#but what the heck there’s dozens more of you than the last time i looked

[scham-wcan]

wow what are y’all doing here, hey hi welcome to the scham shack

[nocturnalrat]

Hear me out…

1610! Miles comforting reader after she get jealous because of how much he’s been around Gwen and he’s just touching and kissing her in all the right places and makes sure that reader knows that he loves her and only her 🙈💕

Thank you for the great prompt! I had lots of fun writing this. :p <3

---

It was truly infuriating.

You hadn’t seen each other in a week due to school work keeping you busy, and there had been a surge of criminal activities in New York, which is why Miles had been occupied most of the time as well.

And now, when the two of you were finally able to hang out again, he kept talking about someone else entirely.

You were lying on the bunk bed in his dorm room, listening to him ramble on about the adventures he had lived through last week.  

“You should have been there, the way Gwen incapacitated the guy was like something out of a movie.” He gesticulated frantically with his hands as he vividly described last night’s care chase.

"That sounds really fascinating," you grumbled.

After hearing your unfazed (and slightly sarcastic) tone, he looked up from his chair. "You don't sound very impressed, though."

How could you have told him that his constant stories and songs of praise about Gwen were starting to annoy the heck out of you?

Jealousy was an ugly emotion. To confess to it was shameful, exposing; you wanted to be the easy-going, cool and confident kind of girlfriend, but Miles was making it really hard for you to not seethe with anger and discontent.

"Everything okay?" he asked, and you avoided his gaze. Lying was easier when you didn’t look him into his eyes. They always were too honest and seemed to notice too much.

"Sure," you said.

He saw through your charade immediately, and climbed onto the bunk bed to be closer to you.  "There's something bothering you. I can tell."

"You can't tell shit," you said before you could stop yourself. There was anger in the pits of your stomach threatening to take over.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Yes.

"No."

"Then why are you frowning like that? It looks like you’re ready to kill someone. It better not be me."

Fuck. Were you really scowling that obviously?

"You and Gwen get along great, huh?”

"We certainly do." He tilted his head. You recognized that look on his face – it was the same one he had when struggling to solve complicated math problems. "Why’d you bring her up?"

"Why do you keep bringing her up?" you snarled. "We weren’t able to have a single conversation in the last few weeks without you mentioning her a dozen times. Not to mention the fact that you spend way more time with her than you do with your actual girlfriend.”

Shoot. Now you had done it; you had shown weakness.

Miles stared at you incredulously. "Wait a minute - are you jealous?"

You crossed your arms and looked pointedly at the ceiling.

"Absolutely not."

"Nuh-huh. That's why you're pouting." He grinned, and his lighthearted reaction only intensified the nauseating feeling of jealousy. "You know, part of me wishes you could come with us when we're patrolling, just so you could witness how much I talk about you when I'm with Gwen. But the other part of me is terrified of you being with us, as it would be incredibly dangerous for a civilian.”

"Yeah." Biting sarcasm. "I'm sure that's what you talk to her about."

"It is!" He scrambled over to you and leaned in close. "You don't have the faintest idea how important you are to me, do you?

"Can’t be that important, judging by your behavior.”

"Not that important!" he repeated indignantly. "I think about you all the time. How you're doing, what you're doing, if you need anything - always. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing when I go to sleep!"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it,” you mumbled.

“What do I have to do to make you believe me?” He brushed an unruly strand of hair from your forehead, and the gentleness of his touch loosened the knot in your stomach the jealousy had caused. You had only recently started dating, so every little touch of his felt all the more exciting.  

You looked at him, and his wide eyes were filled with worry.

“Do you guys have to hang out so much?” you asked reluctantly. “How would you feel if I suddenly spent all of my time with an attractive guy who was single?”

He furrowed his brows. “Well, I wouldn’t be thrilled,” he began slowly. Then he shook his head. “Okay, scratch that, I’d be really pissed.”

You almost laughed. He was just like you.

“Then you know exactly how I feel.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth. "You really have no idea, do you?"

The almost-kiss had distracted you, and it took a moment for you to reply. “No idea about what?” you asked, a little breathless.

"About the things I'd do to make you happy." With a tender gesture, he took your face in his hand and caressed your cheek. "I love you more than anything in this world." The kiss that followed made any doubt you had disappear in an instant. He was telling the truth, that much was evident. “Next time, you can just straight up tell me what’s bothering you. Although I have to say, I kind of like it when you’re acting all jealous and cute.”

“Fuck off,” you said, but it was with a smile. You playfully tried to push him off of you, but he buried his face in your neck.

He was stronger than you, and his weight was pressing against you in a way that made it impossible for you to escape. Not that you wanted to - not when his lips had found your neck and left a sensation so new and good that you couldn't help but let out a sigh of contentment.

“I love you,” he said, His voice was so full of affection that it warmed your heart. “Only you. Always you. I won’t be patrolling with her as much in the future, I promise.”

At times, you wondered how someone as great as him had ended up with someone like you. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmered with an amber-like hue; the smile that graced his face was a breathtaking image.

He appeared radiant in the sunlight, and in his presence, you felt a profound sense of peace and trust overcome you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 10

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A message pops up on your Instagram. You open it with dread, a blank profile with some generic photo of a bookshelf. You already know it's him. 

‘Your aunt is very nice.’ 

You nearly drop your phone as you glance over at Jo. She sits with a cross stitch as she watches a rerun of Cold Case. You shudder and look back down at the screen. 

‘Why r u doing this?’ 

You hit the arrow as your sweaty hands stick to the silicon case. 

‘Why am I being nice?’ He replies. 

You can't. You stand up with your phone and your Aunt Jo peeks over with an arched brow. You give an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I'll be right back.” 

You cross the room and pass the kitchen doorway. You lock yourself in the bathroom and look at your phone. You see three dots then they disappear. 

‘You followed me.’ 

He sends a rolling eye emoji. You nearly scream. What the hell? He's rolling his eyes at what? Stalking you? 

‘More than once.’ 

He sends a laughing emoji with tears. You huff. He's so confusing. Then a photo pops up, buffering before finally loading. 

It's Chelsea, well, the top of her head and she's… 

You want to puke. You can't believe he'd send you that. Does she know he took that? Even if she's a bitch, you feel bad. 

‘Looks like I'm all taken care of.’ He texts. 

‘Looks like you are.’ 

You turn your phone to do not disturb and lock it. He's disgusting. You don't even get what he wants from you. If he has Chelsea doing all that, why the heck is he texting you? 

You take your phone to the spare room, what was once your room, and leave it there. You don’t want to be bothered by him, even if you can’t shake the uneasiness stirring your nerves. You go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. You stare unseeingly at the television as the syndicated legal series drones on. 

“What was that, honey?” Jo asks, poking her needle up then pulling it through. 

“Work,” you lie, “um, they keep moving around the schedule or whatever. It’s... frustrating.” 

“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tug the thread to its limit, “you’re stressed. Maybe you should take a day off.” 

“Maybe,” you rub your forehead, “or get a different job.” 

“Could do,” she shrugs, “you know I’ll support whatever you do.” 

“Yeah,” you drop your hands into your lap and look at her, “I know.” 

You turn back to screen and try to hide your despair. Should you try to tell her about Andy? The thought’s crossed your mind a dozen times over. Your Aunt Jo is fierce and loving, she might just believe you but it’s not her holding you back. It’s him. He’s dangerous and he hasn’t yet shown you how dangerous. 

It’s better she doesn’t know. Not right now. You’ll have to deal with Andy. Just not tonight. 

📖

You grumble around the last mouthful of coffee. Another day, another shift. While Jo’s suggestion was tempting, you really can’t give up the hours. Nonetheless, you haven’t sat on your hands. Several applications were forward late into the night as sleep eluded you. Now you can barely hold your head up. 

It shouldn’t be very busy at opening. You can survive on an instant coffee packet from the breakroom. You yawn and grab your coat and bag. The snow puffs up around your boots as you step outside, shivering as you tuck your scarf into the top of your jacket. You pull your hood up against the frigid wind and tamp down the fresh powder as you come down the walk. 

As you get to the sidewalk, you stop and look both ways. Before you can cross and head for the bus stop, a horn honks, jarring you. You step back as a familiar car rolls up. You cross your arms, heart racing, and peek back over your shoulder at the safe hold of your aunt’s house. 

“Buses are behind,” Andy calls through the window as it slides down, “you’ll be late...” 

“I’m fine,” you sidestep to walk around the rear bumper and he shifts into reverse, blocking your escape. 

“I know your aunt didn’t teach you to be so ungrateful--” 

“Don’t talk about my aunt,” you snap as you turn back the other way and he rolls forward. You stop short and stomp your foot, “why are you doing this? Why are you bugging me? Chelsea--” 

“I don’t want Chelsea, she’s a slut. She’s easy. She gets the job done,” he sneers. 

You shake your head and blow out a cloud of warmth into the crisp air, “I’m sure there are other--” 

“You,” he says tersely, “that’s it. No one else.” 

You close your eyes and shudder, “I... I’m not interested... like that, Andy. I just was being friendly because it’s my job. Can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t understand,” he snarls, “I’m a lawyer, I’m good-looking, I take good care of myself and I could do the same for you. You wouldn’t have to work in some shitty bookstore.” 

You flutter your lashes and shake your head, “I...” 

“What? Why don’t you want me?” He leans over the seat further, glaring at you. 

“How old are you?” You blurt out, immediately sealing your lips in regret. 

He scoffs, “and how old are you? Bit over the hill to be in retail, huh? I know you’re not some college kid getting a few extra bucks. You’re a grown woman, your life is a mess. You need someone like me.” 

You huff, “I need you to leave me alone.” 

He clucks and sits up. The car idles in front of you as he sits silently. He grips the real and clears his throat, “I’ll be seeing you for dinner. Aunt Jo sure is sweet, maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.” 

The window rolls up before you can spit back a retort. The mention of your aunt flares in your chest. How dare he. You know it’s more than a snipe at you, he’s not saying her name for nothing. It’s a threat. 

He steers away down the snowy road, the snow packing beneath the weight of the car. You watch his headlights stop at the corner before you kick through the snow. Fuck. 

[blackbat05]

Persistence

Gryffindor! Carlos x Reader (House of Choice)

A/N: That Wimbledon Champion’s dinner video was so cute and a great inspiration. I might have also shown my crack side towards the end but I hope you enjoy😁 Funfact I wrote this in a day lmao.

“Good one! Let’s do five more and we’ll stop. It’s getting dark.” Ainsley yells from afar.

“Gotcha Cap!”

You take a deep breath and get your bat into position. Ainsley releases the bludger at top speed but you’re confident that this will be a walk in the park.

30 metres… 20 metres… 10 metres…

“Ah!!!”

You had to dodge from the aggressive ball at the very last second, bludger almost taking your ear off.

“Y/N! You ok?”

You quickly recover back onto your broom, wondering what the heck was that. “I’m good Cap!” You scan for the source of noise and lo and behold, you find the Gryffindor Beater taking a leisure stroll onto the field with a dozen of girls from every single house trailing behind him.

Just end me.

Ainsley gives a furtive glance as you land on the ground gracefully, putting your broom aside to confront the person at everyone’s attention.

“Alcaraz!” You raise both your arms in exasperation, tone high. “I would appreciate it if you would quit trying to disrupt my training?”

He should have been scared. Most guys on the other Qudditch teams would have shit in their pants. But not Carlos, the guy was simply one of a kind.

“Hello to you, amor.”

“Quit it.” You growled. Most girls would have fallen for his charms but not you. It’s guys like these that would stomp on your heart the moment they’re done toying with you.

Unfazed by the crowds, he takes a step forward to you and you can’t help but to notice the color of chocolate swimming in his eyes. Carlos smirks.

You don’t know what he has up his sleeve this time. Surely it can be worst than supergluing your butt to the handle of your broom. Your body freezes in anticipation as he opens his mouth to say whatever ridiculous things he has in his darned head of his.

“Go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Yeap. Definitely stupid things.

***

“You said no? Girl you are out of your god damn mind.” Ainsley widens his stride to keep up with you as you head to the dorm. “He is down bad for you!”

“I am probably just one of his conquests.” You waved it off dismissively. “Hey, Ains…” You looked at your captain who resembles a bobble head.

“No. I have a date.”

“Bullshit.”

“I do.”

“No you don’t.”

Ainsley gives you a look and you realize your best friend is speaking the truth. The two of you stare at each other in silence.

“He’s not going to give up is he?”

“I’m afraid not.”

***

You wondered if your friend was finally listening to the Divination classes. Ainsley was right. Carlos popped up everywhere you went. The dungeons before potion lessons, the Great Hall and even after your consult with Professor McGonagall who for the first time seemed throughly amused by the young Qudditch prodigy’s efforts.

“Please?”

“Don’t make me hex you Alcaraz. Why not go out with Simmons? She’s way more in your league than I am.”

He doesn’t answer your question and continues to persistently follow you to every possible place in school for the rest of the day.

***

You sit by the fireplace, completing the last bit of your assignment. Stomach growling, you look at the clock and realized you have yet to grab anything to eat.

Perhaps the kitchen would have something. You make your way down quietly to not get spotted by any Professors or the caretaker.

Tickling the pineapple, you head to the kitchen that was still bustling in the evening. Apart from the elves, you weren’t alone.

“I’ve tried everything! But she doesn’t believe me. What do I do?” Carlos groans and you duck behind a pot of pans, eavesdropping into their conversation.

“Perhaps some food sir? Miss Y/N always likes strawberries with whipped cream.” The elf suggested.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll take those. Thank you.” Carlos glumly accepts the bag of strawberries from another elf running around the kitchen.

“She helped me. When I was a nobody. She didn’t care how many cups I won, that I was the star player on the team.” Carlos sadly recounts to the elf who has climbed onto the counter to pat him on the shoulder.

You knew exactly what he was referring to. When you were in third year, you happened to run into Carlos being heckled by some older Slytherins who were saying incredibly nasty things about his background. You didn’t hesitate to hex all four of them good and willingly took the punishment for Carlos so that he could continue with his tryouts.

He remembered?

“She’s so sweet and courageous and brave.” He continues to confess his inner thoughts. “I wanted to get to know her better. Before I was sucked up in all of this.” He refers to the fame that came along with his exceptional athletic abilities. “But she thinks I’m lying. I really like her, you know.”

You breath hitches and you step out carefully behind him.

“You could have just told me that instead of following me around like a lost puppy.”

Carlos whips his head around. “I… uh… how long were you here?” He asks.

“Long enough.” You reply and sit beside him, thanking the elf for the strawberries. “I have to apologize for my attitude. I was just trying to protect myself and with all that you had going on… I didn’t think you would be interested in me.” You wring your hands nervously, not looking at him.

The realization hits Carlos slowly but surely and a mischievous thought floods his mind. Dipping his finger in the bowl of whip cream that the elf bought, he taps your shoulder and smears your nose with the cream the moment you tilt your head up.

You gasp, pretending to be offended. “And just when I thought we were clearing things up!” You swipe your own whip cream and attack him on his nose, leaving the both of you in a fit of giggles.

Carlos wipes the tears from his eyes and takes a deep breath to calm down.

“So… will you go to the ball with me?” The man in front of you is almost hopeful.

“Yes! I’ll go with you.”

***

Carlos adjusts his tie for the hundredth time this evening, waiting for you anxiously outside the dorm. The door opens and a group of giggling girls dressed to the nines take appreciative glances at him. Not that he noticed. He was too anxious, he couldn’t wait to see you-

“Sorry! I took too long did I?”

He does a double take, engraving your visuals in his memory. “You look beautiful.”

The ball was extravagant. The Great Hall had been transformed beyond recognition as students entered. Music from the live band was playing and most were already on the dance floor while a few stayed behind at the tables mingling with each other.

Carlos extends his hand for you to hold. “Shall we?”

You take his hand as he leads you onto the dance floor. Despite being a professional on the field, you couldn’t say the same on the dance floor.

Sensing your nerves, Carlos does a little shimmy of his hips, earning a small smile from you. He holds you by the waist and takes the lead, moving across the dance floor.

As you glide along with him, Carlos leans down, checking in on you.

“You alright?”

You lean in to him, wrapping both your arms around his waist before giving him a kiss under the chandelier. You couldn’t have been more sure and so was he.

This couldn’t have been more perfect.

***

Bonus Cut:

“Ah! Young love. Professor, you owe me ten galleons!” Professor McGonagall calls the suave Professor Juan Carlos over who hands her the money.

Never bet against Minnie.

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 4: A Lie to Protect

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3)

Chapter Summary: A frightening event in the middle of the night makes Arthur show you his protective side, making you face an unexpected truth.

Word Count: 4K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Infidelity. Reader gets scared and panics. Protective Arthur Morgan.

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know

AO3 Link

A/N: No smut, just plot in this one.

It's no surprise that the sleep that comes after your evening with Arthur is dreamless since what happened is as close to a living dream as you'll ever get. But sleep is deep as well, so when Arthur jolts you awake by removing himself rapidly from your grasp beneath you, it feels like a brutal shock. You try to open your eyes as you hear him dress.

And then loud shots ring out in the distance.

You spring from your drowsy slumber, sitting up on the bed, turning to Arthur for answers. "What was that?"

He's already buttoning his pants as he tries to put on his boots. "I don't know, but it ain't good." He puts on his shirt aimlessly. "I need you to stay inside while I go see what it is."

You're out of bed when you hear another round of firing, this one more prolonged. You both freeze at the sound of it.

"I'll go with you."  

Arthur gives you a stern look, the kind you hear is best not to disobey. "No! Stay here!" On his way out, he stops abruptly by the door. "Close this door behind me and don't let anyone in!"

When you get to the dresser, you find an easy nightgown you can slip on, then you swiftly put on your shoes and your coat hanging by the door. You head directly to your kitchen for your shotgun, finding it where you always keep it. You step out onto your porch without thinking about what could be the origin of the blasts but willing to protect your home from it.

Arthur stands in your front yard, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from. His gun belt is now placed on his hips, both of his guns drawn. When he hears you come outside, he turns angrily. "Damn it, I told you to stay inside!" He steps closer to convince you to go back in. "Get in there!"

You check your shotgun to see if it's still loaded. "I can protect myself, Arthur. And I need to protect my home." You slam the weapon shut, annoyed at his insistence of you cowering inside. "I'm not going anywhere, Arthur." 

You can see he's vexed for not getting his way. The unrelenting stare you give him is enough to make him give in. "Get behind me."

You follow Arthur as he moves further into the yard, hoping to see anything that might give him reason to shoot. You stay close to him since he looks to be a better shot than you, brandishing two heavy weapons that are no match to your lone gun. You both take cover side by side when you reach the fence enclosing your yard.

You stay on the lookout for some time, suspicious of the eerie silence that has fallen since the last shots were heard, worried that the trouble will reach you any moment. Nothing like this has ever happened in the few years you have lived here, so you're distraught that you might be in imminent danger at your own place of refuge. You're relieved the night is pitch black so Arthur can't see the fear in your widened eyes. 

After a few minutes that seem like hours, Arthur finally spots something in the distance, the sharp turn of his head giving it away. You follow his gaze to see the nearby road, you see moving glimmers of light, accompanied by the growing thunder of hooves stomping heftily on the ground. About a dozen horses by the sound of it. 

When you both realize they are headed in your direction, Arthur straightens his stance, cocking his guns determinedly as he aims at whoever comes at you. He moves closer to you, placing himself in front of you to shield you from any harm, his back pressing at your shoulder as you cock your own shotgun to the side before pointing it in his guns' direction. You hope he doesn't notice how badly it shakes in your quivering hands, a knot now tight around your stomach as you begin to forget how to breathe.

His instruction is almost imperceptible. "Stay behind me no matter what."

You both secure your aim as you watch a team of ten horses invade your property, the glow of lamps hanging from them, lighting up the field around you as they approach, illuminating the men riding them as they come into view. Their light campaign hats are the first thing you notice, placed high on their heads, sets of matching gloves holding the reigns, carrying long-barreled guns. Their distinctive blue uniforms look worn out as the army men steer closer to you, marching into your property without permission. They do not come in peace. 

The arrival of an army battalion under the cover of night is a terrifying image, your senses overwhelmed by the unexpected show of force. You recall that the horsemen of the apocalypse are supposed to be four, not ten.

"Hold your fire!" The words come from the commanding officer leading the pack but you're not sure if they are meant for the other officers or for you and Arthur. You both tighten the grip on your guns. "Hold your fire, men!" Your heart feels like it's bound to leave your chest as the horses slow to a gallop in front of you, the faces of the officers coming into view. "They're civilians." 

Arthur's back is now leaning further into you as he tries to protect you from them, you can feel his chest swelling, suspicious of their intentions as they begin to halt their horses. It's clear you are completely outnumbered. "What's your business here?" he demands sternly. "This land here is private." You follow his lead and try not to panic as you barely keep the shotgun straight over his shoulder. 

"At ease! My name is First Lieutenant Roger Brown with the United States Army. I assure you we mean you no harm." The man dismounts while Arthur watches him like a hawk. His voice is loud and authoritative. "Perhaps you can lower your weapons and we can talk." It's a threat in the guise of a suggestion.

You wait for Arthur's move to follow his lead. After a few seconds of pondering, realizing he is completely outgunned, he slowly lowers his guns, nestling them inside their holsters, but not removing his hands from his gun belt, in case he needs to draw them again. He motions to rise and leave his cover and you follow suit, staying behind him as he requested, leaning into his side as you keep your eyes on the battalion. You drop your shotgun in a quick swoop, your arms trembling with fright. 

"Now that's more like it!" The lieutenant has only said a few words but something about him is as disturbing as his unbecoming grin. "We're looking for an escaped convict from Fort Wallace. He was just seen around these parts a few moments ago by our officers. I'm sure you heard their encounter." The other army men now gather around him as he tries to assuage you. They continue to hold their guns threateningly, even though they're not aiming. "We're searching the area to try to locate him. We need to have a look around to see if he's not trying to hide here."

"There's no else here." If Arthur is intimidated or fearful he doesn't show it, but you can feel him burning hot with anger. 

The lieutenant now stands directly in front of you. He's almost Arthur's height. "I'm afraid we can't take your word for it. We need to make sure he's not hiding inside." He looks directly at you, sending a shiver down your spine. "Did you see anything?" 

Arthur speaks for you, he must sense how scared you are as he continues to cover you. "No." There is a brief pause. "My wife and I were just sleeping." His words don't have time to sound in your head as you're too overwhelmed with dread.

"Ah, of course. Well, we still need to search." He instructs three of his privates to look for the escapee out back in the stable while he and a few officers look inside your house, the rest keeping watch over you and the horses. "We won't take long."

You realize that they are about to invade your home, wrecking it apart without your permission to try to find a man that's not there. "Just make sure you don't take anything!" Your words boil over like poison as your fear mixes with rage. 

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about, Mrs...?"

"Brooks." You spit out your own married name without thinking. 

"Don’t worry, Mrs. Brooks. We're here to protect you." The man gives you a nauseating grin.

You watch as the two groups of soldiers disband to search your property. Your instinct is to retaliate and stop them from reaching the threshold and you feel your body move a few feet until you feel a hand reach one of your own. 

You turn around to see it's Arthur's, stopping you from going forward as he tries to look into your eyes, his stare glowing with the light of the lamps. He presses your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb on its back. His other hand reaches your shoulder as he tries to ground you. It's only now you realize your chest is rising frantically, your nose flaring as your breath hitches, your palms sweaty as your knees buckle. He tries to soothe you back into stillness, his eyes worried as he watches your petrified state. "Breathe, darling."

You try to steady your breaths as you realize you're panicking, overwhelmed with the menace not just in your yard, but now on your porch too as they enter the door to your sacred home. 

Eventually, the agitation begins to subside, noticing Arthur is standing by you, still protecting you, even without a raised gun. You don't know what you would do if he wasn't here right now. 

When you hear a loud noise inside your house, you turn to try to see what they're doing, a futile effort. Arthur's grip on you keeps anchoring you down and you turn back to him as you try to hold back tears. He nestles your head in the crook of his neck, shielding you from seeing your home invaded, swaying you softly to ease your distress. You feel him exhale with hostility beneath you, his head moving as he remains on the lookout. 

Your mutual fury begins to subside after a few minutes, even though you're both still very tense. The fear soon turns into impatience as the officers continue to search your house. If they were to find someone else inside, they would have done it by now. Arthur lets go of your hand as you move to sit briefly on the ground, finding it uncomfortable as you feel too jumpy to stay still. You're pacing around when you finally hear someone step into the porch. You absentmindedly seek Arthur's hand before terror sets in again. 

The privates start to leave your house, each one stepping down back into the yard, Lieutenant Brown leaving last, an uneasy satisfaction on his face. The other officers sent to your stable also return and the whole battalion soon returns to their horses. 

"It looks like the convict isn't here after all," Brown admits as he walks past you. You wait for the utterance of an apology but none comes. 

"That's what I said." Arthur's voice is low with indignation and you fear he might get physical. 

"But you could've been lying, couldn't you, my good man?" He gives Arthur a wicked smile and you feel his hand clench harder around you. "Still, should the need arise, we might come back if he's seen around here again." The idea makes your lungs tighten. "I suggest you remain on alert. The convict is armed and dangerous." Not as dangerous as ten armed soldiers, you think. "Have a goodnight, Mr. Brooks. Mrs. Brooks." Lieutenant Brown tips the brim of his hat to you from his horse and you truly hope this is the last time you see his vile face. 

You watch as they leave, galloping away out of your property, leaving you and Arthur in pitch darkness again, robbed of a night's rest and your whole sense of security. 

It's only when Arthur is sure they have gone that he looks down at you, still clutching his hand firmly, your other hand now clinching his upper arm, your shotgun forgotten as it hangs on your shoulder. He gives you a moment as you place your head on his shoulder, his whole side slumping as you try to sink your dread into him. "It's over, darling, they're gone." You feel your tears fall as they wet his shirt underneath you. "Nobody's gonna hurt you. I won’t let it happen." At that moment it's only Arthur, the dead silence, and the weak moonlight trying to ease your fears.

Arthur eventually gets you to sit down on the stairs of your porch when you're calm enough to hold your own head. He kneels by you for a few seconds when he places a soft kiss on your temple, soothing your forearms with the warmth of his hands. When he hears a noise in the distance he turns in its direction, placing his grip on his gun belt, removing it when he notices it’s just a lone rabbit in the woods nearby.

When your breathing normals and your eyes go dry, you gain the courage to finally head inside. “I should go see if they took anything.” 

Arthur nods. “I’ll go check on the horses.” He rubs your shoulder a few times, making sure you’re well enough to be left alone for a few minutes. “Keep your gun with you.” His words remind you of the remaining threat of the escaped convict. He watches you head inside before he leaves.    The inside of your cottage is not ransacked like you feared but you immediately sense some things have been moved, a strange aura hanging in the air. At first glance, some of the carpets are turned over and a few of the cabinets in the kitchen are left slightly ajar. Some used glasses are sitting on the table, the expensive bottle of whiskey Arthur got you now empty. Only a few bits of glazed apple are all that remain on the plate of your pie. It infuriates you they abused your home like this. What’s worse is you couldn’t fight back. 

You go to your bedroom to see if they’ve taken anything else. The bed sheets are scrambled and the mattress is out of place, definitely not like you left it. Your clothes from last night are still tumbled on the floor. You pick them up as you watch your clean clothes ruffled inside the open armoire, the drawers of the dresser disturbed. However, upon closer inspection, nothing seems to be missing, not even the pieces of jewelry hidden inside one of your shoes. They must have not looked inside. You open the drawer containing your husband’s correspondence and see that they didn’t take your wedding ring either, still tucked away in the corner, hidden by some envelopes. 

After you push the dresser to the side with some force, you lift a false floorboard, the hiding place where you stash your money and a few pieces of gold in a small pouch. You sigh of relief when you count and everything is there, even your husband’s gold pocket watch. When you conceal your hiding place again, you see your empty purse tossed on the floor. The six dollars and thirty-five cents you had are missing. You pick it up as you feel your cheeks flush with rage.

When you are through returning tossed things to their rightful place, you look around to make sure nothing else was taken. The soldiers seem to have contented themselves with just a few lousy dollars and a stomach full of liquor. You’d pity their misery if they weren’t such ruthless thugs.   When you return to your porch, relieved that the looting wasn’t worse but dismayed that it still happened, you see Arthur in front of the stairs, still keeping watch. He turns to you, visibly upset from what happened and, even worse, from letting it happen. “Everything ok?” He speaks as gently as he can in a deeper tone. You know he’s not asking about the house but rather about you.

You nod lightly and somehow you feel like crying again. You try to stay strong so he doesn’t think you’re so pitiful. “Just took some money. A few dollars I had in my purse.”

“Goddamn bastards. Scum of the earth is what they are.” 

You sit back down on the same step you sat before. The night seems to be coming to an end as the darkness begins to disappear, the blue grass now getting greener.

“Drank the whiskey too and the rest of the pie." It saddens you Arthur will not savor the rest of the pie he liked so much. "I’m sorry.”

“There ain't nothing for you to be sorry for. It ain't your fault." He sits down next to you with a self-reproaching grunt. 

"It ain't your fault either. There was nothing we could do." You catch his eyes as he tries to believe you, swallowing down his remorse. "I'm glad you were here."

Arthur wraps his arm around you. "Me too, darling." His gaze remains on you as he tries to assess your well-being as you look out into the empty yard. "Why don't you head inside, get some sleep? I'll keep watch." 

"No. I can't sleep right now." You place your shotgun by your side, in case you need to use it. 

"Ok." He stares out into the emptiness with you, watching the sky as it's painted with hues of blue, pink, and orange. You both relish the birds as they begin to sing, the only sounds echoing in the otherwise quiet distance. 

Arthur strokes the blade of your shoulder for a long time as if it might undo the night you're living, hoping it turns into an uneventful day. After some time, it almost works. You start to feel lighter as the panic leaves your body, accompanied by the welcomed sedative of owed sleep as your head falls gradually until it hits his shoulder. He snuggles you closer as you surrender to the cozy feeling of his warm embrace.  

A few words come back to you while you're still awake. My wife and I were just sleeping. A harmless lie to protect you from a cruel world, you figure. His reasoning must be that they would be less likely to hurt you with a husband by your side. He doesn't know you're actually married, so it must just be happenstance. You don't dwell much on it, too tired to process the implications it has on you and the man who said it. 

The first sun rays finally reach the tallest trees in the distance before you feel your lids close, drifting off to a better dream, one where Arthur keeps holding you tight. 

-

When you open your eyes gain, you can't be sure if you've slept five minutes or five hours. You wake up lying on your bed, covered with your quilt up to your shoulders. You see the coat you had on hanging in its place by the door, the sun entering your window as bright as ever as the morning reaches its conclusion. The birds and the breeze are the only thing you hear and for a moment you think you're alone in your house, just like on any other day. Maybe everything that happened was all a dream, even him. 

"Arthur?" You call out his name and you hope you're wrong. 

You hear loud steps on the porch and in your living room before he reaches your door. The man you dreamed about is real after all. 

"Hey." By the appearance of his face, you gather he hasn't slept a wink, his shoulders burdened with weariness. The memory of this morning comes flooding in as you realize why. He's still guarding your home. He's still guarding you. "You ok?"

You sit up on the bed. "I'm fine." The sleep you got has calmed you but you still ache with sadness. 

He sits down on your side of the bed, careful not to sit on your feet. "One of the soldiers just came by up the road. It seems they caught the bastard a few miles from here, hiding out in an abandoned barn." He takes your closest hand in his. "None of them are gonna trouble you no more." You believe him as he looks you in the eye.

"I'm glad." You feel yourself exhale a long-repressed breath.

"You need anything?" 

"No."

"You gonna be ok?" You can tell he's still deeply worried about you. 

"Yes." You try to make him believe you as you look him in the eye. 

He stares down at his boots before he gets the courage to say the next few words. "I'm afraid I gotta go. I have work." The thought of him leaving feels you with dread again. "But I'd like to come back. Make sure you're safe."

"I'll be fine." You move your lips to give him an uneasy smile.  

"Still… I’ll sleep better if I see you.” You can see him slouching from his exhaustion, his lids heavy with need.

"Then sleep here." You reach out to hold both of his hands to keep him from rising from your bed. 

"Sweetheart, I can't, I've got to get going..." He barely moves as he attempts to convince you in his sluggish state.

"You need rest, Arthur. Rest here."

You pull his arms up to you and you feel very little resistance, his fatigue getting the better of him. His whole body slumps next to you as you remove his hat and his bulky boots. His head is on your pillow when you rejoin him, his eyes almost closed as they look down at you. "Don't let me sleep too much," he mutters as your forehead nestles against his jaw and you curl up into him.

"I won't. Just close your eyes now." 

You feel the tension in his body disperse as he finally lets his guard down. His deep breaths soon flutter in your hair while you soothe his arm over the fabric of his shirt, the front still stained from your apple pie. You continue to comfort him even after he is relaxed enough to fall asleep, his chest swelling with long languid breaths. The smell of tobacco and sweat becomes more intoxicating the more you breathe him in. 

You're delighted that a man of his size can unwind so quickly next to you. You’d never imagine you could be this comfortable with anyone, let alone that you’d get so intimate this fast, a closeness that now seems to be growing beyond your lustful bond. 

He’s now trusting enough to believe you when you tell him he needs rest. Thoughtful enough to carry you to your bed when you fall asleep. Strong enough to calm you when you panic. Brave enough to shield you when you're threatened. Caring enough to lie and call you his wife to protect you from bad men. 

Years of marriage have certainly not gotten you any of this and now you wonder if it should have. Being married to an affectionate man was never an option but perhaps there is a different reality that you could've had. Maybe you still can, now that you glimpse at it as Arthur breathes into your hair, swaying under your palm, throwing your whole predictable world in disarray.

For now you decide to bask in the distance of the future and the remoteness of consequences, realizing your whole life is being pulled into a whirlwind as you pull closer against his chest. You soon regain sleep as a pretend Mrs. Brooks and, for a moment, being married isn't so bad. Not if it's to him.

-

A/N: Sleepy Arthur Morgan, am I right??

[chuckeroo777]

Dungeon Meshi Volume 6 Part 1

Welcome back to my liveblog! As a reminder, this is a re-read, so expect plenty of spoilers!

Don't intentionally spoil people or get thwacked in the face.

Huh. So they have been here for about a week. Makes Rin's exasperation even more understandable.

Wow, rude. I feel like if you actually knew her, that's kinda the last thing she would do. She hates eating weird stuff.

Batting 0 for 3 Maizuru. Honestly, I originally thought she was kind of a jerk, but between this and "Ninja Art: Babysitter", I think her observational skills are just really bad.

See? She doesn't have a clue why this is an atrocious idea.

I mean, it was an elf who was around during Delgal's day, and was using exceptionally potent ancient magic. Who the heck else would it be? Plus the orcs confirmed his identity. And of course Laios thinks Thistle is mad about the food.

Asebi is not amused.

Hmm... another depiction of the winged lion with horns. Also, there was no need to bring up the black magic. Marcille used a regular resurrection spell, just using ancient magic to boost the power level. If the dragon hadn't been soul-bound by Thistle, it would have gone without a hitch. People like to joke Marcille did nothing wrong, but in this one case, I think she was totally in the right. There is plenty of time for her to commit war crimes later.

Chilchuck: Gasp! You were drugging him!

Kabru is here for ALL the hot goss. From a distance.

I love how the canon explanation for why Faligon has feathers is that Dragons = Dinosaurs. It's like an atavism or something. Idk, it looks cool. Stop asking questions.

God. Marcille may be my favorite, but I relate so much to Laios. This chapter and the next are painful. (And I'm not talking about the part where everyone dies)

If only Chilchuck won the coin toss, we could've avoided this drama. (At least until Shuro saw Falin)

Now that's a trustworthy face if I ever saw one.

Well well well. If it isn't the consequences of my actions.

I know I just got done explaining that her actions were fine. Just let me be funny.

Eh, it's worth a try. It works in at least one alternate universe.

She's beauty, she's grace. She's gonna eat your face.

What's all the more heartbreaking is you get little moments where Falin shines through. She wants to pet the doggie! But then the dragon reasserts itself.

Even freakier, I think this is actually Falin too. You can see her pupils oscillate throughout this scene between normal, and elongated.

Like, I don't think it did that on purpose, but the dragon is more than happy to exploit the opening it creates.

Holm? Holm, are those golem cores? Have you been holding out on us?

Man, no wonder she freaks out. Imagine you've been a dragon for who knows how long, covered in scales of iron, and suddenly this dude manages to stab you five times like it's nothing. Heck, Laios just stabbed her in the foot with a normal sword. This dragon must be fearing for it's life like crazy.

Obligatory Whoa Hey!

An important image.

No you dummy. This is standard dungeon procedure. There's a reason healers like Holm and Falin wear those silly robes. So that they get priority resurrections.

Hold up a sec. My drama senses are tingling.

I am genuinely curious what this insult was in the original Japenese, if only because I can't see that coming from either of them.

You know, when I first read Dungeon Meshi, I kinda glossed over the secondary cast a lot. Hard not to when you have my attention span, and like two dozen characters. I didn't even notice the Asebi stuff.

I know people dunk on Toshiro a lot, but I really have to question his relationship with his retainers if a simple thank you and sorry elicits this sort of reaction. Honestly, I mostly get the impression that his dad isn't great, and Maizuru is too loyal to do anything about it.

I also have to wonder why he left Asebi behind. Did he just not want to bother? Or is he rethinking his whole relationship with his retainers, and is offhandedly giving her her freedom?

Like brother like sister.

Image limit reached! I'll be back in a bit. Need to get some meshi!

[pocket-sized-nightmare]

here’s my entry for day 6 of @gem-pearl-week 2024! today’s prompt is “devotion/betrayal”

Gem and Pearl are mining together.

It’s a simple, calm moment – not the endless twisting hallways of a woodland mansion, not the treacherous depths of the ocean, just a cave of stone and ores.

Pearl taps her pickaxe against a block of coal ore, picks up the remains, and attaches them to a few sticks in her pocket. “Running low on torches?”

“No.” Gem checks her pockets. “Yes, actually. Can I have some?”

Pearl laughs aloud. “Of course.”

They work together in silence for a few minutes longer. It’s something Pearl has always valued about Gem. As much as they both love upbeat conversations, they’re both happy to enjoy each other’s quiet company. It’s nice to be by each other’s side with no pressure.

Well, no pressure except for monsters.

Pearl suddenly gasps. “Behind you, Gem!”

Gem whirls around, face to face with a creeper. She shrieks. “Oh, heck no!”

Pearl couldn’t agree more. “Oh, no, you don’t!” She swings her axe at the creeper, neatly separating its head from its body. It disappears in a puff of smoke.

Pearl puts her axe away and brushes the dirt off her hands. “There we go. All is well once again.”

“Pearl…” Gem says.

“No, I know! It spooked me, too. Creepers have a way of sneaking up on you.”

“Yeah, but Pearl…”

“So, which way are we going next?”

Gem gives up on being casual. “Pearl, turn around!”

This time, it’s Pearl’s turn to glance behind her and gasp. Not one but two creepers are on her tail, followed closely behind by a zombie. “Why are there so many mobs?”

Gem reaches for a clock in her pocket and checks the time. “Oh, void, we’ve been mining for hours. The sun went down when we weren’t paying attention.”

“Darn it.” Pearl readies her axe again. “Looks like we’re in for a bit more adventure than–”

She’s interrupted by a creeper explosion.

The blast throws both Pearl and Gem forward a few blocks. A few blocks of stone tumble from the cave edge behind them, revealing a massive cave network. “Whoa,” Gem whispers. “That was there the whole time?”

Another creeper hisses. Pearl grabs Gem’s hand. “And we should probably go there. Now.”

They duck through the creeper tunnel, but the other creepers are fast enough to cut them off. Another creeper explodes beside Pearl, knocking her against a wall and into the path of a rushing waterfall.

Gem reaches into the waterfall and grabs for Pearl’s hand, but she only succeeds in tumbling into it beside her. They both emerge soaked to the bone. “That went well,” Gem mutters.

“Into a well, you mean.” Pearl chuckles ruefully. “Absolutely ruined my wings. That’s gonna take a minute to dry off.”

Gem looks over Pearl’s shoulder to see what she means – her delicate luna moth wings are weighed down by water. It looks as though she can hardly move them. “Oh, that’s the worst. All I’ve got is a couple vines on my antler.”

Pearl laughs. “Here, let me help you with that.”

As Pearl untangles the last vine from Gem’s head, a flash of green appears behind her. Right. There was a zombie. She reaches for her axe and tries to fight back, but the zombie has the element of surprise on its side. The fight drives Pearl back a few blocks – towards the edge of a deep ravine.

Gem rushes over and stabs the zombie straight through the chest. It disappears in a puff of smoke. She only has enough time to look over and spot a dozen dripstone stalagmites on the floor of the ravine before a shriek cuts through her mind and fills her with terror.

Pearl stumbles backwards and slips over the ledge.

Gem grabs her hand just before she disappears from view. “Pearl, use your wings!”

Pearl uselessly flutters them. They flop down by her sides. “I can’t, they’re drenched!”

Panic floods Gem’s mind, blocking out any reasonable thoughts. She tries to help Pearl back up onto the cliff, but she’s losing her balance. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be fine…”

Pearl can feel Gem stumbling forward. She tries to pull her hand away. “Gem, let go.”

Gem takes a step forward in an attempt to regain her footing. “Absolutely not!”

“Gem, I’m just gonna drag you down with me. Please let go of me.”

“No!” Gem can feel the tears beginning to fall, but she can’t figure out why. “I’m not gonna let you die!”

Pearl looks at Gem with an expression of equal parts confusion and concern. “Gem, listen to me. I’m gonna be fine. I don’t want you to lose your levels. Please let go of my hand.”

“No, I won’t. I can’t! I’m not gonna let go of you–” Gem loses her balance.

Pearl wrenches her hand out of Gem’s grip and dives into the cavern. Gem tumbles to the ground, just managing to catch herself before she goes over the cliff too.

<PearlescentMoon was impaled on a stalagmite>

————

Pearl wakes up on the bed just outside the cave. The post-respawn adrenaline crash washes over her in an instant. She considers rolling over and going back to bed, then sits up and shakes the sleep from her mind. If Gem is still as distraught as she was during the cliff incident, Pearl should find her.

Pearl walks back into the cave, humming softly. “Gem?” she calls. “You better not have died too. I’ll tease you forever.”

There’s no response.

Pearl follows her trail of torches through the cave until the creeper holes come into view. She runs through the unintentional tunnel and back to the ravine. “Gem, you still here?”

A glimpse of red hair comes into view. Pearl stops cold in the tunnel.

Gem is curled up in a ball on the ground at the edge of the ravine, sobbing. She’s muttering incoherently under her breath, but Pearl can make out a few words over and over: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

Pearl doesn’t even say a word. She walks over to Gem, kneels down next to her, wraps her arms around her, and pulls her away from the edge. Pearl can feel Gem trembling in her arms, so she holds her tighter without a thought of letting go.

Gem buries herself in the soft warmth of Pearl’s hoodie and sobs. Void, she should be used to it by now, but she’s still caught off guard by the comfort of Pearl’s hugs. Pearl’s like a human weighted blanket. It isn’t fair.

“Shh,” Pearl whispers under her breath. “No worries. I’m here. I’m alive.”

Gem sobs harder. She’s desperate to catch her breath, but the air refuses to enter her lungs when she tries to breathe. “I know– I know, but– couldn’t– it was– you were– Pearl, I couldn’t…” Her heart pounds in her chest. She’s falling apart. “Losing you all over again…”

Pearl wraps her (now-luckily-dry) wings around Gem and holds her tightly. “I know. It’s okay. Flashbacks are….” She takes a few quiet breaths, as though to transfer her calmness over to Gem. “They’re scary, aren’t they? But it’s okay. We’re on Hermitcraft. Respawn’s on. If we fall, we’ll get right back up again.”

“I let you down,” Gem whispers. “I couldn’t save you.”

“You tried,” Pearl whispers back. “That’s more than enough.”

Gem looks up for the first time. Her tear-filled, sparkling green eyes stare straight into Pearl’s celestial blue, and Pearl suddenly feels like crying too. “Look at me,” Pearl murmurs. “No cuts and bruises. No broken bones. No fucked-up code. Just me. Just me, looking at you.”

“‘M sorry,” Gem mutters. “Overreacted…”

“Never.” Pearl holds Gem even closer. “You’re a Life Series player now, Gem. Comes with the territory, y’know?”

Gem nods, no longer meeting Pearl’s eyes.

“And you know what else?” Pearl takes Gem’s hands. Gem slowly meets her gaze again. Pearl smiles. “I love you so much.”

Gem begins to cry again, lost in a tangled mess of emotions. “I love you too.”

Pearl helps Gem to her feet. “You wanna get out of this stupid mine?”

Gem can’t suppress a soft giggle through her tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

They walk back into the moonlight together, holding hands. Gem refuses to let go, and Pearl wouldn’t dream of pulling away. Every so often, Gem murmurs a soft promise to protect her partner, and Pearl responds with an even softer promise of safety. “I’ve got you,” both of them whisper. “I’m right here with you.”

It’s enough. It’s always been enough.

[toweroftickles]

Mini-Fic: Tulin Tickles

I completely 100% blame @otomiyaa for this. 😂 Here I was working on normal things, and she went and reblogged an old Tulin post that got my brain working. So this is not great and was spit out very quickly. Lol

The warm Hebra summer wind blew through Tulin’s crest as he nocked an arrow into his Swallow Bow. This was his last shot…he had to make it count. His tongue poked out of his black beak, and he squeezed one eye tight…the wooden bullseye, scarred by dozens of arrowheads, bobbed up and down on a Korok balloon, 200 yards ahead.

“Come on, Tulin, you’ve got it!” Zelda cheered him. Link tossed her a glance that playfully asked “Whose side are you on?”

“Heck yeah! I’m the best archer in Rito history!” declared the young avian, cocky as always. One last cheeky wink at the competition, and then he took off.

Wings flapped. Claws pulled at taught string. The arrow fired off like a rocket through a spiraling wind, and time seemed to stand still. The target was dancing quickly in the air. With a loud and vibrating THUNK, the arrow struck home…

…on the target’s outside edge. It pulled to the side just in the nick of time to avoid a bullseye.

“Ohhh, that was so close!” Zelda announced. “Sorry, Tulin, that’s 30 to 29…Link wins again!” She dove toward Link excitedly and pecked him on the cheek. Tulin’s face fell.

“Awww, maaaannnnn….” he grumbled and kicked the dirt, pouting. All he wanted was to be a great warrior, just like his dad…and Link. But no matter how hard he pushed himself, it never felt like enough. Teba always told him to “take it easy” or “you’re still a child” or “don’t try too hard” and other boring parent stuff…still, nothing excited him more than tearing holes in the sky with his bow. Why, just imagining all the upcoming practice he’d have to do…it quickly turned his frown into a determined grin.

“Well…I’ll get you next time, Link; you just wait!”

Link smiled and nodded at him, and even flashed a thumbs-up for good measure. Tulin returned the favor…he couldn’t possibly stay grumpy with his friends. But as he turned to retrieve his arrows, he didn’t look where he was going, and clumsily bumped right into the princess, who appeared in front of him as if from nowhere. She didn’t seem to mind, though…she was smiling down at him, her head framed by hanging streaks of golden hair, and she was giggling like a schoolgirl who knew a dirty secret. Tulin looked up into her eyes.

What’s she up to?

"Heehee! Remember the rules, Tulin…”

Oh no.

“…the loser has to pay a penalty.”

When Rito became nervous, their whole bodies prickled like fuzzy pinecones as their feathers stood on end. And at that precise moment, Tulin looked like a very fuzzy pinecone indeed. His eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"W-wait...hold on! We don't have to..." The young Rito stumbled backward away from the princess, stammering, seemingly having forgotten that he could fly. She was slowly walking toward him, hands tucked behind her back, her sunny smile hiding evil intent.

"I'll train EXTRA hard for next time, and...a-and...yike!"

Before he could flutter his wings away, Zelda grabbed Tulin by the shoulders and pushed him down into the high grass. He tried to squirm out of her grip, but his leader plunged her fingertips through his feathery coat and wiggled them up and down, pinching like crab claws under his arms and all over his belly.

Oh no.

"Uhuh-HAA!! *hic* Ah HA-HA Ha-Ha Ha-Ha!! *gasp* Aw...vnnn...ffffHA-Ha Ha!! Huh-Heh HA!!" Tulin's chipper voice kept cracking, his hysterical boyish laughter peppered with shrieks and hiccups as he struggled wildly. He was flapping around like a...well...a Cucco with its head cut off.

"Heh! Your giggle is contagious, Hn-Hn Hn!" Zelda cooed sweetly, lost in her own joyful snickers. She was loving every second of this. “Heehee! Awww, Link; he's sooo ticklish...”

"Luh…Link, HA-HA HA! M-make her stahahop!!” Tulin’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment, and they hurt from smiling. He hated this…why wouldn’t Zelda stop treating him like a baby? Surely his closest friend, his big brother, the Hero of Hyrule, would rescue him. Surely…right?

No such luck. Link was laughing too. Instead of helping, he knelt down and rummaged through his travel pack, ever the sovereign’s obedient knight…the gears in his head were visibly turning. Out of his supplies he pulled a strange, squirmy object and tossed it near the tussling knot formed by his two friends.

It was a green Lizalfos tail.

The severed appendage, unaware its owner had died, suddenly snapped like a whip and coiled itself around Tulin’s right ankle. It felt cold and craggy and squeezed too tight. Was it trying to snare prey for a non-existent mouth? Tulin couldn’t say…

…he was too busy cracking up. The tip of the tail was flicking back and forth and tickling his foot. He was laughing so hard he’d almost gone silent. Tears stung his eyelashes.

"Hhhhuh, Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha! *gasp* Heheh...NGHa-Ha Ha-Ha HAA Haha-Ha!! H…Hehehelp! Uncle!!!"

But then, out of nowhere and quite instinctively, Tulin was startled to remember something: his Vow.

A huge, cold gust of wind blasted from his flapping wings. The Lizalfos tail ripped from his leg and careened far into a field beyond, and the princess of Hyrule was thrown into the air with the force of a Hinox arm.

She cried out in surprise. Link immediately hopped up to catch her, and although his arms were at the correct height, he misjudged the distance. Zelda’s butt crashed right into his chest cavity, and the wind was knocked completely out of him. He choked, eyes bulging, unable to breathe, and the two crumpled into a heap on the knoll.

Spurred by a mix of shock, guilt, humiliation, and a sore stomach, Tulin sat up in the grass and stared, jaw hung open.

He wanted to be mad. He wanted to huff and pout and not talk to either of them for a day or two.

But looking at Link and Zelda sprawled on top of each other like that, all Tulin could do was laugh.

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

[so-sures-blog]

Bros before Hoes

In which Duncan happens to find his neighbor cute, and his idiot roommates throw him a party because of it.

(AKA: The bros who drink together, sleep together)

Inspired by PPG/RRB fic on ao3

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

On a list of things Duncan would like to wake up to (women on the top, cops on the bottom), this is not it. Heck, this probably wouldn’t even be on the list. 

And by this, he means the completely trashed apartment littered with beer bottles, overflowing trash, and very questionable stains on the walls. Not to mention the dead bodies currently scattered around the living room.

Wait, not dead bodies, but Duncan can only wish.

How was this possible? He went to sleep at, like, ten last night and if he wasn’t mistaken, he had gone to bed while the house was quiet and the only people home were Geoff and DJ. So how the hell were there more than a dozen people in the living room and why did it look like an absolute shit show?

A groan emerges from the couch before a blonde head appears in sight. “Oh,” Geoff says when he sees Duncan standing there. “Sup, dude?”

“What— ” Duncan takes a breath. “ —THE ACTUAL FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!”

Geoff winces and raises a hand to rub his head. “Ouch, not so loud. I have a headache.” He whined.

So did Duncan. “What. Happened. Here.” Duncan narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice dangerously. Geoff laughs awkwardly and avoids his eyes.

“Oh, well, we sorta … kinda … uh,” Geoff gestures vaguely at the apartment. “... had a party?”

Duncan honestly doesn’t know how he could be surprised. This is what he gets for rooming with Geoff.

“How?!” He yells at him. Duncan wasn’t a really light sleeper, but he’s pretty sure he would’ve heard a party going on downstairs. “What time did these people get here!? How did I sleep through a fucking party?”

“Yeah … about that,” Geoff laughs nervously. “We sorta had a kickback last night but we knew you were asleep so we didn’t want to wake you up. Somehow, it became a game of ‘how quiet can this party be so Duncan doesn’t wake up' and we lasted the whole night! You didn’t wake up at all! Everyone was whispering and we had music playing at the lowest volume, and it was actually really fun. Super weird, but fun.”

Duncan is almost impressed. Almost. Trust Geoff to make a quiet party fun. “I’m not helping you clean up,” he informs him. He eyes a body on the floor that turns out to be DJ, cuddling an empty beer bottle while completely unconscious. 

“Aww, dude!” Geoff whines, “I hate cleaning! Come on, we kept it quiet for you!”

Duncan takes another look around the room and begrudgingly admits that it is kinda amazing that they managed to have a party without him waking up. It’s actually a little sweet that they took him into consideration. But still, fuck them.

“No.”

“Duncaaan,” Geoff groans, throwing his upper body off the couch. “C’mon, bro! Please? Dunky? Dunk-man?”

“Don’t call me that!” Duncan yells as he grabs his gym bag. “And this place better be spotless by the time I get back!”

He slams the door and a satisfied smile grows on his face as Geoff’s protests are cut off. Duncan turns to head down the hallway and nearly crashes with someone who lets out a high pitched squeal.

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

Duncan looks down and— oh hell, it’s her. Of all the people in the apartment for him to run into, why does it have to be her? Granted, she did live next to him— but still, why?

Wide brown eyes peer up at him and her head cocks slightly to the side as she blinks. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Huh?” He’s so close to her he can see the smattering of freckles on her nose. 

“Oh! Sorry, I just mean I see you around a lot because you’re my neighbor,” she stumbles, cheeks turning a little pink.

“Oh,” he says a bit more gruffly than he should. He tries his hardest not to check her out and fails. She must’ve just come back from a jog — her short brown hair is tied back and she’s wearing tiny gray shorts and a matching crop top.

“Are you going to the gym right now?” She asks, taking note of the gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Duncan grunts, staring at the staircase behind her. He will not be weakened by a tight fitting tank top, he will not. “I go early to avoid people, I hate crowded gyms.”

She makes a noise of understanding. There’s a beat of awkward silence, where she looks as uncomfortable as he feels before she sticks out her hand. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever got your name.” She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear and Duncan’s eyes follow it, wondering why the hell he thought the little action was so cute.  

“Duncan,” he shakes her hand, hyper aware of how soft and small her hand is as his big and callus ones swallow hers. 

“Courtney,” she dimples and Duncan’s stupid heart skips a beat. “Well, have fun!” She smiles cheerily at him and Duncan can’t take his eyes off of her. What the fuck.

“Thanks,” he mutters as he walks past her. He catches a glance of her as she opens the door to her own apartment. Damn it, she has a nice ass.

Duncan contemplates throwing himself down the stairs before he decides against it. 

It’s a waste, he figures. One flight won’t really do any damage.

***

By the time Duncan makes it home it’s evening. Stopping in front of his door, Duncan narrows his eyes as he hears muffled voices inside the apartment. Either Geoff and DJ actually cleaned the place or he’s about to open the door to the same shitshow as this morning. 

For their sake, he hopes the former.

He pushes the door open and the apartment abruptly falls quiet. The two occupants have frozen in fear, staring at the door with varying degrees of terror. DJ is cowering behind Geoff, who isn’t making a very suitable defense seeing as he too, is shielding away. Duncan’s eyes flit between them and he’s pleased to see a cleaning device in each of their hands.

The apartment isn’t exactly clean, but it’s not a complete mess anymore. At least they’re trying, he has to give them that.

“O-Oh hey man, you’re back,” Geoff coughs, hugging a broom to his chest. “We were cleaning, I swear!”

“I can see that,” he grunts, closing the door. “Sup, Malibu?” He greets the other occupant in his apartment. 

Bridgette is sitting by the counter, skimming through a surf magazine while stroking DJ’s pet, Bunny. She looks up with calm green eyes and gives him an easy smile. “Hey Duncan,” she says. 

“What happened to being clean by the time I got back?” Duncan asks his roommates pointedly.

“Cut us some slack man, we didn’t really wake up until Bridgette got here,” DJ says from his spot by the sink. 

Duncan ignores him with a roll of his eyes, plopping down across from Bridgette. Bunny hops over to him curiously and Duncan sets him with a glare. Yeah, he might have gotten DJ his pet after Geoff and Bridgette might’ve killed his last one (Geoff kept insisting it was lost while Bridgette said it was eaten by a snake that was eaten by a hawk or something), but that didn’t mean he wanted that thing closer to him. 

Duncan didn’t do cute things. 

So lost in his (one-sided) glaring contest, Duncan didn’t notice the change in conversation until too late. 

“Oh yeah, who’s that cute girl by the way?” Geoff asks. “You know, the one who lives next to us?”

“Oh, you mean Courtney? Short brown hair, cute smile?"

It’s a little embarrassing how quickly Duncan perks up, and from the corner of his eye he can see Bridgette give him a knowing glance. Duncan scowls warningly. Out of the four of them, only Malibu knows about his little problem— and Duncan would like to keep it that way, thank you very much.

Except the thing is, he forgets how much Bridgette likes a good romance. “Oh yeah! The girl that Duncan likes, right?"

The reaction is instantaneous.

“What?! Bro, you have a crush? No way!”

“Why didn’t you tell us? My boy’s growin’ up!”

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Duncan roars and Bunny leaps back in shock. 

Bridgette just grins and flips through another page of her magazine. Duncan is tempted to crumble it up. “Oh, you didn’t know?” She says casually. “He met her a few weeks ago and it was like love at first sight.”

It was not.

“You should’ve seen him! She stopped by to say hi, he said ‘nice to meet you’ and when she left he couldn’t get a word out for the next ten minutes. He just gawked at her, although, I guess I can’t blame him. She was cute.”

He did not.

“I’ve never seen him look so lost before, it was kinda adorable. I think he was blushing.”

He was not.

“Bro, I don’t think you’ve ever had a crush before, have you?” DJ asks.

“How would you know!" He shoots back indignantly.

DJ shrugs, unaffected by the rage that’s coming off of him in waves. “I dunno man, I’ve just never seen you show any real interest in anyone before."

Duncan is momentarily struck dumb. Shit, was DJ right? He’s had crushes, right? This isn’t so special. Of course he’s had his fair share of girls, dicked around with them like any other guy— but those had only been short flings, chicks he’d pick up in bars and fool around with until he was no longer interested. Has he never really had a crush before?

Geoff, thankfully, interrupts his spiraling thought process and slings an arm around his neck. “Dudes, you know what we should do?” He grins. “Let’s celebrate!” 

“Hell no!” Duncan shoves him away. “What are we even celebrating for?”

“Your first crush, dude!” Geoff beams and Duncan is this close to strangling the happy-dumb look off his face.

“It’s not a crush!” He yells.

“C’mon man, it’s Saturday,” DJ says. He even pulls out his puppy eyes, as if his sparkling round orbs are going to convince him. “What are you even gonna do today anyway, huh?”

Duncan grimaces and can feel himself actually give the idea some consideration. Why is he considering it again?

“We’ll get your favorites,” DJ adds. “It’s your party after all. You get to call the shots.”

Duncan winces. He takes a look around the room and sees their stupid faces beaming with excited grins. 

Duncan sighs. “Fine.”

***

One pack of beer, two bags of chips, and three pizzas later, and everyone is absolutely smashed. 

It’s at this point Duncan can say with complete confidence that he fucking loves his best friends. Sure, DJ can’t swim without a floaty and always listens to his mama and Geoff is way too happy and loud and can’t go a day without making out with Bridgette, but man, they’re just, like, such good people.

 Like, he just loves the fucking hell out of them. They’re the best guys out there, and have been with his shitty self since high school.  Duncan doesn’t know why he spent so long denying that they were friends— he wishes he could beat his younger punk-ass self for all the dumb things he said back then.

If only there was some way he could express how he felt.

“Hey, I fucking hate you guys,” Duncan says earnestly. “But, like, in the best way.”

They groan in acknowledgment and Duncan closes his eyes.

Girls are dumb. Feelings are dumb. Everything is dumb, but he doesn’t even care anymore. Why? Because he’s got his boys by him, and Duncan would fight the whole fucking world for them.

Yeah.

***

Duncan wakes up to something soft and fluffy smothering him. Fur is in his mouth, and he is suffocating on it because his head is pounding and he doesn't have the strength to pull away. 

Duncan groans, agonized as the fluffy thing slides off his face. He squints to see Bunny, furry butt in his face as it cuddles against him. You better not have pooped in my bed, Duncan doesn’t have the strength to threaten aloud. His mouth is tacky and his eyes are crusty and Duncan would very much like to wake up when the next century has passed, thanks. 

Duncan lets out an annoyed grumble and tosses the covers from his body. He’s about to roll over to the ground to do his push-ups (a habit he’s had since juvie) when he notices two things.

One: the sheer amount of nausea he feels. Duncan almost throws up if it weren’t for the deep breaths Malibu taught him to calm himself. Oh God, he’s definitely listening to her more when she goes on about him and the guys consuming poison. Hangovers are hell.

Two: the suspiciously familiar cowboy hat. 

“What the fuck?!”

His hoarse yell makes the other occupant in his bed jerk awake. “Man, keep it down,” DJ says. His bandana is twisted backwards. “It’s too early.” A hand appears to shove him back into bed.

Duncan is tempted to smack him away, but that requires effort and energy. None of which he has right now. He settles for a weak shove as DJ snuggles him like he would Bunny. Curse him and his incessant need for cuddling. “Why the fuck are you in my bed?”

Another groan sounds by his feet. Geoff yawns and rubs his eyes, lifting his head to look at them. He looks stupid without his ever-present hat on (he looks stupid with it on anyway) and is curled up like a puppy at the foot of the bed. Duncan is struck with the urge to kick him off before he decides that’s too cruel.

“Don’t you remember?” Geoff asks. “We all came in here to talk about our feelings.”

Duncan stares at him in disbelief. “No we did not.”

“Yeah we did, and it was magical,” Geoff responds, voice muffled as he buries his face into the pillow. “You wouldn’t shut up about the girl who lives next door.”

“Courtney,” DJ supplies helpfully.

Duncan stares in mute horror. How drunk did he get last night? He talked about feelings? And girls?

Who even is he?

“It’s okay Duncan. Mama always says that the more you deny the bigger the feelings are. You can keep pretending you’re not a softie. It’ll come out someday.” DJ pats his head, like Duncan’s green mohawk is supposed to be Geoff’s idiotic blonde mop. 

Duncan almost tells him to fuck off, but bites his tongue because DJ is too sensitive to be told that. Instead, he says, “And doesn’t your Mama say to never drink?” DJ reaches a hand out to cover his face and shoves him back down into his pillow. 

Wow, the bed feels amazing.

DJ tries to pet him like he would Bunny — all gentle and reassuring — but the big guy’s hand feels like a meaty deadweight hitting his face over and over again.

“I hate you guys,” Duncan mutters, shoving his hand away.

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Geoff yawns. It sounds like he’s going back to sleep. That actually sounds like a pretty nice idea.

“You guys better get out,” Duncan grunts, feeling his eyelids grow heavy, “I’m warning you.” He lets himself sink deeper into his pillow. “Leave or die,” he mutters, eyes closing. The last thing he hears is Geoff’s quiet snoring.

They don’t leave, and Duncan sleeps peacefully.

[krankittoeleven]

Last Seven Lines

I was tagged by @softest-punk and @brasideios, thank you so much!

Rules: post the last seven lines you wrote! Then tag others!

I just posted all of my most recent writing (shocker) so I jumped back in time a little bit to get unshared writing that is fairly recent...

From my "ongoing" Trigun 98 fix-it AU universe, this chapter is called The Complete Idiots Guide to Plants...

Also, I suck at counting LOL ;)

_______

Vash takes a few steps forward as he lifts his fingers to his mouth and produces an ear piercing whistle that echoes off the orphanage walls. It takes a few moments for the momentum to shift, but eventually a dozen pairs of eyes settle on him.

“We’re going to play a game,” Vash says as he rests his hands on his hips. Wolfwood can tell he’s got the room’s attention, but the kids are always a tough crowd, they’re not giving him much more than the focus of their eyes. “The game is called The Floor is Lava.”

“What’s lava?” one of the kids asks.

“It’s burning hot liquified rock that will kill you if you step on it.” Vash says this like one might say hey look, it’s raining.

“But I don’t want to die,” says another of the kids.

Wolfwood pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to laugh.

_______

Let's see, I will tag: @aeide @theinkandthesea @findusinaweek @ainulindaelynn @vault-heck and @erzsebetrosztoczy

[the-septic-maniac]

In Those Moments

(Spoiler warning for S1 and S5 of CC and trigger warnings for sewerside thoughts, hospital settings, and needles. Special thanks to @cornerstoneeeee who kinda inspired me indirectly to write this and to @blugnettabutterflies for encouging me to write this. After several hours, 4 shots of espresso and a grilled cheese sandwich here's the finished story. for a better experience, please listen to the songs I linked. I hope you enjoy ^^)

“Why did they have to help me?” Jones asked himself lying in the hospital bed. He didn't want to be here anymore. He didn't want to live after losing his girlfriend who meant so much to him. Clair De Lune slowly plays in the background as his colleagues chat worryingly about him. He stared at the sterile white walls that surrounded him. He could feel the IV needle that was in his arm, pumping whatever fluid was needed into him just to barely keep him alive. The smell of the sterile environment stung in his nostrils. It smelled of nothing but at the same time his brain, at least with what little he was functioning with, tried to piece what it was. The sounds of the heart monitor rang in his ear. Everything felt like it was lasting forever. He just wanted to be gone already. He started to think “Maybe if I just close my eyes ill finally be gone… Or wake up to that this entire case was just one tremendous nightmare.” he nervously chuckled at the last bit as he started to fall asleep.

“Sir? Detective Jones?” He started to rustle awake at the sound of his name being called out. Upon finding the origin of the voice, he was greeted by Mia Loukas, her scars and injuries even showing up in death. “Ah thought you had passed out again sir” Jones never really interacted with Mia outside of when she came in to report a situation that required his attention. Looking around, he noticed that he was no longer at the hospital. It sure as hell smelled like he was somewhere else as well. It smelled of fresh coffee and baked goods. A song played in the background that he only faintly recognized from a Japanese murder mystery game. He couldn't quite place his finger on it. The place had a homey feel to it. Pieces started to fall into place for him. They were in a local coffee shop in downtown Grimsbourgh. “Sir, please don’t give up yet” Mia spoke in a calm but serious voice. “Huh?” Jones had dazed out while trying to absorb the atmosphere of where he is. “Am I dead?” he said in a nervous yet hopeful tone. “Not quite sir. But if I and a few others don't help you, you will be.” Jones looked down, a shadow obscuring his face. “I don’t need anyone’s help…” Mia sighed in frustration. “Look I know you barely know me but let me try to help you. I may have been some beat cop but I and many others on the lower parts of the force and probably some of the higher parts look up to you. Heck often times when I am on patrol, ill hear civilians talk about the deeds that you and Player did five years ago. You inspire people.” 

He sat there in silence. “How could I of all people, inspire people? Player did most of the dirty work” Mia scowled at that comment. She grabbed his face and stared directly into his eyes. “I bet you dimes the dozen that Player would not have been able to do it without you. Heck, I bet you that the player was inspired by you more than most of us on the force which drove them to work harder. Plus without you, so many people wouldn't have the courage to stand up for themselves. Close your eyes and listen to the conversations around you” Doing just that, tears started to form in his eyes. Little kids talking about how they wanted to become detectives like him and people talk about how much they respect him for what he does. In his metaphorical heart, it felt like a little flame had been lit. it wasn't big but it wasn't exactly small either. “I don't understand fully…” he said softly. “I guess you won’t fully right now. Our time is up. It's time for you to go back to the real world for now” Shaken by the sudden cut off he tried to try and talk with Mia more but it fell on deaf ears as his surroundings faded out and him drifting to sleep again.

As he started to wake back up he was greeted by the same white walls, the beeping of the machines, and the smell. Clair de Lune seemed to be playing a bit faster. Not much faster than last time but just a bit. He had a visitor. It was Player. They chatted with him about miscellaneous things. After a bit, they left him as something had come up. Before they left they had said “I couldn't have done it without you when I first started all those years back. With the Order. Had it not been for you being such a great inspiration and partner, I don't think I would have joined the force in the first place.” Jones felt the little flame in his heart get a bit bigger. 

After a few more visits and nurses checking up on him, he started to drift asleep again.

“David? David! Wake up!” a voice called out to him. As he woke up, he was greeted by Nathan. “Huh? Nathan?” A sigh came from them. The location was different from the last time. It was relatively small. Both of them were the only ones present in the room. Small, plain, on the ground cupboards were on one side of the room. On top of those was a microwave and a small radio playing jazz. A yellowish-white fridge that was seemingly in disrepair was in the corner of the room. Opposite of that was a water cooler. It smelled slightly musty because of old water in the cooler. The walls had peeling paint revealing tacky old wallpaper. They were in one of the old break rooms. Nathan was the first one to speak about the situation. “David, I know you have heard this a lot as late and it's likely as dull as a frosting knife but please don't give up.You have no idea how many people you have impacted on the force as their friend” Jones sat there in silence. He didn't think he had any friends at that moment within the force. At least not outside of Player. “I can tell you're struggling to think of examples of what I mean by that. You are one of the primary reasons Cathy and Alex even got together. I don't think you fully realize it but if it had not been for you, I don't even think the two would have even gotten to know each other. Had you not pushed Alex to dance with Cathy, her grandfather’s death would have surely been more painful for her” David nervously laughed at the mention of Cathy’s grandfather, the old chief of police. A death that he could have possibly stopped. “I’m surprised she even talked to me after that… I’m surprised anyone on the force that I could consider a friend talks to me. I’m a bit of a jackass to most of the people there” Jones muttered to himself. 

Nathan chuckled at that “You are but you are our jackass.” Jones looked at Nathan in confusion. They sat there for a solid minute or so. During that, the song that played in the background started to stick out more. It was sad. Reminded him of the times he had with what he thought were his friends. Just thinking about it made him sadly chuckle. One person came to mind in this discussion about friends. Eduardo Rameriz. The one person he poked the most fun at while on the force. It was an odd surprise that he came back to Grimsbourogh after being in Pacific Bay. “Thinking about Eduardo huh? I can tell by the look on your face. He still considers you a friend you know despite what you did.” “I highly doubt it…” “You may doubt it but its the truth.” 

Jones sat there and thought for a few moments about what he had done for his friends. In doing that, the little flame got bigger again. It went from a small plume that you would see on a match to what you would see from a lighter. Nathan smiled recognizing that something within Jones had clicked. The scenery had started to fade away. “I hope I don’t have to see you anytime soon old friend. If I do though, ill welcome you with open arms” Nathan hugged Jones as he started to wake up in the real world once more.

Waking up in the hospital this time, Clair de Lune had started to pick up not just in speed again but in a general mood. It still looked and smelled like the same old hospital but something had changed with him. Was he feeling hope again? He couldn't tell but maybe just maybe something was left for him. It was still shrouded with doubts and fear for the future but it was still a small glimmer. Player was there once again in his room along with his coworkers checking up on him if he was still hanging on. He heard about possible letters being found that were written by his late girlfriend. His heart fluttered at the rumor. They all gave him words of comfort. Unlike in the beginning, he actually listened and it warmed him up just a bit more. After a bit more he started to fall asleep again.

“DETECTIVE DAVID JEREMIAH JONES WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!?” A familiar voice jolted Jones awake. The voice was old but it was one that he hadn't heard in five years. “Chief King?!?” The old chief stared at the detective with a stern look. Jones looked around. He was in the Chief’s office. Listening to the song in the background, he recognized it as Homage. The Chief sighed “You still have so much potential. I hate seeing you here having decided that you would rather die than live on.” he sadly chuckled. Jones sat there his head hung low disappointed in himself. “I hate that you tried to go the same path that I did after it seemed like everything that you thought you had was lost to an outside force. You still have so much to do yet you attempted to do a permanent solution to a temporary problem…” Jones sat there with those last few words echoing in his head “A permanent solution to a temporary problem.” 

While those words echoed in his mind, a case that he did pop into his head. A case that one of the witnesses he had just realized he was mirroring. A lost love and the victim resorting to suicide to try and solve it. He was dazed out thinking about it. He had saved that girl's life yet here he was, in the exact situation that she was in. He sadly chuckled wondering how his past self would react. Chief King’s voice snapped him back into reality “You have done so much for the city and for the ones close to you. Without you and many others, the order would still be active.” He locked eyes with Jones. “I do not want to ever see you again in this space. Not until it is truly your time. Promise me that David Jones” Jones sat there for a moment. “ I promise” Chief King sighed in relief. Before the scene completely faded they shook each other's hands. “See you on the other side sir” “In due time David Jones. In due time”

Having woken up again in the hospital Player and Amir sat in there with him. Amir explained that he had made the necessary antidote to help keep him alive before he started to have those bouts of coming in and out of consciousness. Player handed him something. They were letters. Letters from her. He read them. As he did, the same song that had been playing this entire time he had stayed here, changed in tone. “My darling David! You've stood by me through everything that's happened, which has meant the world to me. I don't know what the future holds for me, whether I'll ever get better and go back to my old life. But my only hope is that you, David, remember all the happy days we had, before all of this happened.” His voice while reading it cracked into a sob. He thanked Player for saving him and hugged them tightly. Amir said that he should soon be able to leave the hospital. Jones nodded and after they left he fell asleep again.

“David sweetie, I'm here~” a sweet yet gentle voice woke Jones up. As he opened his eyes, in front of him stood Zoe Kasuma, his late girlfriend. She looked just as beautiful as the day they met. A familiar song played in the background. It was a song that they danced to at one of the police balls, Honeybee was the name of the song. They didnt seem to be really anywhere.  Zoe held his face “please dont blame my death on yourself. I know you feel bad about not being to protect me but it could be helped.” he nodded. “O-ok” They looked at each other. After a few moments, Jones offered his hand to Zoe. “One last dance my Honeybee?” Zoe with tears in her eyes “Of course dear” They danced and sang the lyrics together. Soon as everything started to fade away along with Zoe as the song started to end, they had one last kiss. It felt so warm and soft like a bundle of feathers. Soon after everything faded, Jones cried his absolute heart out, “Goodbye Zoe…”

He woke up from the dream. He read the letter from Zoe again. The fire in his heart turned into a full-fledged wildfire. A nurse came in clearing him to leave. As he got ready to leave in those moments, Clair De Lune was at the end of the song and at its happy ending. He was ready to look at things in a new way and help those in need once more.

[tciddaemina]

If you don't mind me asking, what was the process of writing the thing that remains like? Idk, no pressure to answer or anything.

haha nah, i'm happy to answer. to be honest, the thing that remains was probably the hardest project that i've ever worked on, and one with that i struggle with a lot. don't get me wrong, i absolutely loved it and even now it is still my favorite out of every fic i have written, but like heck it gave me a time

(fuck this turned into a long response, so have a read more to spare all other poor passersby)

i spent the better part of three years working on it, essentially, and during that time i went through basically every scene in the manga which law shows up in with a fine tooth comb. not just trying to figure out what he said and did in any given moment, but looking at all the context around it to figure out what it was it was feeling, why he made any given decision he did. which is fun with law, because oda typically uses him for a sort of 'gotcha' type plot reveal in which he makes law look very ruthless and suspicious and often untrustworthy, doing stuff that seems to throw the straw hats under the bus, only to turn around a dozen chapters later and reveal the whole plot law had been building up, complete with flashback explanations

so like, there was a lot of reading back and forward looking at those reveals then heading back to piece together the clues that had been scattered in the lead up. which, yeah all this endless reading and fact-checking might sound like a chore, but honestly i really enjoyed it.

a lot of the time, i really thoroughly loved writing law. part of it is just because he's just honest to god so dramatic. he's cynical and he's jaded and he's so done with everything. he needs a cup of coffee and a nap at all times and shit keeps piling up in his lap anyway, and watching him crack under pressure and steadily give less and less fucks was just so fun. things like his fight scene with vergo, and the one with doflamingo, i had so much fun with the sheer emotion and intensity in those, you can't even imagine.

and yeah, working with luffy was also a very fun part to write. luffy's a character thats much easier to write from an outside POV rather than an internal one, but i still spent a lot of time in luffy's headspace trying to figure out how he'd react to any given thing - when we get the moments of silliness and shenanigans, when it is he turns intense and we see that sharper more insightful side of him. there's a lot of fun stuff to write there with luffy just catching law off guard, both by him being silly and him being serious, and having law have to process and deal with the fallout of any given emotional breakthrough luffy has forced on him was just also very fun

cuz like - half of why the fic is so long and so slow burn is because law just spends so much time thinking. their entire relationship rests on a foundation of law having to come to terms with survivors guilt, that he can and should continue to be happy and live despite the things that he has lost, and the very fraught decision about whether to open himself up to further vulnerability and let himself care about people. every step he concedes into his relationship with luffy is a philosophical debate that changes the way he is choosing to live his life. a lot of the fic is actually just how laws experiences and traumas growing up - the people he lost, both his family and cora - have shaped the man he is today and the lasting effects that has on his personality and character.

and again, you would think that would be the hard agonizing thing to write, but really it wasn't. i loved writing that stuff as well.

the thing is though, this fic took a lot of time. its 220k long, i spent weeks writing it, months, hours and hours and hours, and whenever i wasn't working on it, it was always on my mind. at any given time for the duration of three years, a part of my thoughts was always dedicated to it. it was such a dedication of effort and commitment and just sheer brain space that it honestly feels like i gave birth to and raised a child.

still, the length and duration of it alone meant that yeah, there were times where i got very bad writers block while working on it and times i didn't touch it for months at a time. i struggled with some chapters a lot, just never quite feeling they were right until i rewrote them again and again. i rewrote the opening scene in the first chapter three times after it was posted, for example, each time just changing it minor ways and making edits to the dialogue, because i wasn't satisfied.

some chapters, when i was working on them, took upwards of three or four complete rewrites of the chapter, just because i kept getting stuck and not being satisfied with it. to be honest, this was much more a phenomenon of the later chapters of the fic, when it reaches the wano arc, because that's where i started having to put in a lot of my own concepts and events, since the manga was still in progress for that section. like, the kaido/big-mom/luffy and them on the dome fight was still in progress when i wrote the chapter with that fight - and so i incorporated a lot of the details that were coming out in the new chapters into it even as i wrote it, before ultimately finishing it my own way, since it hadn't reached its conclusion in the manga yet by that point.

ultimately though, the chapters that i had the most difficulty with were the post-kaidou defeat wano chapters. like, when everything's settled and its just playing out the aftermath and the culmination of luffy and law's relationship. those chapters killed me. i spent weeks rewriting each, creating a timeline of possible events again and again and then redoing it, modifying it, shuffling it round, trying to just make things feel right.

a lot of that struggle came down to just trying to get a characterization of law and luffy that felt right in those romantic scenes. law and luffy were each characters i knew well how to write by then, but oh my god getting them to actually be like romantic together is like herding cats. luffy's mode of being is so wholesome and, well, asexual (and yes that's a valid head-canon, though i didn't use it for this series) that making the scenes happen takes some very very specific maneuvering and tone management. like, not going to lie, that is what caused half the rewrites of those chapters, just me trying to make it all feel right and well-characterized.

(which is why i sometimes find it a little disheartening when people leave comments being like - oh i liked it, but i wish luffy had been ace. because i made a choice to have him not to be specifically. i get it, he's a beautiful ace character, and i enjoy him that way as well, i do. hell, i'm fucking ace, give me ace rep any day of the week, but him not being ace was a side i wanted to explore in this fic, and i did a lot of work to make it happen and make it feel right, so having people comment on that is just- okay, on a tangent now, moving on. see here for my more in depth thoughts on luffy's sexuality)

another part that added difficulty there was just the pressure. not from like the readers or anything, but i had spent 3 years and 200k words leading up to these big payoff scenes where they finally get together and their relationship becomes a thing that there was a lot of internal pressure from myself to get it right. like, i needed them to be good, i needed them to be perfect, i'd been working so long to get to the moment where these scenes could be written that writing even a single sentence was exhausting. i agonized over each sentence, i work-shopped each paragraph again and again. it took so much effort that even just writing a tiny bit felt like writing entire pages, just because i was thinking so much about it.

and like, yeah, that final stretch, dealing with that, was really what was the most difficult when writing the fic. its an odd feeling, sort of, because even as i was really struggling to write it, those were also scenes i was really enjoying. like there was a real sense of masochism to it - of writing these bits that were excruciating in the amount of effort and criticality that went into them - but also like, the joy of having law and luffy finally reach that point after all the stuggles they went through, and getting to the moment of payoff when law really and truly opens up and decides to risk his heart on luffy.

it was so fun to write, so fun, but also fuck me i was exhausted the whole time. putting up the final chapters actually sort of felt a little bit like dying - not just because i was really nervous about whether they would do justice and be the good payoff for this fucking huge work readers had been following, but also just because i didn't know what to do with myself afterwards. i spent so long thinking about or working on that fic, literally for years, that when it was done i just felt sort of hollow inside. i didn't know what to do with myself.

and yeah, i've moved on to other projects that i'm happily chewing away on now, lot least me being in a neck-deep spiral of gan/link LoZ fic, but the thing that remains is still that fic. its the longest fic ive ever completely, the one i've put the most effort and blood and sweat and tears into, and it holds a place in my heart that no other one of my stories does.

tl:dr the thing that remains is a fic that i had a lot of fun writing, like so much fun, it was absolutely fantastic and i loved ever moment, but also sometimes putting words to paper was like pulling teeth and by the time i was done it felt like the same amount of effort as if i'd torn off my own arm and fed it into an incinerator one atom at a time.

so yeah, hope that answers your question 😅

[storylocke]

Turning Point: Family

Moneychu:

I can't believe you didn't even notice it wasn't me! Didn't even notice I was missing!

Gardevoir:

Oh, we noticed! Not that you had been replaced, but we were certainly booking it out of there as soon as we got hit by that Skuntank. Or at least I was. Nasty Poison things.

Toxicroak and Drapion:

[Turn to her with Toxicroak crossing her arms in offense]

Gardevoir:

Don't give me that look. You *are* nasty, and I know you love it. I'm just grateful you're not hard on me.

One:

Tch, because you're ~so~ fragile, right, Princess?

Toxicroak:

No, no. I'll give her that one. 

Puuyun:

[Let them duke it out then, the Houndoom goes over to the Pikachu and sits next to him so he can drape a paw on his tiny shoulder] Money, my man, do you know how many Pikachu were around there? How would any of us know that in the thirty or so running around there that one of them was just you getting left behind? 

Moneychu:

Yeah. I know. That's why I left that place, remember?! [Throws him off and starts to storm off] Just one of the reasons to hate the place. So crowded, so enclosed, and no one would even care if something happened to me. And guess what! You didn't!

Everyone:

[Huddled around the campfire when he storms past them. Overlapping calls after him "aw, buddy!" "That's not true!" "Oh come on!"] 

Moneychu:

Don't even start! It wasn't even another Pikachu I got swapped with, it was a damn SKUNTANK and you didn't notice! They aren't even native to the Trophy Garden and you didn't think something was up?!

Auguste:

Yeah, I screwed up, I get it! And you know what? We spent over a day looking for you! And that should tell you something, *we came back for you*! Do you know how hard that is? And I don't just mean the three ring circus act we just did to find you! I don't look back! 

[He waits for a response but the Pikachu merely keeps his back to them. His ears sink down with the weight of the words, betraying his emotions that he realized that.] 

Auguste:

[It hurts actually saying it out loud, even if it's something he'd known for a long time. Memories of the dozens of teammates he'd had try to flood his mind as he struggles to keep himself on track.] When someone leaves, or dies, or gets taken away, or an "accident," I. Don't. Go. Back! I don't question! I've found it's a lot less painful that way. But when we saw you were gone… I don't know, Money, it just hit differently. [Gardevoir comes over to place a hand on his arm, but he motions to her that he's okay.] And it's not because you're the strongest, or super rare, or even because of any type coverage I'm aware of. Heck, some of the Voices said that French chick would have been better if we trained her up and fits right along with the rest of the Poison-Dark theme I have going! [Mockingly] "Oh, but having another Poison means we're super weak to Earthquake" like an Electric type is any better-! [Gardevoir gives him a hard nudge as this speech really isn't making it sound any better] Sorry. The point is… Truth is I don't know why I did it. There was a big hole in the group, y'know? We need you. **I** need you. [Glances back at the group] Heck, I think I need all of you way more than any of you need me. Can you forgive me?

Moneychu:

What's there to forgive? I know you're right. [He softens a bit at his tone, but keeps his gaze to the ground before him] Look, we all know I'm the weak link on the team. I could've been dumped at any point in the last month, holding you back against Cyrus, being absolutely useless there at the League. The problem is, I don't know where I'd be without you guys. [Finally turns around] I'm not even mad at you guys, really. When I got pulled away, watching you all disappear into the grass and realized I was literally right back where I started. Part of the collective, the high walls… It scared me. And maybe [fidgets a bit with his paws] brought up some bad feelings that got nothing to do with you guys. I was mad anyway. Mad at myself. But then it got dark. [He looks like he could just cry] And then I didn't even have my siblings around. I was being carted away somewhere, and *that* had me petrified. It was one thing if you all somehow left without me, but then to be taken away, I had no hopes you'd ever be able to find me! And now that you're here, I just… I should be elated to see you, but I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I'm *still* scared, I'm *still* angry, and I *still* can't believe it was all so easy! 

Toxicroak:

Sheesh. We're the ones who got sprayed, and you're the one making a big stink about it. [Walks over to him, warmly] Maybe we could all use a little bling after all this. [Playfully grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him to get a smile] Put that Light Ball on a gold chain around your neck, we'll be able to see ya for miles~! 

Moneychu:

[Soft hmph, but he's fighting off a grin as it would only give her the satisfaction] 

Gardevoir:

I'm sensing you may still be in a state of shock. Maybe it hasn't set in yet that you've actually been rescued. 

One:

Yeah, no offense, but you're kind of a pet. Most of us are little gremlins that came from a hole in the ground. You're not used to that kind of action. 

Puuyun:

And even when you do see action, you tend to black out. 

Moneychu:

[Huff] You know you're really not helping. Even if it is true. 

Auguste:

We'll work on that. 

Puuyun:

Eh, we've all got our problems. But at least we already know some of yours if you ever need to vent. 

Moneychu:

Careful, I might take you up on that. 

Auguste:

Come on. Might be time we all did. 

[Auguste motions for them all to settle down in a circle around the campfire.] 

Gardevoir:

We truly are glad to have you back. As soon as I saw you were gone, I was afraid you went the way of Pachi. 

Toxicroak:

Hmph, how come you of all Pokemon didn't know he'd been switched?

Gardevoir:

They replaced him with a Dark type. My sensing abilities have no power there. The only member of the team I keep constant detection on is Fic. [The little Manaphy by her side just looks up at her with a quiet wide-eyed innocence about what she could mean. Oh to not because Psychic when the Voices are around. She smiles down at the babe anyway and runs a paw over its head in a motherly kind of way] Auguste is right though. [Cheeky grin] If we come across a Ground Trainer, you all are screwed~~! 

[There comes a collective outcry of various forms of "Oh, shut up, Gardee!" as she holds up a Psychic shield as Moneychu and Toxicroak pelt her with whatever pebbles they can grab. Puuyun and One were laughing at least. Dr. Fic moves to snuggle up beside Auguste. And even if he should say something, Auguste just basks in the playful snarking that follows as it seems things were back to the way they should be.]

=+=

A/N based on a fairly late game incident where we were hunting for a Light Ball in Brilliant Diamond.

I like to think this whole lost Moneychu arc is the mansion owner finally being done with Auguste and his trespassing. That was his Pikachu anyway and the Skuntank aren't local to the garden, so think of Frenchie slipping into the party like a nasty surprise for our little thief to teach him a lesson. But where is our Pika?! We fled the mansion ~~but can't flee the stench~~ and because Auguste can talk to his Pokemon, probably found out from Frenchie that the rat has been sent elsewhere. Maybe she'll even tell us where if we do something for her. We helped her win a beauty contest, so she leads us to the shop where we found our boy!!

[marythegizka]

Tagged by @mxkelsifer. Thank you!

3 ships: Loghain/Warden, Revan/Malak (yes, they’re awful. so what.), Garrus/Shepard

First ship: well... it was Vader/Aphra (yes, yes, I know, Aphra’s a lesbian, but I didn’t know that when I started shipping it, and it was always more of a crack-ship than anything else. We all know Vader is not ‘relationship-material’ (which was really half the fun to me). Besides, I’ve ODed on Star Wars EU content and cannot bring myself to consume more for the time being. So. yeah. But I feel like I��m rambling now, so I’m going to stop here.)

Currently consuming: air. It’s quite nice.

Currently watching: Arcane, Love, Death + Robots, Outlander and The Crown (though I’m not much of a binger and often wait several weeks between episodes of any given show)

Last movie: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (I think)

Last song: Not sure about the title but it was something by Scott Buckley. It was good. Motivational, even (and look, when I say “motivational” I mean “if I’m going to fight a spreadhseet/e-mail/essay I need to be pumped about it and might as well get the right soundtrack to imagine it’s a dragon or a giant alien spaceship.” Because why the heck not.)

Currently reading: Well there’s half a dozen books that are supposed to help me find inspiration for my dissertation currently sitting on my bedside table, but it would be a stretch to say I am actually reading them. It’s more like... browsing.

Currently craving: sleep. The motivation to read the aforementioned books (and look, it’s not that they’re not interesting, they are, it’s just a me-problem), or edit those files that are currently staring at me. Or maybe just tea.

Tagging: @elvhencore, @fatal-hobnob @lelianasgirlfriend, @hinterlost, @dairine-bonnet, @kick-girl @kwat01, @bearika ... only if you guys want to, though. I’m pretty sure I’m forgetting people, so if you’re seeing this and want to do it, consider yourself tagged too!

[tlatotem]

Actually the sticker idea would probably work... the only potential problem is longevity.

Short story but it is related I promise:

Over the last eight years we have had to examine what we can do to keep the cases filled and looking good. Heck, we added an additional case to fill, which was my doing.

Someone else, though, decided we could put icing on our sugar cookies. This decision was made by someone who doesn't fill cases. In fact, putting icing on the cookies uses more icing than what goes on our cupcakes, because it's a larger surface area. So you have these big cookies and lots of icing! Very popular. There are three problems.

1.) Icing the cookies takes many, many times longer than icing the cupcakes.

2.) A full sheet pan holds six dozen ( 72 ) cupcakes, while the same size pan only holds about thirty ( 30 ) cookies.

3.) The person who decided to do this also decided the cookies should cost LESS than the cupcakes. I don't know how to explain this other than genuine detachment from how products are sold to customers.

The customers loved them. These cookies are usually sold out before noon, which makes sense because there are so few of them and they are so cheap. It was also decided to do a price break on the dozen. Unlike the cupcakes, which have wrappers, these cookies with icing are soft and don't stack at all, requiring a larger box to put them in...

The highest problem here is we've established we do these. Establishing we can do them means we are stuck doing them as a case filler.

I hate these cookies. A person who doesn't know hardly a damn thing about what we sell came up with a product by themselves priced without research and implemented this without any feedback. We're stuck with them. Also I am the tallest in my family and having to get these damned cookies out of the case and into boxes is difficult.

So if we did the stickers thing from the previous reblog we will have to do it forever. No stopping. At this point that just sounds exhausting.

[ozma914]

Baby, You Can Drive My Car, If You Can Find It

 I kept a secret for the last year, but now it's time to let that secret escape.

In September of 2016, our beloved Ford Focus fell victim to a guy trying to turn into traffic with the setting sun in his eyes. We replaced it with what became equally beloved, a 2014 Ford Escape, which I call burgundy but which is technically ruby red.

I cannot conceive of why there have to be fifty shades of red. When I became a volunteer firefighter, we had several fire trucks that were red. We had one that was burgundy. That's it. The names of colors never made us hungry.

Anyway, this car had a backup camera and a computer screen, neither of which I saw any use for, both of which I now wouldn't do without. We drove that car all over everywhere. Well, four states, anyway, and about two dozen state parks, not to mention Chicago. Don't get me started on Chicago.

It always amused me, how many ruby red SUVs we noticed on the road after that. Probably just the bias of us having one, but it seemed like we saw them everywhere.

"You get a ruby SUV, you get a ruby SUV--you all get a ruby SUV!"

When it developed a very small radiator leak I wasn't too concerned, until nobody could find the leak. I mean nobody, including mechanics and the dealer. Then one of the spark plugs started acting up. Then everything started acting up.

We drove it a LOT, mind you.

But estimates for fixing the problem, assuming we could figure out what the problem was, brought us into the "nickle and diming us" phase of car ownership. We needed a new car. Emily started researching, and I looked around.

Do you see Emily? I didn't--I almost got into the wrong car.

We found a car that was a heck of a deal, if we were willing to drive some distance to look at it. We did. We looked. We fell in love.

Much to our surprise, we drove back home in a different car than the one we'd left in. Having learned my lessons, I embraced the changes that came with a vehicle five years newer. It has so much extra safety equipment that the insurance cost actually went down.

It also has heated seats, and a heated steering wheel, two things I used to make fun of. No more. The screen showed us where we were and where we were going, and the computer could connect our phones (audio book, yay!), make us hot tea, warn us if we were approaching a politician with his hand out, and even play the radio.

And it had remote start.

Whoever invented the remote start needs to win the Nobel Prize For Awesome.

As we headed home, I suggested to Emily that we play a little game. "Let's not tell anyone we bought a car, and see how long before anyone notices." You see, we replaced the ruby red 2014 Ford Escape with a ruby red 2019 Ford Escape.

The photo above shows them together--the new one's on the right. We took the front license plate off, but there's still a considerable difference in the front. In the back, not so much.

A few of my family members noticed right away--nobody else did unless I pointed it out to them. After all, someone else's car is not something the average person pays close attention to. Still, it was a lot of fun having the secret.It was also a lot of fun seeing my speed in kilometers per hour: The car comes from Canada.

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Remember, you don't have to drive somewhere to buy our books ... although if you want to, why not?