#i’ve already come across so many walking red flags. ‘don’t just message hi are you okay’ but you haven’t provided any other conversation

[fingertipsmp3]

Last night: had a dream I decided to take a job as a clown

Tonight: redownloaded tinder

Prophetic dream?

[dgcatanisiri]

Tried to make a brief summary of the issues of Mass Effect Andromeda’s handling of queer men and how it relates to why we’re (broad use here) upset with the Legendary Edition failing to provide better representation than the originals, and it kinda turned in to what amounts to an open letter for BioWare.

So, what the heck, here it is.

A little personal background. I spent my high school life completely in the closet. After graduating, I had a new computer and the opportunity to play a new game. The game chosen was BioWare’s Jade Empire. Still a fairly recent release, and I was a big fan of Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic, also by BioWare. So, being a young gay man, still uncomfortable and uncertain of who I was, I was very excited when I got to play this game that would allow me to play a gay romance, a romance that featured two men. I burned through two playthroughs of the game within less than a week, enjoying that rush of acknowledgement that yes, gay guys could be the hero. It was a massive affirmation for me at the time, something that said that my sexuality was not going to prevent me from being the hero, which legitimately was a message that I felt like most media was giving me to that point, because gay men barely appeared in anything other than guest roles for an episode or two on a TV show, but certainly not in video games. That game, that experience... I’ve said for years that it had cemented me as a BioWare fan for life.

If I say that now, it is a statement with a few caveats.

The history of the failure of Mass Effect 1 and Mass Effect 2 to provide any male/male romances is well documented. I was excited, very eager to romance Kaidan Alenko in Mass Effect 3. But even then, I noticed that there were things that were lacking in the romance. It was noticeable, for instance, that the basic dialogue between male Shepard and female Shepard was unchanged, if either was starting a new romance with Kaidan. The thing that always felt... WRONG about that was that if I’d had the option to begin a romance with him in the first game, I would have. Yet there’s not even a bit of dialogue that even references that inability, no comment of “I didn’t think you were available,” or anything of the sort, nothing to say that, say, Shepard was interested in Kaidan at the time, but didn’t believe he’d be receptive, didn’t want to damage their friendship, something of the sort. There was even a cut in the romance scene, where female Shepard will sit in Kaidan’s lap before being lifted up and carried to the bed, but with male Shepard and Kaidan, just fades to black. And then in the Citadel DLC, while all the other pairings walked in to the casino arm in arm, male Shepard and Kaidan are leaving plenty of room between them. There’s also the absence of any cuddling as they return to the Normandy.

To say nothing of the lack of Steve Cortez during the story segments of Citadel – he is not part of the big team entrance to the apartment, just spontaneously appears in the lounge room. He doesn’t participate in the briefings, and he is not a casino date, despite being part of the assembled team. Cortez also suffers from the fact that his romance spends so much time on how he needs to move on from the death of his husband, Shepard can come across as predatory towards him, trying to push him out of his grief and his pants. Due to the lateness of his arrival in the story, in game three, as opposed to game one or two, there is significantly less time to establish him as a person – beyond his past as a pilot and the death of his husband, we gain almost no concept of his personality or personal history.

I bring all of this up to help set the stage of what was expected when Mass Effect Andromeda was nearing release. Mass Effect had been full of problems of representation of queer men specifically (not that they were perfect on the count of female/female relationships either, because there’s plenty to talk about there, but as I’m not a lesbian or bisexual woman, I don’t feel comfortable talking about their experiences for them). While there were flaws, Dragon Age, what is often considered Mass Effect’s sister franchise, HAD managed to provide male/male romances in every iteration of that franchise.

In fact, considering that Dragon Age’s most recent installment, Dragon Age Inquisition, had been put out with a lot of fanfare about the first gay male companion, who was considered rather popular in the fandom, and the game itself receiving the Game of the Year award that year, indicating that, if there was any risk in the business sense of providing representation of queer men, it was negligible at most in the bottom line of that game, the attitude of a lot of gay men in the lead up to Andromeda’s release was some variation of “okay, Mass Effect has been flawed, but BioWare’s learned from their past mistakes, and they’re coming off the heels of a hugely successful game that had a gay character whose gayness was front and center in his storyline... We can expect that things will be fine, and we don’t have to worry.” That was the dominant attitude I found in a lot of my queer-oriented spaces.

But we started getting uncomfortable as the developers remained cagey about romance options in Andromeda – there were Twitter responses to “we’re concerned about Mass Effect’s history of gay representation, we would like to know about the options” that came out as “we checked and yep! They’re there!” These responses came across as flippant and even tone-deaf – the reason that the question was being asked was because of prior failures to be included, and not simply a desire to get all the details before launch.

As the trailers started coming out, the questions continued from the fans, and the response from the developers... continued to be uncomfortable. When asked directly for a listing of romances prior to release, the response was that the developers wanted players to learn as they played, that “the fun is in experiencing it!” This was a specific response when it was learned that the romance options could be flirted with regardless of orientation, but they would shut it down. Despite the fact that the trailers DID include content from certain romances – specifically, the male Ryder/Cora and male Ryder/Peebee romances.

This was uncomfortable for a lot of queer players like myself because it spoke to a lack of consideration of what it is like to be queer. In many places, it is a serious question of safety to even put yourself out there to find a partner, to flirt with someone openly unless you are already certain that there is a chance for a positive response. There are places where a queer person flirting with the wrong person can get them harassed, assaulted, even killed for doing so. Even in the safety of a virtual construct of video games, these are honed instincts that queer people have developed. And no matter how many times we would say this to the developers, no one seemed to understand. Likewise, the fact that the trailers felt free to show off heterosexual romances, but not queer ones felt... questionable.

Then, finally, firm details started coming out, and... There were problems. Early data-mining said that there was an even split of romances between orientations. But there was a bit of discomfort around the reveal that the gay characters, Suvi and Gil, were limited to the ship, rather than being companions who would accompany Ryder on missions. There is a history of companions being given more involved storylines and involvement than secondary characters. It also didn’t help the disappointment from queer people who’d been eager for Cora or Liam as romances, who were firmly established as straight (Cora herself had a popular lesbian following).

That discomfort increased when it came out further that, ACTUALLY, Jaal would not be available for Male Ryder. This caused a lot of upset. Now it was a case where there was NO M/M squadmate romance option. This on top of the group of fans who were uncomfortable with the idea that, in a sci-fi series, gay men couldn’t romance an alien, while this had become a staple of the series, considering Liara, the character from a species described as equivalent to Star Trek green-skinned Orion girls, had been available for straight men and lesbian/bi women from ME1, and straight women got in on the act with Garrus and Thane in ME2, on top of straight men also getting Tali.

This got worse when the achievement listing for the game was released and there was an achievement for “romancing three different characters.” Meaning that it was absolutely impossible for a gay man to play the game and get this achievement without playing a sexuality other than his own.

This is why I led with my experience with Jade Empire, why it was so affirming to me. Because to hear all this, ten years later, to see what had been so affirming to me a decade prior be functionally dismissed, be shown to take a secondary position at best... It hurt.

And the game proper did not help that feeling at all.

So first we meet Gil Brodie. Engineer of the Tempest. One of the first things we learn about him is that he has a close friendship with a woman named Jill. And then he immediately tells us that one) she is a fertility specialist, and two) she “says [he’s] part of the problem” because he won’t have kids the natural way. This is immediately setting off red flags to me – I can think of plenty of my friendships where we give one another grief for various things, but I would never think of introducing any of them to someone else with that fact. So my reflexive thought in this situation is “what kind of a friend is this really?”

And then, as the game goes on... This is the only thing that Gil’s conversations involve, the prospect of having kids. We do not learn much more about him, just have him talking about considering the idea. The lock-in for his romance requires Ryder to meet Jill, who Gil again says that she will talk his ear off about his “civic duty” to reproduce, a fact that makes those earlier red flags wave higher and more furiously, because who DOES that to a total stranger? And this is passed off as being “charming.” This leads to the culmination of the romance, where Gil says that Jill has decided she wants to get pregnant and she wants Gil to be the dad.

There’s... A LOT going on here, so let me work through this. First, one of the few things Gil says as a bit of establishing his character is that he is impulsive, that he joined the Andromeda Initiative, the journey from the Milky Way galaxy to the Andromeda galaxy without really thinking through what it would mean, that it was a one-way journey with no way to back out once he’d gotten there. So this is already saying to me that this is not a person who really SHOULD be a parent, at least at this point in his life.

We also get a couple of emails from him in-game that paint him as putting in thirty-six hour workdays into the engines on the Tempest, that he cares about and puts a lot of time into those engines. So when I think about him as a father, I see him having to give up something he’s deeply passionate about to do it, because the Tempest is certainly no place to raise a child – they can’t exactly put a playpen in the cargo hold, for example.

This would be one of the first things that I would think of as a discussion element, but... it’s not there. All that we get is a couple of casual comments about how Gil should know that bringing a child into the world is a big thing, something that shouldn’t be done lightly. But this is framed as Ryder questioning Gil’s fitness to be a parent at all, rather than questioning if he’s thinking this through and having considered this enough to be ready to take on this responsibility, or if it’s even something that he even wants.

Because that’s the other big thing here – this is not Gil’s idea. This is not something that he makes clear is his desire. No, it’s Jill who has decided that she wants to get pregnant and use Gil’s sperm. For all that he matters in this whole thing, he might as well be a turkey baster. He’s basically an accessory in his own story, because he goes in to this with all the passion of a math equation: “The Andromeda Initiative is a colonization effort. Therefore, the idea is to have babies. Therefore, I should find some way to reproduce.” This isn’t him having a passion or desire to have kids, just it being “something you do.”

This is, genuinely, a failure to understand the character who was being written. Gil’s writing reeks of having been written by someone who does not know what they are talking about. There is an element to the gay experience that is not innate but learned. When we realize that having children is not a thing that will just happen, that if we want this to happen, it will require a lot of additional steps, there are many who will simply say “this isn’t for me, this is more work than I’m willing to put in to for this.”

Now, Gil could have been someone who had decided it was worth it, but that butts up against the idea of him being impulsive, that he doesn’t think things through. There is no time given to focusing on the reason he decides this is the right choice for him, to the point that many players felt that this was not Gil’s decision but something that Jill was pushing, that she expected him to jump on her command. Because we have so little of Gil, as a character and an individual, but plenty of him talking up her, this “friendship” feels toxic to many.

Just about everyone I have ever spoken with about Gil is deeply uncomfortable that literally, the only way that he will not have a child at this point is if a romanced Ryder stops him – if I am playing a game where I don’t romance him, I actively just stop interacting with him at a certain point so that this never comes up, because this does not come across as happy. It comes across as forcing a gay man into a heteronormative experience to satisfy some traditional idea of “man and woman, raising kids.”

And, as the cherry on top, if you do tell Gil that you’re not comfortable having kids – a very real thing, whether gay or straight – then, unlike other romances, Gil and Ryder do not share a kiss at the finale of the game. And, during the last conversations on Meridian, the only thing Gil even brings up is Jill being pregnant, whether or not it’s his child.

This is what “representation of gay men” amounted to in Mass Effect Andromeda. A homophobic story that was about a gay experience written by someone who is not a part of this community and does not know or understand the experience personally, going through the motions of development when really, all that is cared about is the end result. To say that most of the gay men I know who have played this game find this homophobic is to undersell the point.

It doesn’t help that, of all the Tempest romances, Gil also clocks in with the least amount of romance exclusive material – a few flirts, the romance lock in and scene, and being able to stop Gil from having kids. Other than that, his friendship and his romance are virtually identical.

Speaking of, the romance scene consists of a make out session that fades to black, before coming back in with Ryder and Gil, shot from about shoulders up, briefly wrapping up their conversation that preceded the fade to black. This is noteworthy when the heterosexual romances between Ryder and their human love interests, as well as Peebee and Jaal, the former having a similar body model to naked human women, just blue, and Jaal, who is naked at other points in the game, have much more involved romance scenes – Cora’s in specific received special attention.

All of this, individually, may have just been reflective of time crunch and other external pressures – we all understand the realities of game development, that for all the ambitions that go in, when the deadlines are nearing, something has to give. But taken collectively... The kindest question is to ask why all of the “give” happened in regards to the gay man?

The end result with Gil honestly feels like he was written in response to the bad faith arguments that had come up in the period after the name for the game was revealed and it was made clear that the game would follow a colonization effort. There were a contingent of people who said that “there shouldn’t be gay people coming along, a colonization effort needs to reproduce.” This is a bad faith argument from homophobes, trying to justify why they don’t want gay people in “their” games. In answering their question, the question they only “ask” in order to explain why they don’t want to have gay people in the game without saying that, it comes across as catering the gay content for a heterosexual audience. It should go without saying that this is a bad position to take.

So, that’s Gil. What about Reyes? Well, Reyes himself is bound to a single planet, which, again, points to a minimizing of how much content he will even get, since his content can only be accessed on this single planet. Likewise, Reyes, as a character, is someone who falls in to several old, tired tropes with regards to bisexual men – he is a shady, untrustworthy character, in this instance literally a criminal, meant to be evocative of the “dashing rogue” archetype. This is a characterization that has often been BioWare’s go-to with regards to bisexual men, because we see this archetype drawn on in Jade Empire’s Sky, Dragon Age Origins’ Zevran, Dragon Age 2’s Anders, and even elements exist in Dragon Age Inquisition’s Dorian (even if he is a gay man). It’s a well that BioWare has frequently tapped when it comes to a romance option for queer men, to the point that it starts to feel like BioWare in general believes that this IS what queer men are.

There’s also the questionable portrayal of Reyes that leads to a description of the trope “the depraved bisexual,” an explicitly bisexual character who uses sex and sexuality as a manipulative tool, that they treat others as simply there to be their toys. Over in Dragon Age Inquisition, one of the romance options was specifically NOT made bisexual in order to avoid this trope, but Reyes himself seems to be a candidate for that trope all the same.

All this, and, again, the romance options for gay men were unequal to those for everyone else. This prompted the campaign #MakeJaalBi – Jaal was, notably, the character initially assumed to be the bisexual male companion, and on release, his romance was heterosexual exclusive. But datamining revealed that there was code for him to be romanced by male Ryder. Indeed, on release, it was noteworthy that Jaal could not even be flirted with by male Ryder. Liam had a distinct turndown for male Ryder, a couple of them, depending on when Ryder flirts with him. Jaal had no such turndown.

And this worked. BioWare released the patch for Andromeda that gave Jaal a bisexual romance. However, this was the only change that Mass Effect Andromeda received in regards to the issues of the romances before support for the game ended. While it was seen as an improvement, it was also questioned why this was the only change, when... Well, I spent the better part of two pages outlining the problems of Gil’s portrayal.

(I feel I would be remiss to not mention there was also a character, Hainley Abrams, who would, upon interacting with her, proceed to deadname herself to Ryder, as if that is the only way to establish that a transgender person is trans. This was also changed in a patch after the trans community complained, and, in conjunction with the above, led more than a few people to wonder if the Andromeda script had been looked over by any queer sensitivity readers, given the earlier issues with Gil. This does go out of the scope of everything else in this discussion, but it is worth mentioning.)

When Mac Walters says players will talk about how Shepard is each of theirs, that every individual player approaches Shepard as being “their” Shepard, he isn’t wrong. He says the characters, and the relationships we have with the characters is the heart and soul of the series, he isn’t wrong. And yet... When I play the trilogy, my heart and soul are being torn apart, because I do not get to see myself in the trilogy. I am not there in this story, at least for two thirds of the way. And in that third that I am there, I feel like I am cared about less than my counterparts who are heterosexual.

The idea that “making” characters available for same sex romance changes them is like saying that there is some inherent difference in a person because of their sexualities. While it’s true that the experiences of queer people does offer different perspectives on matters, it does not fundamentally alter the person, the individual that we are. It does not change our heart and soul. Restoring the bisexuality of characters like Jack, Jacob, Ashley, Thane, or Tali is not changing who they are. Making Kaidan bisexual in ME3 did not change who he was, and restoring a romance between him and male Shepard in ME1 would not change him either.

Every game has some cut content surrounding queer content specifically, and a great deal of that content is specifically for gay players like myself. I said at the beginning that I once thought of myself as a BioWare fan for life, but that now comes with caveats. The caveats are pretty simple – while the games produced by BioWare once felt affirming, now they feel like they’re only grudgingly allowing me to be there. That if I must be there, I should just take the scraps I’m given and be content with that, rather than being treated as an equal.

I like to think that this is not the message that the people at BioWare wish to impart to their players. I like to believe BioWare’s statements of wanting to be an inclusive and welcoming environment for their players, regardless of gender, race, sexuality, orientation, whatever identity and label one chooses. But based on the experience of the last four games, of the Legendary Edition perpetuating the homophobia of over a decade ago... I have a hard time believing that.

BioWare games once made me feel like I was equal to the straight heroes across my media. Unfortunately, I don’t feel that way about their games anymore. Not when, after having the opportunity to restore the bisexuality of Kaidan – of multiple characters, really – in the Legendary Edition, I am still being told that offering representation for people like me is something that only comes grudgingly.

And if that’s what I see now... What does it say about what the future of the franchise will offer? If every game in this series involves fighting for content that, in particular, heterosexual players will see offered as the rule, what motivates me to want to continue to be invested and involved in this franchise?

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Devil’s Backbone

Devil’s Backbone

Chapter 6 

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ 

Warnings: Smut, violence, past flashbacks of sexual assault, descriptions of torture, racial hate and forced abortion. Not Tony Stark friendly.

Relationships: Bucky/OC, Steve/Natasha, Billy/Wanda/Grant, past Clint/Laura. eventual Clint/Yelena and Frank/Karen.

Summary: In the aftermath of the Blip, Bucky struggled to find his place among the world and the Avengers. However, when he is sent on a mission to Madripoor to investigate a young woman, he starts to realize that maybe his past isn’t too far behind him. Co-Written with WalkingPotterGirl14

"It was amazing, you guys. Absolutely." They had been on a video call with Bucky for about fifteen minutes now, starting to get some intake on his trip there and how everything had been going. But up until now, Steve had waited with a raised brow as Bucky described everything he had seen. "That sounds great, Buck," Steve chuckles a bit. "But there was a point of this mission." "Right, uh-" Bucky rubs the back of his neck a bit embarrassingly, chuckling. "Sorry. Sharon just knows what she's doing. I've never seen so much art and so many fancy people all in one sitting. But you're right. Sharon did direct me to the young woman that supposedly took up the Power Broker position." He pulls up photos and splays them onto the screen so they could see it. "I got some of these pictures last night before she left." Steve crosses his arms against his chest, shaking his head. "I can't believe this." "She looks just like Anastasia," Wanda remarks lightly. "See, you think that, but that's not her name – at least the one that she gave me isn't Anastasia. It's Maria Kapitonova. Interesting alias, but if it is her, she's certainly taking a different route than what I'm doing." "Did you learn anything else about her?" "Nothing that we didn't already know," Bucky states quietly. "Sharon told me that she is the one who's taken over the city, but she's dangerous, just as we suspected. She has morals and has laid down some rules but hasn't stopped herself from killing those who against them. Sharon said she's ended at least three so far. Something did sort of stand out to me for a moment though. I was talking with her and she said she moved to Madripoor to escape the cold from somewhere. If she WAS in Siberia, that would make sense." Sam rolls his eyes from where he stood. "There are a lot of cold places in the world, Bucky." "I know, I know, but it's curious, is all I'm saying." Steve sighs but nods. "Alright, at least we have that. You said you'd see her again?" "Yeah, we ah…kind of hit it off, in a way." At Steve's questioning response, he responds quickly. "Not like that, I just - I mean it seems she's willing to meet with me again outside of a party, so it'll be easier to get info." "Right," Steve chuckles, although a bit of him was curious. "Remember that this is a mission though, Buck." Bucky rolls his eyes. "I know, you don't have to remind me. I'll get the info you guys need." There was a loud meowing off screen and Bucky chuckles. "I gotta go. Alpine is being a little minx and wants some food." "Tell him that I say hi!" Wanda says, smiling. "I will," Bucky snickers before nodding at them. "I'll talk to you soon." They wave goodbye to him and he signals off the call, leaving them alone.

Ana lets out a soft sigh of content as she cooks up some dinner. While she did have someone that could cook for her, she preferred to cook her own food – usually for safety rather than convenience. She knew that there were several people who would most likely pay a chef to put poison in there. She wasn't about to let herself go down like that. As she starts to plate up her food, however, she pauses when she suddenly hears a crash from the living room. Quickly, she reaches into her cutlery drawer and grabs a knife, approaching quietly. "Hello?" She asks. No response.

She keeps her guard up as she ventures into the living room to see if anyone or something was in the living room. There was nothing aside from a card box having fallen on the glass coffee table. Luckily, it hadn't cracked the glass. She suddenly saw movement from the corner of her eye and picked up a gun that was in a drawer. Ana started cautiously walking down the hallway where the dining room was, when someone suddenly lunged at her. She moved out of the way quickly as the man jumped at her with a knife directed at her throat. She dodged out of the way as the assassin slashed at her with knife, but Ana used her ballet training to avoid being stabbed. Grabbing her by the hair, she threw him into the wall to slow him down slightly. The man glared at her disdainfully, sneering at her as he pulled out a knife that looked like it could slice her to pieces. "This is called a serbcutter, little girl. My ancestors used this knife to kill enemies of Croatia during World War II," the man taunted cruelty, lunging at her again. She kicked him in the chest, gripping her own knife and stabbed him in his left shoulder. She heard him yell out in pain, as she wrapped her legs around his neck, but he kicked her right knee, causing her to hiss in her own pain. Ana backed away from him as she saw two more of his friends had joined him. They must have come from the back garden to get into the apartment. Damn it. "Three on one…that's hardly fair," she remarked coldly, keeping a fighting stance as she kept an eye on where all of them were positioned. And then, she ran, all the way down. And they weren't that far behind in following her down into the streets.

After feeding Alpine and falling asleep, Bucky woke up to the sounds of fight from across the street. He quickly got dressed before grabbing his gun and his Da Lai knife that Steve had given back to him. It had been his when he'd been with the Howling Commandos. After locking the door, he walked quickly across the street to see what was going on. When he did find what was the cause, Bucky was stunned to see Maria fighting four people, one of whom had a knife and another man that he recognized as Diego, a Flag Smasher. "Hey, isn't four on one an unfair disadvantage?" he called out dangerously, pulling out his knife. His voice caused Maria to turn in surprise, and he sees a slight smile come over her lips at him suddenly showing up. One of the assassins tried to gut him. He kicked him in the face, causing the man to stumble back at his nose breaking from Bucky's kick. "You're pissing off our boss, Kapitonova! She wants Madripoor to be like how the country was before you arrived and started putting down all of these stupid rules for us to follow!" Axelle spat contemptuously, lunging at her with a hunter's knife. He saw Maria sigh in annoyance before punching her hard across the face, using a pair of batons that glowed dark red. They were similar to the ones that Natasha used, only hers glowed blue and not a dark crimson red. He knocked out the remaining one as Maria came over with a slightly bruised face. Her lip was bleeding, and she had a tear in her t-shirt that had blood on it. "What do you wanna do about them?" He asked quietly, nodding at two of the surviving assassins. One of the women was dead. Maria had stabbed her in the throat, severing her carotid artery and causing her to bleed out. "I'll question them…thank you for helping me," she answered cautiously, glancing up at him. He nodded and watched as she picked up their weapons off the floor. He discreetly checked to see if any of them had any identifiable scars or tattoos and got lucky. The woman had a tattoo on her back that had the words 'Elite Hunters' with roses on either side. It looked like it had been branded into her skin. He felt his blood run cold but took a photo and sent it to Steve. Maybe, they could find out who had sent them to kill Maria and why?

Steve had gotten Bucky's message and the attachment of a photo that showed a tattoo. He'd never seen that tattoo before, but Billy, Clint, Natasha, Yelena and Grant were staring at the tattoo as if they'd seen a ghost. "Do any of you know what this tattoo is? Because I've never seen it before, and I've seen my fair share of tattoos," Steve asked curiously. Natasha was the one who answered his question, surprisingly. "I do, and so do the others. It's the tattoo of a secret organization called the Elite Hunters who prey on people by luring them to holiday hotels and spas in countries such as Italy, Czech Republic, and Iceland. They revel in dark fantasies such as murder, cannibalism, and torture of many forms that include fetish pornography and amputation. Only wealthy people run the organization, and it was very secretive…until 2013," Natasha explained gravely, her face showing her disgust. No one in the room could speak. They were all horrified by what they were hearing. Wanda looked like she was going to be sick. Scott had stopped eating his slice of pepperoni pizza, while Sam looked disgusted. "Just gonna put that down," Scott mutters, lowering his slice. "So, what happened in 2014, Romanoff?" Tony asked, causing Natasha to ignore him. Steve shook his head, shocked at the revelation. "After I dumped all of S.H.I.E.L. D’s secrets, the Elite Hunters were discovered by Fury. A lot of victims that had escaped or survived killed the Elite Hunters in revenge, or they committed suicide rather than go to prison for multiple murders," she explained quietly. Clint then took over. "At least three of them escaped and went to hide in Madripoor. These are the only surviving Elite Hunters," he said gravely, as he used his iPad to pull up the images. Three images came up on the large plasma screen. One of a man with light brown hair and cold blue eyes. The next two were of another man who had blonde hair and emotionless hazel eyes that caused Wanda to shiver at his disturbing, twisted smile. The final image was of a blonde-haired woman who looked like she was a model, but she had a demented smile, one that made Steve know instinctively that the woman was dangerous. "Do we know who hired them to kill Maria?" Steve asked concerned. Before she could respond, a furious Thaddeus Ross stormed into the conference room. His hands were balled into fists, as he glared at where Steve was sitting. "Who authorized Sergeant James Barnes to go undercover as a Russian arms dealer in Madripoor!? I made it perfectly clear that the woman was to be terminated as soon as you acquired her location!" Ross shouted infuriated, causing Steve to speak up for his team and Fury. "With all due respect Home Secretary, the young woman has shown no threat to us. I personally believe, as do many of the others, that she is perhaps more like Frank Castle," Steve argued, causing Ross's face to turn an interesting shade of purple that resembled an eggplant. "You overstep yourself, Captain Rogers. As from now, you are no longer the leader of the Avengers due to your behavior as of late and your recklessness in allowing Sergeant Barnes to go on a mission without being cleared by me. As a result, Tony Stark will be leading the team," Ross said harshly, a cruel smile appearing on his face. Tony's expression was one of arrogance, triumph and smugness. "Sir, Steve did the right thing. Who else could he send undercover?" Natasha argued firmly, causing everyone aside from Clint and Sam to stare at her in surprise. Ross's lip curled, as he looked at the young woman who sitting next to Yelena. He wasn't impressed or bothered by her question.

"He could've sent you, Agent Romanoff, or Belova." Natasha's shoulders fall. "Barnes knows Madripoor far better than I ever could have. And he knows Sharon better than I ever did. He was logically the best choice for this mission besides maybe Sam, but even then, he has his duties here. Barnes didn't have further missions that were outstanding that were blocking him from going. I did, and so does Belova." Ross lets out a huff before shaking his head. "Your missions could wait for something like this – either way, it was a bad decision to send Barnes off on this. If it were up to me, I'd bring him back instantly. But that's Fury's area." He glares at him, who doesn't give a proper response, just shrugs his shoulders. "Even so, Steve's lost jurisdiction. Tony, it's your job now." He shakes his head almost in disappointment before storming out, closing the door. Steve feels himself glare at where Tony was. "You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, huh?" "Oh, stop. You're being dramatic. This is what's been going on for ages," Tony states, crossing his arms against his chest. Steve shakes his head and sits down, quieting himself as Tony started to talk, changing the screen at the front. He glances at Nat and nudges her side, to which she glances over at him. "Thanks for standing up for me, Nat." The young woman nods in response, glancing at the ground. He could see she was still uncomfortable with something sitting inside of her. He wished there were a way he could see inside her head and wonder what the hell was going on. But hey, if she were standing up for him, that had to mean something good, right?

"Wait, what happened?" After the big fight with Maria out in the streets, Bucky had instantly gone back to his apartment to tell Sharon over the phone. And she had understandably listened and been surprised when he told her about everything. "It was insane, Sharon," Bucky says, running a hand through his hair. "There were four of 'em up against her. They really wanted her gone. She ended up killing one of them but the others…think she dragged them back to her place to interrogate them." "What did you say the tattoo said?" "Elite Hunters. Don't really know exactly what they are but got a feeling that whoever sent them wants her gone." Sharon sighs from the other end of the phone. "I'll be sure to look them up and find some info – I'm sure you've already talked to Steve and the others?" He nods. "Of course." "Good. Just keep an eye out." There was a beat of silence. "Maybe you should go out and check up on her. This might be the best time for you to figure out more about her. Vulnerable and shit." Bucky raises an eyebrow. "That's a bit manipulative." He could almost her hear shrug from across the phone. "You gotta do what you have to do. Might be your best option right now." Bucky sighs a bit. She wasn't wrong. It was an option. And right now, it really was one of the best he could lean towards. "Alright…you rest up now." "See you, Bucky." He hangs up the phone after that, glancing outside. It seems that she wasn't that far from where he lived. Maybe he could walk around until he found where she lived. He saw the direction she had gone. Maybe Sharon was right. Maybe it was the best time to do it.

The sound of a knife slitting across skin was loud enough for anyone in her penthouse to hear. The scream that followed was enough to make someone cringe. But Ana didn't care. Ana wanted answers. "Now," she says lowly, pushing the man close to her. She could see it was Diego, one of the Flag Smashers from before. "Either you tell me who sent you here, or I can make your time a little more terrible like your friend over there." She points to the other hostages that were now passed out. "I'm…n-not gonna s-say shit!" He stutters. She grabs her knife and stabs it deep into his arm, to which he screams out in pain before dragging it right back up to his elbow. The blood spurts out as tears start to evade his eyes. "No, you gonna play nice?" "It-t's Melina!" he yells out, his voice shaking. She pauses. "She sent us – p-please, we were only doing our j-" She instantly brings the knife up and slits his throat, watching as he bleeds out before falling to the ground. He was no innocent man. This wasn't a job. She knew what Diego had done prior to this. The same with these two. And now, it was done. Melina…god, she was going to murder that bitch. She wipes the blood away, letting out a soft sigh before grabbing a towel to wipe the blood from her face. Before she could start wondering what to do with the bodies, however, there was a beep that came from her intercom. Her brow raises before coming over. Who on earth would be here this time of night? "Yes?" She asks as her finger hovers over the button. "Who is it?" "Miss Maria, you have a gentleman visiting you," her concierge stated from below. "A Mr. Yakov?" She had wondered why he had come out to help her like that. Seems he was a bit more than she had originally thought. But he did aid her in getting these goons…maybe he wouldn't be opposed to helping her now. "Send him up," she responds back, glancing at the mess of bodies below her. She wondered what Yakov would say to this.

She heard footsteps heading up the stairs as she grabbed a towel and wiped the blood from her face. She didn't enjoy killing people, far from it, but she was pissed that Melina Vostokoff had tried to kill her for putting down some moral laws. She was well aware that no one in Madripoor was innocent, but she wasn't going to stand by and allow rape or trafficking or any of that shit. Just because Madripoor was keeping it's lawless ways didn't mean that she was going allow the sickest people to get away with hurting people. Shaking her head, she started getting the cleaning products out to deal with the blood on the floor. She heard Yakov coming up to her soundproof room. And as soon as he walks in, he whistles at the sight of the blood before looking up at her. "Maria, what the hell happened?" Yakov asked concerned, his eyes scanning her over for any sign of injuries. She smiled faintly at his own concern for her, but she gave him a reassuring smile. "Someone wasn't happy with how I run Madripoor with a moral code…so she decided to send three Elite Hunters and a Flag Smasher to kill me. I questioned the Flag Smasher, and he spilled his guts to try and save his life," she said coldly, glaring down at the body of Diego with no emotion.

Over in Bucky's head, he felt his heart pound at her words, as his mind processed what she was saying. Someone, a woman, had ordered a hit on Maria to kill her in a violent manner, but she had fought back and killed all of her would be killers. She was definitely trained in the Red Room. He could tell that she had been trained in that facility. He just had a feeling that she had been raised in the there. God, he wished he could remember more of his time during that period. "Do you know who it was that ordered the hit on you, Maria?" he asked curiously, keeping his voice concerned. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her suspicious of him in any manner. "Melina Vostokoff, that old bitch…I was hoping she died when the Black Widow and Crimson Widow destroyed the Red Room. Well…she doesn't know if I'm dead yet and I intend on sending her a gift," she answered forebodingly, her grey eyes cold as ice. Bucky showed no emotion but privately, he knew Melina's days were now numbered. "Can you help me out here?" She asks him lightly, trying to move the bodies off of the carpet, to which he does. "You know, for someone I just met, you've been quite the helper tonight." Bucky shrugs a bit and smiles a bit at Maria. "I'm not about to let someone who's trying to at least do some good in this city die like that." "Well…thank you. That means a lot," she says genuinely. "But I don't want to drag you into this. This is my fight." Oh, he was already dragged in so deep. But for her, he could at least play it off.

[littlefreya]

Bad Reputation

Synopsis: Henry and his girl can’t get enough from one another. They keep finding themselves in rather sticky and lusty situations while other actors are present around them. 🤭

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, exhibition kink, public display of affection, dirty language, slight fingering, daddy kink.

A/N: This is by request made for thigh riding! I see this as a slight sequel to  Putting up a Show and Good Girl just because in my mind they are the same couple. Many thanks again to the marvellous @agniavateira​ for doing the beta! Masterlist is here.

Let me know if you want to be added/removed! Thank you for reading as always :)

PR fucking nightmare - that’s what our managers call us. 

They thought it would go away after our first year of dating. But the sad truth is, Henry just loves to touch, and I’m a hot-blooded woman who loves to fuck shit up. Three years in being married and the line is so goddamn blurry by now; I am never quite certain which one of us initiates it, nor do I even care. 

I see my bear sitting sprawled across the red leather sofas, legs spread open as he can never keep them shut. I know I’m terribly biased but that black tuxedo suit sure as hell looks great on his strong figure, especially with the crooked bowtie and the beard he’s been growing for his new movie role. 

And as if the bad boy vibes and big dick energy he sends everywhere wasn’t enough, the half-empty Grey Goose bottle on the round golden table next to him and the slight sweat that covers his forehead is a red flag that we are definitely getting into trouble tonight. 

Bring it on. 

Armie is sitting right next to him, telling him about some scheme by the gesture he is making with his hands. But I can tell Henry has other things on his mind. I can feel his eyes looking at me even when I am standing far away. Our gazes meet, he offers me a mischievous smile, showing off the large dimples of his cheeks. This is what I call a wet, slippery invention. 

I blush and look away. I mean, I have Rebecca Ferguson holding my forearms. That woman makes me want to invite her into our bedroom, but Henry doesn’t like sharing, not even with women. It doesn’t matter how much I’d pout and beg, he likes me all to himself, and he loves it when others can see that I am his. 

It’s always his hand between my thighs, riding up higher, thumb tickling at my clit teasingly. We sat through an entire acceptance speech with him working me hard. If anyone looks closely at that video on Youtube, you can see the exact moment when he hits the spot.

Sorry, Leo, I wasn’t smiling because you won. 

This is us being subtle. Hotels and parties, however, are a different story. We already had a manager quit on us because we made sure the entire floor hears what we are doing through the night. 

Rebecca kisses me on the cheek, the gorgeous Swedish redhead is already tipsy, and I’ve had my second glass of wine. She’s in a red satin dress, her impressive breasts showing through her cleavage. I also spot a few freckles on her chest. It makes me pout and look at Henry, who shakes his head in refusal. 

“Where is your hubby anyway?” she asks playfully, and I point in the direction of where he is sitting. Armie is just getting up, leaving Henry alone. He pours himself some more vodka, fills the glass with ice and then takes a sip with a lustful gaze. That’s probably my cue to keep him company and take that glass away.  

That video when he told everyone to get naked will forever be online. He also has a tendency to start making impressions of others when he is flustered, and I can’t contain my laughter when that happens.

“He’s too drunk to get up.” I sigh, shaking my head while he makes playful, sad faces at me. I shrug and take my phone out my purse, seeing two text messages from him.

Henry: “Where are you, babygirl?” Henry: “I want to squeeze that ass.” 

I text him back “Armie’s? Go for it. Can we have Rebecca, pleaaaaase?” 

He reads my reply, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in complete refusal. 

“Not. sharing. you. Do you want me to spank you in front of all these people?” 

Rebecca is oddly enough very touchy-feely, her hand sliding down my forearms while she speaks about how wonderful Henry is, and how fun it was to work with him on MI6.

“He’s not like all the other ones, he is an actual friend,” she explains to me, her beautiful green eyes lighting up. 

“I know, that’s how he got me, pretended to be my friend for years.” I chuckle, remembering the times we were still just friends. If you look at videos of us from interviews and photos from events from the time we worked together, you’d think we’ve been dating already. He always touched me subtly, his eyes staring at me intently when I speak. And of course, no one cracks him up the way I do.

But Henry waited 5 years for both of us to be single at the same time to “kidnap” me during a walk with our dogs at the forest, where I’d literally be unable to run away. He did that so he can tell me he’s been in love and growing in love with me ever since we met.

I smile at the sweet memory. I held my tears when that word left his lips.

“I’ll come to say hello later, I’m starving,” she says and rubs her belly gently. I nod and lean forward to kiss her, deliberately kissing her soft, red-painted lips for Henry to see. Us girls, we really don’t mind.

As I turn to face him, he is already frowning. He’s not amused by my vexing behaviour. I give him my best angelic posture, batting my lashes and holding my hands together while my head is tilted to the side. In that pale blue and silver dress, I might look like some saint right now, but my darling knows I’ve come from south to heaven.

I make my way to him, walking slowly, a smile both in my eyes and between my cheeks. I can feel the fire burning in my chest, the sight of him is dashing, those thick thighs ever so inviting. He spreads his legs even wider, the bulge in his groin made only for me. He has his pinky finger pressed between his teeth while checking me out.

My body heeds his calling, I’m tingling wet. 

I stand in front of him, my cheeks warm as if this is a first hook up of some sort. Henry rises his beautiful blues to stare straight into my eyes. The beaming lights in the hall make his sweaty skin glow in neon pink and gold, his eyes flashing bright as the different colours dance across his face.

“How many of those have you had?” I ask, gesturing at the glass, noticing the half-empty bottle. I hope not too much, I expect to be rammed tonight when we return to the hotel. 

He shrugs, putting the glass away without bothering to finish it. He is British, and boy, he can drink a lot. He is not as half as flustered as a different guy would be, but yes, he is certainly quite drunk. Enough to give me that look of his-one eyebrow rising up-while his eyes drink in my dress, cleavage, ass, and that slit that runs from my legs to my thighs.

My friends asked me if Henry is an ass or tits man, to which my answer was “he is ‘all of me’ man.” 

“Gotta love women's liberation.” He speaks in a deep, low voice, gesturing at my provocative dress. 

“Come to daddy.” He demands, holding out his hand for me to come and sit on his thigh. To which I am more than happy to comply.

I spread my legs, moving to straddle his muscular thigh. There is a burning sensation at my core as my pelvis meets his taut muscle. My body always reacts to his touch. Henry’s hands immediately take my face, thumbs stroking at my cheeks.

“Why do you tease me, beautiful?” he murmurs, his fierce gaze tracing my face, always taken by me, memorizing every freckle and flaw as if it’s the first time we ever sit so close. God, he makes me feel so beautiful even in my ugliest of ugly days.

I lean forward to get even closer, my ass riding up his leg and my hands reach out to tug at his white buttoned shirt. “Oh, Henry-Bear, it’s. So. much. fun.”

Someone sits right next to us on the big red sofa, saying a friendly hello. We answer at the same time, without breaking eye contact. We never bother looking who is the actor, producer, or whatever who moved to bug us. Too lost in our own little mist of admiration. Henry’s fingers descend from my face to my neck, fingers skirting down my neck sensually. 

“You know what I love about these ceremonies and parties?” he asks as he leans closer to whisper in my ear and then places a wet, lingering kiss on my shoulder. His chin pushes the straps of my dress away, letting it fall on my forearm as if by accident. I let it glide, shivering as the coarse hair of his beard marks my flesh.

“I get to show you off while you’re wearing these outrageous dresses and everyone knows I am taking you home to fuck you until sunrise.”

I chuckle lustfully, my tongue pressed between my teeth. “Last time we didn’t even make it home remember?” I hum gently, feeling his rough touch on my breasts. The tip of his thumbs circles my nipples, teasing them to harden through the thin fabric of my dress. I wouldn’t give a fuck if Henry had me topless right now and sink his fangs in my tits for everyone to see. But he is far too selfish, I was made for his eyes and his eyes only.

He settles for a “chaste” show, laying a kiss beneath my chin and then pressing his face at my cleavage, inhaling the scent of my body lotion before nibbling at my breast through my dress. His breath smells like vodka-sweet and spicy at once.

“I remember, Cumberbatch saw the whole thing,” he answers, his hands holding my ribs, slightly guiding me to move my body on top of his thigh in ghostlike movements. I am searing hot, my mound feels as if it’s seconds from catching fire. I am certain he can feel it, his blue eyes now hazy and dreamlike as they watch the pink tint that runs through my neck to my cheeks. 

“Fuck me, daddy, I am so horny!”

My whisper comes out as half a cry, weak and desperate. My body is a void, it suffers without his touch, it aches when we’re disjointed. I hope we’ll never stop feeling this way toward one another. 

“Ride me, babygirl.” he urges me, raising his thigh up higher, so I’ll slide down closer. The friction makes me lose sight for a moment. My vision blurs as I throb wet and hot onto him. Good thing his trousers are black, otherwise, everyone would be able to detect the wetness I am leaving on his pants. 

I can’t reject his decree, my body needs him. 

“You like it when they watch, don’t you?” he asks me with a slightly slurred voice. His hands glide down to squeeze my ass, assisting me in dancing on the rock-hard muscle of his leg. I am grinding slow and rough, shifting my weight forward, my right hand reaching his other thigh, clawing at him with growing pleasure.

Everyone is looking at us, I am sure, some embarrassed and perhaps even appalled. How puritan of you Hollywood. These people formed their own religion and hidden sex clubs. But I am convinced many enjoy this facade and discreetly salute us, some probably holding out their cameras.  

I roll my hips up and clench my inner thighs, whimpering as my body begins to tremble.  

It doesn’t matter who is staring while I ride him so passionately, seeking my pleasure with urgency while Henry’s hands support me, saddling my hips and pulling me toward him. We don’t see anyone else. We’re locked into one another, the way we always did, just like when Henry had a girlfriend, when we were “just friends” when I dated that asshole. We’d walk into a room, and it was just me and him, hearts and chest bursting with love.

Every moment we couldn’t have one another was stolen from us, we now fight to own it back.  

“I’d sit you on my face in front of everyone, but I think Gretchen would kill us.” Henry half whispers against my throat and then licks up my neck as I lift my chin to the ceiling with gaping lips. He has his hand between my legs, drawing at my centre and sneaking between the slit of my dress to finish the job. 

“Fuck!” he teases my clit, his middle finger travelling at my seams. My entire existence shudders. The bass of the music blasts through my chest, my eardrums throb, and my eyes see all the colours of the neon at once as my cunt implodes with orgasmic bliss. Henry steals my gasp into his mouth, his hand pressing my cheeks, crushing my mouth with hunger. 

Who could ever hate us for our expression of true love?

I gasp feverishly, holding onto him as if I’m about to fall. Henry’s lips are on my temple and then my cheek. Pressing against me and not moving away. He envelops me in his big arms, a clear statement to all our viewers that I am his and he is mine.  We both move our heads to see who's been sitting next to us this entire time.

Alec Baldwin and Jake Gyllenhaal. They pretend not to stare, at least Alec does. Jake gives us a wide, knowing smile. Everyone else has also been staring as I hear the whispers and gasps. 

“Really? They did that again!?”

We bump our foreheads together and snicker with delight. Like we ever gave a fuck about being caught. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last. We just can’t get our hands off of each other. 

“Better call Gretchen now.” I tell Henry, hanging my arm around his thick neck. 

“Before or after I fuck you in one of the back rooms here?”

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

BTS Reaction| They see you on a date after you break up

A dash of angst with a fluffy ending for all. 

Namjoon

You and Namjoon had broken up a month ago. Your heart didn’t ache any less. In fact it seemed to grow worse the longer you were apart from him. You missed him terribly. However your friend was tired of seeing you in such a slump so what did they do? Arrange a date for you to help you get over him. You knew it wasn’t going to work, but decided to humor them anyway. You felt bad for the guy so you let him know right off the bat what your intentions were with this date. He completely understood and the fact that he was so nice made you feel bad. 

“I’m sorry. You’re a really great guy and all and I feel like if this were under different circumstances I would really like you. But you’re just not...” 

“Namjoon?” He finishes for you. You nod, completely unaware that he was actually standing close to your table waiting to be seated and had heard every word.  “I understand. From what you’ve told me he sounds like a really good guy. I can’t compete with him. You talk about him like he hangs the moon in the sky every night.” He hears you chuckle at that. 

“Well, he definitely was the moon that lit up my darkness that’s for sure. Now that’s he’s gone though I worry it’s going consume me.” Namjoon’s heart breaks a little more when he hears that. He can’t listen to anymore so he walks over to your table.

“N-Namjoon?!” 

“Uh, hey y/n. Can we talk maybe?” Your date stands up and offers you a smile. 

“Hey man, I’ve heard a lot about you. Y/n is a nice person so make things right with them alright?” He places a hand on his shoulder and walks off. Namjoon slides into the booth next to you. He’s absolutely taken with how beautiful you look and he loses his train of thought. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He snaps out of his daze.

“I uh, kind of overheard what you were saying. I’m sorry please don’t be mad at me for eavesdropping. I couldn’t help it when I heard my name mentioned.”

“So.. what then?”

“I was wondering if maybe you would consider giving me another chance? Just as I’m the moon to you, you’re my sun. My days have been dark and dreary without you in my life and it sucks it took us breaking up for me to realize that. But I really care about you y/n. I love you.. maybe a little too much. Can we just start over?” 

“I don’t want to start over.” Namjoon’s heart sinks. He moves to slide out of the booth but you place your hand on his cheek to guide his face back towards you. “I don’t want to start over because I’d rather just pick up where we left off.” Namjoon smiles as you both lean in to press your lips to one another, both of you finally feeling a happiness you thought was gone forever.

Jin

“Yah, who’s this guy y/n is out on a date with?!” Jin had been walking into the frozen yogurt store to pick up something for the younger members after practice with Yoongi. 

“Don’t know… never seen him before. But y/n is allowed to date other people. You broke up with them, remember?”

“Yeah but it was for their own good! The company found out we were together and they would have forced us to break up anyway so I cut it off before it hurt even worse later down the line.”

“Jin you don’t know that. There is no dating ban in our contracts. Y/n really loved you, you know? You were together for a long time. Breaking things off so abruptly with the shitty excuse you gave probably really hurt them you know?”

“Who’s side are you on Min Yoongi?”

“I’m on the side of not being a damn idiot and going and getting the love of your life back.” Yoongi shoves Jin towards you at the last word and he quite literally bumps into your table. You startle and drop your cup of frozen yogurt on the ground.

“Oh silly, clumsy me! I am so sorry random stranger. How about if I buy you a new one?” He grabs your arm and tugs you up with him, leaving your date rather confused. 

“Jin, what are you doing? Let go of me!” 

“Y/n please just let me explain.”

“No. Now let me get back to my date.”

“Y/n please.. just a few moments. Enough time for you to make your order and that’s all I’m asking for. You eye him suspiciously but nod. “The company found out we were dating and I thought they were going to make us break up anyway so I ended things before they could get too serious and it hurt worse.” You turn around, anger flashing on your features.

“Before it got too serious? Wow. Okay. I guess you really didn’t feel the same way about me as I did about you. Good to know. Bye Jin.” You go to leave but suddenly Yoongi is blocking your way. 

“Jin is really shit with words he didn’t mean it like that. Please just hear him out? I’m tired of hearing this guy whining about how much he misses you and how much he loves you and didn’t want to let you go.” Yoongi walks away and you look over at Jin now. 

“Is that true?”

“It is.. I really regret leaving. I don’t know why I freaked out so much. When have I ever done what the company told me to do anyway? I think I just got really afraid of losing you. If the company found out then that means other people can too. What if you can’t handle the spotlight and having your privacy invaded? What if the fans send you hate messages and it gets to be too much? Having our relationship known is a scary thing for me too and I panicked and acted stupidly and impulsively. If you’d be willing to give me another chance, I would make sure you never regret it.” You can’t deny his sincerity, and you definitely have really missed him too. 

“Okay. I’ll give you another chance. But we really need to sit down and talk about what making our relationship public is going to mean for the both of us and when we both feel we are ready. And you have to buy my yogurt.�� Jin laughs at that. 

“Okay. It’s a deal.”

Yoongi

Yoongi knows you two broke up, but he didn’t think it would take less than a week for you to get over him. It makes him feel like you didn’t even care about him at all if you are already out on a date with someone else. Jimin and Hoseok see the hurt flash across his face when he walks into the cafe and sees you laughing and smiling with another guy. 

“Yoongi maybe we should go…” Jimin tugs on his shirt sleeve but Yoongi wrenches his hand away. 

“It’s fine. Let’s just get our coffee and go.” You laugh loudly and it sounds genuine, like you’re really happy. And that hurts Yoongi more than anything. He storms out of the cafe and you hear the door slam. Your gaze shoots up and you see the back of his head as he rounds the corner and walks towards the alley next to the cafe. Jimin and Hoseok are standing there looking back and forth between one another and the door. You stand up and walk towards them. 

“Jimin? Hoseok? What are you guys doing here? Was that Yoongi?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jimin nudges Hoseok hard in the side. “I- I mean no! Of course that wasn’t him. Why would it be Yoongi?”

“Oh really? I could have sworn that was his blonde hair I saw go running out of here. Guess you won’t care if I go after whoever that was then huh? They seemed pretty upset.” 

“Just go back to your date y/n. Seeing you is just going to hurt him even worse.” Jimin says.

“Wait what? What date?”

“Oh come on y/n you’ve been smiling at that guy and being all flirty since we got here.”

“Wh-… He’s my coworker and he has a fiance! We were just here getting coffee for the other workers.. please don’t tell me Yoongi actually thought I was out on a date.” Jimin and Hoseok share a look that lets you know your suspicious were confirmed.  “Oh gosh..” You throw open the door to the cafe and head towards where you saw him heading. You see Yoongi sat on the ground, knees tucked up to his chest. He notices you out of the corner of his eye.

“Y/n please just go.” 

“No. Not until you let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. You’re out on a date. Clearly you’ve moved on and I’ve just been sulking alone regretting everything by myself.” You move to sit in front of him and cup his face in your hands. 

“I’m not on a date. That was my coworker. Do you really think I’d get over you in less than a week?!” 

“But you were-“

“He has a fiance. Not to mention I love you. I would never be on a date with someone else, especially not so soon you big goof.” You flick his forehead and Yoongi can’t help the smile that forms on his face. 

“I’m sorry for getting mad.”

“It’s okay. I would have been the same if the situation was reversed.” You sigh and sit next to him, letting your shoulders brush up against each other. Yoongi has never been a man of many words, he shows he cares and what he wants through his actions. So when he lays his hand palm up on your lap, you don’t hesitate to take it and lace your fingers together. 

Hoseok

“Isn’t that y/n?” Namjoon points ahead and sure enough, there you are. Walking down the street heading towards them walking with another guy. Judging by the way you are laughing and smiling you must be on a date. His suspicious are confirmed when the guy leans in to kiss you, however you quickly turn your head to the side so the kiss is placed on your cheek instead. The guy seems disgruntled and immediately Hoseok sees red flags all around this guy. He sees him grab your wrist and tighten it, causing you to flinch and you stop in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to wrench your grip away from him. Hoseok doesn’t need to see any more to know something needs to be done. He walks over to you, loudly calling your name.

“Y/n! Long time no see! How have you been sunshine?” The look of relief that washes over your features makes Hoseok feel a sense of pride that you still feel safe in his presence. 

“Oh! Hey Hobi it’s so good to see you!” The guy lets go of you and you walk quickly over to Hoseok, stepping in closer to him. 

“Who’s this? Your friend?”

“I’m y/n’s date. Who are you?”

“Ah, just an old friend in town. Listen I know you’re on a date but I haven’t seen you in forever and I miss you. Can we hang out for a little bit?”

“Sure! Um, I’m sorry but can we reschedule for another time?”

“Fine.” The guy walks away and you let out a breath and visibly relax.

“Oh my god Hoseok thank you so much. He had been super touchy with me the entire time and you know I hate confrontation so I didn’t say anything..” 

“I know, I remember. Are you okay?” He grabs your hand without thinking twice about it to inspect your wrist, there is a mark there from where he gripped you and Hoseok has half a mind to go back and find that guy and beat some sense into him. “Please don’t ever go see that guy again.”

“I won’t. I promise. I’ve had such lousy luck since we.. you know.” 

“Ah. Yeah I get it. I haven’t really had time to date anyone but I’m sure none of them would come close to you anyway.” Hoseok’s eyes widen, not meaning for that last part to slip out. Your gaze softens. 

“Why did we even break up in the first place?”

“Honestly? I don’t remember at all.” You both are looking at each other now, lost in one another when Namjoon loudly clears his throat.

“Uh, listen I’m no relationship expert here but... if you both still clearly have feelings for one another why don’t you start over?” 

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Y/n?”

“Sure. I would really like that.”

Jimin

Jimin was getting more and more annoyed as he eavesdropped on your date. He didn’t want to. It just so happened you decided to go on your date at the same place he went out with Jin for dinner. This guy was a total tool. He only wanted to talk about himself, and the things he was talking about that he liked were things you hated. Even though he wasn’t facing you he could picture you rolling your eyes in his head and sighing heavily, getting a little attitude like you did when you were annoyed. He giggles to himself and then slaps a hand over his mouth, afraid you had heard him. Jin shakes his head, letting Jimin know it was fine and you hadn’t heard him. 

“Well this date is going great do you think we could go on a second one?” Jimin hears you scoff and he holds back his laughter as does Jin. 

“Um.. no I’m sorry I don’t think this is going to work.” 

“Why not babe? We had great chemistry.” Babe? You hated that pet name, He thinks to himself. 

“No babe we don’t. All you wanted to do is talk about yourself and we have nothing in common okay? Jim- I mean uh, you know what never mind. Can you just go please?” 

“Whatever. I’m not paying for this date then you can foot the bill yourself.” Jimin hears the sound of your date’s chair scraping across the floor and sighs in relief that he’s gone. Him and Jin share a look.

“Was y/n about to say your name?”

“I think so..”

Why don’t we see if y/n wants to sit over here. Or you can go over there Jimin. Don’t let this go so easily. Okay?” Jimin nods and gets up, walking towards your table. He sits in front of you but you don’t look up.

“This seat taken?”

“Fuck off will you I don’t need another-.... Jimin?!” 

“Hey, jagi.” He smiles at you and you can’t help but immediately smile back. “Your date was a real ass you know that? Where the hell did you find him?”

“My coworker set me up, told me he was a great guy and he would help me get over you. Clearly that wasn’t the case because the entire time I was with him I just kept wishing it was you.” Jimin blushes slightly at your confession. 

“So since this date went to shit can I take you on a proper one? Maybe we can go out for dessert somewhere? That bakery you like up the street?” You smile at that.

“I would really like that, Jimin.” 

Taehyung

It had been a few months since Taehyung had seen you. He had been walking around the city taking photos when he spotted you outside of a cafe, leaning against the building. You were just as beautiful as ever and it broke his heart all over again. He debates walking over and approaching you. Until he sees you smile at someone and a guy approaches you. He moves in to hug you and kisses your cheek. And you let him. The way you smile at him reminds him of the way you used to look at him, and his heart completely shatters. He can’t help the sob that escapes him and clearly you had heard him because your gaze snaps over to him, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Taehyung?” The sounds of your voice saying his name is too much. A few more tears escape and he turns on his heels and quickly walks away from you. “Taehyung wait!” You turn to your date. “I’m sorry can we postpone this? I need to do something.” Your date calls after you both but at the moment you don’t care. Right now Taehyung is upset, and that takes priority over everything. You both had decided to end things mutually. He was getting too busy with his career and he felt he wouldn’t be able to focus on that with a relationship. It hurt both of you terribly, but you both knew it was for the best. 

You go running after him calling his name and he finally turns down a side street and stops. 

“Y/n go back to your date don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He can barely get the words out, he is most definitely not fine. You approach him slowly, and let your hand rest gently on his back, rubbing your hand over it to soothe him. He visibly relaxes but then his shoulders start shaking again. 

“Can I hug you?” He nods and you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back. His hand trails down and laces with yours. You both stand there for a few moments, relishing in the other’s touch. 

“I miss this so much. I was stupid we never should have broken up. I’m absolutely miserable without you.” Taehyung turns around in your arms. You reach your hands up and wipe his tears away.

“I miss you too. So fucking much. It still hurts.”

“Can we try again? Please just give me one more chance y/n, I won’t mess up.”

“I don’t know Tae.. your situation still hasn’t changed any. If anything you have become even more famous since we broke up.”

“I know that. But I’ll make time for you, for us. Just please. If we don’t give this another chance it’s just going to break my heart all over again.” You stare at him for a few moments and take in the sincerity in his eyes.

“Okay. We’ll try again.” Suddenly you’re pulled into a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you y/n.. Thank you so much. I promise you won’t regret it.”

 Jungkook

His heart sinks when he sees you laughing and talking to another guy. He just came to the restaurant to pick up his food and the last thing he wanted was to see you out on a date with someone else. He runs past your table hoping you don’t see him. He’s waiting to pick up his food and can’t help but overhear your conversation. 

“So it sounds like both of our friends set us up on dates so we could get over our exes.” He hears you say. 

“Yeah seems that way. I don’t think either of us are ready though are we?”

“I don’t think so. I really miss him a lot.” Your voice cracks but you don’t let the tears fall. 

“I completely understand. I really miss my ex too. We were perfect for each other and I still don’t understand where we went wrong.”

“Ah see I know where we went wrong. I got too jealous he was spending more time with his career than me and I ruined everything.” Jungkook can’t take anymore. He turns around and walks over the table. Your eyes widen in shock.

“J-Jungkook?”

“You didn’t ruin everything y/n. I only broke up with you because I was hoping you would find someone that could give you the perfect relationship you deserve. You were miserable at home by yourself all the time and it was because of me. I couldn’t stand that.” 

“I didn’t want a perfect relationship I just wanted you. I understood about your job and everything. Was I sad? Absolutely. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t willing to work at it. I loved you.”

“Loved?” Jungkook’s hearts sinks. 

“Yes. And I still do.” He feels himself filled with hope at your words.

“Do you think.. can we um..”

“You want to try again?” Jungkook smiles. 

“I would love that.” 

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 5- Milliara

Master Post

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Arriving in Milliara, the hermits are excited to finally share what they found with the Magistrate of Lairyon. Things....don't exactly go the way they plan, however. Meanwhile, on the hermit island of Eremita, an old friend returns.

___________________________________

The walls of the capitol stretch across the swampy marshes of mid-Lairyon, the only firm and permanent ground being the roads and city streets. During the winter months, when the marshes flood with snowmelt from the mountains both north and south, the walls protect the city from the rising waters as well as attacks from monsters and other enemies. 

Entering through the massive Kindness Gates of the northeast wall, Scar can’t help but feel like the gates don’t reflect their names. The sharp iron teeth of the portcullis bear down over them as they walk through, just one pull of a chain and the bars would clamp down and bite him in half. He glances to the side, noting the sharp halberds each soldier stands at attention with as well- faces devoid of any emotion. It takes Scar a second to realize they aren’t real people- they’re all the multiplication of one man. Very real, but magical all the same. Clones, with the real man as the captain. 

Scar scurries back to the group of hermits, looking around at the massive, sprawling city. A shadow casts over them, the pillar representing one of the eight core values set by the king. Kindness, casting it’s long shadow over the bright pennants and green canals of the streets. Wooden buildings stand on stilts, resting on the steppes and tiers of the city. From beside and beneath the houses, waterfalls pour over mossy and verdant lips of ground, water traveling through the city like blood through veins. Little boats carry messages, their fabric sails filled magically. They bob down the canals, bumping across lilypads and the flowers that live on circular islands, tipping over waterfalls but never losing it’s precious mail. 

And already, the hermits can see the center of the city, the heart of Lairyon. Three large buildings, white as aged cypress trees, and just as old. The castle, with gleaming towers that stretch out like branches, home of King Sor. 

In the center, a stout building with twin water wheels, spinning in their eternal race to nowhere. Moving water across all of Milliara, like a heart pumping blood. Water is the lifeblood of Lairyon, the island nation. The structure is a feat only completed through the help of all the cities. Metal from Dwarveil, flown in with cooperation from Foresta and Edenswell- their magic and animals. The mill, built by the brightest engineers from Darlon, and the water moved with the aid of Rivera and Watercrest’s magical affinity. 

And to the right, the newest building. The capitol house, home of the magistrate and Council of Guilds. It’s they who make the laws, with the magistrate as the elected head of the people. Vaulting windows that spiral up the shortest building of the three, and the flag of Lairyon at every corner and trellis. That’s where the hermits are going. The capitol building, to meet with Magistrate Dolios. Some call him the People’s King- elected by the populace, but in power almost as long as the young king has been. The people just keep electing him every new season. 

Doc rubs his shoulders, glancing out the corner of his eyes as they walk over a bridge, white twisted roots and pennants bearing Lairyon’s colors inviting the hermits into the city center. “Doesn’t this feel wrong, you guys?” 

“What do you mean?” Jevin tilts his head, slime squishing and a lock of his blue semi-liquid hair falling into a cowlick. 

“I mean...we should be more careful, man. We’re an illegal guild walking into the center of the law. Most of us have been on the wrong side of this man and his rules about guilds for years.” Doc tugs on the sleeves of his robes, the tattered ends sticking out like a sore thumb around high society. 

“You’re just being paranoid, dude.” Ren snickers. “Not all of us are hardened criminals that have done time in prison. Just you, Doc.” 

“Besides, the magistrate said if we investigated that mega problem in Gildara, we’d become a legal guild. Well, now here we are to claim our reward!” Iskall adds. 

“Why now, is all I’m asking.” Doc picks up his pace, falling in step with Xisuma. “How many times have we been rejected to be a new guild? I mean, we tried to follow Dolios’s law and get a license, but we were always rejected for no freaking reason! It’s not a fair law, but now all of sudden he wants to give us what we were denied? And why not ask any other guild?” 

Xisuma tightens his lip, though no one but him knows. His mask is on, protecting him from the sunlight. “We can’t go into this assuming anything. We did what the magistrate has asked, despite the clear violation we are in with his own laws.” 

“Just...remember that.” Doc slinks back, falling into step with BDubs and Zedaph. Both of which would rather not be in the busy city center. Guilds have been restricted by law, one of Magistrate Dolios’s early orders passed. A licensed guild is moderated, inspected. Safer than an unlicensed guild. At least, according to the capitol, they are. 

But unlicensed guilds have their reasons for existing. It’s expensive to run a legal guild, so missions often come with high expenses. The Hermit guild picks up work legal guilds would refuse, helping poor towns who can’t afford such high commission fees. To many of the hermits, the laws of guilds are too strict. They don’t allow for creativity, for individuality. To belong to a guild has become a status symbol few poorer or uneducated mages can attain. The knowledge stays within the guilds, and especially the Council of Guilds has become a country club of sorts. The new nobility. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve stood here.” Stress whispers, looking up the steps of the capitol building. 

“Right there with ya, mate.” Mumbo runs his bottom lip over the hairs of his mustache, looking around. Hoping no one notices him. Stress ran away from the high life. Mumbo was abandoned by it. The guild walks up the steps, an odd crew seen at the crown of the kingdom. A mix of criminals and nobles, mischief makers and rule followers, quiet souls and crowd pleasers. And their magic is just as varied. Guild members and other government officials stare as they enter into the grand hall of the capitol, clean pressed robes a harsh contrast to the battle worn and road weary hermits. Grian still has hay sticking out of his hair. 

The staircase, with velvety red carpet and marble steps, is blocked by giant magical swords. Guards wield the blades, keeping what they can only imagine to be riffraff out of the offices. “State your business, wizard.” 

“We are here to meet with Magistrate Dolios.” Xisuma states, lifting his chin proudly. The guards don’t move, only glancing at one another. X rolls back on his heels, the awkward silence prolonging until he’s popping his lips just to fill the void. He typically likes that stuff too. “I expect he knows we’re coming, right?” 

“Why would the magistrate, the leader of Lairyon, want to see a bunch of mongrels off the streets?” One guard hisses, nose wrinkling. “You all reek of backwater, why don’t you return to your-” The second guard is cut off as his sword pulls away from blocking the stairs to point at the hermits.

“What do you think you’re doing to my esteemed guests?” A clear, calm voice cuts through the air. A voice that demands the attention of every single person in the hall, including every hermit. The guards turn, looking up the stairs. And standing at the top, hand resting on the stone railing, is Magistrate Dolios. 

Curly brown hair, the color of fertile soil fresh from a morning rainfall, sweeps down into a tame ponytail, framing a tanned face and charismatic blue-hazel eyes. A soft smile creases between the magistrate’s beard. Purple and red robes flow down the stairs, a golden tassled belt denoting the man as the magistrate of the Council. “You put those barbaric weapons away, and let these good people of Lairyon up the steps.” Dolios looks to Xisuma, nodding his head and placing a hand over his heart. “I have been anxiously awaiting your return.”

The guards don’t hesitate to follow the magistrate’s orders, sheathing the weapons and letting the hermits pass by. Most follow Magistrate Dolios up the stairs, though Doc can’t help but give the arcane guard some trouble on his way past. For once, they can’t do anything to arrest him. The hermits follow the magistrate up into the offices, walking along the velvet carpet with awe. Most have never seen such riches in their life. Dolios’s words are just din. “I’m so glad you arrived completely unharmed. But may I ask...where is your guildmaster?” 

“TFC? He went back to our compound to research a specimen he found in Gildara. He didn’t want to waste a minute, so he left alone.” X responds, stepping through the door that Dolios opens. 

They’re in his office. It’s large, but the space feels tight. It’s full of artifacts and trophies, both manmade and organic. Zedaph immediately shrinks in, the head of a bakunawa mounted on the wall beside him. Impulse and Tango look around as well, all three members of team ZIT unnerved by the office. Something doesn’t feel right. But Dolios is perfectly at home, sauntering behind his desk and sitting down. His eyes run across the hermits before him, picking up a white feather from his desk as his eyes pass over Grian. “So, tell me. What did you find in the town of Gildara?” 

Joe steps up, repositioning his glasses on the bridge of his nose and clearing his throat. “When we reached about five kilometers from the town of Gildara, we became aware of the earth turning grey, like ash. But not just the top layer- the entire ground was devoid of life. Crops that grew died, and wooden poles were beginning to rot. When we reached the town, it was completely uninhabited. We soon discovered a crystal deep within the well of the town, which was unaffected by any magic we threw at it.” 

Dolios nods his head slowly. “So how did you take care of the problem?” 

“We...We didn’t. Two people- who we can only describe as being simple husks, devoid of thought, life, or energy beyond basic magic- appeared, attacking us. The crystal then lashed out, and we were only able to make it retreat before falling back ourselves.” Joe bites his lip. 

“You asked us to investigate the disturbance, Magistrate Dolios.” Xisuma steps up, brushing out the top of his outfit. “We took care of the crystal, sending it into dormancy. But the people of Gildara are gone. I think this requires more researching before we can truly do something to break that crystal. Based on my albeit limited knowledge- they don’t really cover this kind of magic at the academy- I do believe this crystal was corrupted by dark magic.” 

The office is silent, Dolios staring at the hermits. Finally, he sighs. “That is rather...disturbing news. Do you have any idea who could be behind this?” All of the hermits shake their heads in unison, thought team ZIT becomes distracted by something fluttering on the wall. “Unfortunate. Well, your work is valuable to my cause. I have learned a great deal from this.” 

Dolios stands, hand waving. The door behind the hermits opens, allowing the harsh light of the hall into the dark office. False raises an eyebrow. “So...does that mean we’re a guild now? A legal guild?” 

Mumbo steps back as he sees a dangerous glint enter Dolios’s gaze, though his lips never turn away from the charismatic smile he wears like jewelry. He closes his eyes, hand raising to cover his mouth. But it does nothing to hide the laughter, growing as his shoulders bounce and he leans back in his chair. It’s a low laugh, reverberating from the chest like a growl. “You really believed I would give you the honorable title of a licensed guild...just for that?” 

Doc rips forward, hand waving across and nearly knocking half a dozen knicknacks from the Magistrate’s desk. A few papers lift up, but the magistrate places a hand over them without even looking away from the puppeteer. “We did what you contracted us to do! You said we’d be a legal guild!” 

“You mean this contract?” Dolios’s fingers dance across a parchment paper, bearing the signature of the Order of Hermits’ guildmaster. TFC’s crawling, stout signature. He lifts it up, showing it to all the hermits with brazen eyes. A devious curl appears at the corner of his soft smile, and he snaps his fingers.

The contract goes up in flames. Ash sweeps past the hermits, carrying all their hopes and dreams along with it. “Why would this nation need a pack of roaches like you? I will let this unlawful congregation of...miscreants pass through Milliara for now. But you all are in direct violation of my laws, and must disband at once. You are dismissed.” 

“That’s not fair!” Grian shouts, scrabbling up Mumbo to get a better view- a better place to yell from. “You contracted us to investigate Gildara, you contacted us yourself! You-” 

“You need to learn to stop squawking your mouth, little bird.” Dolios cuts him off, twirling the feather in his hand. Zedaph notices red stains on the pure white barbs. “I recommend you all leave my office now, before your privilege as esteemed guests becomes the misfortune as unlawful intruders to the leader of Lairyon’s own office. I will repeat myself only once more. You are dismissed.” 

Doc is the first one out. Storming through the guild, muttering “I told you so” under his breath. Zedaph races out next, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Tango and Impulse are close behind their friend. Once every last hermit is out, the door slams closed, and the same guards that met them at the bottom of the stairs have arrived to escort them out. 

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

“TFC? Where is everyone?” TFC looks up, pulling the magnifying piece from his eye and setting down the black crystal. Before him, a knight in shining armor has appeared, or at least the closest version the hermits can find. 

“Ahh, Wels. What took you so long?” TFC grumbles, returning to his inspection of the crystal. The short tone sets Wels aback, brows furrowing. Their guildmaster is typically overjoyed to have a hermit return from a mission. Hugging, checking them over for wounds, and asking about the job done. 

“You know Alphasgard. Just a bunch of sticks in the asses.” Wels shrugs, feeling his shoulder ache where the bone and skin is still healing. Those rogues thought they could torture him for information, but they just made him mad. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Got some pretty sick scars to show off when the others return. Where are they?” 

But TFC isn’t listening, back to prodding the crystal with a metal needle. Scraping at the lustrous surface. Wels steps away, setting his shield down at False’s forge before returning to his home. He glances back at TFC’s crystalline cave. Something isn’t right. TFC would be hounding Wels to take a look at his scars. He always berates the younger members for being so reckless, but then pats them on the back- quite rough- and congratulates them on another great tavern tale earned. But TFC is alone, on the empty island. How long has he been the only one here? Just him and that strange crystal? 

And what happened to the other Hermits?

[stonebreakerseries]

Day 6: Luxury + “that was impressive”

Day 6 of @oc-growth-and-development‘s OC-tober, as well as the Fictober20 prompt. This one takes place some time after the final round of the Red Fury, and basically continues from THIS piece I wrote a while ago.

                              ______________________________

Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction)

Character(s): Riin & Crosus.

                               ______________________________

When Riin walked into the South Gate tavern near the outskirts of Vetrose, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. All around him, bodies were pressed close around tables, hunched over dice, deep in conversation, laughing raucously as they poured ales and wines and harder drinks down their throats.

Nose wrinkling, Riin slipped inside as casually as he could, doing his best not to stand out among the distracted patrons. Which was surprisingly difficult, all things considered. He’d put on quite a show in the arena, and already, eyes were fixing on him, flicking away the moment he looked. Idiot, he chided himself as he sidled between chairs and tables, stopping abruptly as a waitress cut past, a tray of thick brown stew balanced on one hand. He’d spent almost a full ten years in Talvera without revealing what he could truly do. Now, it seemed to be all anyone spoke about. The demand for him to compete in the arena - to engage in a friendly fight with a champion from one of the noble houses - had become incessant. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he refused, a new offer always presented itself the following day, the wording more insistent, the payment higher. Do us this one favour, before you depart for your homeland.

Huffing, Riin managed to pause in an empty space and scanned the room. It didn’t matter how much they offered, he could not be bought. He was a Kyriin; a soldier representing his people, acting on behalf of Kal-Kriyan interests. He was not a spectacle to be gawked at and gambled on.

It was a concept Talverans didn’t seem to understand. Not fully, at least.

A boisterous shout from his right drew Riin’s attention, his gaze snapping across. A drunken man stood, albeit barely, a card in one hand, a tankard in the other. Liquid sloshed dangerously as he ranted at the other players around the table, accusations of cheating and trickery being thrown back and forth among the competitors. 

Luckily, seated at a table just past them, was the man Riin was looking for.

Crosus grinned wide, spotting him at the same time, his huge hands wrapped around a flagon. A collection of admirers crowded him on either side, partially obscuring him from view, explaining why Riin hadn’t been able to spot the giant sooner. As he approached, Riin glanced between Crosus and his companions, brow tensing into an uncertain frown. This… wasn’t what he’d been expecting. When he’d received the man’s message, he had assumed they would be speaking alone.

Luckily, Crosus either read the misgiving on Riin’s face or never intended for his sycophants to remain in the first place. Before Riin reached the table, Crosus was already shooing them away with his bear-like hand. “Right then, off with you lot,” he said. When the demand was met with hesitation - even disappointed whines - he tossed a small pouch of coins to one of young men with a good-natured wink. “Enough of that. Tavern’s got plenty of room elsewhere. Go on - get yourselves drunk on a champion’s coin.”

Apparently, all was forgiven. There was a collective whooping - loud and sudden enough to almost startle Riin into taking a step back. Bodies pushed past him, the men and women seeming utterly unaware of his presence as they rushed towards the bar. 

“That was… quite a crowd,” Riin said as he finally approached the table. He paused, then gestured to one of the newly vacated seats. “May I?”

“Sure,” the big man drawled, raising a bushy brow. “Didn’t ask you here just to make you stand all evening, black-eyes.”

Riin’s shoulders tensed, but he hurried to mask it by sitting down, resting his forearms on the table. Unfortunately, as he feared, Crosus far from an unobservant man.

“No good?” the northerner asked, and to his credit, he seemed genuine. “Sorry. Heard folk calling you that lately. Figured it was proper.” He snorted, bringing his flagon to his lips. “Should’ve known it was probably an insult. Fucking Talverans…”

Riin had to admit, the man was oddly disarming. And relatable. So much so that he found himself relaxing into a smile, offering a resigned shrug of his own. “It’s not an insult. Just…” He hesitated, but decided it didn’t hurt to share. “I’d hoped no one would find out. That’s all.” He huffed. “I was so close, too. Being called that name just reminds me of my own failure.”

Crosus grunted. “Yeah. That kind of fame’s more trouble than it’s worth, isn’t it?” Raising a hand, he flagged one of the waitstaff, who seemed to have been loitering nearby. “You - yeah lad, you. Bring my friend here some of the good stuff.” He paused, glancing at his own drink. “Another for me, too.” Again, he tossed a small pouch of coins, the scrawny young man catching it between shaking, over-eager palms before scurrying away. Crosus just smirked, leaning in, brown eyes gleaming wickedly. “Turns out, tipping well gets you special treatment.” He leaned back again, laughing, and slapped the table with a thunderous palm. “Who knew, huh?”

Every soul in Talvera, Riin thought, amused. But he just shared in the man’s laughter, enjoying the luxury of being away from the palace. Of not having to second-guess every move he made. Soon, he had a drink in his hand, and before he knew it, half of it had already vanished. “I can see why you would come to a place like this,” Riin remarked loudly, fighting to raise his voice over the din. He glanced around, noticing a large number of watchful eyes flicking back and forth towards their table. “Being champion has made you well-sought.”

“Hey now - three time champion,” Crosus corrected, then chuckled. “The first time wasn’t nearly this rewarding. That said, they’re not all looking at me either. What you did out there?” He huffed, nodding to himself. “That was impressive.”

Riin just stared at his hands, wrapped firmly around his drink. It hadn’t felt impressive. He took another long, deep pull to delay responding. He could remember the moment so clearly, as though it had happened that morning instead of over a turn ago. When he’d seen Crosus land that blow… when Adiran had gone down and couldn’t get up again… he’d just...

“It was panic,” Riin said suddenly. He looked up at Crosus, mouth twisting into a rueful smile. “Not something I would call impressive.”

“Maybe,” the man agreed slowly, then shrugged. “Not sure your princeling would feel the same way, though.” Hesitating, Crosus sat back a little, taking a moment to regard Riin carefully. “I, ah... take it there’s no hard feelings about all of that?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Crosus barked a laugh. “True enough.” Then he jabbed an accusatory finger at him. “But you wouldn’t be the first person I’ve gone drinking with to tried to kill me after. Got my eye on you, Kyriin.”

A smile tugged at Riin’s lips. “I take it those men are no longer with us?”

“Who said anything about men?”

Riin grinned as Crosus bellowed a laugh, raising his flagon in makeshift salute. “Ahh... all the same,” he continued after draining another full mug’s worth of dark ale and setting it down with a thud, “wanted to thank you for what you did. Saving the princeling’s life.”

That was enough to stop Riin mid-drink. He lowered his flagon, eyes fixed questioningly on Crosus. “Thank me? Why?” 

What did Crosus have to thank him for? As far as he knew, he’d done nothing to help the man. In truth, he’d barely even acknowledged him, when he’d leapt the barrier and rushed the arena. The most he’d done was shove him aside, sending him sprawling in the sand. In truth, all he remembered clearly from that moment was Adiran, lying there, suffocating inside his crushed plate... 

“I know why people watch that tournament. The Red Fury...” Crosus' voice was softer, stirring Riin from his thoughts. The man’s mouth twisted, expression grim. “Everyone in that crowd wanted blood. Especially the ones who would never admit it. Must make them feel better about themselves, to watch good men die before their time. Your princeling…” Sighing, Crosus reached up, running a hand down his face. “I’ve killed plenty, Kyriin. Right bastards, most of them. But taking that young man’s life for a crowd? For sport?” Grunting, he just shook his head. “No. I have enough people looking at me like I’m no better than a wild beast. Don’t want to start believing it myself. I never meant for it to go that far.”

Stunned into silence for a moment, all Riin could do was look at the man - really look at him. The boisterous personality, the bellowing laugh, the tangle of dark hair that framed his face. For all of his strength, deep down, Crosus doubted himself. Who he was. What people thought of him. What he thought of himself.

It was something Riin understood all too well. 

“Adir---” Riin caught himself quickly, “Prince Adiran knew the risks, Crosus. A fight is a fight, and it would be foolish to treat it as anything else. Even if I had not been able to…” Shei-tar’s gaze, the thought alone was enough to turn his stomach. He cleared his throat roughly. “The prince does not resent you. In truth, you might be one of the few men he actually respects.” He caught Crosus’ gaze. Held it. “As for me... I saw you by his side.”

Another memory, clear as day, flashed behind Riin’s eyes. It was of Crosus, crouched beside Adiran, a lone shape in the middle of the arena. It was of the crowd, roaring their shock, their approval, their delight at the blow that had flung Adiran, bodily, over and past the red-marked ring. It was of Crosus’ large hands, frantic but ineffective, tugging at the suffocating prince’s ruined plate...

Crosus just raised his brows. “You did, did you?” When Riin met his gaze and nodded, he gave another low grunt. “Huh. You know, most folk thought I was trying to finish him off. Already had three offer to buy me a drink for it.”

For whatever reason, that shocked Riin. “What?” He rose half-way out of his chair, heat and anger rising like a storm beneath his skin. “Who? Show me.”

“Easy,” Crosus said, voice concerned. He rested a large hand on Riin’s shoulder, urging him to sit down. “Relax. It’s nothing personal against your prince. Just their small way of spitting in the eye of that shit they call a King.”

Somehow, that didn’t comfort Riin. The indignation he felt on Adiran’s behalf rose like bile up the back of his throat. But at the same time... he supposed he could empathise. He’d like nothing more than to spit in the King’s eye himself, if he knew no one else would have to suffer for it.

Slowly, he complied with Crosus’ request, sitting back down, catching his flagon as the northerner slid it back towards him. He took another drink, still bitter. Still sure he hated the idea of people wishing harm on Adiran just to hurt his father. “The prince,” was all he said after a moment, feeling strangely tired. Simply correcting Crosus was easier than acknowledging the rest of what he’d just said. “Adiran is the prince, not my prince.”

If he’d bothered to look up from his ale, Riin would have seen Crosus raise a dark brow at that. Would have seen the way he smirked slightly and shook his head. Instead, the only thing Riin caught was his final, amiable shrug.

“As you say,” Crosus replied. Then he sent for another round. 

[moneypedia]

How to Defend Against False Accusations: A Personal Defense and 5 Guidelines to Protect The Truth

August 5, 2018 By Drew Shepherd

[Note: This post contains details about an undiagnosed case of borderline personality disorder (BPD). These details are included for informational purposes only, not to spread hate towards people with the illness.

If you or a loved one have been diagnosed with BPD, however, you may want to avoid this article.]

Guilty until proven innocent.

That’s the new norm these days.

Our current social climate has made it empowering to be a victim. And any abusers left standing must be exterminated—whether they’re guilty or not.

Please don’t think I’m downplaying the experience of actual victims though.

I know what it’s like to be among the lowest of society, and the struggle of real victims is part of the inspiration behind this site.

But the inconvenient truth is that all these “abusers” aren’t the monsters they’re made out to be.

Why do I say that you ask?

Because I’m one of them.

And this is my story.

The Accusation(s)

During my early twenties, I got involved with a girl who I later realized had borderline personality disorder (BPD).

I’ve already written about the experience and I’ve alluded to it multiple times since. So please read that article before this one if you haven’t already.

BPD is a serious mental illness, but most people have never heard of it, let alone know how to diagnose it.

If you’re not aware of how people with the disorder act, this post will come off as a rant against an innocent girl who liked me—which couldn’t be further from the truth.

But to summarize, the most notable symptom of BPD is the inability to regulate emotions. It’s a symptom so powerful that a sufferer’s feelings can define his or her reality. And this is what leads to many false accusations.

Manipulation, emotional abuse, cheating, promiscuity—she publicly accused me of all them.

It’s part of the process of “painting someone black.” The BPD person goes through cycles of both extreme love and hate for their loved one, but once the relationship ends, the other party is permanently devalued.

Of course this treatment is reserved for those in close relationships with the BPD sufferer. Outsiders will only see a victim pleading her case.

I’ve stayed quiet on these accusations so far since most of them don’t have any substance, but I unfortunately made one mistake that appears to give her claims some validity.

So I’m sure that she already has, or eventually will use this evidence against me. And if her false accusations were to gain traction, they would not only destroy my reputation, but also the legitimacy of the message I present on this site.

The latter is my primary reason for defense.

I’ve always said that the Bible is the basis for my moral judgment, and that couldn’t be more important than in sexual matters.

Now do I always control my lustful impulses and thoughts?

And do I always prevent myself from viewing images I shouldn’t see?

No.

I’m a Christian but I’m still a sinful human being. Controlling lust is part of the lifelong battle against sin in the Christian life.

But when it comes to things like fornication and adultery, I’ve held true to my stance on abstinence.

And as tough as it is to be a twenty-something with this stance in our sex-saturated world, it’s beyond frustrating to be accused of doing the complete opposite.

I’m an ambassador for what I believe. And I can’t allow anything on this site—faith-related or not—to be diminished because of one person’s claims.

So I’ll go into detail here about what really happened, and then I’ll show you how to defend against false accusations once and for all.

Drew “The Player”

I’ll preface my story with a little background information.

I was going into my last semester in college, and it had been about a year since I saw my accuser in person.

Things didn’t end well between me and her the last time we were “together.” But I was admittedly still interested in her—even with all the red flags.

It appeared that both of us were sad with the way the first go ‘round ended. So I foolishly tried to work something out with her before the semester started.

To my surprise, I was ignored and indirectly shot down.

How a normal girl would’ve reacted

It hurt pretty bad after putting myself out there for someone I thought still cared. But rejection is a part of life, so I moved on.

What’s crazy though, is that she changed her mind at some point afterwards. And even though I never got a direct response from her, she apparently assumed we were in a quasi-relationship.

Now fast forward to February.

It was the week of Valentine’s Day. And while I did still think of her, I wasn’t sending a Valentine’s Day anything to a girl who I didn’t trust, who now lived in a different state, and who couldn’t even respond to my direct communication.

The only reason I entertained the thought of us getting back together—if we were ever truly together in the first place—was because she hoovered me back in.

Hoovering is a term that describes actions similar to what its namesake, the Hoover vacuum does.

It’s a tactic people with personality disorders subconsciously use to suck loved ones back in after a failed relationship.

In this case, she used one of the social media apps we both had to convince me that she was open to a renewed relationship, and that she had changed for the better.

But at this point, I was just focused on schoolwork because I had no clue what this girl was thinking.

I had a senior project for an external company that took most of my time that semester.

My project group and I met just about every weekday. And at the time, we were all trying to meet a deadline coming up the next week.

The day after Valentine’s Day, one of my teammates mentioned that we should go play trivia at a local bar. But being the introverted party-pooper I am, I declined.

My schedule involved waking at around 5:30 each day. My teammates were always out too late for my liking, and I knew I’d never make it back in time to get enough sleep if I went.

So I gave the whole, “Thanks, but no thanks” spiel even though I knew they wouldn’t let me off that easy.

Our team was a pretty tight group—especially for four people who were assigned to each other at random.

We had a ton of inside jokes by the end of the semester. And they were the first to tease me at graduation because my honor stole nearly fell as I walked across the stage.

So naturally, they all had a good laugh at me for not wanting to miss my bedtime.

Of course it was all playful fun though. I did get back at them numerous times over the semester, but I’ll admit that I have an off-kilter personality that lends itself to being teased.

So anyway, we went our separate ways and I headed to bed.

The next day, I saw an email from the night before saying that I was invited to a school-specific social app. I didn’t see the email until the early morning though because I went to bed early.

I had never heard of the app before and I was skeptical. So my first thought after waking and reading the email was, “What the heck is (app name here)?”

My second thought was, “Who’s the funny guy who sent this?”

Now I knew it was someone who previously had my email address.

Of course any student could have pulled that info from the school’s directory, but I doubt anyone would have gone through the trouble of searching their class roster, finding me, and then using my email address for the sake of hitting me up on an app.

So it had to be someone with whom I worked with closely or had a personal relationship with.

With these facts in mind, I falsely concluded that it was a prank from my teammate that the rest of the group was in on.

They had just gone out together the night before. And they always found a way to mess with me—even when I wasn’t around.

So just like any other time I felt I was being pranked, manipulated, or taken advantage of, I played along with the hope that the other party wouldn’t realize until it was too late (and this has been my M.O. since I was a kid).

But doing this, in hindsight, was a terrible idea.

Any form of participation on what I later realized was a hookup app would paint me in a bad light. And the consequences of my actions weren’t as clear at 5:30 in the morning.

After I made a quick profile—complete with pictures no man would ever use if he was truly seeking casual sex—I waited about 15 minutes for a response that never came.

Then after realizing how bad my actions could appear without context, I quickly deleted the app and went on with my day.

I’m not sure if I completely wiped the profile I created. But since the app was lesser-known and low key about its hookup aspect—it’s not like I signed on to Tinder—I figured this wouldn’t be a problem.

Outside of my own actions with the invite and the app though, I don’t know anything else. But there’s a chance that a troll profile made 10 minutes after I woke could end up biting me. And that’s why I’ve chosen to address it.

Now, I’m almost certain this invite was from my accuser. And I still kick myself for not recognizing the true source of the bait.

My actions gave her the apparent confirmation that I was “playing the field.” And within the week, she either started, or just made it obvious that she was sleeping with another guy to spite me—a wild and disproportionate response to the thought that your S.O. may be seeing someone else.

So once I confirmed that this actually happened, I ghosted her and all her drama, focused on my schoolwork (which led to my first 4.0), and then went along with my life.

People with BPD are notorious for doing stuff like this. It’s the reason why a popular book covering the illness is called Stop Walking On Eggshells (affiliate link):

They’ll cry about a lack of communication but then ignore you when you reach out to them.

They’ll go on about how lonely they are while sleeping with one of their (or even your) “friends” behind your back.

They’ll say you’re too stupid to complete a task but discredit you when you do it, and then raise the bar higher so you won’t reach the new mark.

After a while you won’t know what to do because she’ll never be satisfied. And everyone else will chalk it up to you not knowing how to treat a woman.

No-win situations and constant testing are common to those in relationships with these people—especially in regards to anything sexual. So I presume the invite was a test to see if I was some dirtbag who would cheat on his partner.

Now I’d hesitate to call it cheating either way since she ignored my attempts to directly communicate, and I had no idea what our relationship status was.

But the other “fact” she gathered was that I was a player who enjoyed casual sex (an assumption that would have driven a younger me mad with laughter).

Look, I understand that I don’t have a squeaky-clean Christian boy appearance—going through trials doesn’t purify the outside after all.

But that doesn’t mean I partake in the same activities those who look like me may be into. And it for sure doesn’t mean that my moral character is anything different than what I present on this site.

Of course it doesn’t help that I’m black either…but I won’t go down that road.

I should also note that I don’t have a personal Facebook or Instagram account. So it’s tough for others to know much about my life unless they read this site or talk to me or my loved ones personally.

This blank space makes me an easy target for accusations since I can be unknowingly attacked through mediums where I can’t defend myself. And there are no videos of me playing with my dog to fill the holes left by my “shady” lifestyle.

Usually this isn’t a problem as most of the people I meet don’t care about my online presence. But of course there’s always one person who assumes the worst case scenario. And it’s sad that in my case, this person was someone I genuinely liked before.

These obsessive behaviors were nothing new though:

This same girl cried sobbed in the middle of one of our classes—when we were both in our twenties mind you—because I didn’t initially return her interest.

She would go from spaced-out to depressed and then stare at me like it was my fault.

She even accused me of cheating after seeing a pic my mom took of me when I was at dinner with my family.

So you can imagine the relief I felt when I closed the door on that for good.

At this point, the only ones who still believe her lies—or to be fair to the illness she has, her reality—are people I’ve never met.

But I’m not even mad anymore. I’m just annoyed that my life is still negatively affected because I fell for the wrong girl.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the honest truth.

How to Craft Your Defense

So now that my story’s out of the way, how do you fight your own false accusations?

It’s not too difficult.

Just follow these 5 guidelines to protect yourself in both the present, and the future:

1) Remember the Alibi

As tempting as it is to piece together a story that makes you look like a saint, you have to ensure the truth you present is actually…well, true.

Since I couldn’t remember all this off the top of my head, I dug through my old emails and group conversations to get the timeline right. And I could always use them again if legal action was involved.

It also helps that I have an archive of posts here that clearly present my personality and the mistakes I’ve made.

You can even compare this post to the one I wrote on BPD earlier and you’ll see numerous similarities. If anyone thought I was lying, they could search the other 40+ posts here too to see that the story adds up.

But if you don’t have thousands of words as supporting evidence, just take your time, breathe, and write down what happened as best as you remember.

False accusations can cloud your memory when you first hear them, and your emotions will push for a raw defense. But if you start writing what you remember, you can put that passion to good use now, and update your writing later with more facts.

A story set in writing will be a great resource to have. You don’t want to lean on your memory or your speech when the pressure’s on.

If you write down what happened, you’ll also find other bits of evidence you’ll need to prepare your defense. And if your audience is really concerned with the truth, they’ll take all the info they can get.

2) Compare the Fruit

Perhaps the easiest way to expose the shakiness of false accusations is to note the shakiness of the accuser’s lifestyle.

This is by far my least favorite technique though since it appears to be an attack on character instead of the accusation itself. But understand that those two targets aren’t mutually exclusive.

A person who usually acts one way is almost certain to do it again.

And no, that fact isn’t judgmental. It’s simple probability.

This is going to sound like I’m bragging about my accomplishments and attacking her character, but let’s compare some notable points about my life and my accuser’s:

I improved to at least a 3.5 GPA in my last four college semesters within a STEM major. But I’ll admit my accuser was booksmart, so we’re pretty much even there.

I have never gotten blacked-out drunk (or even consumed alcohol). I have never taken an illegal substance. And I have never lived a promiscuous lifestyle. My accuser has done, and probably still does, all three.

I landed a stable job in my field more than a month before I graduated, and I’m still employed there today. My accuser barely held a job as a bar server about a year after graduating with the same degree.

Again, I don’t like expressing my achievements, and I never want to attack anyone’s character. We all make mistakes, and I made one of the biggest mistakes any student ever will (which she contributed to by the way).

But when someone’s lifestyle displays a clear pattern of incompetence, recklessness, and mental instability, the validity of their claims also takes a hit.

And that’s without mentioning that I’ve written the equivalent of a book here at HFE—a site where I cover my own shortcomings just as much, if not more than my accomplishments—on my own time and dollar because I believe it will help others.

So knowing all this, let me ask you, who do you think is telling the truth?

A tree’s fruit always gives it away.

Know who you are and know who you’re dealing with so any other lies are dismissed as the jokes they are.

3) Change “I” to “We”

The most unfortunate thing about false accusations is that no one’s waiting to hear a verdict.

As soon as those words leave your accuser’s mouth, you will be facing much more than one person.

Friends, family, social circles, even whole communities may turn against you.

And what began as a defense against one liar becomes a battle against an entire army.

So what do you do when this multitude of warriors stands against you?

It’s simple.

You gather the troops.

Find people who can vouch for your story. Get help from friends who aren’t blinded by the lies. Ask people who were neutral bystanders to explain what happened since they’re not biased.

I know I can get anyone from former classmates, friends, and family members to acknowledge the truth of my claims.

And since I know the mental issues my accuser deals with, I can also refer to a psychologist or another mental health resource.

An understanding of my accuser’s mind is one of the best counters to her claims. Yes, she acts in unstable ways, but they’re predictably unstable, and numerous people have experience with the problem I have now.

You shouldn’t be afraid to get professional help either.

Lawyer up if it’s serious enough.

Slander and libel are legit crimes. And if you can prove that your life is heavily impacted, especially financially, you may have a case.

So don’t go at this alone. You can bet your accuser isn’t.

4) Go One and Done

The biggest mistake people make when presenting any argument, defense, or reasoning is that they over-explain themselves.

Sure, you want to be as thorough as possible in your explanation, and you should reference points of that original argument to answer questions. But there’s no need to add to your stance or sate a mind that will never believe you.

If you’ve taken the necessary steps to present and defend the truth, you have to live with the results.

Learn to be comfortable with the fact that everyone won’t like, listen to, or believe you. Because the more you add to your original defense, the weaker it will appear.

You’ll also introduce more room for error. And it would be a shame for a memory lapse to cause an otherwise solid defense to fail.

Remember that it’s only your job to present the truth. Not to make others believe it.

I’m confident that my defense removes any ammo my accuser has left. So now the only claims she can bring against me are accusations of neglect—which don’t matter since I’m not her parent—or causing hurt feelings—which isn’t a crime in America yet.

I presented the truth one time, and now there’s no need to address her claims again.

Every accusation doesn’t deserve a response. So stay true to what really happened, and let people think what they want afterwards.

5) Don’t Even Fake It

These accusations have made me realize the importance of the Bible’s command to, “Abstain from all appearance of evil.” (1 Thessalonians 5:22 KJV)

It’s not enough to just avoid evil acts. You have to avoid situations where you could possibly do them too.

For instance, plenty articles on false accusations describe how to protect yourself against false rape claims. But if someone can accuse you of something like rape without an obvious fabrication, you are in over your head.

You can’t reach the point where a verdict is decided by a “yes” or “no.”

It’s one of the many reasons you shouldn’t sleep around in the first place. You are putting your life in the hands of someone who could easily change their mind in the morning. And you have to stay out of that gray area.

Remember to guard your character at all times. You never know when you’ll need to fall back on your integrity.

For example, I remember one conversation I had with a friend a few years back, and my accuser happened to be in the room.

My friend noticed that I received a few glances of interest from girls. So out of the blue he asked, “Drew, how many girls do you get?”

He chuckled while asking the question, so of course it wasn’t anything serious. He didn’t ask about anything explicitly sexual either.

So being the joker I am, I said something along the lines of, “I don’t know. I lost count.”

Then the both of us laughed it off.

But there’s a chance my accuser heard those words and immediately assumed the worst.

It would have been ridiculous to say something like:

“I’m sorry sir, but I am a Bible-believing man of God who has accepted the challenge to live righteously. How dare you imply that I live such a heinous lifestyle?!”

So I had a quick laugh and moved off the subject.

But even this could have added to her claims. So now I try not to even joke about stuff like that—at least not when I’m around people who barely know me.

You should do the same. But don’t limit your efforts to watching your tongue:

Always dress in a respectable manner.

Avoid the crazy nighttime venues—they’re magnets for people like my accuser.

And please don’t go to a hotel room belonging to a member of the opposite sex.

Presentation always matters.

Avoid the appearance of evil, and it’ll be impossible to even accuse you.

Grant Me That Chance

I’ve had enough headaches from my past relationship, and I’d rather not think about it anymore.

But it was important to defend myself here before any other false info leaked.

I hope none of it came across as too aggressive though. I wrote all of this to clear my name, not to get revenge.

From all I’ve seen, read, and now experienced, real victims don’t go out of their way to destroy their abuser’s life. They just want justice and a chance to finally move on.

So if anything else comes up about this, please remember this point and grant me that chance.

Contrary to what some people think, I don’t hate my accuser, and I hope she’s able to turn her life around.

If there was a normal version of her who didn’t have what she had, I’d love to meet her. But the ship has sailed on anything between me and the real her.

All I want now is peace and the freedom to live a good life. And I’m sure that’s all you want too.

So remember who you are, take a stand for the truth, and then defend it with your life.

And who knows? Someone else may come to your defense if you do.

-Drew

[marvinswriting]

Gut feeling

Prompt: no prompt in this one buddies, just check out bear's borrower!janis au. Like my g/t mg au its something i thought about a lot but never officially put down anywhere, but she did and you fucking bet im gonna write it

This is a long one boys, and there's still more i wanna write lmfao

Think about everything you know about borrowers-

-and throw it out the fucking window.

Yep, fuck your stereotypes. I'm Janis, and yeah I guess your right about the whole tiny-people-who-live-in-walls-and-steal. You're also creepily accurate with your borrower's code (so I wanna know who blabbed. Probably Gretchen, god. I always wonder where she was before this house). I'm sidetracked. Other then that, you guys got it all wrong. 

We are very much aware of the concept of not all humans wanna kill or harm borrowers. Thank you very much. 

We just know most of them do.

And we aren't as rare as you may think. Lots of humans know about borrowers, and you all think we're a dying species or a myth. No. We're just good at what we do, thank you. The goal is to live undetected. It's safer that way.

We also don't live totally alone, isolated in walls. Well, some of us do, and some of us wish we did. (Me, it's me, I hate my roommates.)

I live with Gretchen and Kevin. Won't call them friends, because they're not. We aren't close enough. We keep each other around because we'd go insane without the interaction from others. A borrowers life can be boring and isolated.

Its the total opposite of a human's. When the owners of the house sleep, we're awake doing food runs. When the owners of the house are awake, we're hiding away, tucked in bed.

And for a long time that worked. But then something changed. I think the owners of the house called it 'the school year ended'? Now the boy, Damian- from what we've gathered he's our age. But who knows, it's not like we can just go up and meet him. He definitely seems to be the most sympathetic one of the family. 

The dad kills any fucking bug without even getting a good look, so like- don't get caught with him (not that you wanna get caught with any of them). 

The mom watches a lot of gory sci-fi shows that always end up with the main character in some type of experimental facility so we don't trust her. 

Damian just hides in his room, playing music and singing along. I like it, its harder for us to be heard that way. 

The final member of the household is the fucking cat. Her name is Ariel which is supposedly a reference to some princess, but the only royal she is is a royal pain. Little bitch almost killed me once. 

I'm so off track though. 

Apparently, this 'school year' is over, and now Damian is home all the time. He doesn't have to get up early to leave so he's opted to not sleeping at night at all. Which is just great for us. He doesn't often leave his room, but Gretch, Kevin, and I have to be a lot more careful often resulting in us grabbing a lot less.

I glance around my 'bedroom'. Through the years I like to think it's grown to be decorated nicely. Unlike my two roommates, I pride myself in my living space. I spend most of my time here, so why not. Yeah, I have the necessities, but I also have other things like plants and makeshift art supplies. In the corner of my room is what you could call a bed and a bottle cap nightstand. There's a piece of a mirror hanging. We all found mirror shards and took them, and might I say life hasn't quite been the same since. 

We don't really look at ourselves that often, there aren't many reflective surfaces to do so. Yeah, I'd catch my face staring back at me in my water, or on a shiny surface, but it was never as clear as the mirror. As I look right now, I just look stressed.

Pretty accurate.

I've got a weird feeling about tonight.

"We need food."

"No shit Gretchen." 

Gretchen and I are sitting in our combined space, waiting for Kevin. I'm hesitant to call it a living room because it hardly looks lived in. There are four beer cap chairs (and three of us, it's fucking stupid- I know) a pizza saver as a table, and a bunch of miscellaneous items that haven't found a home yet.

"Hubbards are asleep." Kevin walks out from where he was keeping watch. "The kids light is still on and I couldn't locate the cat, are we sure we want to go out tonight."

"We need food," Gretchen repeats herself.

"We don't have much of a choice," I say, shoving makeshift grappling hooks and double-sided tape into my satchel, and grabbing another bad for food. "We gotta make a big run tonight. We can't guarantee a day by day flow anymore, Damian has to unpredictable of a sleep schedule."

Gretchen makes a noise of agreement, packing up her own things.

Kevin is still peaking out of the exit into the household, worriedly. 

"Janis are you down for that trip tonight? You look stressed as fuck."

I bitterly. "Yeah, I'm just- tired. And hungry. And quite frankly I may be coming down with something."

"They stay away from me," Gretchen says, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "Ready?"

"Let's just grab food and go," Kevin says before spinning around to look at me. "Only food, Janis."

I nod. No point in trying to defend myself when he's not wrong. I have an awful habit of finding something I could use for art and going out of my way to grab it.

But we have priorities tonight. 

We file out into the household, all pressing against the wall. The exit we used lead right to the floor. Its a debate on which was riskier, but I for one, preferred to be higher. Further from the cat and a better view of everything. Kevin mumbled something about keeping watch and made his way over to the island table the Hubbard had. He pulled out his climbing supplies and made his way up as Gretchen and I continued our trek across the floor, waiting to reach the kitchen to get to higher grounds. 

"It hasn't been this hard since we all moved here." Gretchen says quietly, but I understand.

"Yeah." I whisper.

We all moved into this house together maybe two ago. We tell time by the day and the decor around the house. Humans often put of decorations for holidays and it's like marking points though the year. My least favorite holiday happens during the summer. I don't know the name but everything turns red white and blue and there's tons of loud booms and explosions. It kills my ears and sends me into sensory overload every time.

 We've pasted two Christmases. I don't know much about the holiday, but its the most decorated, with fancy trees and cookie crumbs everywhere. A borrower's dream. But it wasn't like that now. It was hot and sticky, food got left out on the counter less. We haven't eaten anything more then the minimum to survive, if you don't count yesterday where we didn't eat at all. 

I was so lost in my thought for food, I almost didn't hear it. Kevin calling out, the patter of paws on the floor-

-oh shit. 

I whirl around just in time to have a paw whacked with my side. 

Cat.

There was no claw, Ariel is here for a game of cat and mouse obviously. Roles already clear. 

That didn't make it hurt less though.

I groan skidding across the floor, curled into myself. 

Gretchen shrieks and runs away, the cat's interest on me.

She left me for fucking dead.

Wow.

Rude, but unsurprising.

I'd fucking bolt too. I wonder if Kevin ran as well. 

My heart stops as the truth of the statement catches up to me. 

I'm gonna die.

I'd like to say there's so much I still haven't done, or that my life had only just begun. But that wasn't true. I live to borrow another day and borrow to live another day. But I was content like that, I don't wanna die.

Ariel stalks towards me again. I sit up and push my self backward, only to find a wall.

Fuck.

I can see Gretchen duck back into the wall out of the corner of my eye, Kevin with her.

To be fair, I'd do the same. I can't bring myself to be too mad.

"Hey, kitty," I say softly, holding my hands out in defense. The cat sits down in front of me, eyes wide and pupils dilated, ready to play. "Ariel, right? Good kitty. I'm not a toy."

Ariel doesn't seem to get the message as she lifts her paw.

No!

"Hey, whatcha got there girl?" A voice comes from behind the cat. 

My blood runs colder than it already was. 

That was to loud to be Gretchen or Kevin, to masculine to be the mom, not deep enough to be the dad-

Hands pull Ariel away despite a mew of protest, leaving me totally exposed in the open. 

Put the cat back I'd rather die that way.

My eyes connect with the boy of the household- Damian. His gaze travels up and down my small form and he lets out breathy 'what?'.

Once again, I know not all humans are bad, but you try not even being four inches call, curled up against a wall with a full ass living moving human standing there. It's a lot.

Damian kneels down so he isn't towering over me but it doesn't feel any better. I push myself closer to the wall, ignoring the pain in my side.

"Are- I uh-" Damian seems as equally at a loss as I am. 

Don't worry buddy, I didn't think I'd be getting caught tonight either.

"Are you okay?"

I can't exactly say I've been caught before, so I don't exactly know the 'this is a bad guy' red flags, but asking about my well being probably isn't one of them. 

"Yeah." I say, shakily. My voice is weak and seems a lot quieter in contrast to the boy's in front of me.

"I'm sorry about her." Damian said, placing the cat down. Ariel glares at me before walking away, clearly bored.

I could tell we were dancing around the important questions. What are you? Why are you so small? What are you doing here?

"My name's Damian."

I almost say 'I know' but believe it or not- I do have manners and hey, this human hasn't killed you yet, don't be rude and give him a reason to.

"Janis." I say, giving a small wave. 

"Janis," Damian repeats like he's testing the name in his mouth. "It's pretty."

"Thank you." I glance around but as I suspected, my roommates did not even attempt to come back. 

"You're a borrower." Damian states. It wasn't a question and his voice sounded sure, but his raised eyebrow told a different story.

"Yeah, we're real, just-" I take a breath. "Uncommon?"

Damian nods. He knew what I was right off the bat which probably means I'll have less explaining to do. It also made me feel safer in a way. It meant he's less curious. Not to mention he has yet to move any closer or invade my space, so I felt okay. I push myself off the wall a bit, trying to ignore how my head spins a bit from lack of nutrients. 

"I'm sorry if I interrupted whatever you were doing. We'll leave if you don't want us here or-"

"No, it's okay. I honestly am glad I stepped in then I did- wait, we?"

Shit.

It was one thing to expose myself, but not I'm mentally hitting myself for exposing Gretchen and Kevin too.

"There are multiple of you?"

"Nonono forget I said anything." I wave my hand as if waving away nonexistent flies. 

Damian looks like he wants to press more but doesn't. "What are you doing out here? It's like, four am."

"It's still early for me. We- I need food." 

Damian's eyes light up. "Of course! Oh my god, I'm so sorry then. Do you-" He pauses. "Do you need help?"

My instinct is to decline but- there hasn't been much food out and Damian seems genuine. Its either die by cat or human. "Yeah, help would be nice."

Damian smiles softly. "Can I pick you up?"

What?

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah. 

Riiiight.

"Yeah, you can." I smile, trying to seem brave about this, but I've never been picked up before. The only time I'm off the ground is with my climbing tools with my fate in my own hands. 

Damian places his hand down next to me, it's huge. The sheer size difference doesn't sink in when somebody is crouched a couple of human feet away from you. 

I step onto his hand regardless, trying not to concentrate on how weird it feels. 

"You ready?" Damian's voice asked from above.

Was I ready?

Why did I think this was a good idea?

I could die right here right now.

I don't know anything about this kid other than his name and his favorite musical soundtrack. 

What if he's bad news?

"Yeah, I'm good." I say, despite my inner turmoil. 

The ground beneath me shifts and as much as I like to think I was mentally prepared, physically I was not as I ungracefully fall backward into Damian's palms.

"You okay?" He asks, freezing. 

He was as nervous as I was.

This sudden realization gave me a bit more confidence in the situation.

"Mhmm," I say, patting the hand beneath me gently. "Thanks."

"Of course." Damian says, and we're moving again. Its a significantly shorter trip from here to the kitchen for Damian. He holds me close to his chest, his fingers curled around me slightly. Its comforting, and contrary to what I expected, I don't feel ready to drop. I can see Ariel curled up contently on the couch, and the entrance to my home from here. One of them at least. I wonder if my roommates are watching or if they're already cleaning out my room. 

Damian places his hand on the table and I get off on my own.

It feels better up here, to be further up. I don't feel as small when Damian steps away. 

"You've made it clear it's just you," He does air quotes. "But how many people do you take food for."

The lie of 'it is only me' is the first thing on my tongue, but I hold it. Damian has done nothing but help me so far and he already knows there's multiple of us. No harm in giving exact numbers.

"Three," I say. "One with a big appetite." I smile as Kevin comes to mind. 

Damian grins. "What do you normally take?"

"Whatever is out." I shrug, glancing around at the table. Just like the past couple of times, the tables were empty.

Damian notices this and is silent for a bit. "I'll have to conveniently forget to put stuff back then." He says quietly. I can't tell if he was talking to me or himself but I smile nonetheless. 

"So, you've never had options?"

"No." I say. It feels weird to admit that. Damian grins. 

"Guess you're in luck. Wait here." He turns around and walks over to a cabinet. Where am I supposed to even go? 

His back isn't turned long enough to let me figure that out, because he soon comes back with two things. "So I brought this because I want you to try it," Its a cookie, I know that much from Christmas, but instead of decorative frosting and sprinkles its dotted with splotches of brown. "It's a chocolate chip cookie. And I brought this for practical reasons." He lifts up a bag. "Its granola and it comes in these little chunks- well for you they'd be big, but you can just break them off as you need!"

I smile at the thoughtfulness. Maybe this kid isn't all bad news. 

He opens the bag and pours a bit into his hand before placing one on the table. Sure enough, a cluster of granola is just big enough to fit maybe two into my bag. I can break off a piece and it will last days (assuming Kevin doesn't go to town).

"Woah." I say softly, picking it up. This is the most food I've ever even been near in one place. 

Damian chuckles as I carefully place the granola into my bag miraculously fitting three. One for each of us. Damian watches me silently, I guess we're both still stying to wrap our heads around the situation. 

"Oh! I almost forgot!" He picks up the cookie breaking off a piece and handing it to me. It's the size of my head but I can just save what's left for later. Damian takes the rest for himself, watching as I silently break a piece off to eat. 

It's grainy but smooth a the same time. Sweet and salty. It's-

"Woah." 

Damian laughs, its loud and sudden, but also contagious.

I giggle a bit as I feel my face flush. I know he's not laughing at me maliciously.

"They're good right?"

"Yeah." 

We fall into silence, and I look around. I've been up on the counters before, but I've always been in a rush, get food, and get out. I've never been this relaxed in the open and certainly never so close to a human. 

I look up at Damian and he smiles. "What are you gonna do now?"

"Huh?"

"I don't know how true the stories are but isn't this where you leave and never come back because you've been caught? I won't tell anyone if you don't want to leave."

He had a point. But- the borrower's code wasn't law. More like- recommended guidelines? I mean, not true at all, but it's not written in stone or anything. Borrower police aren't gonna break in and arrest me or anything.

I think.

Besides, I didn't want to leave. I liked my room and my roommates (not that I'd admit that to them). They don't need to know I met a human. And Damian said he wouldn't tell anyone-

"How do I know I can trust you?"

The question had a lot more of an edge then I expected, but Damian didn't seem to take offense. 

"You don't. But, follow your instincts. I'm not trying to trick you or anything if that's what your thinking."

He did help me get food. Which saved my life. He also saved me from the cat, which saved my life too. Even before he knew I existed, he always seemed to be the nicest Hubbard. Something tells me his word is good.

"I think I'm gonna stay," I say after a while.  "I'll just- never tell my roommates about this. One of them flips over everything. She'd pack in an instant if she knew."

Damian smiled. "I understand if you hope to never see me again and if you wanna just walk away like this never happened, but I'll be sure to leave granola out every once in a while."

I grin. "Thanks, Damian." It felt weird to be so close to a human and already trust them so much. Something deep inside told me that this wasn't the last time we'd see each other, and that's okay.

"I figure you can get down on your own? You don't want me to know where you live or anything."

I shook my head, patting my climbing tools. "I got this from here. Thank you so much for your help."

"Of course, Janis. I'll take Ariel to my room to make sure she doesn't cause any trouble. Maybe I'll see you around, hopefully not under any life or death circumstances though." Damian grins before walking away, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I can hear him call out to the cat followed by padding of paws as a door closes. I almost feel as if I've hallucinated the whole thing, but the weight of the granola in my bag proves to me otherwise. 

I begin to take out a hook and rope while I think of what I'm gonna tell my roommates. Gretchen will flip either way and I don't think Kevin will believe me that I was able to fend off a cat alone, but it's what I have to do if I don't want to move. Besides, deep down I feel like I can trust the teen of the Hubbard household. 

Let's just hope my gut isn't wrong. 

alt title: how borrower janis got hooked on granola tag list!!! @realmisspolarbear @musicallygt @smallsoysauce @sourishlemons

[laughing-with-god]

Exo as Yandere (based on Venus and Mars signs)

(I personally think that astrology reveals a lot about a person and I think it’s interesting to look into an idols’ chart to predict how they could be.  As a writer, I tend to keep a person’s chart in mind when creating their character but in no way am I saying that they are like this.  We don’t know Exo’s precise birth-times and this is a fictional scenario.  Please no bitching in my inbox.  Please enjoy and share your thoughts~)

Kim Minseok

{Venus in Aquarius}

He was probably a friend to you in the beginning but somehow worked his way into much, much more.

Aquarius has a reputation for being aloof or detached but they’re very good at analyzing and manipulating.  His yandere is almost never detected bc he’s so good at hiding it.

Venus is what we are attracted to.  So with his Venus in Aquarius we know he tends to like people who are unconvententional or unique for some reason. 

Your race, your hair, your style ect… chances are it’s very different from the societal norm he’s used to.  

Probably has a thing for foriengers

Big Age gaps too, doesn’t mind if you’re a baby to him or a milf but he will almost always end up with one or the other.

At first he wouldn’t realize that he was obsessed with you.  

He would just tell himself that you’re a very interesting person and it’s normal for him to want to know more about you.

But eventually he’ll come to terms with it when he finds himself stalking and or emotionally manipulating you.  

I think hes very big on stalking tbh.  the reason why I think this is because his moon is in pisces and they tend to grow overly-attached to people. Mix that with his venus and mars in aquarius and you get someone who has an intense need to be near you and ALSO has the stealth and smarts to follow you around whilst being undetected.  

The Lightbulb would go off when he’s crouched behind a bush to watch you or something and he’ll be like “......damn, I’m in too deep.”

Knows that stalking can be very inconvenient and risky so eventually it’ll bleed into him bugging your phone, car, watch ect.  

Just to keep tabs on your locations.  he’s become accoustemed to your usual spots so if he sees you at an unfamiliar address then he’ll physically track you down.

Really good at tugging on your heart-strings.  His moon in Pisces tells me that he knows how to play with emotions and his aquarius side uses that to his advantage.  

but he’s very subtle and you could never call it out if you wanted to bc he’s just so good.

“Well, it’s just after all I’ve done for you I thought maybe....”

“I just want what’s best for you.  Would you rather have someone who has the worst intentions?”  

“God knows what would’ve happen to you if I wasn’t there for you.”

{Mars in Aquarius}

I’m not saying freaky sex but, uh.....freaky sex

it’s hard to nail down the kinks of a mars in  aquarius bc they could be into ANYTHING.  

All we know is that they are attracted to the taboo and unconventenal so the kinks are almost always weird and unsuspecting.  

Boy could be into feet for all we know.....

Anyways, as for the yandere side of him....Minseok doesn’t get mad bc he knows that tantrums are unproductive and can raise red flags

He gets clever.

he knows that the minute you pick up on his obsession with you, it’s over.  therefore he always has Plans A through Z prepared 

Most mars in aquarius don’t get jealous but I think Minseok is an eception given he has some pisces in him.  

he feels so deeply for you.

Yes, I think he can and will kill those that get too close to his beloved.  

But he would never be to obvious about it.  

A friend starts flirting with you and crosses some boundaries?  No worries, Minseok is patient enough to wait for the perfect time to strike. 

could be next week, month or year but he’s ready all the same 

he’s a fan of making it look as if his victims died in freak accidents

Like a guy will be fixing a car and minseok will just walk over and release the thing that keeps the car up so the guy gets crushed.  

Or accidently tampering with some brakes...

Or stealing someone’s carbon monoxide detector so poisonous gas can slowly seep into their home.....

Maybe switching up some medications to cause some accidental overdoses

Creative deaths that he enjoys planning and can almost never be traced back to anyone bc they don’t even look like murders.

Punishments?

Minseok doesn’t like getting his hands dirty much less putting them on you.

But he does enjoy playing mind games. 

he likes making you dependent on him so whenever you act up, he’ll just remove his support system so you can see exactly how much you need him.  

You’ll never even suspect his yandere, and that’s just how he wants it.

Kim Junmyeon

{Venus in Cancer}

Junmyeon has the ‘boy next door’ vibe and he wants nothing more than to find the ‘girl next door’

Whenever he sees a girl/boy that looks just perfect to bring home to his family, he simply melts and falls in love

Attracted to slightly younger or same age partners.

Likes smooth and lighter skin, BOOB man, long dark hair, shorter than him, curvier bodies.  

All the things listed above make him drool 

Also he’s someone who prefers traditional Korean partners (sorry but some people have a preference for partners with the same cultural background)

Cancer is the sign of motherhood and that’s exactly what he’s looking for- the future mother of his kids.  

So his yandere side probably developed when your relationship steadily grew serious.  

the more time he spends with you, the more he gets delusional about how your life will be with him.

You catch him calling himself your husband like three months into dating him.  

because in his mind you guys are already like an old married couple.  

Probably went ahead and introduced himself to your parents before you even got the chance to.  You wouldn’t notice until your mom mentions how sweet Junmyeon was when he took her out last week and you’re like  “....what the fuck?  I hadn’t even brought him home yet.”

Junmyeon is a textbook over-thinker and the epitome of an A type personality.  

He has everything planned out about your future.  

the wedding venue, the house you guys will settle in, how many kids you’ll have.  He has it all down to a tee

Very Overprotective of you.

has an obsession with being your white knight so he’s always jumping at every chance to protect or save you.

Even if these so-called ‘threats’ aren’t really threats....

He’s too gentlemanly to get violent with someone.

But he is very good at being passive-aggressive and pulling people aside to have friendly ‘chats’

And if those ‘chats’ don’t work then he’ll just have to pay someone to get his message across.  

has a burner phone for his hired hitmen

very into gender roled.  idk how to explain it but he wants to be the ‘man’ and get all the doors for you, pay for everything, take the initiave during sex or affection.  He’s not sexist so much as he enjoys old style romance.

You would have to be a fool to not pick up on his overzealousness of you.  So on a small scale you are aware that there is a yandere side to him, but he’s so kind that you just rationalize it as him being clingy and over-romantic

{Mars in Cancer}

Overall, Junmyeon is vanilla in bed but very sensual.  

the type to hold your hand and whisper praises in your ear while it’s going down.

mars in cancer leads me to suspect one weird kink; impregnation.  he’s just really into the idea of you having his kids. I don’t know if he’s even aware of it but he does get turned on by the idea of breeding and he’ll catch himself feeling a certain way when you guys don’t use a condom.

He’s also attracted to the supple parts of a woman.  Like the boobs, softer tummy and the fleshy thighs/butt

wouldn’t mind a slightly chubby s/o for these reasons.

junmyeon doesn’t really get angry unless your safety or future with him is tampered with.

Like while other yanderes would flip out at other people looking at their beloved, Junmyeon doesn’t care bc ofc he’s aware that you’re very attractive and he can’t control all the wandering stares.  

However if someone were to tell you that they don’t think you and Junmyeon were a good fit and perhaps you should look elsewhere...

heads will roll...

How dare someone try to jeoprodize all he had planned by getting into your head?!  Don't they know that you and Suho are the perfect couple?

Addicted to spoiling you bc his mars in cancer makes it so that he enjoys providing for his loved ones

He’s very big on couple outfits bc it’s another way of rubbing everyones’ face in how happy you two are.

Doesn’t punish you bc he worships you and it’ll ruin the image of marital bliss if he put his hands on you 

Instead he convinces himself that it’s someone else who got into your head and is making you act up

“Darling, I know that someone filled your pretty head with useless garbage.  Why don’t you just tell me who it is and I can have a talk with them.”

He likes having your friends over for dinner and stuff bc he loves the idea of you and him being the ‘mom and dad’ of the group.  

ALWAYS offering relationship advice to his single friends like, “Well when stuff like that happens what me and Y/n do is....”

His moon is in gemini and I think he is totally capable of living two different lives.  if he plays his card right, you’ll never find out about how  sinister your ‘perfect’ hubby actually is

In general, he is a soft and clingy yandere who you would think is harmless.  But those shady contacts in his burner phone tell a different story.

Yixing

{Venus in Virgo}

Lay adores innocence in a partner. 

Virgo is the ‘virgin’ so he’s attracted to the image of purity because of this. 

turn ons: younger partners, shorter and petite statures, big watery eyes, feminine clothing and manners, high pitched voices

He is also slightly obsessed with the idea of living in a fairy tale romance with you.

Most likely fell in love with you at first sight

Not the type to slowly develop a friendship with you into a relationship.

No, he makes his intentions known right off the bat.  

he will be with you.

Virgo is very analytical and he’s constantly planning ahead and reading way too much into your words/actions.

Sweeps you off your feet everytime he takes you out.  even if he’s just taking you out to dinner he’ll bring along a thoughtful gift to ensure you never forget how serious he is about you.

probably has a secret notebook that he has to take notes about you.  

“she mentioned that her laptop has been acting slow lately.  I should write down to get her a new one.”

“her face cringed when I mentioned cats.  I should document that for later until I know exactly what that means.”

Yixing is like a rentlesless student whose dedicated to studying you.  

he probably has a stash for momentos of you.

has pictures saved from your old social media accounts from like years before he even knew you.

he’s not a violent or obvious yandere bc his virgo side has already calculated the risks if he ever slipped up and he’d go crazy if he lost you. 

Therefore he’s gotten really good at hiding how infatuated he truly is with you.  

Doesn’t mean that there aren’t little slip ups

Sometimes you’ll be telling him something and he’ll say something that he shouldn’t know.  

You: “So when I was studying at-”  “(Blank) university, right?”  “Yeah....wait how did you know that?”  

When that happens he always just tries to play it off as if you already told him that information but you never recall these conversations. 

But he always changes the topic before you could prod any further.

{Mars in Libra}

In the bed he’ll be whatever you want him to be.

You’re a dom?  He’ll be your sub.  you’re a sub?  he’ll be your dom.  

Your kinks are his now too.

Libras are people pleasers and your sex life is basically just him worshiping and serving you.

he also never looses his temper with you, or anyone for that matter.

Libras are clever and charming and not known for being very emotional, so he has all of his yandere in control.

He rather work the people around you and plant a seed in your head if you ever suspect anything.

“Y/n, if I truly was crazy then how come all your family and friends love me?”

“baby, it’s all in your head.  Do I really look like the type of guy to do all those things that you’re accusing me of?”

“Fine leave me. But just know taht you’ll never find someone as good as me.  and your friends agree witht that too.”  

He won’t kill other people but he will blackmail.

He’s very good at getting information so if someone is getting a little too close to you he’ll just dig up some dirt and confront them with it.  

If that doesn’t dork he’ll just try to change your prespective of said person by casually bringing up how ‘foul’ they are.  

Doesn’t punish you bc he’s not your father.  As obsessed as he is with you, he still considers you both equals in the relationship.  

Soft yandere for you.  

Having placements in libra and virgo make it so that he’ll do anything to make you happy.  

Just say the word and he’s on it.  

Some yanderes try to force their signifact other into being the ‘perfect lover’ but Yixing is different.  

He’ll change the very foundation of who he is just to make you happy. 

Byun Baekhyun

{Venus in Taurus}

Enjoys older partners, prefers sexy over cute bc he’s attracted to mature people

Lives for curves.

Like Suho, he also enjoys the more supple parts of the female body.  Boobs, softer tummy, fleshy thighs and bigger butts.  

very sensual bc Taurus is about feeling physical pleasures so he’s constantly holding you or touching you ins ome way, shape or form.  

Weird but since Taurus needs to feel to truly get close to someone, the more skinship he has with you the more yandere he becomes.  

very possessive bc Taurus tends to view loved ones in terms of personal posessions.

You belong to him and he will have the biggest hissy fit if someone else is touching you 

Your dates are more homely bc Baekhyun is a homebody and he wants to enjoy you in a place free of distractions.  

Also in-home dates mean more cuddling for him.  

I cannot stress enough how important physical affection is to him.

He needs it to live.

Clingiest yandere.  

Because he’s so possessive I def see him trying to control what you wear and who you talkt to

But he’s very sly about it and tries to put in a perspective that makes him look like a thoughtful boyfriend.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but theres tons of cat callers in the city and I don’t want anyone making you uncomfortable.  Would you mind putting a sweater over that?”

“It’s just that friends are supposed to be supportive and if they’re not being supportive of your relationship...then maybe they’re not good friends?”

He’s not that delusional about you until you’re taken away from him.

Like let’s say you take a trip (without him) early in the relationship 

During the days you’re gone he’ll go I n s a n e

When he’s not blowing up your phone, he’s crying like crazy and working himself into paranoia frenzies about what could be happening to you.  

When you finally get back into his arms, he’s not leaving your side for days

Touch starved for you 24/7

He gets really grumpy when he’s not near you, so people think he’s a jerk if they meet him when he’s experiencing withdrawls.  

But if your by his side then he’s the sweetest angel ever. 

He’ s not good at manipulating so he doesn’t even bother trying.  he’ll be very straight up about all his yandere behavior bc he honestly sees nothing worng with it.

Like how the hell could he love you too much?  To him that sounds like bullshit.

{Mars in Aries}

very rough and fast in bed.  

Sex with him is either all night long or 15 minutes.  There is no in-between.  (His Taurus makes it so he loves long drawn out sex with lots of touching and praise, but his aries makes it so that he often gets horny and needs to get it out really soon.  thus, you also get quickies.)

mars in aries is a very interesting placement.  Mars is the planet of war and aries is a warrior sign.  Which means Baekhyun is one of the more brutal yanderes. 

I dare say Baekhyun enjoys pain during sex.  probably both giving and receiving.  

His anger issues are really bad.  

likes getting his hands dirty when getting rid of people.

His trademark is beating his victims for hours on endbefore finally killing them.  

Their bodies are always very hard to identify bc they’re always beaten so bad to a point of being unreconginazable.  

I don’t see him hurting you though.  He’s too in love to put his hands on you.  The only scenario is if you try to leave him, he might physically drag you back and rough house you a little bit.  

There’s two baekhyuns; the soft and clingy one that needs to be held by you in order to be happy

OR the explosive Baekhyun that thinks someone is trying to keep him away from you.

Weird but I think he likes bruises and marks .  

Whether it be from you during sex or one of his victims who fought back, he likes them all the same bc he has a slight fascination with violence.  

He also adores leaving marks on you too, if you let him ofc.  

His venus in tarus means he’s ultra jelous and possessive and his aries gives him the fire-power to fight back.  

With you, he’s in heaven.  And if someone tires to ruin that, he’ll raise hell.

Kim Jongdae

{Venus in Libra}

Likes girly partners.  

Docile, passive manners, pastel colors, feminine style 

Doesn’t have an age preference.  he appreciates aspects of younger and older partners so it’s really up in the air.

he is a very sociable and charming person so he falls for people who are also charismatic.

You have to be able to hold his attention.

he likes witty partners too, someone who can have quick comebacks and understand his sarcastic humor.

One of the chilliest yanderes tbh.  

He’s not controlling or overly jealous.  he’s more focused on getting you to like him.  

You can make an off-hand comment about how you think guys in sweaters are really cute.  

he’ll go out and buy 50 and make sure to wear one whenever you’re around.  

Even if it’s summer and he’s sweating like crazy, he’ll still endure it if it means being closer to your ideal type. 

Since you’re so captivating to him he can’t help but desperately try to get you to like him.  

It’s very important to him because you’re by far the most enchanting person he’s ever met and the thought of you not having a positive outlook of him fills him with dread.  

So his yandere side is based around how desperate he is to get you to feel the same about him as he does you.  

he’s a slave for you tbh.

he’s on your beck and call, he’d be so honored that you’d ask him to do anything for you

His friends and family may notice major behavior changes in him ever since he met you.  

He will immediately shed his own style to match yours.  

And he’ll start hanging out at all your usual spots.  

he’ll act like it’s a coincidence that he keeps running into you but in all honesty he’s practically staking out these places in hopes of seeing you there.  

As a boyfriend he’s extremely attentive and caring.  

One of those guys who knows you better than you know yourelf.

he’ll come by with chocolates, an electric blanket and pain medicine and you’re like”...what’s this?”  and he’ll just say “You’re period is coming soon, I wanted you to be prepared.”

When he’s with you he looses contact with the outside world.

Like it’s totally normal for him not to talk to his friends for weeks on end bc he’s so wrapped up in you.

{Mars in Cancer}

Vanila in bed but is probably a little subby.  

Praise.  I think he’s vocal in bed, his libra and cancer makes me think he’s very soft so I suspect lots of sweet nothings .  

Wants a family with you, it’s the great end-game.

Also big on providing for you bc he want a traditional family and that includes him working to support them.  

very protective of you.  

I don’t think he’s violent but he does loose his cool if he thinks someone is putting you in a dangerous situation or making you uncomfortable.

has a ‘damsel in distress’ complex with you and is always rushing to ‘save’ you

Your home is very sacred to him.  cancers are very touchy about their homes bc it’s their safe place so he’s not a fan of people just coming and going through your shared space.  

he doesn’t get angry at you.  

rather he self pitties and places the blame on him whenever things get tense between you two.  

“you’re absolutely right Y/n.  I’m so sorry.  I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“I know you deserve better but please just tolerate me for a little longer.  I swear I’ll work harder to become more deserving of you.”

Really good with twisting peoples words to get his desired affect. 

Like Suho, he also tells himself that other people have gotten in your head if you ever try to leave him. Delusional bc once he gets with you, he thinks you two are the perfect couple.  

Probably will try to isolate you at some pint.  

he will cut off some people from your life if he doesn’t approve.  

But he will do it by making them look bad and changing your perspective on them.  

“I saw your friend (name) doing some weird things lately.”  

“I know your close with them but I don’t know how I feel about them....”  

“I don’t like the influence they have on you.”

Overall, he is a very dedicated but tame yandere.

He will move mountains for you if you just let him.

Park Chanyeol

{Venus in Capricorn}

attracted to taller partners with duskier complexions and slender faces.  

Also tends to lean more towards older partners bc he likes mature people who have their ‘shit together’, so to speak.  

likes career woman/men, he likes professionalism in a significant other

Chanyeol will follow the normal ‘courting’ process because he respects traditions.  

Wont kiss you until the thid date, won’t have sex with you until you guys have been dating for weeks, follows all the rules of how a guy should treat a lady.  (even if you’re a guy, he’ll still try to be the ‘man’ of the relationship)

He doesn’t like trendy or revealing clothes on a partner, he likes more conservative styles.  

A person he can take home to his family.

Also has a preference for Korean partners (although I don’t think it’s a make or break factor like it is for Suho)

Very possessive of you.

Like Baekhyun, he also tends to view you as a personal possession more than an actual person with free will.

He knows what’s best for you and he’ll keep reminding you.

Wants you dependent on him so you can see how great he is at taking care of you.

Weird, but he will try to bribe you with money.  Financial security is very important to Capricorns and chances are hes richer than you so you’ll catch him bringing up how wealthy he is.  

“I can support both you and me, no problem.”

“If you just moved in with me you wouldn’t even have to worry about bills anymore.”

When you’re with him he’ll make sure you don’t have to pay for anything.  

Although he is attracted to ambitous partners, his need to provide for you and his mars in cancer makes it so that he’ll eventually want you to quit your job.  

Needs your only priority to be him.  

(well, until you have kids but that’s not till later.)

Capricorn likes control so he’ll love dictating things for you.

Caps are also very patient so he’ll wait as long as it takes to slowly bleed his way into controlling every aspect of your life.  

It’s a gradual process.  At first he’ll mention small things to you, but give it some time and he’ll be in charge of those things in a few months.  

“My phone is dead and I need to text someone.  Can I use yours for a second?”

(Three months later)  “Give me your phone.  I want to see all your contacts.”  

Sometimes he’s more like a father than boyfriend bc he’s just so protective and is always shielding you from things he deems unsafe for you.  

{Mars in Cancer}

Suprisingly gentle in bed but still a dom.

Daddy

LiStEn, Capricorn makes him want to be an authority figure to you while cancer makes him soft and gentle.  Mix that up and what do you get?  A soft Daddy dom

Okay, that’s my ted-talk.  

He wants a cute little housewife/househusband.

((I know what you’re thinking; “but chinkbihh, didn’t you just say that he like a career partner?”  Well my little grasshopper, his fantasy is to take an ambitous person (since that’s what he’s attracted to) and make them into a little housewife/househusband))

Wants to have that experience of coming home from a long day of work to see you with dinner ready and the house all clean.  

You getting dolled up for him and just for him makes him feel things.

If it was up to him, you’d never leave the house.  

Really needs you to get along with his family, it’s really important to him that you do.  

If you don’t, he’ll make you.  

His cap makes it so that he has harsh rules for you to follow but his cancer makes it so that he never really punishes you if those rules are broken.  

9 times out of 10 he settles for a strong lecture.

But, I do see occasional spankings if he gets really worked up. 

Kids are just a given with him, he wan’ts a family and his fantasy is incomplete without them.  

will be very yander about his kids too.  

Extremely protective of them.  

He wants you and him to look like the best married couple, the type that your kids will look up to and want for themselves one day.  

Pampers you all the time, esp when you’re pregnant.

also a fan of couple clothes and maybe even a discreet couple tattoo.  

Overall he’s a yandere who has a very specific picture perfect image he wants.  And you’re just there to play your part.  

Do Kyungsoo

{Venus in Pisces}

Won’t settle for anything other than the perfect partner of his dreams.

enjoys smaller partners, petite statures, a sucker for big watery eyes and impish or upturned noses, also more of a boob man than an ass man.

I don’t think he has an age preference but he does like a quiet wisdom in someone.  

Not maturity per say because frankly I see him enjoying a slightly childish partner, but some people hold a quiet air about them that just tells you they’re an old soul.  He’s very drawn to those people.  

To be honest with you, you probably didn’t know him at all.  

He’s a secret admirer (stalker) that you’d never even notice.

God only knows where he found you.  it could be from the bus, the café you go to, a neighbor, a friend of a friend of a friend.  It’s a mystery.

But boy when he saw you, did something just click.  

Prone to dellusion

heres why; Pisces is all about dreams, fantasy and escapism.  because of this Kyungsoo is someone who is really in love with love.  His yandere side just amplifies that.  He believes that him catching sight of you (on a whim in public) is destiny or love at first sight, he thinks all his stalking and love letters are just parts of a romantic courting process, deems you two soulmates before you have even said a word to him.

Because pisces is ruled by Neptune ( a planet that often blurs the lines between reality and fantasy) Kyungsoo is borderline mentally unstable because he genuinely elievs all of his daydreams and can’t decipher a reality in which you two aren’t together.  

Sends you a gift like everyday.  

It’s always an oddly convenient gift too. like if you accidenetly ruined a shirt one day, you’ll wake up the next morning to an exact replica of that shirt sitting on your doorstep.

While part of you is sorta thankful, another part of you is terrified because this must mean that your stalker is someone who knows even the most microscopic details about you.  

he also sends you love letters everyday.  

these aren’t just little ‘I love you’ notes either.

No.

They’re multi-paged letters filled top to bottom with utter poetry about a deep infatuation with you.  

as if the dedication isn’t surprising enough, the details inside the writing is wild and makes you insanely paranoid.  

Once you begin to realize that you’re under someones’ microscope, you begin to take percation by closing windows, buying locks, changing up your routine and investing in some self defense.  

He just finds this cute and will mention it in his letters

“While I do wish for you to say

[foxtophat]

/pant wheeze etc

sorry about that guys, i was going to post last night but like i keep saying, i got caught up in editing and soooo here we are!!  today’s chapter is all about kim, and kim’s teaching a masterclass in being a mom friend in your late 30′s.

as much as i strugged with this chapter i really REALLY like writing kim. she never got enough play in the games, so i guess i take liberties, but there’s something pleasing about writing an exasperated millenial mom going “please, dude, just get some therapy” to a guy like john seed lol.

i guess we’re all probably feeling kind of...uh, not awesome/active these days. which is fine! i’ve touched my face so many times writing this that i’m gonna have to go take a shower when i’m done here.  i hope you all are being safe, and i hope you work for companies that will allow you to be safe!  if your job is giving you shit about the virus, know that they’re the ones in the wrong, not you for wanting to watch out for your health.  oh, and tonight is the democratic debate, so go watch that and see if you vibe with my boy bernie, ok?  ok, be safe, i love you, wear a scarf if its cold outside

(below is the chapter text, so you don’t have to leave tumblr if you don’t want to! if you read it on here, could you like and/or reblog for me? i would appreciate it!)

Kim vividly remembers the day she met John Seed, just a few short years before the end of the world. He and his family had been in town all of a month when they had shown up unannounced to a potluck Kim and Nick were hosting, bringing along a last-minute macaroni dish. The three brothers were polite enough, and the big one seemed embarrassed by their offering compared to the other plates at the table, so Kim had let the party-crashing slide. Hell, she'd even let the strange brunette woman that accompanied them walk around her house like a second-rate psychic looking for ghosts. The rumor mill hadn't had time to chew much on them, so all Kim knew about the Seeds was that they were trying to put together a commune and the middle brother was some kind of preacher. It all sounded very tent-revivalist to her, but mostly harmless. Sure, they were weird, but they were hardly the only weirdos living in the county, so who was Kim to judge?

She had been standing alone by the cooler with a beer when John had sidled up to her. His reputation had already gotten a head start, having already stepped on Mary May's toes before showing his face to the town at large, and he was clearly attempting to avoid people who had already heard Mary May's take on the situation. Whether or not he realized Kim had already heard all about his unapologetic come-ons, he sure seemed interested in showing her his good side. He had been all smiles and charm, shaking her hand with both of his own and complimenting everything about the house and party and people. But, even as he coasted through the pleasantries and small-talk, John had eyed Kim like she was a piece of meat, one up for grabs by whoever flagged down the butcher first.

Just when he seemed ready to open his mouth and order himself a bad time, Nick had swooped in beside Kim with his hand extended, wearing his least genuine grin. Committing to another two-handed shake, John made more sweeping compliments and asked Nick a couple of questions about the airstrip. He may have even been genuinely interested in what Nick had to say on the matter, but in retrospect, all Kim can remember is the way he had looked at her. No longer was Kim a lifeless, prime cut of beef — now, she had teeth in the form of her redneck aviator husband, who wasn't buying anything John was selling.

Nick had smiled and waved at John as he excused himself, disappearing in the direction of his brothers. "What a fuckin' creep," Nick had declared through his clenched teeth.

Kim had thought then that they knew what kind of creep John was. By the time he began sending men to the house to intimidate them, she'd realized he was something much worse. He was something out of a schlocky psychological thriller, a sociopath with a rumored body count, who calculated each of his steps with pointed disregard for human life, gleefully buying up land for their cult and chasing all but the bravest away from their homes. There had been rumors about people disappearing, but Kim hadn't wanted to believe them. There had been a whole lot Kim hadn't wanted to believe. It was when John started calling, leaving desperate messages begging them to "just say yes, so I don't have to make you," that Kim had to stop hiding her head in the sand.

Kim barely had time to celebrate when he died the first time, what with Carmina being born and the world ending, and she had much better things to do in the years following than spare a thought towards him. It wasn't until Nick dragged John into their home eight years later that his name had even crossed Kim's mind.

She thinks about John a lot now, for better or worse. At first, all of her instincts had her thinking about him sleeping nearby. How much force it would take to break the bedroom locks. How strong and fast he might secretly still be. She would watch him work and think about all the awful things he would be putting Nick and her through, if their positions were reversed. She would question his every move, tired and sluggish as they might have been.

Nowadays, she mostly thinks about how tired he really seems. She thinks a lot about his eight years of solitude, and questions just how dedicated he really is to waving a white flag. The John Seed she used to know, the one she had underestimated a lifetime ago, he would never have willingly submitted himself to manual labor the way he does now. He would never sit silent and anxious until Nick or Kim bossed him around. At first, she had thought he was doing it out of necessity, being as sick as he was, but now... well, now, she's not so sure.

John is stronger than he has any right to be. Kim never had the opportunity to confront him physically before, so she has no idea if John has always been like this, or if it's something that happened in isolation. After all, eight years by yourself is a great time to workout — at least until your supplies run out, or you catch a sickness that won't go away. It should probably worry her more, but Nick's confidence has rubbed off on Kim, and all she concerns herself with is giving him jobs that measure up to his abilities.

Like today, for example. Nick and Carmina have started on a project together, putting together a hen coop worthy of housing Carmina's first pets, and with planting season practically here, Kim is ready to tackle her own construction project. Somehow, a tractor wound up on the runway, overturned and mangled as if it had been in a car accident — or a nuclear blast — and Kim has a plan for the thing's large, mostly-intact tires. With enough mulch and soil, Kim's sure that she can make them into reliable planters, and she might even manage to grow something worth eating this year. First, though, they have to come off the tractor — and that's where John comes in.

Kim watches John peel one tire off of the crescent-shaped wheel it's clinging to, thinking to herself again that John is stronger than he should be. He rolls the massive tire back down the runway towards her, looking mildly winded from the exertion, face red from the sun. He doesn't look anything like the walking corpse Nick had found a few months back.

Despite herself, Kim is impressed with his progress. When Nick had first brought him in, she hadn't expected him to make it through the night, much less the following day. It had been hospice care to her, at least for the first week — but then John had turned a corner, eating again and managing to stand on his own feet, and all at once Kim had forgotten about reading his last rites.

Slowing the tire to a stop, John wipes his arm across his brow and asks, "Here?"

"Yeah," Kim says. "That's fine. One more to go."

John nods, turning and retreating down the runway towards the tractor's mangled remains. Kim watches him go, waiting for him to realize how easy it would be to get away. She's a great shot with the rifle, but she's only got the pistol with her today, and Nick is all the way on the other side of the hangar. There's no fence on this side of the strip, and the overgrowth is thick enough to disappear into. It would take him a matter of seconds to escape, if he would just try.

But he doesn't. Kim has no idea why not — it's not like they're making much of an effort to keep him locked up. Nick does his best, but they're not a maximum-security prison. Hell, they don't even have an enclosed fence! With all of his experience managing a human trafficking cult, he has to see that they're woefully unprepared to hold him. There's no way he hasn't itemized every hole in their security and how he could use them to his advantage.

The tire has been partially popped off of the tractor wheel, but John's probably going to need a wrench or something to pry the rest of it free. Otherwise, Kim is going to be watching him strain uselessly, and while sometimes it can be gratifying to watch John struggle with menial tasks, Kim wants these planters done as soon as possible.

She marches toward him to size the problem up, only to pull up short as John tears the tire off of the wheel. Metal scrapes against itself as the axle twists, and Kim hears a pop when John finally leverages the tire free, leaving the wheel to hang limply from the axle. There's a long rip in the tire's lip, probably from where a security bolt tore through the old rubber.

"Jesus," she says, not realizing she's close enough for John to hear her until he frowns in her direction. She tries to mask for her concern over his uncanny strength, but all she has going for her these days is motherly frustration. "You could have hurt yourself," she scolds, as if that's going to cover it.

John huffs. "Why does that matter?" he asks.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we don't exactly have a doctor to take you to if you slice your arm on rusted machinery and contract tetanus."

Considering how passive John's been, it comes as something of a surprise when he heaves a frustrated sigh, bracing the tire with both hands and doing his best to ignore Kim while she stands right next to him. It's just irritating enough that she sticks her foot out to block the tire, eyeballing him defiantly and mentally daring him to keep being a baby. Ugh, as if a man like him could be intimidated by a 40-year-old mom's unimpressed glare.

He ducks his eyes. "Alright, fine," he surrenders.

Kim lets him roll on, following with a furrowed brow as she tries to figure out what his deal is. The John she remembers would never put up with the kind of disrespect Kim shows him. He would be... seething, or something. Planning to murder her, probably. But if he was going to murder them, he would have done it already. He definitely would have done it when Nick let him sleep in their room. But every opening he has, he ignores in favor of the full surrender he'd willingly placed himself under.

Once John sets the tire down, wiping his forehead clear of sweat, he asks, "What's next on your list of petty tortures?"

If John thinks being petulant will get him anywhere with Kim, he is sorely mistaken. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow and asks, "Do you really think this is me trying to torture you?" She can't help but be a little offended — as if she couldn't come up with something worse than household chores if she wanted.

"I don't know what to think," John sighs.

Kim can count the number of times John has been honest with her on one hand, and that's including before the bombs dropped. A few minutes ago, she might've entertained his mild back-talking to dig at his motivations, but she's certainly not in the mood now.

"You don't need to think," she says. "Just do what I tell you."

It's as easily said as done with John, who shuts up with a deep frown and follows Kim mutely for the next hour or two, helping her shovel a mixture of composted leaves and topsoil into a wheelbarrow. They have to make three trips to get enough to fill the tires, which is sweaty, smelly work that Kim won't leave to John alone. Even if she didn't want to get her hands dirty, she would feel guilty if she made him do it by himself, considering it's a job she could easily do alone.

Once they've finished dumping the dirt into the makeshift planters, Kim turns to John with a critical eye. At last, she offers him more than a few curt orders.

"This isn't supposed to be torture, you know," she tells him. "Everything we tell you to do, it's because it needs to be done, not because we want to watch you suffer."

"It must help," John grunts.

"Honestly? Not really." Kim sits on one tire, watching John shift his weight between his feet. He somehow seems small, even as he stands over her. "I've seen enough suffering to last a lifetime. Haven't you?"

John doesn't respond. He turns his head to stare at the hangar — probably wishing he was putting the coop together with Nick, who loves it when John is quietly repentant, and who hates talking about this kind of stuff in general. If Carmina weren't over there, John would definitely be trying to excuse himself to her husband's side.

"I think we're done here for now," Kim says at last. "I'm going to start dinner. You can sit quietly with me, or go help Carmina and Nick with the coop."

She refuses to pick for him, leaving him to look between the hangar and the fire-pit and debate on his own whether he wants to deal with Kim's weak interrogation skills or being in the same room as Carmina for any length of time. Any time she gives him a choice, he usually goes for whatever will keep him busier, but he seems actively repulsed by the idea of spending any time around Carmina.

After a few seconds of consideration, John nods reluctantly. "I'll sit," he says, almost as though he's admitting defeat. When Kim leads him over to the fire, he sits on the same patch of dirt he usually does, even with plenty of seating options. He doesn't talk much, and since Kim has nothing to ask him, she leaves him to his own thoughts while she starts getting dinner ready.

When she catches him starting to doze, she can't help but sarcastically quip, "Some torture, huh?"

John shoots her a dark look in return, but it's going to take more than a mean scowl to bother her.

Nick and Carmina get up early one morning to go fishing. Kim sleepily sees them out of the bedroom, unwilling to face the gray morning chill herself, and wishes them as much luck as she can muster while half-asleep. Nick hesitates a whole lot by the bedroom door, still reluctant to leave Kim alone with John, but he knows better than to make a bigger deal about it than she does. Kim appreciates his concern, even if nowadays she doesn't think it's warranted.

They'll be back a little after noon, and Kim's list of chores has finally shrunk to something manageable, so she lazes for just a little bit before finally committing to the day. It takes her a little longer to commit to utilizing John outside, since she doesn't have any work for him and it would be great to have a morning to herself, but leaving him to stew all day feels wrong.

John's already awake when she goes to get him, dressed and sitting on the pallet-board bed that Nick let him piece together. He only looks mildly surprised to see Kim fetching him by herself, which means he probably heard Nick leave earlier. He isn't very talkative today, resorting to monosyllabic responses to her questions as they eat breakfast downstairs. He sits quietly at the table with Kim, not touching his food until he catches Kim staring expectantly at him. Kim shouldn't be surprised — after eight years on his own, he's probably more comfortable in silence. Either that, or he talked himself out of words down in that bunker of his. She would ask, but John avoids talking about his time underground at all costs, and she doesn't see today being any different.

Kim waits until they've gotten out into the yard to reveal her cigar box full of seed packets. "It's a little early to start planting," she explains, "But I have a good feeling about this batch of spinach."

John waits expectantly, his frown deepening as Kim fails to elaborate on his part in all of this. "You want my help," he realizes at last. "...With gardening ."

He says it with so much disbelief that Kim almost thinks he's making fun of her. "What did you think we were going to do after we filled these things with soil?" she asks. "They needed to sit, and now we need to plant. You're here, so you're helping me."

"I —" John stares at her, biting the inside of his cheek as though he's trying to mind himself. "That isn't going to work. You'd be better off letting me dismantle the tractor for scrap."

"I'm not asking you to do that," Kim points out, "I'm asking you to poke some holes in the dirt. This isn't rocket science. Even Carmina can do it."

"Then have Carmina do it ," John snaps, immediately clenching his jaw to try and prevent another outburst.

"If you're trying to give me trouble just because Nick isn't around, then I'll just put you back in your room."

John sulks for a few seconds, weighing his words now that he's out on thin ice. "Plants and I aren't compatible," he grudgingly admits. "I have a black thumb. And this is important work, I don't — I don't understand why you would risk it."

Kim tries hard to resist pulling on her kid gloves, and yet she still can't help but go easy on him. "John, it's an irradiated wasteland. You are the least of these plants' concerns. All you have to do is follow instructions. You can do that, right?"

She expects him to roll his eyes or get huffy at her coddling him, even just a little, but he only nods in return. "Yes," he says, falling back into what can't possibly be comfortable subservience.

Well, it works for Kim — he doesn't try to fight her as she shows him how to space out the holes, how deep to make them and how many seeds to put in each one. She watches him finish a row before she decides he's got it, and settles in across from him to start on the opposite side of the planter. John looks surprised that she's working with him, but she finds digging in the dirt relaxing, and she's got to pass the time somehow.

Kim enjoys gardening, getting her hands dirty while ensuring she and her family have plenty of food. She'd never really gotten the chance to practice before the bombs, but that didn't stop her from growing some sad looking carrots and potatoes last year. They plant spinach and beets, as well as some carrots that Kim doubts will survive. The other planter stays empty, but Kim has a plan to grow some soybeans later in the season, and if the seeds don't take, maybe corn will.

John is wholly focused on his side of the planter, meticulously careful, like this is some kind of exact science that he barely understands. A city boy through and through, Kim supposes — it isn't like a hotshot lawyer from Atlanta would spend much time at the local community garden, right? His history with gardening is probably littered with dead ferns and succulents that couldn't survive his negligence.

When he sits back to rest a minute, four straight rows like spokes in front of him, Kim throws him a bone. "Looking pretty good."

"Don't patronize me."

Kim rolls her eyes. Of course John would be incapable of taking even the most mundane compliment, no matter how genuinely Kim might give it. "I'm not. You're doing a good job."

John sighs heavily, still very much not believing her, but he doesn't argue the point.

Nick and Carmina return just after John finishes his final row. Usually, Carmina comes back looking pretty defeated, as fishing isn't something she's gotten the hang of yet, and Nick will try not to let on that he did poorly on purpose to make her feel better. Today, though, Carmina marches with a straight back and a big grin, and Nick follows her with a bucket of smallmouth bass.

"Who wants fish?" Nick calls triumphantly, visibly excited for Carmina to finally have a "big catch" story.

Kim stands, knocking the dirt off of her knees, and takes a look at the radial design left behind in the soil. She's going to have to water and keep a close eye on these little suckers, but with any luck, they'll grow at least enough to make for good compost. It would be nice to have some impressive produce to trade, though, so here's hoping that spinach turns out.

"Hard part's over," Kim tells John, who reluctantly follows her lead and climbs to his feet. "Now, it's a waiting game."

"I wouldn't expect miracles," John mutters. Kim pretends not to hear him.

John avoids the garden as much as he can once the planting is done. Kim doesn't need his help, so she doesn't press it, but she notices whenever he surreptitiously checks the progress the seeds are making. He seems happy enough to be done handling them, but Kim bets he's still keeping an eye out for any evidence of failure. Kim doesn't want to take away Nick's extra pair of hands, especially considering how hard work seems to comfort John more than long stretches of silence surrounded by dirt, so for the first two weeks, Kim handles most of the gardening herself.

Nick and him have been steadily chipping away at Nick's list of home repairs, their DIY solutions changing the topography of the family home bit by bit. The roof is dotted with white shingles cobbled together from old siding, the windows have been boarded up with full sheets of plywood instead of haphazard wooden planks, and part of the hangar's exposed roof has been covered by a quilt of stitched together pieces of tarp. They've even managed to clear back some of the vines that have been swallowing every structure in the valley. Nick has pretty much given up on letting John do everything by himself by now, although he definitely delegates the harder work to John and takes the first drink of water whenever they take a break. Nick has always been a hands-on kind of guy, though — sitting by while there's work to be done goes against his nature. It had only been a matter of time before he demanded to pull his own weight.

Kim checks the plants more frequently and obviously than John does. She had been expecting most of the plants to fail, considering the packets they came from are easily eight years old and thrown into an old box with no thought to preserving them, but a week in and they seem to have taken pretty well. Tiny, two-leaf sprouts have started to poke their way through the soil where the spinach was planted. The beets don't seem to have done quite as well, but surviving tiny sprouts have also started to show. Kim doesn't trust the carrots, but it'll be another week or so before they start seeing any results from them, so she withholds judgment for now.

"Been thinking about going into town," Nick mentions one night as the four of them eat dinner at the table. John still seems uneasy sitting with them instead of on the stairs or in his room, but at least he doesn't need someone to goad him into eating.

Carmina's face lights up. "Can I come?" she asks, practically before Nick has finished speaking. From the way Nick smiles at her, Kim's sure he was about to suggest that very thing, which makes it easy for Kim to agree.

"Sure," she says. "As long as your dad promises not to cut across the field this time. No," she scolds Nick as he opens his mouth to argue, "There's a herd of bison out there that are as big as the car, and you are not a matador, Nick."

"What's the point of an apocalypse if I gotta follow all the roads?" Nick complains, relenting with a theatrical sigh. "You're right," he admits, emphasizing for Carmina, "Your mom's right. The roads are a lot safer than any open field."

Kim glances at John, who has his head down over his plate, looking uncomfortable with the conversation circling so close to him. Nick follows her line of sight, frowns, and then asks, "So, uh, John... You got any interest in going into town?"

John swallows the bite he just took, wincing as it goes down wrong. "No," he croaks.

"Okay," Nick says, not at all upset to hear it. "That leaves just you and me, sweetheart."

Later on, once they're getting ready for bed, Nick can't help but circle back, horrified by his own gall. "What would I have done if he'd said yes?" he asks Kim. "He'd incite a riot just by showing his face. The second everybody knows he's alive..."

"It's going to happen eventually," Kim says. "I think we should at least let him make the choice about when ."

Nick accepts her reasoning with a petulant, "I guess, " but he spends another hour or two silently turning it over in his head.

They don't leave until after breakfast, which Nick lets John be part of. He's still sensitive about sharing his family time with anybody, much less John, but he's getting used to it bit by bit. Kim would blame it on the apocalypse if it weren't for the fact that he's always been very protective of his mornings.

John looks uneasy as Nick and Carmina head out, tensing at the sound of the car starting. Kim isn't all that used to it either, but at least they managed to find a car and enough gas to make the occasional trip to town possible.

Well, since there's nobody else around, and nothing left for Kim to do, she decides it time to bring John back to the garden.

"Ready to learn how to weed?" she asks.

To his credit, John waits until they're outside and facing down the lightly weeding planter to argue. "There's still a lot of work to do in the hangar," he says. "Doesn't that sound like a better use for me?"

"No," she replies. "You need to know how to do this." She sighs when he remains standing, staring up at him unimpressed. "Either you help me with this, or you can go pout in your room about it."

Kim waits until John reluctantly sits on his knees to join him. She walks him through the process of prying up the thin, quickly growing stems, tossing them into the bucket between them, and shows him how to pull out the root systems that might get left behind. Most of the weeds that are growing are small, but those pernicious vines have been reportedly growing like crazy in any and all soil and Kim doesn't want to give them a chance to cozy up to her produce.

It's not complicated work, so John picks it up fast, but he goes tediously slow, almost to the point where Kim thinks he's messing with her. Well, the joke's on him — Kim has raised one of the most independent children in the state, and she knows how to deal with petulance. She's fine with long stretches of silence, she's fine with dirt, and she's fine with leaving people to stew.

"Have you always been a gardener?" John asks after a length time, rushing the words as if he'd been chewing them over for too long and he just wants them out of his mouth.

John rarely ever asks questions that aren't about his so-called punishment, so Kim is inclined to indulge him. "No, not really," she answers. "My mom grew flowers, and I would try to keep those little starter herb kits alive every so often, but I never really dedicated my time to it." She hesitates, hopefully not noticeably, and adds, "We had some old gardening magazines in a box in the bunker. They turned out to be a good way to pass the time. You know?"

John hums neutrally in response. Kim hadn't expected much better; even casual talk about life underground shuts John up pretty fast. It's such an obvious psychological scar that even Nick can't miss it, and although the two of them will speculate, neither of them have so far pushed hard enough to find out more. Kim doesn't know if John's trauma is the Pandora's box she wants to open, but she has so many questions and so many worries that could be put to rest if she could just figure out how to interrogate him about it.

She's being too obvious, staring at him like she is, and John is quick to catch her. His brow furrows as he stares back expectantly. Probably waiting for her to drag the information she wants out of him, no doubt, the same way he would rip confessions out of people.

When she fails to do whatever it is he's waiting for, he turns his attention back to the remaining weeds. Frustration colors his voice when he eventually speaks.

"I wish you wouldn't stare at me."

"I usually look at people who ask me questions," Kim replies, trying not to be pedantic and failing pretty miserably.

"Just tell me what you want from me."

Kim sits back on her heels, wiping her forehead with a dirty hand. "I don't really know," she admits. She probably shouldn't be so honest with him, so open about her lack of motivation, but she can't see any reason to lie. Maybe telling him the truth will encourage him to do the same? She knows that's wishful thinking, but it's worth a try.

"I guess I want you to... prove you're trying. That this isn't all some kind of act. But honestly, I don't know what kind of proof would convince me. There's eight years of blank history that might help, but you don't want to talk about it."

She doesn't hesitate to bring up the bunker this time, even when it makes him squirm. She can see him working on a response and heads it off as best she can.

"Look," she says, "You don't have to tell me now. You don't even have to tell me . But eventually, if you're really serious about making amends, you're going to have to tell someone ."

For a moment, John rests his fingers in the dirt as if he might just go back to his work. He's staring at the green leaves, waiting for one of the plants to give him the right answer, the one that will make the conversation end before he has to get involved.

Finally, terribly lost and frustrated at himself for winding up that way, he asks, "Why won't you just make me ?"

His uncertainty settles in Kim's stomach like a lead weight. He refuses to look at her, and somehow that makes it worse. She knows Nick would probably scold her for being overly sympathetic, but she can't help it. She can't hide her worry when she answers, no matter how much it might chafe John to hear it.

"You have to want to get better to do it," she tells him. "Nobody can do it for you."

John doesn't respond. Kim doesn't hold her breath over it, returning to the remaining weeds. But as his silence grows, Kim finds herself checking on him in her periphery. Before the Collapse, John had been easy to read, his reactions unrestrained and sometimes bordering theatrical. These days, Kim can't pin him down.

John treats the fresh sprouts as though they're too fragile to touch, sincerely confused at the progress the garden has made despite his interference. Had he really thought that he could mess them up just by planting them? No wonder he was so sure that she was making a mistake, enlisting his help.

"Things are going well, given the circumstances," she says at last. "I guess you don't have a black thumb after all."

"I stand corrected," he replies. He looks at her briefly, but when he catches her watching him he's quick to look back to the dirt. Kim doesn't miss the way he continues to appreciate the small green stalks.

Later, after the weeds have been eradicated and dinner has been started, Kim hears the car coming down the drive. John is in the middle of dragging scrap metal out of the hangar, so he doesn't notice it right away, but there's no missing Carmina and Nick's raised voices. They aren't quiet by any means as they wander from the front yard to the back, talking enthusiastically about the monstrous bison they'd seen in the field on their way home. When John recognizes them coming into view, he stops working briefly, raising his arm to shield his eyes from the hastily setting sun.

"That's, uh, a pretty wide leash you're giving him," Nick says to Kim, having the good sense to at least kiss his wife hello before he starts in on judging her.

"He knows what you guys are doing in there better than I do," she replies. "How was town?"

Carmina is the one to answer, her excitement hard to contain. "We saw the bison!" she exclaims. "Pastor Jerome let me go to the top of the church tower! We got a bunch of stuff!"

She has a whole lot more to tell Kim, which she does in rapid-fire bullet-points before running off to unload supplies from the car. From all of her talk of apples, Kim hopes that some of them made their way home.

Nick waits until she's out of sight, checking to see that John hasn't yet come to join them, and then offers Kim a helpless shrug. "So, Jerome knows about John, I guess."

The comment shouldn't make Kim as uneasy as it does. "Oh?"

"Grace told him." Nick takes off his hat, tossing it onto the porch and running a hand through his hair. "He said he had to think about it more. But, uh... that he trusts us to do what's right. I dunno, he didn't quote any scripture at me so I couldn't tell how mad he really was."

He's watching John at the front of the hangar like he's surprised John isn't running. "I really thought this was gonna go differently," he says after a beat. "I thought for sure he'd have given us a reason to off him by now."

Kim chuckles. "Yeah, the same way you thought feeding the raccoons would make them go away."

"I couldn't help it," Nick sighs. "They looked so damn hungry."

John finishes unloading the wheelbarrow's contents. For a moment, he stands with his back to them, staring at the hangar. When he turns around, he straightens up, waiting. For what, Kim couldn't possibly say. She wishes he would just tell them what he thinks they ought to do already, but that's not going to happen any time soon.

Nick cups a hand to his mouth and shouts, "C'mon, I got a bunch of supplies you need to unload!"

John puts his hands on his hips, taking a brief rest before starting in their direction. Kim wouldn't believe he's the same man from a few months ago if she hadn't seen the transformation herself. She hopes all this change has been for the better, but she wonders if it's going to be enough.

[clintashaotp]

Author’s note/summary: Flashback to 2012 fics. Clintasha! :) it’s a little long, but ya know, it happens. Enjoy!

Just a Game

2935 Words

Friday, 5:43 PM

“Say you yield,” Natasha growls against Clint’s ear, her gun pressed against his ribs. “Yield and I won’t shoot you.”

“Nice try, Nat,” Clint manages, but before Natasha can register what he means she feels something sting and her arm twitches with an electric shock. She jerks away from his hand taser and almost drops her gun.

“Cheater!” Natasha shouts, her normally neat hair in a wild braid. Clint just cackles evilly, but when Natasha raises her gun and turns off the safety, Clint freezes.

“You wouldn’t actually shoot me, Natasha,” Clint says nervously, and Natasha shrugs, walking towards him menacingly.

“I don’t know,” she smiles, “maybe, maybe not.”

“It was just a stupid game, Nat.” Clint frowns, but the fear for his own life is too imminent for him to just ignore the weapon pointed at his face. “Natasha?”

“Was it a game when you painted my room pink?” Natasha is still smiling, but her voice is dripping with poison. “Was it a game when you traded in my guns for water pistols? Oh, and I’m assuming it was all fun and games when you decided to filled my SHIELD office with packing peanuts?”

“Nat, I’m so sorry,” Clint winces, and she just glares.

“Goodbye, Clint.”

She raises the gun and fires without hesitation.

...

Monday, 2:38 PM

“Fury said it’s a team bonding activity?” Tony shrugs, not looking up from the screen. “So, being me, I went above and beyond.”

“With capture the flag?” Natasha scoffs, and Tony shoots her a look.

“Red, you should know by now--I can make anything awesome.”

Clint and Natasha exchange a look, but Banner looks nervous.

“I don’t know if this is a great idea for me, Tony,” he winces. “I think I might...what’s the word? Oh yeah, murder you all?”

“Don’t worry, Bruce,” Tony grins, “you’ll be playing in the Hulkbuster, so there’s no way you’ll hulk out.”

“I don’t think the Hulk listens to those rules.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Tony shrugs, then gestures everyone to crowd around the hologram table. “Alright, capture the flag players, here are your boundries. I’ve managed to turn the entire Avengers Facility and the surrounding areas into an equally divided field of play. JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Can you please put the grid boundaries in effect, real time?”

The team turns around to watch a golden light appear, shining from floor to ceiling in a solid laser pointer beam. The line extends outside of the control room and out of sight, where it presumably marks the halfway point across the whole territory.

‘Woah…” Clint gasps, and Natasha just sighs.

“You live in the same building as arguably one of the most advanced mechanics out there, and he makes our house into a laser tag room and it impresses you?” She smirks at him, and Clint shrugs.

“I like the pretty lights, what can I say?”

“Since it’s fun and not a mission, I’m not going to let Cap bore us all by talking two hours to pick times.” Tony smirks at the group and Steve sighs.

“Tony…”

“You don’t need a pros and cons list every time, Rogers,” Tony throws up his hands, on the edge of a rant, but he takes a deep breath. “But that’s not what this is about.”

“Well, I think basing teams off of strengths—” Steve tries, but Tony cuts him off with a long sigh.

“The teams are Natasha, me, and Thor, and then Steve, Clint and the doctor.” Tony says firmly. Natasha and Clint exchange a look, and apparently Tony picks up on it because he grins. “Yeah, I gotta split up the master assassins over here. Sorry, lovebirds, but you gotta break it up for just a while.”

“Fine,” Natasha shrugs nonchalantly, and Clint just nods indifferently. “Not a problem. I’ll still kick all your asses.”

“You know, expect for the people in our team,” Tony grins nervously, and Thor laughs.

“You only put the Widow on your team because you didn’t want her to attack you!” Thor points out, and Natasha raises an eyebrow while the rest of the team chuckles.

“That’s totally not true,” Tony glares, and Natasha just shakes her head.

“When do we start?” She asks.

“Well, I’ve designed each team a different colored uniform. Our team will wear these awesome red uniforms, and you guys get...purple.” Tony grins, apparently thinking that purple was a punishment.

“What’s wrong with purple?” Clint frowns, but before Clint can launch into his defensive rant about purple, Tony hands out the uniforms. They are essentially normal workout clothes in the color of the team, except Steve’s purple workout clothes are embossed with purple Stars and Stripes of various shades.

“Each team member gets a holographic communication device, or an HCD of my creation. You can communicate with your team members and see a holographic image of the playing field and your location on the field at any time. you know, unless I disable it.”

Tony hands out the watches, and Steve groans when Tony hands him a red white and blue wristwatch.

“Tony…” Steve sighs, but Tony just grins, not even bothering to address it.

“All teams may now convene on their sides to discuss. My team stays here, and Clint, your team can take a hike, my man.” Tony smirks. “The flags are literally flags, and it’s near your jail. You have five minutes to hide it, and when JARVIS announces the beginning of game play, you can go.”

“Sounds good,” Clint shrugs, and Banner and Steve follow him past the laser grid and out of sight down the hallway.

...

“Alright team,” Tony grind wickedly. “What are you thinking for strategy?”

“Tasers are always good,” Natasha muses, “Maybe stun guns. Anything to knock them out of commission.”

“Um, it’s a game,” Tony raises an eyebrow at her, but Thor cuts Tony off.

“I agree with Natasha, we need weapons if we are going to best the other team.” The god rumbles, and Tony suddenly feels very small next to the giant god and the deadly assassin.

“Uh, okay.” Tony shrugs. “JARVIS, please make an announcement that non lethal weapons are allowed in gameplay.”

“Non lethal?” Natasha groans. “Boring.”

“It’s a game!” Tony gapes at her, and JARVIS relays his message over the loudspeakers.

“Three minutes till gameplay,” the AI adds and Tony jumps.

“We gotta hide the flag!” He scrambles for the piece of cloth only to see Thor grinding at him in amusement. “Where’s the flag? Where’s Natasha?”

“She chose to hide our flag while you were conversing with your JARVIS.” Thor chuckles, and Tony just groans.

“She’s going to kill me in my sleep one day.”

...

On the other side of the laser grid, Clint and Steve gather as many weapons as they can in a barricade.

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” Banner says nervously, and Steve shrugs.

“Every soldier counts.”

“I’m not a soldier, Steve. I’m literally a murderous monster, so...”

“So you’re even more helpful!” Clint grins from where he’s strapping grenades to his arms.

“Oh god.” Banner sighs. “Alright, what’s our strategy?”

“I’ll crawl up through the vents, and Steve will guard the border. Bruce, you stay close to the flag with a stun gun and shoot without mercy.” Clint says with finality and Steve nods.

“Good plan. But won’t they expect you to come from the vents?”

“I’m counting on it,” Clint nods. “Natasha will try to taser me but if I get her early on and get her out, she won’t bother us for the rest of the game.”

“Smart,” Bruce nods in approval.

“One minus till game play,” JARVIS says over the speakers.

“Bruce, you hide the flag.” Steve instructs, strapping his shield to his back. “Clint, lets move out.”

“Wait, where do I hide it?” Bruce tries, but Steve and Clint have already started jogging towards the borderline and Bruce just sighs. “This is going to be a long game.”

...

“The game will begin in twenty seconds,” says the voice room the ceiling. On both sides of the border, players tense, checking guns and making sure knives are strapped tight. “Ten seconds.” Natasha brushes her hair back from her face and twirls her butterfly knife between her fingers expertly. “Five seconds.” Clint adjusts his quiver and straps his bow tightly against his back. “Four. Three. Two. One. Let the first annual Stark Hunger Games begin!” JARVIS says loudly over the speakers, and everyone but Tony groans.

Without hesitation, Clint scrambles into the vents and begins the crawl as quietly as he can through the metal pipes.

“Thor,” Natasha whispers through her com. “Get to the vent exit in the kitchen. Clint’s going to drop down there. Get him and bring him to jail.”

“Message received,” Thor’s whisper is far from quiet but Natasha elects to ignore it. She listens for a moment and can hear the telling scrape of metal on metal above her to let her know that Clint’s making his way to the kitchen.

“Gotcha,” she grind to herself, then sprints towards the border.

...

Clint drags himself forward on his forearms as he comes up on the first vent exit. Leaning down, he sees Thor sitting on the kitchen counter with a glass of orange juice, and it takes all the self control he has not to snort as the god chugs the glass and burps loudly. Clint shakes his head. Natasha must have figured he’d come through here, but the jokes on her.

He pulls out an electrocution arrow from his quiver as quietly as he can in the cramped space, and pulls his bow off his back. In one swift movement Clint kicks the vent open, notches the arrow and shoots Thor straight in the chest. The electricity sparks and the god falls to the ground, twitching. Clint grins, pulling the grate backup and strapping his bow back on. Silently, he continues his crawl through the vents with a triumphant smile on his face.

...

Steve softens his footsteps nears the border, shield raises. If Clint hasn’t already been ambushed, Steve’s the next best option to getting the flag.

Steve passes through the laser grid silently and surveys the territory. The room appears empty, so Steve walks cautiously towards the door on the far side, walking carefully to avoid creaky floor boards.

“Steve!” Clint’s voice echoes from his watch and Steve curses under his breath, ducking behind one of the couches in the living room.

“What?” Steve hisses, “I literally just crossed the line.”

“Natasha got past me,” Clint whispers. “I think I got Thor, but she’s still in play and she’s close to the border.”

“Yes she is,” a cheery voice says from behind him, and Steve raises his shield just in time to block a gunshot. He curses, rolling behind the couch and assessing his options.

“Language,” Natasha laughs and Steve just groans.

“Tony said only non lethal weapons,” Steve sighs and he hears Natasha chuckle.

“I heard him.” She laughs. “C’mon, Cap. Worst things worst, I tag you and you go to jail.”

“No, worst case scenarios is you shot me!” Steve scoffs indignantly, and he turns his head to see where she is only to come face to face with the assassin, who had snuck up on him while he was looking around for her. Steve freezes, and Natasha grins widely. She reaches out a long manicured fingernail and bops him on the nose.

“You’re out.” She smiles sweetly, and Steve groans. “Have fun in jail, soldier.”

Steve walks towards the hall that leads to the jail as Natasha reaches for her com.

“Tony, we got our first prisoner. Watch Steve, make sure he doesn’t get out.”

Tony answer affirmatively and Natasha disappears behind a doorway and out of sight.

...

Thor wakes up with a headache and an empty bottle of orange juice in his hand.

The memory comes flooding back to him and he groans. The god of thunder, bested by electricity.

He sighs and sits up, fumbling for his hammer. It sits on the counter, and Thor flips it casually in his hand. Time to cross into enemy territory.

Thor slips through the laser barrier quietly, but as soon as he gets into the living room he trips over a table and the lamp in the table falls to the floor and shatters. Thor guiltily tried to put the pieces back on the table, but its shattered. Thor sighs, then adjusts his grip on his hammer and continues through the room. After combing through the living room and the home theatre, Thor walks into the back porch to see the golden flag sparkling on top of the outdoor fire place.

“Found you,” the god laughs triumphantly, and he grabs his watch. “Natasha and Stark, I have found the—”

A powerful fist cuts him off and Thor goes flying into the glass doors, which shatter. Thor looks up to see the Hulk standing in front of him, looking very annoyed.

“Go to jail, tiny human.” Hulk rumbles, and Thor sighs.

“What, you’re not going to apologize?”

At Hulk’s angry growl, Thor backs away slowly.

“Alright, alright. I’ll go to jail.”

“Jail right here.” Hulk points to the laser bars that Thor hadn’t noticed sitting next to the flag.

“Oh, super.” Thor sighs. “We get to spend some quality time together.”

“Don’t be mean.” Hulk pounds his fist into his palm and Thor scrambles into the jail before Hulk decides to express his annoyance.

...

After about twenty minutes of waiting, Steve grows impatient. Tony’s annoying, and science jokes get old after the first few. Steve reaches for his watch to com Clint again, but a loud, resounding crash echoes from the main room of the house, and Tony and Steve both freeze.

“What was that?” Steve asks slowly and Tony frowns.

“Damned if I know,” Tony shrugs, but both his and Steve’s coms go off at the same time.

“Spider lady and hawk man are fighting.” Hulk‘s low, gravelly voice cuts through the silence.

At the same time, Thor’s booming voice overlaps with Hulk’s, “Uh, Tony, I think Clint and Natasha are trying to kill each other.”

“Uh oh,” Tony mutters, then presses a few buttons on his watch and his voice comes through all three cons. “Alright guys, lets pause the gameplay and go break up the fight, huh?”

A chorus of affirmative answers cracked through the com and Steve and Tony sprint down the hall to see Clint and Natasha wrestling on the floor. Clint has Natasha’s head pulled back, a gun against her head, and Natasha’s butterfly knife is pressed against Clint’s windpipe, hard enough to draw beads of blood.

“I tagged you first,” Natasha huffs, struggling to get out of his grasp, but Clint just tightens his bicep around her neck.

“I tagged you first and you know it,” he hisses and Natasha growls at him dangerously.

“Alright, I’m going to intervene,” Tony laughs nervously, and both assassins glare at him, not relaxing their grip on their weapons.

“What?” Natasha snaps and Tony winces, slightly terrified.

“Um, this was just supposed to be a fun game...and I think it got a bit out of hand, so...”

“Back out if you want, Stark,” Clint laughs, “but Tasha and I have some scores to settle.”

“I’ll just check the security cam, okay?” Tony says, slowly grabbing his iPad that he set on the counter. “Alright? Lets look...just...let go of each other.”

Clint reluctantly drops the gun and releases his hold on Natasha, who lifts her knife from his neck and closes it hesitantly.

Tony pulls up the security cam on his iPad and flips through the frames quickly.

“Okay, I found it.” Tony waves them over, and the whole team crowds around the iPad to watch.

Tony flicks through the footage frame by frame to see Natasha’s hand snag the back of Clint’s shoulder a fraction of a second before his hand hit her hair, and Natasha shrieks in triumph.

“This isn’t over.” Clint growls at her, and she smirks.

“Oh please, Clinton, you lost. What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to get you back if it’s the last thing I do.” Clint says menacingly, and he turns to dramatically exit the room when he rubs face first into the last person he expected to see at the compound.

“And here I was taking team bonding would work out,” Fury sighs, shaking his head, and Clint just sighs.

“You ruined my exit,” Clint huffs under his break and Fury raises his eyebrows.

“Did I now?” Fury scoffs. “You and Romanoff are assigned to paperwork duty for a month thanks to you.”

Natasha groans behind him and scurries out of the room before she can throw her knife at him.

...

The reckoning came for Natasha, however, and even though she found Clint’s variety of pranks extremely annoying, she had to admit he did a pretty good revenge job.

But when she arrived to do her paperwork, and her office was filled with packing peanuts, she decided she had reached her limit. Clint Barton needed to know he had messed with the wrong assassin.

...

Friday, 5:43 PM

The stun gun hits him straight in the chest and Clint falls to the floor, twitching as electrical currents bounce through his muscles. Natasha brushes her hands together with finality.

“I tagged you first,” she nods at his unconscious body.

“Agent Romanoff?” The familiar voice rings behind her, and Natasha doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.

“Dammit.”

[four-loose-screws]

FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation - Chapter 3 Part 3

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations - Ko-fi

———————————

Chapter 3 - The Military Campaign in Isaach

Part 3

Mananan didn't tell anyone about Gala's predictions.

Instead, he thought them over that night, and made up his mind on his own. 'If I am going to die no matter what, then I should do what I wanted to do from the beginning.'

The next morning, he went to Prince Mariccle, and told him that planned to take Trent's head and go to Darna to apologize.

 "But that's too dangerous, Father! Please, allow me to go instead!"

"No, I'm the only one who can do this. As the king and inheritor to our holy weapon, I have the power to request an audience with Prince Kurt. He is sure to understand. You must go to Rivough, and guard the city with your life, no matter what may happen."

"What if something happens to you?"

"If something does happen to me, then it means Grannvale will try to conquer Isaach. If I do not return, then you may request reinforcements from Queen Rahna of Silesse. If, after all of that, you go to war, then Shanan must flee the country immediately. If what Gala predicted is true, and we prolong his life, then Isaach will be restored one day."

"Did she say where he should go?"

"With her final words, she said, "the country of forests and lakes," and... "Ver."

"Was she trying to say Verdane, perhaps?"

"Yes, that's probably it. Verdane is called 'the country of forests and lakes.' And it is a remote, poor country, so I don't think any other country will try to conquer it and make it their territory. Alright then, Verdane it is. I can't promise that he will survive if he goes there, but all we can do at this point is trust his lucky stars." Mananan said, then gave Balmung to Mariccle. "This is the best opportunity for me to hand this over to you. I intend to return home safe, but even then, you should be the one to rule Isaach from now on."

-

Mananan only requested two of his attendants to accompany him on his trip to Darna.

It took them eight days to cross the desert.

Once they could see Darna, Mananan unfurled Isaach's flag. It depicted a white sword floating diagonally above the ground, which was colored red.

A group of soldiers quickly came out from within the town and ran towards them.

The leader walked up to them. "Hault!" He shouted.

"I am King Mananan of Isaach. I have come to apologize for the attack. I'd like to speak with Prince Kurt."

"Understood! Please follow us into town."

The soldiers surrounded Mananan and his attendants, then walked them through the castle gate.

General Aida was waiting for them inside, and behind her was a large number of Grannvalian soldiers.

"I am King Mananan of Isaach."

The moment he finished his sentence, Aida said, "Arrest these invaders!"

"What!? But I've come to apologize! I wish to speak to Prince Kurt!"

Aida didn't even flinch as she continued to give her cold orders. "We're going to arrest you. If you resist, then we'll kill you."

Her soldiers unsheathed their swords and surrounded him.

"I won't resist, just please, listen to me! I did not order the attack on Darna! I've brought the head of the man who did and am here to apologize!"

The soldiers stepped closer and raised their swords.

"I am the king of Isaach and a descendant of Sword Saint Od! Have you any manners!?"

"Place each of them in a private cell." Aida said before turning her back on him and walking away.

Mananan was placed in a small underground cell.

Both the walls and floor were made of stone, and there was no bed inside, only a plain blanket.

The moment the soldiers holding torches walked away, he was surrounded by darkness.

He felt around for the wall, then laid out the blanket and sat down on it.

'I really am going to die here.' He thought.

Not that Gala's predictions had ever been wrong before.

'All I can do now is maintain my dignity as a warrior.’

When he closed his eyes, he pictured his grandson's face.

Shanan was still only ten years old, yet he already knew well what it meant to be a king.

'But who knows what kind of hardships await him now.' Mananan thought, and felt his chest suddenly become hot.

-

He had no idea how much time had passed, but when light returned, it came with bread and water. He assumed that it was his dinner.

The guard lit a small lamp in the hallway, so he had just enough light to take his meal.

The bread didn't have much flavor.

‘Nothing is set in stone. I cannot give up.' He reassured himself, and ate every last crumb.

After some time, the guard extinguished the lamp, and he was once again surrounded by darkness.

He closed his eyes, and tried to fall asleep, still leaning against the wall.

-

He had no idea how long he'd been asleep for, but he awoke to the sound of footsteps echoing off the stone floor.

A light drew closer.

Aida appeared, leading three soldiers. She wore a simple black uniform without any ornaments, and a plain cape. The inside of the cape was a vivid scarlet that complemented her fiery red hair.

Mananan stayed in his sitting position, not budging even an inch. "Did you give Prince Kurt my message?" He asked quietly.

Aida nodded.

"And what did he say?"

"Kill him."

'You're lying.' He thought, but didn't say. 'After all this, I'm not going to put up a fight.'

Two of the soldiers drew their swords, and walked into the cell.

ー

By the time messengers from Grannvale arrived in Rivough, two weeks had passed.

The Isaachians had already been told of the king's death by one of his attendants.

Prince Mariccle kicked them out for Grannvale's cruelty to the king, knowing full well that doing so was an act of war.

He then went to his younger sister, Ayra, and told her to take Shanan, flee the country, and go to Verdane.

"Brother, I have trained my whole life to become a warrior. I want to fight and avenge father!" Was her response.

He knew that she was being modest, as she was an exceptionally good sword fighter, even among the other Isaachian soldiers. She was especially famous for her finishing move, Astra, where she slashed the enemy multiple times in rapid succession.

"I know how you feel, Ayra. But this is what Father wanted. If Shanan survives, then so will Isaach. However, if he was sent out with an entire guard to protect him, he'd be a walking target for the Grannvalians. That's why I have to entrust him to the greatest warrior in our country. Please, you must take him to Verdane." She stared at him with her large, black eyes before finally nodding.

"I understand. For the sake of our home, I will guard Shanan with my life."

-

Mariccle and Ayra went to Isaach Castle, where they explained everything to Shanan.

"From now on, think of your aunt's words as my own, son. And do whatever it takes to survive, no matter what happens. You are Isaach's future. Okay?"

Ayra dressed as a mercenary, and gave Shanan clothing fitting for a mercenary's nephew. They traveled in a half-circle around Isaach, and made it into the Kingdom of Sliesse without even stopping to rest at Ganeishire Castle.

They continued in a straight line across Silesse. When they reached one of the western port towns on the coast, they heard the news that a large Grannvalian army was currently marching across the desert towards Isaach.

Shanan ground his teeth together, and spoke not a word, instead making a vow to himself. 'One day, I will have my revenge against them!'

From there, they took a boat headed for Madino, Augustria.

-

About halfway along their journey by sea, two fast-moving ships appeared. One blocked their boat's path, and the other came up beside them.

On those ships' masts, long, black, triangular flags fluttered in the wind.

"Pirate ships!!" One of the passengers cried out.

Ayra walked to the side of the boat, looked at the pirate ship, and saw a woman standing in the center of the deck holding a bow.

"Let down your sails!" The captain called out.

"What are we going to do? Fight them?" Ayra asked one of the sailors.

"Heavens, no! That woman is the infamous Brigid! Everyone who dare challenges her gets an arrow to the heart! It's better to just pay their fee. They'll let us go free if we do."

The pirates let down their sails and stopped moving, then sent out a rowboat.

Once rowboat reached the side of the boat, Brigid called out, "Ahoy, Selen!"

"Ahoy, this is the captain of the Selen!"

"What are you carrying?"

"Some silver trinkets and strong ale!"

"How much is it all worth?"

"Three thousand gold, give or take a few!"

"And how many passengers do you have aboard?"

"Forty-eight!"

"Then the fee is ninety-five gold!"

"Yes Ma'am!"

The captain counted the coins, put them in a leather pouch, and lowered it into the rowboat with a rope.

Brigid took the pouch and recounted the money.

"Ninety-five gold exactly! There shouldn't be any other ships in these waters, but we'll follow you to Madino just in case!"

"Thank you kindly, Brigid!"

"What would happen if the captain lied about what's on this ship?" Ayra asked the sailor.

"He would never! The pirates have friends at the dock, and they check everything that comes through. If he lied, they'd just get their payback on the way home."

"Wow, they would really do that?"

'There are all sorts of things happening in this world.' Ayra thought.

-

Just as Brigid promised, one of the ships followed them to Madino, never once trying to capture or leave them.

The Dominion of Augustria was a country rich in both resources and culture. It shocked Shanan, who had just traveled the barren lands of Silesse. In Augustria, there were multiple large cities, each filled with elaborate buildings. Huge populations of people lived within them, and the shops were lined with things he had never seen before.

Outside of the cities, farmland stretched on for miles, and well-flattened livestock could eat as much grass as they pleased.

In every city that they stopped to rest in, they asked around for information about what was happening in Isaach, but were unable to learn much. To the people of Augustria, Isaach was a far off land, and they didn't care about what happened there.

Ayra and Shanan were angered by it, but they knew that there was nothing they could do.

-

Two weeks later, they reached Verdane.

As they crossed the river that served as the border, the landscape changed completely.

The moment they saw Verdane on the horizon, they understood why it was called the country of forests and lakes.

[gwynne-fics]

Silver Lining

chapter 79

He spent fifteen minutes in his car, sweating, outside the prison. He couldn’t breathe but he knew, if he didn’t go inside today, then it would just be worse the next time. He loved and hated his father. He hated that every time a red flag came up, he begged his wife, the woman he loved more than anything else in this world, to ignore it, when he should’ve been telling her to run as far away from him as she could.

The way his mother ran away from him and Father.

Young-Do squeezed his eyes shut and got out of the car. He left his briefcase behind. It was empty, always empty, and he had the only numbers that mattered in his head. He checked to make sure he wasn’t too pale in the side view mirror before going into the prison.

Father sat on the metal folding chair like it was a throne or his seat in the boardroom. Father always commanded every room he was in and prison was no different. Young-Do sat across from, the glass between them never enough to make him feel safe, and did his best to keep his expression stoic. He knew he was sweating too much and Father would see it.

“Eight days,” Father said. “Your wife miscarried five days ago. You have no excuse.”

“I’ve been focused on an important merger between our companies. That was more important.” He didn’t equivocate his language. No seemed. No thought. Just direct speech. “You didn’t ask how she’s doing.”

Father snorted and actually looked away. “I don’t care. If she can’t have your child, then she’s not worth keeping. Get the software and divorce her.”

“My value would tank.”

Father rolled his eyes. “You’ve put too much into your foolish love story with this woman. You’ve used her too well and now she makes you weak. You didn’t get our value back--she did. Get rid of her and do your own work. I won’t tell you again.”

“No.” Young-Do stood and bowed, just slightly, before he turned and walked out. Father didn’t call after him and he didn’t know if that was better or worse than the silence of getting the last word. He walked back out to his car and braced himself against the hood.

After nearly fifteen minutes of trying to clear his mind, he pulled out his phone and stared at Hyo-Shin’s number before he swallowed and sent a text message. Father’s words about Eun-Sang rattled in his chest and he felt like trash using her to manipulate Hyo-Shin into giving him what he needed.

If I am being watched, who is my father’s source of information? He knew about Eun-Sang’s miscarriage.

He didn’t expect an answer, but after he got in his car, Hyo-Shin texted him back immediately. I don’t know. I’m looking into it.

Thank you. Young-Do closed his eyes and drove into work. Hyun-Shik did his job well. He had a bland breakfast and coffee waiting for him. It was a surprise to see a new set of pictures on his desk and he looked at his assistant curiously.

“Did you take these?”

“I thought you might want them,” Hyun-Shik said of the candid photographs with him and Eun-Sang with Eun-Hee. “You helped that little girl a lot.”

His throat closed up. “Thank you. Let’s get to work. I want everything handled by six so I can go home and be with my wife.”

“Yes, President Choi.”

Young-Do didn’t get home when he wanted to. He was still thirty minutes late because he made an unexpected stop and got stuck in traffic. He could smell dinner still cooking as he came in and Wook took his jacket for him. Eun-Sang was on the couch with her tablet, already in her pajamas, and he was glad she was taking it easy.

“It’s almost ready,” she said when he came to sit with her on the couch. “Hee-Jin is watching it for me.”

“You made dinner?” He immediately started playing with the ends of her ponytail when she laid her head in his lap. She smiled up at him and took his other hand so she could press her lips against his knuckles.

“It relaxes me after a long day.”

“I thought you were coming home early.” Eun-Sang sat up and gave him a Look before he could start fretting. She climbed into his lap and straddled his thighs like it was no big deal and she wasn’t deliberately turning him on. She cupped his face and kissed him.

“I thought you were coming home early,” she replied before laying her cheek against his shoulder and kissing his throat. “Where did you go? I told Hyun-Shik to give me a head’s up so I could have dinner ready when you got here. If your driver hadn’t texted me that you made a stop, it would’ve been cold.”

He smiled and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the small, black velvet box and handed it to her. “It isn’t the same necklace but I kept the same colors because Rachel gave you so many things that match.”

“This is an acceptable reason for being late.” Eun-Sang took the box and opened it. She smiled up at him and kissed him before holding it out to him. “Will you put it on me?”

His fingers felt a little numb while he put the necklace on her. Like the first necklace, it was a pendant made from red, pink, and orange stones. It sat on the middle of her chest, not too high or too low and she immediately touched it.

“I like how it feels. I think of you whenever I touched it. Even before I realized how much I love you.”

“You say that so easily,” he whispered and hugged her tightly. “Thank you.”

“I’ve finally stopped,” she murmured into his ear, completely changing the subject. “Let’s hurry through dinner and make our baby on purpose.”

[imgoldielikehawn]

Queens Of Odin’s Eye: Ch. 8

Creative Collab With: @laketaj24 @courtrae89 @grungyblonde 

Rating: Mature Content 18+

Catch Up Here 

The meeting ended with everyone going their separate ways.

 “Why don’t we stay a while” The voices in my head hissed.

 “We cant stay, We have business to attend to.” I rolled my eyes. I spoke out loud to the voices all the time. If I didn’t they just got louder and louder, baiting my anger. Then I really looked like a crazy person from the outside. Everyone here was used to it though. The crazy that is.

 “Talking to yourself again Harley?” Bjorn smirked stopping in front of me.

 “The voices are extra loud today for some reason.” I frowned.

 “I could help you silence them… if you want.” He grinned and reached out to run a finger down my cheek.

 “My voices are all the company I need thanks.” I winked and tried to go around him.

 “I don’t know why you do this shit Brii, I love you… you love me what is so hard about that.” He blocked my way again.

 “Once a cheater always a cheater.. Give it up we had sex twice after we broke up, That was all!” I huffed and pushed him out of my way. If he came for me again I was going to shoot his sorry ass.

 I didn’t give him the glory of looking back as I tried to find Kia and Court. They were sitting at the bar.  

 “Fucking hell! If Bjorn doesn't give it a break I'm going to kill him.” I groaned sitting down between them.

 “You know you love him! I don’t see why you just don’t give in.” Kia smiled downing her shot.

 “Yeah Harley, I know he cheated but he’s apart of OE they all cheat.” Court shrugged.

 “That is the problem, all the men here are cheaters and we keep giving them passes! And for what, The opportunity to cheat again?” I cursed and slammed down my empty shot glass.

 “When you put it that way..” I watched Kia’s eyes linger over Ivars figure as he leaned over the pool table.

 “We all know if it wasn’t for Uriah you’d be fucking Ivar..” I whispered. Court snickered and Kia Looked Murderous.

 “I Told you to stay out of my head Brii!” She hissed.

  I stood from the bar stool and grabbed my cut. “ I don’t need images from the gods to tell that, I can see you staring at him.”

 “So we still on for tonight?” Court asked as Kia jumped up from the bar and stormed off and I was headed out of the club door.

 “No.. Okay.” She sighed downing another shot.

   I was halfway across the parking lot I was flagged down my Ragnar.

 “Brii I've been looking all over for you, I know its been a while but I have someone I want you to meet.” He raised his eyebrows and I got the message.

 In the past when OE got new members or just men and women wanting to join; Ragnar would call a meeting and we’d all gather at the table. Id ask for the persons hand and try to learn what I could from the images id see. It helped weed out the undercover cops and weak ass human beings.

 I followed him into the meeting room and everyone else was already crammed inside. I nodded to Rollo and the Sons of Ragnar before taking my seat at the end of the table by my father.I  wasn’t really a member anymore  but either They’d forgotten that or just didn’t care.

 “ The time has come make a final decision  doing business with an old friend of ours, he has served us well in the past but I want to make sure he is of good standing.” Ragnar nodded at Ivar and he opened the door. A man with dark hair and bright blue eyes walked in and stood to the side. Ivar had a smirk that would rival Loki himself.

 Floki hissed and made no point to hide his distaste for the Christian.

 “You may speak.” Ragnar nodded to the man.

 “My name is Heahmund, I'm sure some of you have heard of me as I am the largest gun runner in this country. I am looking to do business with your club in hopes that we can all profit immensely.” He stopped talking and looked around the room.

 “Harley?” Rollo nodded to me. I got up from my seat and walked around the table to stand beside Ragnar and Ivar.

 “Give me your hand.” Was all I said as I held out my own. Heahmund looked at Ragnar and Rollo oddly but gave me his hand nonetheless.

 As soon as our hands touched I was bombarded with images of crimes and Women, so many women.

My face grew hot at a particular scene where he fucked a widow whose husband had been buried hours before. She gripped the headboard as he fucked her from behind. I quickly retracted my hand and cleared my throat. His eyes traveled over my face and continued down my leather clad body.

 “Well besides being a man whore he checks out.” I said out loud making the men snicker.

 “Well I suppose that is good to know. All in favor of Mr. Heahmund?” Ragnar raised his hand followed by everyone else but Floki. He dropped the dowel on the wooden platform and all the men stood up to disperse. Heahmund kept staring at me, I was starting to wonder if he had a fucking problem when he spoke up.

 “I don’t mean to stare, I simply cannot help myself.” His eyes glinted and with those words he walked out. I was standing there with my mouth open and Hvitserk was tired of waiting.

 “Come on Brii.” He smiled placing his hand on the back of my neck. 

I can control my gift but only when I concentrate. Hvit caught me off guard and I found myself watching a scene that turned my stomach. It was Gray, she was on her knees in front of him.

  “You have to help me bring down the club.” She purred unzipping his jeans.

 “Tell me what I have to do.” Hvitserk groaned.

 I jerked my head away and turned on Hvitserk, my 9mil aimed at his forehead as he fell back onto the table. There was a mass scramble and before long everyone had their eyes on me. Ragnar and Rollo started screaming for everyone to remain calm but I was considering shooting Hvit right here and now!

 “Brii, why the fuck do you have a gun pointed at my sons head.” Ragnar demanded gun in hand.

 “HVITSERK PLANS TO BETRAY US AND RUN AWAY WITH HIS LITTLE SLUT GRAY!” I shouted. I was seeing red and the voices were screaming inside my head. Court and Kia rushed in at the sound of commotion.

 “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talk about Brii, The voices must have gotten away with you!” Hvitserk swallowed deeply. Beads of sweat began to gather on his nose and I could see the first signs of fear.

 “YOU LYING SACK OF SHIT I SHOULD BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF RIGHT NOW!” I pistol whipped the fuck out of him which made everyone start screaming again.

 I reached forward and grabbed Hvitserk by the neck and then held out my hand to Ragnar. He took it quickly and then screamed out in frustration.

 “EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP! What Brii says is true, I have seen what she has seen” Ragnars voice grew heavy and in that moment time stopped…

 “First I'm going to kill your filthy little skank Gray and then I'm going to slit your throat and watch you bleed out.” I cooed down by Hvitserks ear. I watched the fear bloom his eyes like poison injected into the blood. He looked over to Ragnar pleadingly.

 “There will be time for bloodshed later Harley, right now you’re vision has given us the upper hand.” Ragnar stroked his beard.

 “Yes, we can use this to our advantage. That Bitch doesn't know we are on to her!” Ivar looked at Hvitserk with rage.

 I shoved Hvitserk away from me and sat back in a chair that was close by. Court leaned down to my level. “Calm down Brii. You're going to end up shedding the wrong blood if your temper gets the best of you.” I shot her a glare but she was right, I took a deep breath and listened to Ragnar talk.

 “You will return to Gray with “evidence” of our crimes. She will never know the difference so, you better good at using your tongue to please her; as you are using it to tell lies Hvitserk.” Ragnar eyed his son with distaste. “This meeting is over.”

 I stood from my chair and leaned over Hvitserk again. “Should you fail, I’ll be the last thing on this earth you see… you can count on that.” I spit on Hvitserk and walked out between Kia and Court. Looks like it was going to be a girls night after all…………..

 Kia and I rode together after we dropped of Uriah with his grandmother. We were headed back to The Valkyrie, drinks would be on the house.

 “What can I get you beautiful ladies tonight?” Astrid said from behind the bar.

“Pull out old reliable Astrid. Its been a long fucking night.” I said sitting down next to Kia.

 “Seriously.” Kia looked up from her phone.

 Astrid reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of moonshine we had stashed. It was legit shit that would put some hair on your chest.

 “That bad huh?” She said pouring us both a glass.

 “I got booked this afternoon while I had Uriah.” Kia said taking a sip from her glass. She didn’t even wince.

 “I almost killed Hvitserk this evening.” I took a sip from my own glass and looked up to see Court making her way over.

  “So the party has begun.” She smirked asking for her own glass of shine.

 “You three need a fucking vacation.” Astrid said putting the shine away.

 “I know that’s right….” Kia downed the rest of her glass and I followed suit.

 “I cant wait to watch that bitches empire crumble!” Court said suddenly.

 “I’ll drink to that.” I laughed and pushed my empty glass towards Astrid, Kia held hers out also and all three of us took a drink in solidarity. That bitch Gray was going down.. one way, or another.

  The lights in the bathroom were dim….

It was so hot in here….

“Fuck, Yeah…Harder”

The room was spinning….. I was so wet from the man whos cock was destroying my pussy.

Yeah I bet you fucking like that huh Harley!

The sounds of skin slapping against each other created a symphony of lust and need.

Fuck….. Fuck…. I was gonna cum.

“You’re close aren't you. Cum for daddy..that's it baby” He groaned in my ear. I was holding on to the bar stall so tight my palms were aching.

Stars… all I see are stars………

 I lifted my head from the bar stool,  looked over to see court in a booth and Kia on the bar top both of them passed out….

“That was a weird fucking dream” I thought as I ran my fingers over my lips “OWW!” my lips hurt like a bitch.. they were tender… like id been kis-…….. I got silent and replayed the dream in my head…. it wasn’t a dream at all..                     I fucked up. 

Tags: @lupy22  @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @ivarsshieldmadien @ivarswickedqueen @ivaraddict @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @dangerousvikings @sparklemichele @therealcalicali @captstefanbrandt

@harleycativy @myluvislikewow @vikingsmania @courtrae89 @whenimaunicorn @akamaiden @tephi101 

[v-the-adventurer]

January (Graceland Angst Fic)

Okay so this is my first time posting any of my own writing on tumblr? I’ve been lurking for years, you guys, years, so I figured it was finally time to contribute. That said, be kind lol. This one isn’t strictly a sickfic, but it does feature some casual emeto so if that’s not your thing, don’t read. Trigger warning for suicide.

Mike slowly drifted into consciousness, waking like every other morning during his placement at Graceland. The orange glow of the rising sun filtered in through the windows and the soft light was gentle as the young agent blinked awake. He let his eyelids fall closed as he stretched his languid body, feeling comfortable and warm beneath the comforter of his now-familiar bed.

Five months had passed since the bureau had sent him out to California, but it had taken a long time for Mike to feel comfortable out west. Between his new job and roommates, the unfamiliar climate, and the lifestyle change that accompanied moving cross country, the agent had had a lot to adapt to. Even the actual house had been difficult to get used to. It was filled to the brim with decor, but it felt like a showroom. Everything was just impersonal enough to remind him that the people in this house were replaceable. It wasn’t--and never would be--a real home.

But nevertheless, Mike had persevered. The culture shock had eventually worn off and he was finally starting to find his footing. He’d warmed up to his housemates, however impossible it had initially seemed. It had started with conversations over breakfast but as the time passed it progressed to nights out at The Drop and excursions to the beach. Things with his roommates were good right now, and Mike wanted more than anything for it to stay that way.

While his life at the house had gotten significantly easier, the same could not be said for his cases. The work he was doing was incredibly draining and he found himself struggling to stay out of the moral grey areas. Countless times he had stepped over the line for a case, but it was easy for him to justify his own actions. He did it to keep evil off the streets, to save people from the world of drugs, to prevent violence. No matter how he did it, he could always comfort himself with the fact that the bad would outweigh the good. Learning to sell your lies was an art, but lately it felt like he was buying too many of his own.

As the agent woke more fully, he reached for his phone to turn off his alarms. He’d woken before they sounded, for some reason, but he paid it little mind as he unlocked the screen. He flicked through his notifications lazily, messages from friends on the east coast who’d already been up for a few hours. There was one from his dad, which was rare. They had a strained relationship in the best of times, which wasn’t exactly conducive to random texts. Mike furrowed his brows as he read the message.

It’s a tough day, stay strong.

At first he was confused. Had the text been meant for someone else? Mike swiped through to the calendar app on his phone, hoping to find a clue there, but as the date flashed across his screen it hit him like a truck. The abrupt realization stole his breath and the sudden nausea he felt had him leaping from bed and running to the bathroom. He retched until he was empty, left gasping for breath over the rim of the toilet.

Today, it had been one year since the day his little sister committed suicide.

The nausea quickly gave way to guilt, and the sudden weight in Mike’s shoulders had him anchored to the spot. He couldn’t breathe past the growing lump in his throat, but Mike knew the pain in his chest was from more than a lack of air. He felt as though all of the wind had been knocked out of him. He was crying, he noticed, as a tear slid down to his chin. How could he have forgotten the worst day of his life?

When the agent was finally able to pull himself up from the tile floor, he only managed to stagger back to his bed. He was exhausted by the short walk, and there was not a chance in hell that he would be going downstairs anytime soon. He was too emotionally drained to see anyone, led alone eat. Depression had crept in like a filthy snake and moving felt like an impossible task. He spent the better part of the morning laying in bed, taking advantage of the fact that the rest of the world was still asleep. He sipped at the cup of water he’d brought with him from the bathroom, but nothing could wash the taste of bile and blood from his mouth.

He needed a distraction, he realized, but music from his headphones could do nothing to console him. The tears steadily flowed as he listened to the quiet chords of songs he had never heard, and as he sank into the sheets he couldn’t help but feel sorry for himself. On the east coast today, his family would all be together, mourning together. They would be looking out for each other, watching movies and playing board games to pass the time. But here, in his too-big bed in an empty house, Mike was all alone with his grief.

Except, not really. He knew it was raising a red flag with his roommates that he had yet to come out of his room. They’d likely be concerned, but the last thing he needed was for them to find out. He’d seen “the look” too many times to count in the months since his sister passed, the odd mix of horror, pity, and discomfort that played across the faces of those who heard. It was always followed by a stiff, “I’m sorry for your loss”, and damn if that didn’t make Mike want to punch someone in the face.

The funeral had been one of the hardest days of his life. He’d nearly chosen not to go, unable to find a purpose in it. It wouldn’t bring her back; nothing would. But when he saw the scared, confused eyes of his four year old nephew, the heartbreaking sadness that Mike felt was more compelling than anything he’d experienced in his entire life. So with his nephew resting on his hip, Mike went to the ceremony.

They said he would feel a sense of closure, but as Mike watched them bury her, all he could feel was empty.

He wanted to get drunk, he realized. Impossibly and immeasurably wasted. Maybe the numbing haze of the alcohol would stop the void in his chest from growing. It felt like there was a hole in his lungs, but he hoped beyond hoped that the alcohol would act as a patch. In his biggest show of strength for the day, Mike rose from the bed and slipped into a pair of joggers and a white tee. His muscles ached and he felt vaguely nauseous, but he walked downstairs anyways. He got into the kitchen slowly, mentally preparing himself for the barrage of questions he was sure to receive.

“Where’ve you been, sleepyhead?” Paige teased from the stove, ruffling Mike’s hair as he passed. Mike didn’t really respond beyond a half hearted shrug, moving forward towards his singular focus--booze.

“Mike?” Charlie prompted from across the island. “You in there?” She said it around a laugh, but at his lack of response her teasing morphed into worry. Her concern ticked up another notch as Mike lifted the bottle of gin from their alcohol cabinet and took a large swig.

“Dude, it’s like two o’clock. Don’t you think it’s a bit early for that?” Johnny asked after a moment. Mike realized they were all staring at him.

“Not on the east coast,” he mumbled sharply as he retreated from the kitchen with his prize. He felt like a ghost in his own body as he sailed up the stairs, flying under the covers like a robot. The next swig of gin burned all the way down, bringing tears to his eyes. He coughed lightly as the liquid settled in his stomach. His phone buzzed again, a call from his mother, but he let it ring through to voicemail. A shiver ran through him as the events from just one year ago surfaced again in his mind.

He remembered the sound of her voice, the way they’d hugged the last time he left the house. The way that she’d called out to him that she’d see him later, and how she waved at him as he drove away. He also remembered his mother’s screams, the way her face contorted as she sobbed. He remembered the way he’d knelt with her in a pool of bloody water, frozen stiff as the liquid flowed into the next room and stained the carpet. He remembers burning his clothes the next day, and how even after a week’s worth of showers he still hadn’t felt clean. He remembered her lifeless face, now imprinted into the back of his eyelids.

Mike remembered every little detail about that day. How he’d thrown up on the lawn outside the house the moment his sister was taken away, how he’d listened to the zipper of the body bag as it concealed her face for the last time. He remembered shivering in his coat in the biting January wind. He remembered holding his mother until his father arrived. He remembers standing there by himself for hours, not able to bring himself to go back into the house. Neighbors had suffocated them with casserole and gardenias for the next few weeks, but almost as soon as she was in the ground, Ashlyn Marie Warren was forgotten by the world.

As Mike took the last swig from the bottle and rose from the bed, he felt a familiar numbness creep into his limbs. Maybe it was the inebriation but all of a sudden he was ready to face his housemates. He stumbled his way downstairs, depositing the empty bottle into the sink.

“Mike?” Paul called out, stepping into the kitchen from the living room. “You okay?”

And of course Mike opens his mouth to say yes, but then he vomits instead. The gin burns worse on its way back up, and Mike is sure now that he shouldn’t have had an entire fifth on an empty stomach. Paul lunged for a bucket as Mike retched again, catching the sick before it could land on the floor with the rest of Mike’s stomach. Paul’s hand is on his shoulder once he’s done, guiding him around the puke to sit at one of the barstools. Miraculously, none of the vomit had landed on his clothes, but there was still a fair amount on the floor to be cleaned up.

Paul handed Mike a damp rag with which to wipe his face, and then placed a glass of water in front of him. “Drink slowly, kid,” Paul instructed before he called out for Charlie to come down.

Charlie paused when she entered the kitchen, taking in the puddle of sick and her wrecked roommate. Mike was the newest to the house, but still, it had been five months and he’d never done anything like this. The kid was as straight-laced as they came, but what he’d just done made him seem more like an out of control alcoholic than a federal agent.

“I’m sorry,” Mike choked out as he wilted in his chair, a few tears slipping from his eyes, and that was all it took for Charlie to rush into the room. She took a seat next to the rookie, brushing the fallen hairs from his forehead. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers as he gives in and cries. Charlie pulls him into a hug, shooting Paul a confused glance, but the other man knows nothing more than she does. When Mike eventually quiets, Charlie and Paul know they have a limited window to figure this out before Mike closes up back into himself again.

“Mike,” Paul starts, “what’s going on? This isn’t like you.” When Mike hesitates to respond, he adds, “You’re scaring us.” Charlie’s hands find their way into Mike’s hair while he chokes on an answer, and he shudders under her touch. Silent tears are still leaking down his cheeks, but the agent doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on staring at the floor.

Quiet settles over the kitchen like a thick morning fog. Mike is fidgeting with his hands, pulling on each individual finger while he struggles to find a way to explain himself. The way that Charlie plays with his hair is incredibly distracting to his drunken mind, and he kind of drifts off. He’s instantly brought back down to earth by a rough palm on his cheek, prompting him to look up into the eyes of his mentor.

“Kid,” Paul starts, a resigned concern lacing his voice, “You’ve gotta let us in. Is it Bello? Did something happen?” After a moment’s hesitation, “Is it Eddie?”

And all of a sudden Mike’s vomiting again. Just the mention of his name brings back another unwanted and painful memory, another death he has on his own hands. He remembers standing there on the pavement as red pooled from the fresh bullet wound in the Nigerian’s skull, the thick metallic scent of blood and gunfire hanging lowly in the air. He gags on the reminder, wincing as Charlie and Paul stumble back.

Embarrassment colors Mike’s cheeks when he sits back up, and he grimaces at the new pool of sick on the kitchen floor. But Charlie just shushes him as tears run down his cheeks again, and he turns to lean his head into her shoulder. Paul places a protective hand on his rookie’s back as the tears turn to sobs, feeling out of his depth for about the millionth time since Mike stepped into the kitchen.

“M’sorry,” Mike mumbles after a long moment. “For everything.” He’s slurring and his tongue feels like it’s too big for his mouth, but he goes on. “I just didn’t know what else to do. I just couldn’t, couldn’t feel anymore.”

Charlie wraps him in a tight hug as he breathes in shuddering gasps, fighting for control of his emotions. “What is it, baby? What happened?”

“I just miss my sister,” he chokes out around a sob, and his throat sounds like it’s been cut with glass. “Hate being an only child.”

And there it is, the piece of the puzzle that Charlie and Paul have been missing. This isn’t just some random act of rebellion or retaliation. It’s grief. It’s anger and pain and mourning and Mike just couldn’t deal with it. Charlie tenses for a moment as the reality of the situation sets in, but she shakes off the surprise as quickly as it came. Paul just steps back and grabs a seat at the barstool adjacent to Mike’s and rests a hand on his rookie’s neck. This moment is just another reminder that they really don’t know that much about each other, that they’re all strangers masquerading as friends, as family. Paul sighs deeply. How did they miss this?

They hold Mike for what feels like forever, until the tears finally taper off into nothing more than sniffles. Mike peels himself slowly from their embrace and rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands, feeling only a little trace of the buzz he had earlier that afternoon. He’s exhausted, and his hands shake as he moves to stand up.

“I’ll clean this up” he murmurs, grimacing at the soreness of his throat and the leftover taste of bile in his mouth.

“No, Mikey, we’ll get this,” Charlie promises, pushing him to sit back down. “But we need to talk about what happened today first.” Mike’s shoulders sagged, but he eventually relaxed back onto the barstool.

“You need to tell us what’s going on with you, Mike,” Paul starts. “We take care of each other here, but when we don’t know what you need it makes it really hard to be there for you. And I’m sorry that we didn’t check up on you earlier, because we should have known something was up as soon as you came downstairs today, and that’s on us. But you’ve gotta help us out, kid. This, all of this, only works if we’re honest with each other.”

Mike nods slowly, not meeting either of their gazes. He’s not sure he’s ready to talk about it, but Paul’s right. So after a steadying breath, Mike starts.

“I lost my sister a year ago today, to suicide.” Mike grimaces as he feels the hands resting on his back tense, but he presses forward. “She had been going through a really hard time, and none of us did anything. I didn’t do anything. I thought it was just typical teenage angst, or some bullshit like that. But it wasn’t. And I will pay for that mistake every single day for the rest of my life.”

Charlie sucks in a long breath and lets it out slowly, pulling Mike into as tight a hug as she’s ever given, hoping to be able to offer any kind of comfort to the distraught agent. “Mike, this wasn’t your fault. And I know that you don’t believe that and that you might not ever believe it, but this was a choice that she made in a time when she could have reached out to someone and asked for help. You can’t take that weight on your shoulders, because you didn’t make that decision for her, okay?” She tilts his chin up to look directly in his eyes. “Look at me Mike, this is important. None of this was your fault, okay?”

After a short breath of hesitation, Mike lets out a soft, but firm “okay.”

“And you need to come to us when you need help, kid,” Paul takes over, “so we can deal with whatever it is together. That’s why we’re all here, because there are some things we can’t handle alone, and that extends beyond our cases. We’re here for you, for each other, so please, just talk to us when you need something. We’ll always be here.”

This time when Mike nods, he’s wiping tears from his eyes and he’s more than willing to melt into the waiting arms of his housemates. They stand there like that for an immeasurable amount of time, and Mike honestly couldn’t tell if it’s been minutes or if it’s been hours, but Paul and Charlie never waver in their embrace. It felt good to have someone to lean on.

“Alright, why don’t you head up to bed, kid?” Paul suggests once they finally pull back. Mike nods slowly, fighting a yawn, and stands from the barstool. As he stretches out his tense muscles, Charlie presents him with a water bottle and a bottle of advil.

“Drink a little water tonight, the advil is for tomorrow morning.” Mike lets out a little laugh at that, grimacing at the thought of how sick he’s going to feel.

“Thanks, Char. And,” He pauses as he turns from the kitchen, “thanks for everything you guys.” He wears a small smile as he pads up the steps, reassured that he’s not near as alone as he thought, and that there are people here who will take care of him.