nasty scent coming from the bottle. “I’m good.” You tell her, arms still crossed in a defensive stance. She nods, taking a small sip for herself, before offering it to Diego. He takes it without a second thought, chugging the whole thing and throwing it to the side. “We done now?” He asks Lila, turning back to begin shoveling again.

All of a sudden Diego stops shoveling, his eyes seem to gloss over as he looks to Lila pleadingly and then to you. “Y/N, oh...balls..shiiittt.” His voice grows slurred and without warning he falls to the ground. Sending a small wave of dust in his wake. You stare on with a deeply puzzled look in your eyes. You turn to her quickly, confusion and anger rising inside of you, as you begin stalking towards her direction. She spits out the liquid, an amused smile on her face, with a twinge of fear at your swiftly approaching body.

“You sneaky motherfucker, I’ll slit your goddamn throat and shove...” She pulls out a black stick and thrusts it at your stomach in one calculated motion. Cutting you off short from your aggressive reaction, and violently sending hot volts of electricity throughout your body. Screaming out in pain at the unexpected turn of evens, you instantaneously fall to the hard ground with a dusty thud. Landing heavily on your hands and stomach, as you twitch uncontrollably trying to suck in ragged breaths. “Yup” you hear her say smiling down at the two of you.

Glaring up at her, she walks over to Diego, pulling him out of the small ditch and setting him a foot or two from your shaking body. How many fucking volts of electricity was in that tiny thing, you wondered, too stiff to say anything comprehensible. She bends down to better see your angry face, “I’ve got a bit of a plan of my own, and I need the both of you with me. But I happen to know that you’re probably not gonna wanna do that...so.” She smiles clasping her hands together. “I’m gonna take your wolfboy with me, and hopefully that will change your mind.” She ends, standing up, shock stick still in hand. “I’ll be back when you’re, ya know...less filled with murderous rage.”

You lay on your back, still slightly twitching here and there, grunting trying to find your voice again, “F..ff..uucc..kkk o...fff.” You reply straining every word, you body continues to twitch, your muscles feeling tense and exhausted.

“Hmm, alright then, see ya ‘round, and hopefully under better circumstances.” She says nodding at you playfully, you glare up at her a small trickle of blood seeps out of your nose, leaving a ruby read trail from your right nostril as it falls down the side of your cheek and jaw. You suck in another ragged breath.

You breath out again, feeling a bit of relief as your body finally begins healing back up from the electrifying shock she just handed you. You turn your face to the left, dirt and gravel touching that side of your face as its pressed roughly against the ground. Reaching out your hand, you secretly grab a small nearby jagged rock, lunging for her leg. You slash it cleanly with the rock, drawing a trail of blood in the aftermath. She yelps in surprise, oh fuck, she then swings the shock stick back in your direction. Catching you right in the ribs, sending an agonizing wave of electricity into you. Then everything goes black.

——

Suddenly bolting upright into a seated position, you look around the area for any sighs of Diego, or Lila. Nothing. God-fucking-dammit, you think bitterly, what the fuck, what the fuck was she talking about. And she took Diego. That little English-talking shithead. She took Diego.

Coming back to your senses you suddenly realize what your original mission was. Find Klaus, okay done. Make it back to the arrival alleyway, oh shit. Crawling swiftly toward your discarded leather jacket, you pick it up and fumble around for the right pocket, pulling out the watch. Okay, you got 12 minutes left. You can make it, what about Diego? Eh, you’ll find him later, it’s time to haul-ass now. You hastily stand up and turn to book it back to the alley.

——

Not caring about the strange looks you keep getting from random civilians on the sidewalk, you continue your Olympic worthy sprint as you race through town with probably a minute to spare. Turning the corner, you run wildly down the alley and straight to your friends. Who don’t have Vanya or Allison. Not a good sign.

You look over to Five who’s marching back-in-forth angrily while quietly yelling, “It was a simple task. It was a simple task! All they had to do was be here!”

“Where have you been, and where’s Diego?” Questions Luther, who doesn’t look to happy either as he keeps his gaze locked onto the cement in a broody frustration.

“Lila showed up, drugged Diego with something in her flask and then electrocuted me multiple times with some type of powerful shocker stick. Then dipped. Taking Diego with her.” You ramble, trying to catch your breath again.

“They didn’t have to fight a giant sea monster, or an army of mutants? Nein!” Continues Five, still pacing back and forth.

“Jesus, Y/N, you look like you got dragged through the street, you’re bleeding out of your nose and ears.” Luther points out, looking closer at your disheveled state.

“Fuck, I didn’t even notice.” You add, while touching those areas, feeling dried blood. No wonder people gave you such odd looks you look like a kidnapping victim, or someone who got caught in a stampede.

“I can’t believe this. It was handed to us on a silver platter!” Snaps Five, at no one in particular.

“Could you just moan a little softer? My head is killing me.” Whines Klaus from his seat on the cement. Looking all sweaty and slightly homeless, not far from how you currently look. Guess Ben’s gone, for the moment.

“Listen to me, you useless puke bag, we just blew our chance to save the world!” Shrieks Five, fuming at the fact that half of his siblings are missing. “And Y/N, where the fuck is Diego? And why do you look like you just got hit by a bus?” You turn to him, letting out a couple more heavy breaths as you present Five with a give-me-a-fucking-moment type of glare.

“Lila found us, drugged him, and electrocuted me with some fucking shocker stick. All for some scheming plan of her’s. She took him, but I don’t know where?” You sharply reply, still breathing heavily, from your 11 minute sprint.

He looks away defeated and fed up with everyone’s bullshit, suddenly the black time traveling suitcase begins to make a weird whirring sound. Signaling it’s about to teleport to 2019, without the Hargreeves siblings and you.

“God damn it.” Five growls while picking up the suitcase and chucking it at the sky. Where it promptly flashes into the next timeline.

“We were that close. That close.” Sighs Five discouraged, continuing to pace angrily back and forth once again.

You look up at Luther tiredly, sighing as you wipe some dirt from your cheek,

“I need a drink.”

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #number two #tua #tua spoilers #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories

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commonalex · 3 years

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future ready

future ready by common alex

Listen/download: future ready by common alex

It was around three months after I've been fired. I didn't dare to talk about it much, but it wouldn't that much of a mystery for someone to figure out why the short chick with the plaited hair isn't on the cash register giving wrong change to the old ladies anymore. To be perfectly honest, I was pretty devastated that I managed to fail even at working at the supermarket, where all you needed to get a grip was knowing how to count, wearing an "Olga" tag like a war medal, and acting like everything's okay at all times. Maybe that's why I ended up sneaking into it like a thief that day, out of stubbornness. It was the last sense of routine I had while everything was going under outside the window.

I could barely get out the bed before four in the afternoon. And when I did, all I had planned was dragging my body before the tv to catch some telemarketing and dumb commercials until the sun was out again and I successfully forgot who I am and what I'm going through. Because what other choices did I have really? For the last two years I was jumping from one dead end job to the next, either until I get fired or until I quit. I was leaving on benefits and a sad amount of savings, and I was starting to accept the fact that this would be my life from now on. Like, what else did I really have to rely on? Studies? Big deal, the world wouldn't end with just one english teacher less. Friends? Don't get me started. Family? All I was left with was a mother with a mission to make me feel horrible every time we spoke on the phone because I wasn't bothering to go see her. But even if I did, what would I have to say to her? I was mentally collapsing. So I said "leave it for now" and kept the thought pushed back for later. That's the reason why on that particular day I didn't pick up whenever my mom was ringing this cherry ericsson I had at the time. It wasn't like I really needed to answer, I already knew everything by heart.

"Have you seen how this girl you used to hang out at school does lately, Olga?".

No, mom, I haven't. It's been like ten years since I finished school.

"She's studying this thing you used to like, she got settled, she even has her own house".

Well done for her I guess, and?

"And you?".

I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life anymore, mom.

"But don't you ever think about your future?".

My long awaited future, huh? What a glorious future that was. It was so good, half of the people I used to know didn't make it halfway through.

Outside things were a bit more casual that the deep existential turmoil that was described by the news at the time, yet I was indeed shocked by that eerie amount of silence that was stretching through the cold winds that was piercing my purple coat. I could hear a tv screaming from two blocks away and the screeching roars of the phone lines echoing around the city, but there was barely any human voice left. I was only catching some mumbles and grunts here and there as I was jumping out of fear every time I had to turn around a corner. So it was just like everyday Athens, only with a little more of snow and fear of getting mugged. My social atrophy made me feel like I was being chased as the surrounding landscape was rapidly being stripped from anything that was reminiscing of a typical day. Like, that was the first time I ever saw people looting kiosks and butcher shops. I only managed to see like three to five people with their backs hunched, covering their faces while carrying those huge gray tv screens with the vhs player still attached or fifteen bags of chips, with their eyes moving around uncontrollably. All I had in my mind seeing these scenes was the word "brutalization". Maybe because all this time I wasn't fully aware of what was going on, or maybe because the news told the truth for once.

I snuck from the side door where the staff entrance was, because all the glass on the front of the supermarket was smashed to pieces and I didn't like the thought of my hands sliced open. It was a mess on the inside and the aisles stood empty like sad metal canyons. People must have broke in trying to get all the toiler paper and canned foods left in the previous weeks. From the expired milk bottles at the back to the unstoppable static noise of the refrigerators in front of me, there were all those special little touches to make me feel like I was working in this hole of a job again. And no, I did not bother searching for supplies. Instead, I walked around like I was out shopping with my mom, opening the boxes of the diabetes flavored cereal that no one bother to take, just to steal their toys. I also found a bunch of unopened boxes of the supermarket's very own faux chocolate milk (yes, the one with the dark industrial waste left on the bottom) that was probably expired as well. But, I was a lady, right? So I took some of them to the cash register, because Olga ain't no petty thief. I got around my place of work and scanned the bottles to find out that they cost something less than three hundred and seventy-five million. "Luckily, I don't have to calculate any change now", I thought. Never before have I ever experienced such relief while being there. I was sitting in the same place I was rotting for hours before the world turned to shit, and I was patiently waiting for a huge line of old ladies to pop out of nowhere just to ruin my vibe with their pension money bills. I almost started to miss all of those stuff. This must meant that things have really turned to shit.

The new millennium have begun just like any other year, against the disappointment and secret eagerness of some people. All that screaming about the revelation, the second coming of Satan, the aliens, and the revolution of the machines faded miserably as the days went by and absolute destruction was not to be seen. Yet, at least. Because the first planes that crashed mid-flight in South Africa and Indonesia didn't appear before the end of January, but all were like "okay, technical problems". And when missiles were accidentally landing on Iraqi cities, people were like "well, what to do, technical problems yet again". Only when the bank deposits got erased people started to cry and run like headless chickens. Young people now would call me cynical, but you had to be there to see it. It was crystal clear that people had all of their hopes and dreams for tomorrow stored into a single digit of a computer. A kind of tomorrow which was now failing to promise anything anymore in front of millions of simultaneous personal bankruptcies. Then the reactors in Italy exploded due to a system failure and tomorrow officially died. This tomorrow that we were told would bring everything to us, from cancer treatments to all of Britney's music stored in a tiny mini-disc. From flying cars to underground metros. From huge tv screens for each living room to the giant digital information highway better know as the INTERNET. Nowadays all of these sound so silly, but the pain in the faces of people from the betrayal of their dream did not seem to go away. Until mid-February, everyone lost their minds. Those who saw all of this coming ran away in fear of the new Chernobyl to leave the rest of us behind to die. Shops, services, offices, all ceased to have any actual reason to exist in from of the impending disaster. All you could see around anymore were padlocks, deflated bodies on the street from people that couldn't take it anymore, and some shadows of people left to wander like animals while pretending to be alive. Maybe that's why the tv was constantly playing commercials and other irrelevant bullshit during all of this, it was the last useful thing they could show to the people that were preparing for the grand finale.

But that grand finale wasn't so tangible for me. Everyone had this type of end predetermined, but this panic of theirs seemed more like a slightly less shallow version of the preexisting self-preservation to me. I wasn't convinced by those who screamed that the world was over simply because it already happened to their world. Like, just as Rome wasn't built in one day, their illusions weren't shattered overnight. I mean, at that time the supermarket was filled with those obnoxious promotional banners featuring the new slogan that was everywhere lately, before things change for the worse. They had the "FUTURE READY" catchphrase in large white letters that spread noisy and ridiculous lacking any particular meaning as everything was collapsing. What future exactly was that slogan referring to? The future in general, as a concept of time and space? They wouldn't have thought that out that much. Was it the future of humanity from now on? I wouldn't be so concerned for this with all those rich fucks that had already kissed as goodbye from their shelters, we were far from being extinct and in maybe less that ten years we could wake up with someone like Will Smith ruling the world. No, the catchphrase probably meant that future with the flying cars and the internet. The future only fools would believe it would come (and yes, people actually believe that). That future we lost just as fast as we were promised for it.

So in short, we were crabs in a bucket, pulling each other down in excruciating depths. This wasn't living nor surviving; we more or less kept on functioning like bio-robots with depression. But for me, things weren't looking so grim. "Look at me", I would say, "I reached twenty-nine and haven't done crap to be proud of, I drink expired chocolate milk and I'm secretly glad the world is ending because every day was borderline unbearable for me anyway, so how good would the future be for someone like me?". Nowadays the denial of any form of reality in this reasoning stands out, but at that moment I was reaching redemption. I was now reassured by the thought of the end, acting like a barrier that could block this endless loop that was running relentlessly against me. "So finally", I said to myself, "let's calm down once and for all". I was spinning around in the cashier's chair like a silly kid and was finishing up the bottles of milk like there's no tomorrow, while convincing myself that once everything goes to hell, my torment is over.

My phone’s vibrating through my coat cut me off the carefree twirling around my craziness. "Mom" was flashing on the screen again, but by that point I couldn't be bothered for explanations. Still, the dialogue kept running automatically like a script inside my head.

"I just can't get you. Do you keep on acting unbothered by the world? Even now? Who are you trying to convince anymore, Olga? Me? Because I know you have roughened up out of fear".

Well, truth is I was actually fearing you would start with that kind of shit again.

"You are getting more and more difficult to talk to. You are basically denying something we both clearly see at this point".

We seem to say the same exact thing, ain't that something? I guess I was kinda doomed from the start to be and look just like you.

"You really do me dirty with all these conclusions you're drawing out of anger".

Okay, so what? Did you get upset?

"Why are you angry at me, Olga? Can I hear you say it, just for once?"

I don't have the time for this thing again, mother, I need to enjoy my remaining days over here.

"How much do you think this will last for you? When will you stop stalling and start looking after you and your future again, Olga?"

What future do I have, really, are you kidding me?

-Are you talking to yourself, ma'am?

I almost slipped out of the chair. I had never experienced such horror before. I was barely held off the bench to help me get up again slowly with my heart sinking to my stomach, only to see a little girl with plaited pigtails looking at me half-frightened. She wasn't over nine years old, judging by the face and the childish dress she wore under this puffy purple coat.

-Why are you here? Where are your parents?

-Over here, come and take a look! But mom told me not to talk to strangers!

That of course made zero sense to me. Just like it made zero sense for a child to be left alone in a destroyed supermarket with the sun setting outside. I asked for the girl's name, nothing. I asked again, she hid her puzzled frown behind her pigtails trying to playfully imitate my posture with her hands on my waist.

-I'm Olga, I work here. And you?

She started to say something and suddenly changed her mind, running like hell to the back. I was confused thinking how would I look like to someone who saw me chasing a little girl in there, but then I reminded myself that probably nobody would be left to live to the end of this month, so I wouldn't be considered crazy for too long. I began running under the flickering ceiling lights and with each step I had to swallow my vomit. This little girl felt sorry for me in the end and stopped to wait for me at the end of the far right aisle, leaving one sleeve of her huge coat to stick out on purpose. I approached with an awkward smile and glanced at the strange grace she had on her face, with those weird baby hair that can't be caught for nothing in plaits pointing upwards. Despite my awkwardness, the girl stood unworried and expressionless as if I put her on timeout. I asked her name again. She slips away from a second time and runs like the wind, squealing something at lime while zigzagging the aisles.

-You should probably pick it up!

My phone was stabbing my pocket. It was "Mom" yet again, but I really wasn't in the mood for "Mama". I had to pick up my lungs from the floor at the top of my priorities, because this little devil wasn't running but galloping like a damn horse. I finally caught up with her in the aisle with the products of the day and tightly grabbed her by the shoulders. The little devil screamed and was banging her feet in pain. My hands had been too coarse for people after all this time.

-Hey, ma'am, did you get angry? I was just playing with you.

-I'm don't have time to play right now, please go to your mom.

-But I told you, My mom's right here.

"Where is "here"?

With just one finger sticking out of the sleeve, she pointed to the right middle shelf at the end of the aisle. She put her finger before her mouth to stop me from talking and I followed her on tiptoes. When we approached the end of the aisle and my eyes got used to the darkness I saw a woman laid inside the empty shelf. She was in her sixties and wearing an old black nightgown with holes on it. From her short hair down to her nails, there were ice flakes stuck everywhere as if she was just found buried in the snow. Her face with her eyes closed was carrying such an expression of pain and torment. I was so weirded out that something made me want to follow those ice streams that filled her skin's scratches with my fingers, however her body felt so stiff I jumped back. She looked more like a porcelain doll than an actual person.

-Ma'am Olga? Are you alright?

I threw up all the chocolate milk I drank. My body got the chills and my teeth were trembling so much that my breath was coming out in sharp puffs in front of the flickering lights of the refrigerators. I must have look like shit, because I scared the little girl for good and made her get five steps back from me while I was going crazy and trying to clear my eyes from the shock.

-Why is she here?

-Nobody wanted her. Nobody called to take her.

I didn't pay much attention. I pulled out my cherry ericsson to call for help, but the chaotic hum of the phone lines echoed in the aisle before I even put the phone to my ear.

-Who put her here?

She was just staring at me. I asked again and again. She let her lower lip half open. I grabbed her by the shoulders like before and she pulled out a choked scream due to my clumsiness. She started crying and feeling loose in my hands. It was then that I felt like something broke inside me and I crawled away from her because she would pass out in any second just by looking at the state that I was. I sat on the floor watching her wipe her tears from a distance, all while fixing her plaits and stressfully straightening the dress inside her coat. Every now and then she would throw these incoherent excerpts from conversations that seemed weirdly familiar, waiting for me to remember the answers I had given to each of the discussions. I felt sick, like my insides would explode at any moment. My mind was working overtime and I started seeing red. I understood, but I did not want to accept it.

"But how?" I was saying again and again. I can't just live through this stuff. I was thinking that maybe that's it, we are officially past this tomorrow. Maybe that was the end of the world and the time I had at my disposal. Only instead of cloud islands or pits with flames I was stuck inside this supermarket with a little girl and a dead woman. Was this fitting? Not really. It might be considered symbolic, but still not at all subtle. That's why I was stuffed with anger and distress. I couldn't digest what to feel after all that I saw. And what was the meaning of all of this? To make me feel remorse? To help me maybe? But how? So many questions hanging above my head I began to feel like I was melting from the uncertainty. Luckily, the little girl found some courage to pick me up from the floor.

-You still don't recognize her, do you?

-I recognized her just fine the first time.

-Are you sure, ma'am Olga?

-I don't know, what do you say?

-You tell me.

-We have to get out of here, kiddo. We can't get through it like this. Even now, with everything else going to hell with us.

-Do you really want me to come with you?

-I don't know. Maybe I want to, maybe I should.

The phone started screaming again. It was dimming "Mama" with small flakes of ice filling its broken tiny screen. The girl bent down and put this in my palm with no emotion on her face. I answered it. I waited for an eternity so thin you could fit it inside a moment like this. "Hello? Mom?". Eventually the same confusing static noise creaked from the other side of the call, and I stuck there waiting through the buzzing to find her smoker's coughing that she used to do before starting to complain about how I constantly forget about her. Waiting just to tell her that I was here, I was fine, and the world might not end there. Maybe, somewhere, somehow, there's even some future we can fit in it.

-So are we ready now, ma'am Olga?

-Ready for what?

She pointed at the banner hanging from the ceiling.

-Future ready.

I didn't catch my mother's voice at the other end of the line, of course. I hung up and weakly threw the phone on the shelf where the woman was laying, just to hear its dying snout. This felt way more fitting.

-Nah, not really. But it probably does not matter right now.

-But. I'm scared.

-I'm scared too, being in here and all.

-So when will we be back? When everything was normal again?

-"Normal" may no longer exist. We'll just have to see. For now, get up.

-You know better, ma'am.

-Ma'am my ass.

The little girl glanced just once at the self with the phone on and continue to walk with me, with her palm lost and warmed up somewhere inside my own palm. An analog clock on the wall pointed somewhere after nine o clock and the sky was bruised from the clouds that were pouring snow on everything around us. I put my hand with hers in the pocket of the miserable purple coat and lifted our hoods to escape the cold on the way home. I don't really remember how long we walked with our backs hunched over somewhere between the white and the gray. I only recall that we took the long way home, like a punishment of some sorts.

Thinking that I would never hear again the saltiness in my mom's voice was my most bitter torment. I never thought of such a possibility. I always had in the back of my mind that she would find a way to defy any rule of the universe, just so she could care for me. That's science fiction, after all. It seems I was holding on to my illusions for so long, so waking up hurts like hell even today. And if my mom died, I believe she must've left with that pain and concern during her last moments. "Look at me now", I catch myself saying here and there "I avoided her only until I had to mourn her". Until then, the only thing I had on my mind was working on what I should say when I would get asked about her, only to answer that we "fell off" with no emotion. What exactly happened to fall off with her would be like unnecessary little details. Still, to this day, that's exactly what I tell people when it's being brought up. I can't talk about it without sinking in remorse. I can't get the right words to come out anymore, not even by force.

Of course I tried to find her. Especially with the years that were to come upon me, I needed this to have my mind calibrated just to not go crazy over the batshit hysteria that was building up inside of me. Deep down, though, I knew I didn't have the courage to look at past trauma anymore, and I was secretly hoping I would never fine here. Maybe because the end of the world not coming anymore, at least as I thought it would, and now I have to live with it forever. Maybe because the worst that could have happened to me in the end was the postponement of the apocalypse. And this falls heavily on my shoulders to this day. Every day I have to justify why it was worth it to stay behind, either as punishment or by luck, trying to convince myself that there is something left to do with the leftovers of my future.

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creamypudding · 3 years

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Woeful WIP Wednesday

I last touched this WIP in August 2020. It was for the AkuRoku beard event I had tried to get underway for World Beard Day which is annually on September 1st. I never finished the story because it was getting very technical with beard related care products and a lot of sex. Like a lot of it. I have notes where they fuck each other like 4 times? On the couch, in the shower, in bed. I don’t know why I stopped writing it. It’s outlined but I ran out of steam and interest. As much as I am a smut-writing champion you’d be surprised how often I write stories only to run completely out of steam once I get to the smut. Go figure. In this story Axel and Roxas are in a long distance relationship and have a wager on who can grow the better beard. It is rated T and stops a bit before the ‘good stuff’ was going to happen. Word count - 2385 If you enjoy this, or any of the other WIP’s it would be great if you would let me know. Cheers.

Homecoming

The date, time, and location were set; 1st April, 6pm, Olga's—a favorite haunt of their family and friends’, and the best place to get Polish sausages. Roxas stood a little way down the road from the establishment, his two suitcases; a small one stacked on top of the large one, in hand as he looked at his reflection in his phone's camera. He brushed at his Banholz beard; big, bushy and grew to about his mid-chest. He had oiled, brushed, trimmed, and shaped it to look its best, for today was a monumental day. 6 months ago he had been dared to grow a beard by his boyfriend, Axel. Roxas had agreed but only if they would have a competition to see who could grow the best beard, to be judged by a panel of their relations and peers.

Roxas thought himself ready and walked on, wheeling his suitcases along behind himself. This competition was the precise reason why Roxas now entered the cozy restaurant. It had been booked out for the occasion and was filled with family and friends who all greeted Roxas with raucous cheers of—

“Roxas! You’re back!”

“Good to see you!”

“Is that really you under there?”

“Axel! Axel, your competition has arrived!”

The suitcases were tugged away from Roxas and the throng of people around him cleared revealing, there, across the space, standing at the head of a banquet table laden with bigos, golonka, pierogi, schabowy, placki, pączki and a range of drinks like compotes, oranżada, piwo, and żubrówka, was Axel in familiar jeans and a black shirt with flame motifs that Roxas had bought him as a gift two years ago. They looked at each other across the space.

Voices sang out, praising the magnificent beards they both sported.

Roxas saw Axel’s thick, dark beard; a Bandholz, like his own. They walked toward each other and stopped in the middle of the floor. Roxas craned his neck to look up, Axel smirked down.

“You look like a real Viking,” Axel said.

“You look like a mismatched pirate. Didn’t feel like dyeing your beard?”

“It’s too much red. Makes me look like a tomato. I’ll show you the photos of when I tried.” “Cool.”

They grinned at each other and Axel threw his arms around Roxas, lifting him off the ground in a tremendous hug. Roxas’ face got smothered in the scratchy beard but he still giggled and when he dropped back to the ground hooked his hands around Axel’s neck and gave him a chaste peck on the lips.

They pulled apart laughing a little.

“That’s something new to get used to,” Axel commented, rubbing his lips.

Roxas nodded and threaded his fingers through Axel’s.

“Come on everyone,” Sora, Roxas’ half-brother, shouted over the crowd. “Now that both our competitors are here let's get the judging going and then eat!” Cheers of enthusiasm rose and Axel and Roxas were ushered before the panel.

Roxas and Axel were examined in turn, their beards evaluated for physical appearance: thickness, length, feel. And then for popularity, which opened up to the entire group of assembled people.

Roxas grinned up wildly as he was crowned Beard King and received a victory parade amongst the shoulders of his friends to wild chanting before he was dropped on his ‘throne’, which was just a high backed chair in the middle of the banquet table laid out. He was presented with an enormous hamper of goodies relating to beard care and then Axel took his seat next to Roxas and everyone joined in on eating all the delicious food before them.

Much talk was had over dinner regarding Roxas’ time away—as he studied in a different state and only came back home over the summer and Christmas breaks. He was caught up in everyone else’s lives as well and then after three hours of eating, chatting, and boozing, wished everyone a good night as well as thanking everyone for crowning him king and coming out, and then he wheeled his luggage to Axel’s red Kia Cerato coup parked at the restaurants car park and got in to go back to their place.

“What does my liege want to do when we get home?” Axel asked, fondling the tip of Roxas’ beard as he drove along the street.

“I want to go through that basket of goodies with you, play with your beard, and play with you. I’ve missed you so much.” Roxas clasped Axel’s hand and rubbed it against his cheek.

Axel stroked him when he stopped his rubbing motion. “At least we get three long months of being together until you have to go back to college.” Roxas groaned. “It’s going to be so good, even when I do have to go back because we’ll be able to video call and won’t have to keep this beard stuff a secret from one another anymore.”

Axel nodded. “Yeah. If I had known what we were getting into I might not have agreed to this. Six months is too long without seeing your… well… rugged face. I can’t really call you pretty now, can I? I didn’t actually believe you’d look so much older with a beard.” “C’mon, you didn’t even think I could grow one. Not that I know why. You’ve seen dad, he’s always had a really respectable circle beard.” Axel shrugged. “I guess I look at your baby face and just… could never picture it.” “I’ll make sure we take a lot of photos so you’ll never forget. Have I shown you photos of dad from when he didn’t have a beard? I get my baby face from him. Underneath his beard, you’d think he’s twenty years younger than he is.” “Can’t say I’ve seen those. So when you’re fifty you’ll look thirty?”

“You know it. I can be your baby-faced sugar-daddy.” Roxas cracked up laughing at Axel’s bewildered scowl.

“For one, you are only two years older than me, and two, at this moment I’m your sugar-daddy since I work.” “True, but once I finish my degree and start working I’ll make so much money that you’ll be able to go part-time and look after our fur-babies.”

A strangled noise left Axel’s throat. “This is why I love you so much. You’re willing to protect me from a grueling working life.” Axel quickly leaned over, Roxas also leaned in and they shared a small kiss.

Roxas giggled. “So tickly and hairy.” ----------------------------------------------------

They arrived at their small cottage-esque house which they were renting. It had an undercover carport, a disheveled wooden fence, dry grassy patches, and a dead flowerbed. The door opened up right to their living room. A hallway ran through the door on the right, leading to the two bedrooms, and bathroom, with a separate toilet, and to the left of the living room was a door which led to the kitchen and laundry. Their backyard was an overgrown monstrosity which Axel only tended to when the landlords came around for inspections. The house was drafty, they were pretty sure black mold grew in the vents in the laundry and bathroom, but it was affordable, small, and let them live together when Roxas came home over college breaks.

Axel helped Roxas get his bags out of the car, they stowed them away to deal with later and sat on their plush, tan faux-leather couch whilst rifling through the content of the prize basket.

“It was really nice of everyone to pitch in and get us this gift basket,” Axel said, pulling out a beard-care kit consisting of several brushes, some oils and waxes, and a few trimming essentials.

“What do you mean us? This is mine.” Roxas glared, but he couldn't repress the bubbling-inside grin.

“You're really gonna use all of this Beard Candy and King of Wood all by yourself?” Axel held up the respectively named balm tin and oil bottle.

Both of them giggled.

“I might.” Roxas grabbed for the bottle. “I am king of wood.”

“You're more candy, darling.” Axel snatched the bottle and shoved the tin at Roxas.

Roxas gasped with playful offended. “Not true. I am King Beard. Everyone thinks so. We had a vote, remember?”

“We did. You really want to keep all this to yourself though?”

“Nah. WHat’s mine is yours—Oooo! There’s dye and glitter!”

Axel looked at the packets Roxas held up and went diving into the basket. “Ribbons too. Who do you reckon snuck this stuff in?”

Roxas thought for a moment humming and hawing.

“Sora!” they both shouted in unison and cracked up laughing.

Axel put the items he held down and got up. “You want anything, babe? Tea? Hot chocolate? Water?”

“A tall drink of something hot and sweet.” Roxas made eyes at Axel, who grinned broadly.

A spark of lust ignited in Axel’s eyes. He stepped close to Roxas, bent down and kissed him, pushing him against the couch. The hairs against Roxas’ lips tickled. He wrapped his arms around Axel’s shoulders, pulling them chest to chest and Axel climbed up to straddle Roxas’ lap. Roxas pushed his tongue into Axel, who sucked gently. Both of them hummed and pulled apart.

“I do actually want a drink though,” Roxas sniggered.

“On its way, sugarplum.” Axel slid off and headed to the kitchen.

Roxas’ cheeks were plump and hot from all the smiling. He had missed Axel so much. He listened to Axel banging away in the kitchen, as taps turned on and off, drawers and cupboards opened and shut, and container lids popped in and out of place. Roxas kept looking through the goodies in the basket. He really appreciate everyone's support, but most of all Axel's for doing this with him—even if they were pitted against each other.

Axel talked to him from the kitchen. They talked about Roxas’ flight home, Axel's job and then Axel was back, carrying a tall mug of steaming liquid, gasped with whipped cream. He set that down on a coaster before Roxas and put a much more sensibly succeed mug down for himself, filled with what smelled like chili tea.

“It's so good to have your back, babe.” Axel leaned over and kissed Roxas, who cupped Axel’s cheek and stoked along where skin met beard. Roxas could taste the light spice on Axel's lips as he had been sipping his tea before he had come in.

Axel left small touches on Roxas’ arms, trailing up to his neck where slender fingers caressed and rubbed. Roxas melted into the touch and hungered with his kissing of his boyfriend.

Axel pulled away, licking his lips. “Have your drink. I slaved over it.”

“Oh, what hard work it was to push buttons, wait for water to boil, and open the fridge to get whipped cream out.”

“It was the hardest. I had to do it all without you there.”

Axel was being ridiculous but it twinged in Roxas’ heart. “Okay, I retract my previous sarcastic remark.” He grabbed his drink, snuggled closer to Axel, and licked at the cream and sipped, humming with appreciation.

Axel looked down at Roxas and simply said, “Yum.”

Roxas huffed out a small laugh and felt his cheeks turning pink. He was glad for his beard.

“You're giving me all sorts of ideas looking like that.” Axel quirked an eyebrow.

Roxas’ stomach knotted. Having been debited their webcam sessions made him feel excessively deprived of his boyfriend touch. “Kiss me.”

Axel obliged, leaning down, sucking Roxas’ lip onto his mouth for brief moments and then flicking his tongue over Roxas to lip, licking the cream off which gathered in his beard.

Roxas held his drink away from the both of them and gently pulled on the end of Axel's beard, drawing the other man in for another kiss. Roxas pulled away then, humming. “I've missed you, babe. Let's never have a comp like this again.”

“Your beard as itchy as mine feels?” Axel scratched at his chin.

Roxas chuckled. “No. It feels pretty good, but I mean the not being able to see each other bit.”

“Ahh, yeah. Agreed. I mean, this,” he brushed the fuzzy edge of Roxas’ beard, “is actually surprisingly attractive on you, but I get what you mean.” Axel leaned in and hushed against Roxas’ love, “Your voice in my ear is honey to me but seeing you touching yourself is my bread and butter.” Axel kissed Roxas behind his ear, making him shiver.

Roxas nuzzled Axel's cheek, making them both giggle because their beards tickled.

Axel clapped Roxas’ thigh. “C'mon, let's do some beard stroking and grooming. I want my beard to look like Nori from the Hobbit. Which dwarf do you want to be?”

Roxas laughed. They had been talking about the wacky beards of the dwarves from that movie trilogy for at least two months now. “Gloin. His beard is magnificent!, plus, I found a packet of beads at the bottom of the basket.”

Axel nodded. “All right, my glorious Norse God. Let's doll each other up.”

Roxas giggled with delight.

They spent the next two hours taking turns combing and braiding each other's beards. Roxas split Axel's dark, silky beard into three prongs, found done large clasps to target the end and hair-sprayed the shit out of the two outer parts of the beard to make them stand stiff and jut out from Axel's face.

Then it was Roxas’ turn. Axel sectioned parts off, braiding and beading the thick, wiry hair into the desired shape.

They shared many kisses throughout and traversed down memory lane as they recalled the early days of growing out their beards and how itchy the first few weeks were. Thinking about it made both of them itch.

When their beards were all finished they took a photo as a keepsake.

“Are you sure you want to shave off our chin-curtains tomorrow?” Axel asked, touching Roxas’ dark blond hair.

Roxas burst out laughing. “Chin-curtains? Are you getting attached to yours? You've been doing nothing but complaining about it for months.”

“Well, I like all the touching. I like us sitting together and doing each other.” Axel couldn't keep a straight face as he said that.

Roxas rolled his eyes as he smiled brightly. “We can still touch each other no matter what.” He slid an arm around Axel's waist.

#akuroku #akrk #beard #wip #woeful wip wednesday #cream pudding writes

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lo-55 · 3 years

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Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 3

The Rift

Ichigo wonders, more often than not, why it is that even though he can see ghosts, he never sees the ones he wants to. His mother, and now his friends from Chaldea. He can’t see them anymore. The singularities are gone, and humanity has returned to the way it always was. But it’s missing so many people, from his own point of view. Olga Marie isn’t bound to him anymore. She’s moved on. And the rest…

Ichigo sits in front of his mother's grave with his dad at his side. Karin and Yuzu have gone for drinks, leaving them alone for the time being. Rukia, and Kon too, sit on a hill, watching over them and waiting for trouble. He doesn’t want to admit it. He’s carried the guilt in his heart for so long, but now… it’s possible that Rukia is right. That the reason his mother is dead is because…

“Hey, old man,” Ichigo looks towards his dad, who’s been acting weird since he’s come back. More than once he’s caught him just staring. Like he’s trying to figure out what changed his kid so much. As if they were ever that close in the first place. Ichigo let’s him. There’s no way for him to understand what’s changed Ichigo into the person he is now. It’s not something that can be easily explained, and in any case the Mage's Association was pretty clear. No one is supposed to know that magic exists. Including his own family. Anyone who finds out must be killed.

“Yeah?” Isshin looks his way, away from the grave that reads his mother's name.

“About mom. Could she ever see ghosts, do you know?” he looked right at him. Testing Isshin, watching his eyes. He’d never noticed before…

That his dad was hiding behind a dozen walls. And they all started to come up when Ichigo asked his question. Ichigo has spent years with master assassins and traitorous knights. He can see clearly now, for the first time ever. His dad isn’t such a colossal goof off after all.

“Why are you asking this all of a sudden?” he asks and it hurts . It hurts more than Ichigo thought, to know that he was keeping this secret for so long. To know that he could have told him, that both of them could have told him when he was young and he couldn't tell who was alive and who was dead, that he wasn’t alone in it. Karin had always had him, and they’d learned together after their mom had died, who was real and who was not.

Why? Why had they hid these things from him? And could he trust their dad to tell them the truth now?

“... No reason. I was just thinking about her.”

No, he decides, looking back at the headstone. He can’t trust his old man to tell him the truth. So, he’ll have to learn it some other way.

Sometimes, Isshin looks as his son and he sees a complete stranger.

He’s still brash and angry, and he would die for Yuzu and Karin, might have while Isshin wasn’t looking, but he’s not himself. He isn’t the same son that had climbed onto a plane for what should have been a simple job months ago. He’d only been gone for a week. How could he have changed so much?

He was taller, for one thing, and yeah teenagers have growth spurts but they don’t grow three inches in seven days. Their hair doesn’t grow out in a week either, and they don’t get so strong or so self assured that fast.

More than that, his son has this look in his eyes…

A terrible age, even though he’s only fifteen. He looks at them like he’s afraid they’ll disappear. He looks like he’s always waiting for something. For something to go wrong, for the other shoe to drop.

Even before Rukia had shown up and given her powers over to him, and then started living in his son’s closet of all places, he’d been the same. On edge. And the way he’d greeted them…

Ichigo did a lot of things when Isshin attacked him. Hugging him wasn’t one of them.

On top of all that, he’d gone to see Kisuke, to ask what was going on in the spirit world, where he could no longer see, and it turns out that Kisuke agrees. There’s something strange about Ichigo. He’s stronger than he should be, and stronger than he ever was, even without Rukia. And he doesn’t know what exactly happened between Kisuke and Ichigo, but it’s enough that now the old captain is interested in him.

It’s not nearly as comforting as Isshin wishes it was. When Kisuke got involved, things rarely went well. No matter how good his intentions were.

Then he asked about Masaki, and Isshin had faltered.

It was time, it was the perfect time for him to tell him the truth. To sit him down and explain what had happened all those years ago, and tell him about the kind of heritage he had, and what it might mean. He’s wondered, whose power did he get? Isshin, or Masaki. Shinigami, or Quincy? Or both? Or hollow? It’s hard to tell.

But he chickened out. The words got stuck and the world closed off and Ichigo turned away from him. The moment was lost, and now Isshin doesn’t know what to do. It’s so much easier raising daughters than sons.

* *

By the time his ridiculous duel with Uryu is over, Ichigo is willing to bet money that his mother was a Quincy.

Ichigo ends up sitting on a bench, breathing fast but he’s not so exhausted nor so beat up as Ishida, who sits patiently while Ichigo carefully stitches up his arm. It’s easy enough to pass this particular skill off as one he learned from his father and not knee deep in a war, trying to help Roman with the dozens of injured Chaldea staff.

“Isn’t your dad a doctor? Wouldn’t it be better to have him do than let me?” Ichigo finds himself asking They’re lucky Uryu had a needle and thread on his person, even if they did have to bend the needle in an awkward, sloppy approximation of the ones used for real stitches.

It’ll do for now.

“It’s best if my father doesn’t know about this,” he says simply.

“Oh yeah?” Ichigo grins at him. “I take it that means he doesn’t want you doing this kind of stuff then.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Uryu sniffed at him stubbornly. Ichigo glowers at him, and pulls the next stitch harder until Uryu yelps. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Of course it’s my business. This whole stunt that you pulled was insanely dangerous.”

“Are you admitting that you’re weaker than I am,” Uryu lifts his chin, his nose in the air, and Ichigo has to stop himself from karate chopping him in his throat.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m weaker or not! What matters is that we’re not the only people in town that you could have gotten killed with this stunt! Didn’t you notice? There’s hollows that disappeared that neither one of us took out.”

He snaps the thread and grabs Uryu by the front of his shirt, watching his blue eyes go wide and realization dawn for what is apparently the first time. “That means other people are fighting. Other people might be dying. My sister has high spirit levels too you know?! When you pull shit like this you’re putting the lives of everyone around you into the same danger, without even telling them about it! How can someone with top grades be so damn stupid?!”

Ichigo forces himself to lean back, anger still bubbling under his skin. All this trouble because Uryu hates shinigami, and Ichigo isn’t even a real one.

“ Listen ,” he leans in , forcing Uryu to bend backwards over the back of the bench, “I’ll fight you one on one any time you want. But this hollow fighting isn’t a game. And if you ever put other people in danger unnecessarily again, I’ll beat your goddamn face in.”

“Y-you!” Uryu pushes against his chest but Ichigo is immobile, stone and still.

“Do you understand, Uryu Ishida?”

“I. Yes,” he says at last, looking down and away. Only then does Ichigo let him go, leaning back and letting out a grunt when it pulls at his shoulders. He’d over strained himself, just a little bit.

“Hey, Kon!” Ichigo waves his body snatcher over to the pair. “Gimme my body back already, huh?”

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Kon whines, but he sits on the bench and lets Ichigo slide back in without a fuss. Ichigo pulls Uryu up off of the bench and gives him a shove.

“C’mon. I’ll walk you home.”

“I don’t need you to do that!”

“Well I’m doing it anyways. You’re injured, what if there’s still a few more hollows lingering around, huh? Just shut up and start walking.”

Uryu scowls, but starts walking forwards anyhow, with Ichigo in his shadow. During his whole trauma speech and background story Ichigo’s mind had been turning over and over. His dad was a quincy too, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and if Uryu was to be believed, they were the last of them.

Goat-face isn’t going to answer his questions, so Ichigo follows Uryu home, to a house that far too big for just two men alone. He feels old, walking into it. It’s fanciful, but he’s seen the theatres of Rome and the courts of King Arthur.

Ichigo will never be a sensor, but he’s gotten used to trusting the sense inside him that says when someone else is around, and even though it took him a while he’s good enough to be able to follow it if he has to. He didn’t know about the spirit ribbons. Ichigo is used to being clueless, but he’s not stupid. He files the information away for later, and quietly memorizes that feeling of Uryu. It’s more like a taste, clean and sharp, and vaguely like citrus.

His father is much the same. And he is utterly unimpressed by Ichigo arriving on his doorstep with his son in tow.

His eyes are colder than ice, not exactly something Ichigo would want in any doctor he has.

“Hey, old man,” Ichigo raised a hand and, with his usual level of tact, asked ever-so-discreetly, “Did you know my mom?”

* * *

“Do you know where you are?”

The scent of roses and daffodils and the feeling of soft worn wool brushing against his cheek. A ribbon made of magic brushing his nose.

Ichigo opens his eyes and looks into a pale blue sky, wisps of cotton candy clouds stretching across from one horizon to the next.

“I am in a dream,” he says dutifully.

“Very good Dolores.”

Ichigo punches him in the stomach, sending the mage doubled over in a fit of coughing and laughing together. A smile that’s far too mischevious to be soft is aimed at him.

“You have an amazon prime subscription out here?” Ichigo asked, sitting up slowly. The tower still floats, through the sky at the end of the world.

“Well yes. I do run a blog, you know?” though it’s said with a straight face he can see a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, where even eternal youth hasn’t been able to curb laugh lines. He’s good humor, and a good company.

“Seriously?!”

That gets a laugh out of the mage of all mages. He lays back in the flowers that climb and bloom, thriving in his very presence. He is life and light and mischief, a watcher and a strange sort of guardian.

“Well yes. I can’t spend all of my time merely watching people. The internet made things much more fun! Humans are such innovative creatures, even without magic to help them along.”

Ichigo nodded along with him. “Does that mean that you can email me instead of hijacking my beauty sleep?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t enjoy my company, oh great Master of Humanity?”

Ichigo scowls at him, but there’s a smile trying to pull at his mouth. He struggles to squash it, and he can tell from the glint in his companions eyes that he fails.

“Stop calling me that,” he says for a millionth time.

A firm hand pushes him back into the flowers, under the warmth of the sun in the soft crush of fragrant petals. There’s no perfume that could ever compare. This is a strange place, a beautiful cage, and Ichigo doesn’t fully understand how he can be here and home at the same time. Not that that’s new. He’s been in two places at once more times than he cares to count, and he still only vaguely understands how it’s possible.

“I understand that your life is interesting once more.” The mage stretches out beside him, taller than he and cloaked elegantly in his same old robes. He’s showy and modest at once and it hurts Ichigo’s eyes to look at him for long.

Ichigo groans. “If you mean my entire existence is one giant clusterfuck then yeah. It’s real ‘interesting’ again. But I’m not time travelling again yet so…”

“Poor little master. Your life is so very hard…”

“I’ll hit you,” Ichigo threatened. “Master mage, but a shit fighter. I can take you.”

The laugh that he is granted is bells on the wind.

“True, true. But I believe that things will get worse before they get better. Perhaps you should begin your mage craft training once more.”

“You know I always sucked at that. I could only use real magic if I had a mystic code. Every other time, it exploded in my face. I’m a secondrate mage, that’s how it’s always been,” he says it all simply.

“That is true… Isn’t it funny how that works out? A boy who cannot cast a single spell without assistance ends up defeating the most powerful mage in history. You really are a remarkable human, Ichigo.”

“And you’re trying to get me to do something for you, aren’t you?”

“Aha! You do know me! Yes, I need you to mail something very important to me…”

“You get mail here?!”

* * * *

It’s the tenth time he’s been thrown into the dirt today.

A normal person would have given up and packed it in. A normal person would have humbly accepted that the strength of these titans was beyond their abilities to keep up with.

Instead, Ichigo stands again.

He picks up his borrowed practice sword, dulled so no one can get hurt, and faces his opponent once more.

Mash, Cu, and Medusa, his constant companions, watch him narrow his eyes and plant his feet again.

“One more time, Nero!”

“He’s stubborn, if nothing else,” Medusa mused, not quite out of his earshot. Cu nods his agreement, his eyes never wavering.

“Tha’ll help him,” he said simply. Ichigo didn’t know why but his accent seemed to change just a little each time he opened his mouth. Sometimes he was barely understandable. Sometimes it is perfect english. Or whatever language the magic was auto-translating it to. Japanese for Ichigo, english for Mash, and probably latin for Nero and the surrounding soldiers.

“ ‘He’ can still hear you!” He glared halfheartedly at the pair of Servants, who looked perfectly innocent. The longer he was around them, the more familiar he was with the small changes in disposition and expression, their likes and dislikes. And, to his eternal surprise, the feeling of them.

Cu Cullain felt like trees. Like thick moss on a stone, and early morning mist rolling through thick, ageless trees. His presence was as familiar as an old, trusted hound. They’d only been together for a few months, but his spellwork and the steady draw of his mana felt as natural as breathing to him.

Medusa was the deep ocean, power beneath every surface but beautiful to behold. A crash of waves against the stony shore, her every touch fleeting and feather light while her chains lashed with horror and the chthonic strength born in the age of gods. She was the smooth brush of scales against his wrist, the flash of teeth behind a sweet smile, and gold eyes in the darkness that Ichigo alone did not flinch from.

Theirs was a tenuous relationship. She kept looking for him to stab her back, to cut her head and use it as his weapon. Ichigo was still half expecting to wake up as a statue one day. They only had the barest trust between them but…

She hasn’t let him down yet, and Ichigo endeavours to repay that much if he can.

He raises his sword and barely blocks a vicious strike from Nero. She was shorter than him by far, but he had no chance matching her for raw strength. Or speed. Or her damn near perfect swordplay.

“Focus on the performance at hand,” she orders, her mouth curved in a strange smile. Ichigo didn’t totally understand her. They’d been travelling with her for over a month now, on the way to reach what would one day be london.

“Right,” Ichigo lunges for her, his strikes quick and hard. He’s not worried about hurting her since he can’t even hit her.

It’s graceful, elegant, and nearly effortless for her to knock him flat on his ass again, smacking the flat of her blade against his chest so hard he sees spots. He’s left sucking desperately. His nails bite into the dirt and his grip on his sword tightens until the leather wrapped around the hilt creaks.

“That’s enough for today, I think,” Nero decides. Ichigo wants to argue, but he doesn’t have any breath for it. So he groans like a dying whale and lays in the dirt, his hands shaking, his body refusing to move at all.

Nero lowers herself to the ground, on her knees beside him and how strange is that? A goddamn emperor kneeling with him in the dirt. A demi-goddess, and a druid, and a demi-servant. And Ichigo, just human. But Nero is human too. She’s as alive as he is and she is wiping the fucking floor with him.

“You’re a - fuck,” he wheezes and finally gets his elbows under him so he can sit up.

“Now that’s very rude to say, considering that I’ve been training you out of the goodness of my own heart,” Nero sniffs at him, tilting her chin to the sky.

Why did Ichigo always get stuck with these kinds of bewildering people? Everyone he knew was so weird…

“Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Nero.” A perfectionist and slave driver, but Ichigo was getting better every day. By the time they reached their destination, maybe he’d even be able to land a single blow per bout. Ichigo had never expected to get along with a roman emperor of all people, but even outside of fighting Ichigo has always been, if only mildly, interested in the arts, and Nero only stokes those embers.

Nero smiles beatifically at him. “You have the makings of a fine performer. Even without an Imperial Privilege. I enjoy teaching you.”

Her smile is interrupted by a pinch of her brows and purse of her lips.

Ah, another headache.

It’s very strange, trying to reconcile the young woman in front of Ichigo with the tyrant from history. She’s put her people ahead of her at every turn, and helped Ichigo and his friends. She’s under no obligation to teach Ichigo swordplay but she does, even after long days on the march.

At the same time, there’s a reason Boudica is only her reluctant ally. Nero cared for her people but she was, in another word, a merciless bitch when she put her mind to it. But she was on their side, for now, and Ichigo is learning not to look gift horses in the mouth. So he gets up and goes to her side, and shows her how to press her fingers into pressure points on the back of her neck, and hold it for a few seconds until the headache goes away.

He’s made an archduke for that one.

* * * * *

A rift forms in the Kurosaki household.

It’s always been there, a cut stitches tenuously together by blood and loyalty, and reinforced by love, but now it’s split.

A gaping chasm, and Ichigo doesn’t know what to do with it.

It feels like it’s not something he can bridge. Like this is one obstacle that even he cannot conquer. Master of Chaldea, Final Beacon for Humanity. Commander of Heroes, Beloved, the First Guardian.

He is a hundred things but at the end of the day he is still.

A teenager.

Fifteen and eighteen and four thousand at once.

His dad had lied to him. If not directly, then by omission. For years, for so very long he’d let Ichigo hold the responsibility of Masaki’s life in his hands, had kept quiet when he grew frightened and dark and closed off from the living, so preoccupied was he with the dead.

Never once did he offer reason. Never once did he show his care or cradle his son, or tell him that the monsters were real and it wasn’t his fault .

Not once, in six, seven, eight, nine years did he tell Ichigo that he was not alone. That he and Karin were merely Masaki’s children. That they were born of quincy blood, even if that never put a bow in their hands.

Half the blood means half the power,” That was what Ryuuken had said. And how sad is it that Ichigo had had to hunt down a veritable stranger, once who’s son had spent the entire day bickering and competing and hating his guts, to get answers from?

“ Does my old man know all of this?” Ichigo had asked.

Ryuuken was honest, even if he didn’t want to get into the tangled web of family drama. “Yes,” He’d said, “ But it’s more complicated than that. Isshin has the entire story.”

And he wouldn’t tell Ichigo.

He didn’t tell him on the bloody banks of the river, when a child wandered in desperate hope of finding a phantom of his mother.

He did not tell a ten year old at the foot of a grave marker. He kept silent at eleven, at twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

Fifteen. Under the watching grave of his mother Ichigo had asked. And Isshin had not told.

The house is tense like it hasn’t been since Ichigo got back. It’s tense like a storm, cracking along the edges of the walls and windows. Tense like there’s no coming back from this and Ichigo cannot take the building static in his veins or the hissing of betrayal in his ears, like snakes.

He misses Medusa, suddenly. She would take his pound of flesh for him and then some.

Ichigo go knows, for certain, that if he stays in this house he’ll go mad. Yuzu and Karin, they know something is up. Ichigo’s pretty sure Karin saw the hollow, Grand Fisher, at the grave site. Dead now by his blade, but the vengeance tastes like ash on his tongue. His mother is still dead. His father is still a liar.

His sisters still love them both.

Ichigo loves them, too. More than anything in the world, he fought gods and demons for their sake. For them to be born for them to have a future.

But he can’t spend all of his time at home, and Chad is starting to ask questions that Ichigo has a difficult time answering.

Not ‘was that a demon ghost you just punched in the face’ hard. That answer is ease. ‘Yes’.

But ‘is everything alright at home’ hard. Chad had asked the first time he saw Isshin launch himself at his son in a surprise attack and he’s about to ask it again, Ichigo can feel it in his bones.

So he makes a phone call.

The rest of the world will never know what they did.

The world will not know about him or Mash or Roman or Olga Marie, or the countless others that built Chealdea and kept her running. They’ll never know how much they fought, how much they bled, how much they sacrificed for the sake of the future.

It’s fine with him.

But there are some who know. The Mage's Association, and the United Nations. And a select few people from the Clock Tower in London, where Ichigo has already been offered schooling and job. They know that he stopped the incineration of humanity.

And they owe him.

Three years of pay for working in Chaldeas, and even more for everything else he’d done.

He finds a backpack while he waits for a familiar voice to answer.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” There's a shuffle of sheets and a groan in the background and Ichigo barely pays it any mind as he stuffs a hoodie into his bag and goes looking for his running shoes.

“Not a clue,” he said blandly. “But listen, Waver. I need a favor.”

* * * * * *

#Ichigo Kurosaki #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #well sorta #bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach/fate grand order #olga marie animusphere

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