#now edited to fix that spelling error

[theforgottengreatpoem]

"You know what it's like when you don't know anything at all and yet you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person?"

Inspired by this post

Bonus:

[cringefail-clown]

"so, are you ever going to write that ult!kankri fic?" yes. yes i will. im writing it right now actually.

enjoy the beginning of a lenghty dream sequence that takes a turn for the worse for dirk. kankris a cunning son of a gun in this one.

(when i figure out how to actually code all of this shit on ao3 its over for yall)

[solar-sunnyside-up]

fuck hopepunk. hopepunk is fucking stupid

Oh!! Someone just found out about absudism good job! Here's a little hint cutiepie, everything ever made is stupid. Here's a small list of other stupid concepts: The concept of time All games and toys ever made Stickers and stationary Being kind when no one is looking Making gifts for people you may never see again

Gardening non editable stuff This entire webbed site!! The point is that even if things are stupid, theyre fun! They can make things worth it. We all enjoy dumb thigs, so what? Something might not be your cup of tea, but who cares? That's you, this is me we are separate beings. Glad we had this chat love you!! Bye!! //Genunine

[littledreamling]

I have tentatively finished The Wrong Name at a staggering* 5.2k words

*staggering not in volume, because I’ve written more in way less time, but because this was supposed to be less than half of that length… oops

[wandasfifthwife]

(1) a classic get-together | I got a bad idea series

—> masterlist

southern!wandanat x fem!city-girl reader

tw: mention of past animal death (horse), alcohol discussion and consumption (r), r gets drunk, messy family dynamics, R is an emotional drunk lmao (enjoy the embarrassment), introduction chapter (I’m sorry if it’s boring, but this sets up the story haha)

a/n: NOT proofread. I’m so sorry for the choppy writing and if there’s any grammar or spelling errors. I’m publishing this right after I had finished writing it. Please be patience with me, I’ll edit later tonight :)

The fields that stretch in for miles and fresh breeze brings a sense of nostalgia when you step out from the car. Small rocks grind together under your feet as you make your way up towards the door. You greet your grandparents with a smile, shrugging your bag further onto your back to hug them comfortably.

“Oh dear, let me grab that for you.”

Your grandpa reaches behind you to remove the weight from your back. You thank him and turn back to your grandma.

“It’s so good to see you,” she starts, “how’s the job doing?”

“Good, pretty good.”

Your mom comes up behind you, resting a hand on your shoulder, “my sister’s family is coming behind us. Can you help them bring their stuff inside?”

You nod at her request, kicking your shoes off and following them inside. Being in the city you’ve had a few dreams about their home. Now being back in town, it feels unreal.

“You can take the guest room upstairs, I have set some blankets out since our AC doesn’t work very well keeping the chill out.”

You thank her and walk behind your grandfather towards the stairway. Each step elicits a cracking sound from the old wooden stairs. He sets your stuff on the bed and pulls you into another hug.

“It’s so good to see you again, it’s been what, almost five years?”

“That’s too long,” you relax into the hug, “it’s good to see you too.”

“We got a new horse. We’d love for you to take him out sometime to get him used to another rider.”

“Well, I can try later in the week.”

He leaves you alone, giving you time to unload your stuff into the drawers. You’re tucking your duffel under the bed when excited voices from below float into the room. There were five more entering into the room, exchanging hugs with one another.

You wonder down the stairs, a smile on your face as you greet everyone you from across. Keeping true to your promise, you walk out to their car to carry any extra luggage they had during their drive down. Your aunt pulls you into probably the tenth hug you’ve had today, and definitely not the last.

“You’ve grown so much. Last I saw you was when you were a senior in high school.”

“And since then you’ve had another son,” you squeeze her hands to show your elation, “congrats.”

She laughs and waves you off, “thank you. How’s your job been treating you?”

“It’s good,” you almost wheeze from the weight of her suitcase. Trying to drag it up the stairs was impossible, she had to help you lift.

Each hour passed brought more people until almost fifty people were residing in the house. There weren’t enough rooms for everyone. Those who didn’t have a room had booked a hotel room not too far away.

It was a flurry of people back to back. The building wasn’t small, but it wasn’t the best space to host multiple family members.

A surprised noise sounds from you when your grandpa comes up behind you and drags you towards his bedroom.

“I’ve been re-fixing the fence out there after that storm a couple weeks ago, and I found this. I want to give it to you before I forget.”

He places a heavy object into your hands. You turn your wrist, flipping the item to look at it better.

“Is this the international coin I lost as a kid?”

He nods and you look at him crazy, “how?”

“You raved over that. Came and told me you were going to be an archeologist. Now here you are in corporate.”

You roll your eyes dramatically and put it in your back pocket, “life isn’t very fair. I would have done that if I could understand math.”

“That’s alright. I’m not good at math either, I leave that to my wife,” he says with a weird laugh, leading you back into the hallway.

The youngest in the family, a cousin of yours, comes barreling towards the two of you. You’re quick to pick him up and rest him on your hip. Though having three younger siblings was a mess in and of itself, it helped you and other’s when you were able to care for the kids during events like these.

“While the others finish setting everything up, would you be alright with watching him until then?”

“I don’t mind,” your answer brings a smile to his face.

You wondered back into your bedroom, reaching into the old closet to grab a few things before heading back downstairs. He squirmed in your arms, whining about being let go so he could find the horses.

It was a matter of time before him, and the three other little ones, spent their time outside with the animals. They believed it was a 24/7 petting zoo where they could slap their hands on an animal for hours and laugh at every movement they made.

For now since the sun was beginning to set, the entertainment had to be inside. That news was seemingly the worse thing to tell him.

“But why?”

“Because it’s dark, there could be a fox out there. They’re not like the horses, they’ll bite.”

“Horses bite.”

“Yes, but for a different reason. That’s because you’re giving them food.”

He has yet to understand that horses can be devils, but now isn’t the time to scare him of the one thing he enjoys seeing. Your aunt is happy to see you with him, and she tells you such.

“Oh it’s no problem.”

“Thank you still for watching him. Once everything is set I can take him.”

“All good. I’ve done this for most of my life it’s like second nature.”

With a squeeze to your shoulder, she’s left to head back to chatting with your parents.

Your grandfather brings you to sit on the couch, letting your cousin play on the almost uncomfortable rug.

“We now have a minute to talk. How’s New York?”

“It’s beautiful, definitely smells at times.”

“Ah, just like here. Your mom told me when you got here that you’re thinking of staying up there, is that right?”

“I think so,” you look down, watching your cousin, “I feel more at peace there.”

“You mean scooping up horse manure isn’t for you? Or hauling hay? Or driving an hour to the store to get more feed?”

“No, not anymore.”

He laughs, “and I was going to ask you to help around this week.”

“Oh,” you start to feel bad, “well I don’t mind—“

He jumps up from his seat, the action causing you to jerk back, “alrighty, thank you.”

He allows no do-overs as he wonders towards the front door. His hands come to grab a nearby person and he shoves them towards you.

“I watched you get roped into work.”

“I didn’t get roped in. I was going to help regardless, or else I’d be staying here for free.”

Your younger brother grins, “or maybe it’s because I’ve had to do all of it while you’ve been gone.”

“I know, you’ve told me this every day since I’ve gotten back.”

He shrugs, “it’s the truth.”

He reaches behind himself and reaches into the cooler, handing you a can. You go to move it out of your face, but he persists.

“I know you’re a lightweight, but one drink? Gonna turn down one?”

The door opens and another group you don’t recognize walks in, you’re taking it from his hands while he’s distracted. You crack the top off on the opener beside you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be here, it’s that I don’t want to be here with so many people,” he tells you, jumping back when the bottle cap flings at him.

“That’s because you’re an introvert.”

“I can talk to people though.”

“Are you stupid? I’m not calling you awkward, I’m saying you don’t like crowds.”

“That’s the same thing.”

He watches you drink it with a wince, “you didn’t have to do all that to prove a point. You’re still a lightweight at the end of the night.”

“No, I did that because ma’s coming toward us.”

He gives you a faux pout as you get dragged off by your grandma. She brings you to the front of the house, past where a few people had gathered in random spots of the living room.

“I wanted to introduce you because I’m not sure if you remember who they are,” she begins, and her words hit a nerve. She acts like you have dementia after a five year break, but still you put your hand out.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

“You as well,” she responds, and it’s then you realize you don’t remember who they are. The room fades slightly as you wrack your already dizzy mind for something.

Your grandma looks at you funny, “have you had something to drink already?”

In the distance you swear you hear your brother laugh. The mood grows more awkward with each minute. You’re grateful for the people around giving a sense of community while you feel like strangers to those in front of you.

“Neighbors, right? I think we met just before I left for college.”

A short conversation later and the memories appear more clearly. The two talking with your grandparents just before they had driven you to the airport. It was short, but you’re thankful you remember as it allowed you to dodge your grandma’s last question.

Your grandma seats them in the sun room and promptly leaves the three of you, saying she needed to make sure her husband wasn’t ruining the labeling of food.

“How was college?”

You look to the one with a braid, the one whose hands were rough when they shook yours, “it was alright. I graduated.”

“Glad you did what you go to college for.”

Her delivery falls flat and it makes your heart race. Your eyes slightly water, the sight making her face squeeze into confusion.

“How much have you drank tonight?”

“One,” you say with a pitiful sniffle.

“Lightweight?”

You nod and they look at you in amusement. Your eyes follow where they’re looking and they land on the half full bottle in your hands, “oh whoops my bad. Actually this is my second.”

You lift the bottle with a proud look and one has the audacity to clap. You smile silly at the affection and ramble into your city life, delving deep into the tea between you and your boss. The two stay seated, hands interwoven as they enjoy the show you’re giving them.

The wall against your bicep is cold. With the way your body was warming, your skin chased after the feeling. You find your face leaning into it before your whole body is on the ground, right by the doorway.

You were sure you were maintaining wonderful conversation with the two new faces, but everything you remember was becoming a blur. It felt like ten seconds, but it happened open the span of ten minutes. The embarrassment had completely disappeared as you laid there unsuspecting, growing incredibly wasted.

One of the women, the one you recognize as short braid, sits beside you. She puts a hand to your forehead but you try to push it off.

“No,” you cry, “you’re mean.”

“Her face is burning,” she relays the information to her wife. The two look at you in amusement as well as concern.

“I’m burning because a beautiful woman is touching me.”

Your sober self is grateful she chose to ignore what you said. Hands lift you off the ground until you’re lying down on a softer surface, and definitely colder. The pressure on your arm leaves and it spirals you downwards.

You can hear them talking in the back, a man’s voice between them. What they’re saying, you can understand but you’re not grasping anything. With your mind focused on how the cold hand left you, nothing else seems to be your focus. It’s the creaking of the door shutting that feels like you’re drowning.

“Don’t leave me,” you look blearily at the door, “please.”

You hear a laugh, but it doesn’t register as anything other than someone mocking you.

“Fine, then leave me here like to always do.”

“Nobody’s leaving you.”

“No it’s okay. You just hate me”

The expression and dramatic nature exuding from you is hilarious. Every small laugh coming from you throws them off when more tears glisten down your cheeks

“Nobody here is upset at you, angel,” wanda’s hand rubs gentle circles against your back. You find yourself leaning into it, the tears stopping as your mind clears. The floor creeks and you’re being sit up.

“I don’t feel super great,” you mumble to them, “I’m sorry for being annoying.”

“Not annoying,” wanda responds and tilts to your head back, “I have some water and I’d like you to drink some, okay?”

After you’re laying back on the bed immediately. The world had begun to feel dizzying, almost nauseating when she held you upright. Without her hand there, you’d surely pass out.

The room is suddenly too quiet. You had tried to see them but the overhead light took a stab at your already overwhelming headache.

“We’re still here. How’re you feeling?”

“Death.”

Wanda laughs softly and Natasha feels your forehead again, “you don’t feel as hot.“

Your mother enters in then, and you attempt to sit up but you wince. A cry spewing from you, “I can’t see anymore, mom.”

She clicks her teeth, “mom told me you drank too much. Should’ve known. Thank you for helping, I can deal with her from here.”

Natasha’s wrists are enclosed in a tight embrace, your hands squeezing the life out of them with as much strength as you had.

“Please don’t leave me with her,” you whine, “she’ll toss me around.”

The clock beside them reads 11:28PM. She looked to it and sighed, deciding it was too late to deal with anything. Wanda stood from the bed, crossing the room to stand by her.

“I love her but she’s as stubborn as a mule.”

“Completely up to you, but we could her stay on our mattress downstairs?”

“That’s fine. I don’t think she’ll allow any of us to help her, I mean look at her.”

You were half lying in Natasha’s lap, tangled with her body. Dried tear marks lined your cheeks, dust from the floor lining your jeans.

It was a journey trying to drag your body down the hallway. A moment collapsed where you tripped over the rug. The best plan of action was Natasha carrying you princess style. Your grandma got a glimpse from where she sat in the living room.

She rushed to your side, “you taking her back to your place?”

“Only if that’s alright with you. She starts to cry almost everytime we begun to leave.”

“Absolutely,” she pats her shoulder with a slight laugh, “she got wasted, I could tell right away. I’ll have to talk to her brother, he’s collapsed on her bed right now. I’m sure he’s initiating something.”

They wish you a goodnight, stepping back and letting them through. You tilt your head back once they’ve stepped outside.

“Feels nice.”

You back far enough that Wanda reaches a hand to cup your head. Natasha adjusts her hold on you while looking to Wanda.

“I’m betting she’s going to get sick. Our guest room is the closest to the bathroom?”

“I won’t get sick of you,” you tuck your head under her neck. The first minute of the breeze was wonderful, but since then and due to your lack of layers, you’re relying on her body heat.

It gets darker the further you walk from the house. Wanda takes out her phone, using the flashlight to help guide their steps.

The pond nearby holds a connection of small critters, their sounds echoing through the trees. The married couple makes small conversation. Every two minutes they’re trying to keep you awake, but it grew difficult.

“Hey, stay awake. We’re almost there, you can see the porch light.”

“I can’t see shit, I’m drunk.”

Natasha laughs at the quip, enjoying the look of annoyance on her wife’s face. Wanda walks up the porch first, the keys jingling in her hand as she searches for the right one. Their home smells like clean fabrics and floral perfume. Your eyes grow heavy, each step and soft sound luring you in deeper. The gentle nudge does nothing to stop you completely falling under this time.

masterlist | next chapter

taglist

@simpforlizzie @huggingkoalas @yvungmxshroom @hella-hecka-gay @sgm616

@sappic-simp4015 @puta1 @natty-taffy @the-chocolate-void @scarlizziee @mysticalmoonlight7 @jazzabebev @delulu-bayolet-era @olicity-boo @esposadejoyhuerta @marvelwomen-simp

(I tried to tag everyone who commented, if it didn’t work it’s because it didn’t let me!)

[socheckitout-mikey]

do u think u could do something where johnny and the reader aren't officially dating or anything but she keeps stealing and wearing his clothes, and the gang starts teasing them for it, which eventually leads to him actually asking her out? i'm sorry if this is too much or anything but thank you so much!!

ahhh this is so cute! idk how i missed this one. my apologies for taking so long writing it out. it came out waaay longer than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy what i came up with. (': <33 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: The Shirt Thief

Pairing: Johnny Cade x reader

Summary: A cold night with Johnny Cade in the vacant lot brings you an unusual sense of warmth in the form of his denim jacket. What starts off with said jacket, causes you to end up with multiple articles of Johnny's clothes. It all seems harmless until the gang starts digging their noses into Johnny's business. Are you guys friends or are you more than that?

Word Count: 9,472

Disclaimer: THIS IS EDITED! I fixed the spelling mistakes and some of the grammatical errors. I also added a few new things to it, mainly in dialogue. I hope you like it though! :)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse in Johnny's home (with his parents), animals hunting and fighting, Soc's bullying the reader - vice versa, almost attempted assault, the gang coming to the rescue, rough housing with the gang (banter mainly) and a whole lot of sass! Johnny is somewhat ooc here because he's more talkative and sassy, but it's just how the piece came along! Let me know if I forgot anything else.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

  The story of our pesky shirt thief begins in the vacant lot under the sparkling night sky. This night was a relatively clear one in the cusp of autumn’s frost. The full moon was ample, a stunning silver glow that hypnotically danced, shrouded slightly from the wispy clouds sent onward by the chilly fall wind. Amber, golden and burnt brick red crumpled leaves tumbled noisily across the sandy dirt in a mini whirlwind. A toasty fire was being nurtured timidly upon the outskirts of this deserted place, courtesy of Johnny Cade. Underneath the jagged canopy of an almost bare tree, losing its wrinkled leaves, our greasy raven haired boy’s fingers quivered around the spindly stick in his hand. Gave an experimental poke to the half snapped branch swarmed by the smouldering, orange flames. He did not shiver from the cold, but from rampant nerves that pertained to someone he was particularly fond of being there beside him. That person being you.

  In a gloomy haze, stretched over sixteen years, the dependent vacant lot with all of its decaying junk left to rot had become his home away from home. It was somewhere he could come to in order to escape the harshness he had just down the street, riddled with its cluttered and intense violence. The one he had with his parents – if he could ever really call them that – had never been consumed with even an inkling of love or nurturing. It practically rotted away from the inside out with its creaky floorboards, dust riddled insides and the damp lining the walls like a thick winter scarf. A location where he was destined to be neglected in, for the only attention he obtained was to be hollered at by his mother when she was hacked off at whatever or whoever it was that particular time: Whereas his father brandished anything he could in hand to pelt him with. The thought made Johnny shudder, a sick nauseous feeling welling up inside of him. Slimy and cold.

  However, not all was lost. There had been some silver linings in teaching him things such as love, loyalty and camaraderie: His gang of reliable buddies that would stretch to the ends of the Earth for him were the culprits. Although they had nothing too, they gave him everything he’d been missing. Well, almost everything. They were the sole reason he had not run away about a million times by now. They grounded him, created a net of safety and support that he never would have experienced otherwise if he had not been born in this very downtrodden neighbourhood. Yet they could not save him from everything – a harsh reality he came face to face with daily. Nothing and no one could ever replace the lacking love of his parents.

  Nevertheless, the youthful greaser that looked as if he were a puppy that had been kicked one too many times had grown used to bumming around most nights on the busted leather car seat left to waste away in the lot. A frequent bed he now sat upon to gaze up at the glittering stars in the midnight haze of the dark sky. He pondered to himself, watching it while his most favourite person in the world sat off to his right. The silence between you both wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Just off experiencing your own inner worlds whilst you enjoyed the other’s presence. Johnny wasn’t much of a talker as is. You understood the chips he had on the table and didn’t mind in the slightest, but you had your ways of getting him talking.

  Despite the fact that he had a warmer and much more benevolent destination to crash at nightly: The Curtis House. He felt an immense pang of guilt and shame engulf him entirely at the thought of taking up that space. This house did not consume the same dreamy and abundant riches that one would desire at the core. Instead those fantasies were only destined for reality on the Wicked West Side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. “The home to the rich and greedy,” as Sodapop loved to put it.

  Although the Curtis House lacked in material volume, it oozed a charm in its bare necessities and rundown appearance, with its peeling papered walls and well played piano that needed a miracle of tuning. What it lacked when it came to standardised beauty was made up for by its glowing warmth of love, companionship and acceptance of all the inhabitants that nestled under its rickety roof. It was a safe haven for anyone needing a place to lay low to avoid getting into trouble that could be avoided; a.k.a trouble with the law. Dallas and Steve were also regular inhabitants of the well loved couch perched up against the wall by the front door of the home: A product of powerful tempers that needed quenching. They found solace on that old, brown cushiony hunk of junk just as Johnny did when the nights grew too cold or unbearable on his lonesome.

  Johnny stared up at Orion's Belt wondrously, remembering the time he'd heard Ponyboy rattle on about how he'd woken up to find the notorious Tim Shepard occupying his couch, reading the morning paper.

  'Now, what in the hell was someone like Tim Shepard doin' on the Curtis’ couch?' Johnny thought silently.

  Never had he bagged the likes of the eldest Shepard to reach out for a lifeline like that. It was almost unheard of, unfathomable. Tim was a handsome young man with a gnarly looking scar running from his temple to his chin. He was hard, cold and twisted. Jail, booze and all the criminal endeavours he had under his belt were like a morbid toolkit of how to be the best hoodlum out there. He looked about as capable of accepting charity as a lost soul in Hell. Then Johnny supposed that he never really knew him like Dally did. Johnny's silent disposition made it challenging for him to get close to anyone outside of his gang of buddies. Sometimes he preferred it this way, but usually he loathed it. Loneliness was easy in warping the soul of a good man.

  From what Dally had told him of Tim Shepard, it'd be an immense knock to his swelling pride to reach out for help and have everyone aware of it. Inflated prides and fragile egos didn't do wonders for people with big mouths. Hence why Johnny kept his damn trap shut about it after Pony had told him.

  'Man, he's gotta be pullin' my leg or somethin'.' He said internally before shaking his head.

  Expelling a breath, Johnny settled back into the leather seat as comfortably as possible. He swore he'd get a bad back after opting to take the lumpy side of the car bench with the springs gnawing their way through. It had been the gentlemanly thing to do after all. He was a good guy with a good heart.

  Warmth pervaded nicely from the reasonably sized fire he'd established in front of you both, but the chilly wind licked at any bare bits of skin daring to peer through tiny cracks in clothes. He hardly shivered outside of a nervous twitch. Perhaps that was only due to the fact he'd grown accustomed to the elements no matter the weather – unlike yourself.

  Instead his charcoal eyes were doe-like, shakily flickering to his right where you sat. Only then in this moment did he fully come to the present moment, understanding the cold bit at your nose, ears and fingers in a way that looked cute. Yet despite your shivering that you so desperately attempted to hide, you sat there in all of your beautiful glory with only a few inches of space between you both. A comfortability you bathed in that seemed so raw, as if you were merely sitting on your living room couch with both of your knees and feet tucked under you and just off to the side. Peace prevailed from the tender smile gracing your features. A subconscious practice, you definitely seemed to be lost in your own thoughts. Johnny stared at you, and wondered what kind of movie was flashing behind those pretty eyes to have the sun dawn across your face like that. To him, all he could see was the vacant lot – a desolate place where only hoodlums would hang in droves, drawn in by its trashy grounds.

  "You starin' cuz I got somethin' on my mug or it's just that ugly?" You grinned like a chessy cat, turning to look him directly in the eye. Thinking that being a wise cracker was funny.

  Damn you and your perceptiveness.

  Instantaneously Johnny ripped his gaze from yours, stiff as a plank. Embarrassment dashed across every cell in his body and left his lungs flat of oxygen. Man, if he thought his usual heartbeat was fast, what was happening inside of his chest right then must have been the speed of goddamn light!

  All he could do was stammer out, "U-u-uh n-n-neither!" The poor guy sounded like Porky The Pig. 

  Your eyelids fluttered in astonishment at the stuttering mess of a young man he was. So jumpy. A mouse scuttling around on sharp eggshells. Part of you would've felt proud of your handiwork if it had been anyone else, but it was Johnny, your best friend. "Awe shucks, Johnny-cake," you offered him sheepishly, "I didn't tell you to stop. I was just messin' with ya. Gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

  Messing with him? That was evident. He wasn't cross with you for pulling on his leg, just bothered by himself for getting caught out in the act. "S'okay, I g-get it." He shrugged, trying to play it cool whilst he stared into the portal to the Underworld.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" You tried again, bumping him softly with your shoulder.

  "Nothin' much," He lied smoothly, picking at the hole in his tennis shoe.

  "You sure you ain't developin' the cure for cancer or somethin'? You're pretty smart." You inquired with a cheeky beam.

  "Shoot! Do I look like I know what two plus two equals?" Johnny was getting a little bit sassy.

  "Okay okay, I get it. I'll back off." You chortled.

  'Yeah, thank goodness for that…' Johnny thought to himself. Suddenly he was uneasy with the idea of you ever discovering his little moments of staring at you because he loved the way you looked in candid moments like this one just passed. How did one go about saying these kinds of things? Johnny didn't know a lick. He was a dejected lost cause in the romance department. An awkward bump on a log. Felt he looked cruddy right about now too so he scratched the back of his head fervently for a second. No one really gave him a second glance. He was invisible and too quiet to be noticed.

  Yet he failed to realise that you noticed him.

  His forlorn expression had been obscured by his shaggy bangs that hung on his forehead. In fact, they no longer existed. You watched him struggle with something akin to wrestling a twenty foot gator inside of that skull of his. It made you feel funny on the inside, as if you were to blame. Diligently Johnny picked up the jagged stick he'd used to poke the flames with earlier. Started drawing in the dusty cold dirt at his feet. Back and forth, left and right, then round and round. A tedious therapeutic cycle.

  'Yup, he's off to the moon again.' You thought. 'I'll give him a sec to recoup. I think I made him short circuit a little too hard.' 

  Just then the bleakness of the night pressed its breathy lips against you. You shivered in response, huddling unconsciously to Johnny for his radiator heat. Part of him was shaking too. The flames jolted haphazardly. A violent twirl of dead leaves kicked up into the air before the wind relented altogether and they fluttered into the fire that engulfed them. It was a beautiful sight indeed, albeit destructive. The elements typically were unforgiving. That was the cycle of life. Mother Nature worked in wondrous ways that went beyond the mere perception of the human mind. Ever evolving and always there. It had put a smile on your face, and Johnny looked at you once more.

  "Now, you wanna give me a penny for your thoughts?" He asked.

  You slowly turned to look at him, your smile unwavering, "And cash in my trade secrets when you won't give me yours? That don't tally up to me."

  Johnny shrugged, trying to hide a ghost of a smile on his features, "You just caught me off guard that's all…"

  "Oooooh so I got the element of surprise on my side?" You wiggled your eyebrows. "Who knew I was mighty smooth!"

  Johnny rolled his charcoal eyes, shook his head with a laugh, "Don't get too big headed now," he warned.

  "Why, cuz I'll float away?" 

  "Naw," Johnny shook his head, "You sound like Two-bit."

  Your countenance fell from grace then; all of the humour drained completely, replaced with a sulk. "Now you just went and ruined it."

  Johnny laughed heartily, "I dunno why you got it against him, yn. It was only fifth grade-," 

  "Don't remind me of fifth grade! He put gum in my hair and you saw it." You warned with a finger pointed at him. “I looked like a coconut headed bum for two years, Johnny Cade! Two years I ain’t ever gonna get back.”

  "Alright, alright! Don't shoot." He mumbled with a half smirk on his face.

  "And don't laugh either. Who's side are you on anyway?" You mumbled with your arms folded over your chest.

  Johnny met his match in attempting to swallow the laughter down, "Who knew you were this much of a sore loser," with a shake of his head.

  "Sore loser my ass…" You retorted, looking off to the side like a petulant child.

  All Johnny could do was laugh.

  The sourness of your mood forced you to realise the lateness of the night. The cold showed its first signs of frost that danced mistily away from the firelight. You quivered fully this time, rubbing your nimble hands up and down your arms. "Are you cold?" Johnny finally had the courage to ask.

  "Uh-huh! But I'll be okay."

  "You know you don't have to tough it out for me, right?" Johnny said sincerely. "You shoulda brought a coat. It's November not August."

  "I forgot, mom." You mumbled wryly.

  "Man, don't call me that. It sounds strange." He pulled a face as he spoke.

  "And why not?" You demanded. 

  "Cuz you sound like T-," He began, but you cut him off.

  "Don't even think about saying that name!"

  Despite himself, Johnny was laughing something awful. A grin spread across his face akin to a mixture of pride and victory. He'd bested you in the end and even you knew it. "You asshole-," You muttered, but it all bled through into your own sense of laughter that mingled with his. 

  Then it seemed to die down, a comfortable glow encasing you both. In the midst of it you hardly realised Johnny shimmying beside you – too caught up in the afterglow. But then an uncanny warmth of freshly worn denim was draped over your shoulders. Ghosts of fingertips touched the nape of your neck as it was laid there. Your head turned to find Johnny retracting his hands shyly and passing it off without a word. The gesture touched you, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  "Why?" Your better judgement couldn't stop the question from flying out of your mouth.

  Johnny squirmed uncomfortably under your focused stare, "I dunno…" he shrugged. "You were cold and didn't have a jacket. It was the right thing to do I guess."

  The right thing to do. It made you beam beautifully then. Johnny Cade was always doing the right thing. Well, maybe not all the time when he was with his buddies, but usually he did. A good guy with a good heart that made yours flutter at the touch. The act of giving you his most prized possession really touched you in ways that made your eyes begin to water. You needed a second to blink them back. Hoping he hadn't noticed. Luckily he hadn't. 

  You thanked him in the only way you knew how to, by leaning your head on his shoulder. He stiffened to the touch, unfamiliar with it. Johnny wasn't much of a hugger, so physical contact was reserved for special moments. He allowed it this time and you felt his body shake, unsure with what to do with himself. Your fingers wrapped around his bicep, a reassuring squeeze so light it helped him realise you weren't going to hurt him. You never could. He was too special, too gentle, but wild in his own way when he let himself out freely. Yet the person he was now, the boy that gave you his jacket and talked with you the most; that was your Johnny Cade.

  "Thank you, Johnny-cake." You whispered into the air, gently holding his hand and squeezing softly. It was sweaty.

  "D-don't mention it." He swallowed, giving you an experimental squeeze back. "It's just my jacket, softie."

  "Who you callin' softie?" You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

  "You."

  Silence befell you, and it was laced in a tranquil dose. Hushed whispers reverberated off of the caverns in your hearts, growing more prominent. All the giggles filled with the springy frolicking of baby lambs. Clumsy and endearing. Johnny lit a fire in you unmatched and vice versa. Young love that was mutual, but unknown to the other. You stayed with him for quite some time, until he walked you home. You'd sent him off with a wave after him shyly telling you to keep it. Made him promise not to sleep out in the cold, and Johnny kept his word. Slunk all the way to the Curtis House three hours before sunup to fortunately find it free. Rest was his, all with a smile screwed on tightly to his features.

  Many more instances of thievery occurred with your pesky little fingers and the growing feelings that possessed you like a restless spirit. Time spent with Johnny became your drug of choice, and you could not get enough of him. No funny business was happening, it was just your personalities melding well together. You brought out a sassy part to him, and surprisingly he could keep up with you. Each meeting was set in colder conditions than the last. Forcing Johnny to bring in what little reinforcements he had. You either seemed to forget a jacket or your layers weren't nearly enough. His jacket was a chameleon's skin, bouncing from his shoulders to yours. His shirts were a comforting reminder of him when he wasn't around – shields against the bleakness of winter. His grey sweatshirt was your favourite. Everything began to accumulate. 

  One day you were both coming from the tracks in the Shepard outfit where a little creek was running through another vacant lot by an old abandoned factory. The water was still frozen and the trees were barren. All sorts of junk stuck to the frosty ground. It was kind of niche-like, a quiet place that seemed abandoned when the sun shone its rays upon Tulsa. It had been an accidental find during a summer day the year before. A superb place to explore when things were warmer and less soggy. Though it was apparent that neither of you had the courage to explore the dangerous insides of the abandoned warehouse in its entirety. Anyone could be lurking there, boobietrapped the innards to protect their stashed hoards. So the pair of you stuck to the outskirts towards the vacant lot beside it.

  There you both were, sat upon a crumpled wall, admiring a winter's afternoon like a pair of Humpty Dumpty’s. The sun was bright in the sky, threatening to melt the world entirely. The first inklings of spring graced reality. The robins were chirping, hopping around in search of food nearby. Adorable feathered critters, so fluffy. They reminded Johnny of Christmas as one turned its neck beside him, curiously looking up into his black eyes. Both were inquisitive of the other.

  "He looks like you-," your half whisper broke out into the air too loudly. The disturbance made the robin jolt and fly off.

  Johnny sighed, "Man, he got so close this time. You just had to go and ruin it didn't you?"

  "I'm sorry. Was there a spiritual connection happening? How rude of me!" You gasped with a hand over your heart.

  He shook his head, grinning because he wasn't angry about it at all. "He was a cute little guy though…"

  "Hence why I said he looked like you." You clarified.

  Johnny exploded with a blush, shaking his head again, "You must've hit your head when you fell on the ice earlier."

  "My head is not any worse off than it was before, thank you very much!" You defended yourself.

  "You know, the first sign of someone tellin’ porkies is denial, right?"

  "I am not tellin’ porkies!"

  "Are too-," Johnny countered, nudging you with his elbow.

  "Am not!"

  Falling back into that effortless banter made you both grin like chessy cats. It was silly, but very much needed. You knew Johnny got extra embarrassed whenever you'd start complimenting him, especially in the looks department. You didn't say these things just to throw him off, but because you truly meant them. Johnny was cute. One of the cutest guys you'd seen in a longtime. Maybe he wasn't moviestar handsome like Sodapop, but girls were missing out when they overlooked him. He had his own things to bring to the table; loyalty, kindness, abiding the law… Just to name a few. You suddenly shook these thoughts out of your head, deciding if you went too deeply down this path that it was best not to be done in Johnny’s presence. Lest you were to blabber about it like you'd done to your other friends who'd told you to ask him out already. They just didn't understand how delicate the matter was really. Johnny wouldn't say yes anyway.

  "Hey look! Those cats are back," Johnny quietly hissed by your side, pulling you out of your daze.

  You followed his line of sight and sure enough the two male felines were there. Lithe in nature and mean looking. A skinny orange tabby trotted forward, a snaggle tooth protruding from his mouth. By his side was his black Bombay counterpart, scraggy bodied with dirty fur and a distinct chip taken from his ear. They were silent, far from their former glory days when they knew what a good home was. The Bombay was a little bigger than his cheddar companion, and it was easily understood by any human looking in that a pact had been formed between them through a necessity to survive. The pair of you had spied them before, a distrusting set that initially hissed and growled. They were all claws and teeth so you kept your distance to avoid any surprise visits to the clinic. However now they seemed to tolerate your presence, acting as if the silence you exuded exempted your existence. Johnny and you admired them, goofy grins on your faces, because the cats were ready to commit their timely crime of hunting for some grub of the day. You knew who they reminded you of.

  "Well if that ain't Dally and Tim," You consciously made the effort to whisper.

  Johnny nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I can see it."

  "Which one's which?" You asked, genuinely curious about Johnny's take.

  He was reluctant to take his eyes off the cats, watching them begin prowling forth towards an unsuspecting robin. "Huh?" he hummed, finally looking at you just as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

  "Which cat is Dally and which one is Tim? You know 'em better than I do." You pressed softly.

  "Oh, that's easy, Dally's the ginger tabby and Tim's the Bombay." He offered with a nod of his head in the felines direction.

  "What why?" You demanded it up at him.

  “Well if we’re goin’ off their looks for a start, Tim looks like the Bombay cat. Guy is a real alley cat – got a lot of street smarts and carries himself well. Besides, he's tougher than a bag of nails.” Johnny did have a point – Tim looked just like that black cat with his curly jet hair.

  Speaking of the black cat, it had entered a state of hunting, kneeling down with coiled taught muscles – just ready to pounce on that unsuspecting robin below, pecking at the seeds you and Johnny had left behind earlier. You hoped it wouldn’t be eaten, couldn’t stomach to see something so savage. However, you supposed that was only the way the circle of life worked.

  “The orange tabby’s Dally cuz of that cool look in his eyes. The way he carries himself so freely. Out of the two, the tabby’s the one that’s in charge somehow. He writes the rules that the other cat’s always tryna best.” Johnny offered with a brief shrug before continuing, “Not that the black cat is following any rules. Both have minds of their own.”

  Boy, you could really hear the way he admired Dallas Winston from the way he spoke about the orange tabby. It was wholesome. Dally was Johnny’s hero — the kid practically worshipped the ground the guy walked on. You didn’t see why. To you, Dallas Winston was a rotten hoodlum with a track record of breaking the law in every way, shape and form that he could. He frightened you like The Boogeyman had when you were nine. Where you both engaged with each other somewhat cordially, you preferred to keep your distance. You supposed that you had no room to judge after all. There was a deep friendship that had developed between him and Johnny; you’d seen it in Dally’s cold hard eyes… affection. It made you grin then, wondering if Johnny thought strangely of your heroes too.

  “And both of them are jackasses.” You countered, bumping his shoulder mischievously.

  Johnny laughed a little, looking at you for a few short moments. “Yeah alright, I’ll give you that.”

  You liked the way he’d described the two though. It was a statement that fit the pair of hoodlums in a peapod together. Yet the orange tabby did appear to be the leader as it licked its wonky chops delectably. Inched closer by the second, a silent assassin to carry out its hunter gatherer lifestyle. It was intelligent, mimicking the movement of the robin that had caught onto it. It lured the bird on a swift and winding course, swiping for it good and hard but missed. Never mind. The robin fluttered up and into the line of sight of the black cat, a moment of fear in its beady eyes. Yet just as the night-like feline swept its razors at it, the robin burst into the air and flew off in the opposite direction. It had missed its meal by a feathers length. Every other robin in the vicinity flew off instantly, leaving the two cats dumbfounded.

  In frustration, the orange tabby yowled and darted forth. Its clawed paw zipped out and popped the mouth of the black cat. The black cat hissed, stunned for a mere second before it lunged for the only comrade it had in this god forsaken world. The two tumbled together in an infuriated Halloween special of blurred fur. A gasp floated from your mouth as they rolled back and forth. A genuine cat fight unheard of. They sounded like two ghouls trying to out spook the other – alien and loud.

  Johnny couldn’t help but laugh out of nervousness. He wasn’t trying to be cruel whatsoever. Didn’t like to see animals fighting and hurting each other, but it humoured some sick part of him. “Just like Dally and Tim, huh? Buddies one minute then at each other’s throats the next.”

  “Amen to that.” You found the humour of the situation, only because it was too similar to the real life hoodlums you both knew.

  You’d seen your fair share of those guys beefing it out in the past together in The Dingo parking lot, let alone practically in your own backyard. They were a strange duo – too competitive and cut from the same cloth. They’d never find another person just like them, that was for sure.

  Just then an icy gust came throttling through the area, reminding you both that it was still winter. A tremor ran through the pair of you, and you huddled together for warmth. By now the cats had slumped off to their own corners of the lot, hissing and growling as they went. Sore egos and bodies made them sulk and mewl in the shade whilst they licked their wounds.

  “Dammit-,” your teeth chattered, moving closer to Johnny. “March my ass…”

  Johnny breathed a laugh, shaking his head. He scanned your features humorously, those bushy brows hidden by a thick blanket of his black greasy bangs that flopped onto his forehead.

  “What?” You mumbled, your fingertips unconsciously reached for him in the space between you both. Johnny didn’t notice.

  He stared at you for a good three seconds before opening his mouth to speak, “How can you be cold with all those layers you got on?”

  “Well I mean it’s obvious, it’s winter.”

  “Uh-huh-,” Johnny sassed, smirking slightly, “As if you ain’t wearin’ my shirt, my sweater and my jeans jacket too. Got the whole department store on your back.”

  Abashment took hold of you as your gaze dropped down to inspect yourself. There was Johnny’s jacket on you, and underneath his tattered grey sweater, that black t-shirt poking up above the collar. And Johnny? He was adorned in a wrinkled white shirt with a blue and creamy egg yellow flannel over the top you guessed was one of the gang’s. Worn over that was Dally’s brown leather jacket with the cosy sheepskin lining. You pouted with a bruised ego, looking off to the side, “It’s not like you’re naked or nothin’…” you murmured petulantly.

  Johnny chuckled breathily, your joined hands jostling as he tugged on it without any semblance of awareness, as if to gain your attention. “Not yet, but I’m gonna be! Man, do you know what I had to say to get this jacket from Dally?” He was teasing you.

  “Mmmppppffff…” you grunted, crossing your legs on that wall.

  “The guys are askin’ questions and I dunno what to tell ‘em any more!” His voice broke a bit before he continued, “Two thinks I’m preparin' to run down the centre of town butt naked!”

  That made you burst out into fits of giggles. The thought was so unorthodox it was hilarious. “You’re tellin’ him that’s the truth right? God, could you imagine? I can see the news articles now: Johnny Cade, Teenage Delinquent Gone Buck Wild!” You beamed, throwing your free hand out to elaborate some unseen picture.

  Johnny shook his head again, laughing with you, “Man, you’re just as bad as Soda!”

  “I’m twice as good looking too!” You offered with all the cheekiness you could muster.

  All he could offer was an entertained roll of his eyes. Your shoulders bumped together, old comrades turned into something more. His soft gaze fell onto your interwoven fingers, and his heart fluttered like dove wings. A widened gaze, then that notorious blush exploded under that tanned flesh. His mind was incapable of functioning. It was wholesome, but you read everything wrong. Made a move to release his hand and he stopped you.

  "Don't." It was the strongest word you'd heard from him as he held your hand tighter than he ever had before. Not enough to hurt you, but to let you know it was real too.

  "Y-you sure?" It was your turn to stutter.

  The look he shared with you may have been wavering to some degree, but there was certainty in those eyes. His mouth opened to speak, "Yeah, I don't mind one bit."

   I don't mind one bit. It ran round and round in your head. A starstruck expression invaded your beautiful countenance. The reassurance was a bonus that made your belly fill with a plethora of butterflies. Cloud nine had nothing on this moment.

  Johnny explored the expressions flitting across your face with a newfound sense of wonder. That pleasant delight racing through you was infectious as you stared off into the junk riddled vacant lot, your mind preoccupied with his hand in yours. The sun dawned across your features once again, like that autumn night you'd spent with him in your neighbourhood's vacant lot. The understanding that he was the source of that made his belly squirm, a giddiness overcoming him. He could no longer deny the fondness he had for you so blatantly.

  With him leaning a little closer to you, he whispered, "How about you give me at least some of my stuff back?" 

  "Mmmmm maybe,"

  "yn-," there was an uncommon sense of sternness in his voice.

  "But-," You tried objecting.

  "No buts-," he rushed out with a shake of his head, "At least give me one! I've been wearing this shirt for three days now!" He was hilariously incredulous.

  "Is that why you stink?" You taunted him.

  "Not funny-," He made his best attempt to be cross with you.

  "Okay, okay! I'll give them back." You said begrudgingly.

  "You better bring the cavalry with how much you have stolen from me, you little shirt thief."

  "In my defence, you did give them to me… But I'll have them for you next time I see you, scouts honour!" You spoke sincerely with your free hand held dramatically over your heart.

  "Uh-huh, that's what you said last time and I still didn't get 'em back." He bantered.

  "Well, that wasn't a real scout's honour." You admitted with a diffident rub to the back of your head.

  "yn-," he shook his head.

  "Hey! I'm serious this time."

  "Good…" He trailed off, his other hand beginning to play with the rings banded around your fingers absentmindedly.

  Blissfulness carried upon the wind, a promise of returning what wasn't yours already settled. Golden light broke through the clouds, catching Johnny in the face directly, which made him grimace evidently. You grew lost in his handsome physique, feeling the pad of his thumb drag up and down the back of your hand. The sensation was special, because Johnny had warmed up to you so much.

  It was a lively Saturday night, and with the determined honour of a scout member, you showed up like clockwork with a bag filled with Johnny's things. It was just as the crowds at The Nightly Double encroached upon the Tulsa streets in boisterous droves. Everyone was high on the giddy delight of the movie they had just watched – the late night viewing of two specials before the drive-in closed its doors for the night. Previous arrangements with another friend had you missing out on the fun, but here you were wearing your very own leather jacket with Johnny's denim one bunched up nervously in the palms of your hands. Speaking of Johnny, he had tagged along with the gang – minus Darry, because movies seemed to bore the older man to death.

  A pair of scrawny looking Socy guys stalked out of the front doors, acting like big shots, cutting in front of a dark green Corvair on its way out and into the oncoming traffic. The driver of the same social class hung out of the driver's window whilst his girl attempted to pull him back in.

  "Hey watch it, wise guys! If you're lookin' to get your asses run over, then be my guests and step back in my line of sight!" He snarled aggressively before his girlfriend won the battle and pulled him back inside to tell him to "knock it off".

  A line began to form behind them as the couple argued incessantly, presumably over the guy's foul temper. Car horns honked on the spring breeze, forcing the guy to nervously step on the gas. They almost crashed into a Chevy Impala before zipping off home. You could see the animated scowl of the girl refusing to talk to her boyfriend in the side view mirror as they retreated. She glowered at you as if you were the scum of the earth. It didn't make you feel too hot.

  The two wisecracking Soc's cackled at their attempts at being hard, stalking forth when they caught sight of your lonesome form. Vile cackles were shot your way as they walked past you before deciding the better option was to encircle you like a couple of hammerhead sharks.

  'Boy, these dingbats don't know what tree they're barking up.' You thought, stiffening your body up for any form of unexpected physical contact. You weren't gonna let yourself get blown over that easy. 

  "What's up, greaser? You lookin' to bum around on our streets?" The six foot tall pencil with the sour breath sneered down at you, bumping your shoulder, making a come around to your left. When he disappeared behind you, the other one with chestnut hair the texture of straw invaded your face.

  "Yeah, who said you were allowed round these parts anyway?" He jeered, smacking his gum obnoxiously.

  Typically these dorks wouldn't have been graced with so much of your attention, but being on your own with a whole sea of onlookers made you weary. However you sure didn't show it. No one was there to stand up for you so you had to do it yourself. All you could do was raise your eyebrows, feeling the burning sense of humiliation rise from the pits of hell beneath your feet. It felt toasty, but the wrong kind. A glower of pure vexation was sent up their way. 'Who are these cocky jackasses, anyway? I've got the same right to use these streets like anyone else!' You contemplated.

  "Oh really? I never knew white trash chequerboards like yourselves owned the streets everybody walks on." Your lips flapped wryly before you could even say a word.

  The entertained gazes of onlookers of every social class stopped to stare. Murmurs of speculation broke out: Two against one didn't typically seem like a fair fight, but with the sheer scrawniness of the socially elite, it seemed to look like the chips fell in your favour. Though you knew appearances could be deceiving, harbouring a surprising sense of physical strength.

  In a rift of the crowd, six pairs of familiar eyes honed in on your shining moment of unprovoked confrontation.

  "White trash chequerboards?!" The pencil growled out, sharing a glance with his straw haired counterpart. For the most part they were dumbfounded, not having expected you to stand up for yourself.

  "If anyone's white trash, it's you, greaseball." The second one jutted his finger in your face.

  Nothing about your countenance betrayed you. Cold and detached you stared at that finger in your face with a deep sense of boredom. Then an almost smug smirk etched your features as you stared up into his grey eyes.

  "Oh my, my!" A dripping sense of mocking venom entered your tone. "Seems like I got more class than that finger you got pointed at me. Seriously, you got a licence to be armed with carryin' that thing? You better watch what you do with it before it falls into the wrong hands. You know, because with great power comes great responsibility and all." You were armed with so much sass it made you invincible.

  The crowd surrounding you burst into a fit of laughter so potent that it burnt these punks into a startled pile of ash. The pair of Soc's were so vapid that they were a bore even to themselves, which is why they were acting out as if they were five times their sizes. You were lively, armed with a silver tongue that could slice just about anyone to pieces who tried to humiliate you.

  "Oh yeah, you little punk?" The first one growled, invading all sense of your personal space.

  You took one step back, your eyebrows raised, "It's his responsibility, not mine. Whatch'yu gettin' all riled up for, eh? Can't take a joke, Mister Funny?"

  "I'll show you a joke when I knock your two front teeth out." He barked.

  Oooh's and aaah's broke through the crowd on a symphony of guffawing. You cocked one eyebrow up at him, a cockiness overcoming you. What could you do otherwise? If no one had your back, you had to have your own. That was just the way the cookie crumbled when you were a greaser – if there was a cookie at all.

  "Oooooh~ Don't threaten me with a good time, pencil dick." You snorted. "I will bend your ass like a goddamn pretzel before you can even have a chance to beg for your mommy to save you."

  The two guys shared a look, the degradation burning their senses of pride to withering embers. Their faces were pinkened beyond recognition, boarding on a fiery red. Your insults only poured gasoline on the fires. They couldn't back out now with the engrossed mass around the three of you. Your body stiffened as they went to grab you, preparing yourself for a fight that would no doubt cause the fuzz to come shutting it down. The image of yourself being cuffed in the back of a cop car had you overcome with a sense of terror. You weren't made for jail with your sharp tongue and sass. Wouldn't last two seconds flat in a grim place like that.

  Before any contact could occur, a boisterous New York accent throttled into the air, a familiar arm slinking over your shoulders, "Hey Dumb and Dumber, you really wanna go gettin' your asses handed to you by a girl in front of all of these people?" Dallas was snickering with a smoke hanging out of his mouth, leaning against you smoothly as he patted your upper arm, but he wasn't your only saviour.

  The other five lean and hard looking members of the Curtis gang had rolled up in all of their greasy headed glory. Pony and Johnny were Dally's flanks whilst Sodapop and Steve jammed themselves on either side of the pathetic turkeys that had bothered you. Two-bit prowled like a cat, that smug, wild grin carved onto his handsome features. The oldest of the six came in the centre of the perpetrators, an arm slung on each of their shoulders. It was overly friendly, even for Two.

  "Well, well, well, if it ain't the socially elite barking up a tree they didn't know was a mountain! I'd get your eyes checked if I were you." He laughed, squeezing them together under his impressive arms. The others joined in.

  "I think it's time these tuff lookin' sons of bitches got in the ring with the big shots." Steve yipped sarcastically, clapping the straw haired guy on the back a little too roughly.

  "Lookin' like a bunch of heavyweight champs, am I right?" Soda leered, his once kind blue eyes filled with a mischievous malice.

  The two Soc's looked at each other, realising they'd made a mistake in targeting you. "We don't want any trouble." The first one said, fumbling.

  "Yeah! We was only just jokin' around." The other made a pitiful attempt at joining in on the laughter.

  "Oh really now?" Dally quipped through dragon's breath, plucking his smoke from his lips and wiping the back of his index finger under his nose like he was annoyed. "I call bullshit, beanpole. Ain't that right, Johnny?" Dally asked Johnny, motioning towards him.

  With a black gaze as cold as obsidian, Johnny nodded his head, "Sure thing, Dally." He refused to take his gaze off of the perpetrators who recognised that hoodlum's menacing name anywhere.

  "Pony?" Dally turned, looking over your head at the fourteen year old greaser with the greyish green eyes. He put that smoke back in between his lips and inhaled sharply.

  "Yup!" Pony popped the 'p' at the end of the word.

  "Great, it's settled!" Dally exclaimed, pulling his arm from over your shoulders and rubbing his hands together like a fly with an evil plan. He stepped forward, his face a mere couple of inches from theirs. "You dumbasses get to go toe to toe with me for fucking with the wrong person, and then my buddies will have what's left of you. How do you like the sound of that?" 

  The way Dally seethed it even had you shaking in your boots. There was almost a sense of honour riding on your guts. It wasn't everyday that Dallas Winston was standing up for you, but when it happened you took it willingly. The two guys had become pale ghosts, shuddering with sweat dewing their foreheads. Dally meant those words, but it seemed he was mainly toying with them. So were the rest of the gang too. With matching Cheshire grins plastered on their faces they watched as the two shoved past Soda, tripping over the boot Johnny had stuck out and shot in through an opening in the crowd to salvation. Sent to faceplant on the ground with a series of laughter as the drama seemed to be over for the most part and people lost interest.

  "Where are you goin'? Wait until we set her on ya!" Sodapop called, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders. 

  "Yeah, she may seem like she’s all bark, but she's got one hell of a bite!" Steve cackled.

  Lost in an ocean of chaos, Johnny's inquiry of concern for you slithered back down his throat. He bled into the background, admiring the way your eyes rolled as the wisecracking descended upon you.

  "The hell was that, kid?" Dally said between inhaling his smoke. Rubbing the top of your head with his ringed fingers awarded him with a generous shove from you. His treatment hurt, but he was happy to see you, which was unusual.

  "Get offa me-," You grunted and he eventually relented.

  Before Steve could chime in about you being a smart ass or wandering around on your lonesome, your most dreaded member of the gang came blundering on over. A half drunken stupor holding him up by some invisible string, "Haha! Where did you learn to talk like that? Dare I say you got some inspiration from somebody in particular?" He waggled his eyebrows at you.

  "Oh, well ain't those the biggest words you’ve ever said! Ugh, don’t make me sick, two cents." You bit at him.

  "Eh, at least I'm worth somethin' in this world." He chuckled, clapping your shoulder.

  "That was meant to be an insult." You retorted.

  "Really? That's a whole compliment and a half!" He exclaimed with his arms thrown up.

  "Yeah yn, I sure can hear the church bells ringin' right now!" Soda grinned at you, cupping his free hand over his ear. In fact, to seal the deal he wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the seven of you began walking to your neighbourhood.

  Steve came up on the other side, walking the tight line of the curb, "From haters to lovers!" He beamed, spreading his palms out in the open space before you like he was presenting a far away picture. "It all started when you were in fifth grade and he was in sixth, gum to the hair, a pop to the mouth and the rest was history!"

  Johnny listened and observed, laughing halfheartedly along with his buddies. Something about Soda's and Steve's words tugged on his heartstrings in a plucking fashion. It was uncomfortable and didn't sit right with him. Yet he couldn't be too mopey about it, it wasn't like anybody knew his growing feelings for you. By now there was a confusion in your friendship, as if all these special moments you'd experienced together had evolved the friendship into something else. He was afraid of what that meant. Things would never be the same ever again, and he found himself eyeing up the bag full of his clothes on your shoulder and his jeans jacket wadded into your hand.

  Well, at least your promise had been genuine this time.

  If you weren't riled up before you were now. A sucker punch to the gut was minutely dodged by Steve, who hopped to safety behind Dallas like a kangaroo. Being surrounded by people you knew was nice as the mood settled somewhat. Johnny found his natural place to the left of you, keeping in time with your easy pace.

  Sodapop raised his eyebrows and asked the question everyone had been wondering, "Hey yn, what were you doing there all alone?"

  "Ain't that Steve's line?" You quipped.

  “Gettin’ to be more and more like Ponyboy everyday, yn!” Steve warned, messing up Pony’s hair for comedic relief.

  Pony was certainly not pleased, pulling his comb out of his back pocket and using the sideview mirror of a car to fix his hair in the dark. “Stupid Steve…” grumbled past his lips.

  “What was that?” Steve barked next to Soda.

  “Nothin’, said I looked stupid…” He lied with burnt cheeks and ears to match.

  "That's what I thought, little guy." Steve stared at him.

  Once the commotion had somewhat settled Dally eyed you up and spoke through his smoke, “Soda’s got a point. What were you doing there?” He noticed that bag over your shoulder and whistled, “Did your goody two shoes ass get kicked out or are you just droppin’ by to bid your farewells on us common folk before you skip town?”

  Put on the spot, you hesitated for a second, “Uh, I just came to see Johnny.”

  “With the entire mall's inventory?” Two grinned wickedly, pressing for more information. "Johnny's become quite the charity case lately." He teased, noogying Johnny playfully who shrugged him off with a small laugh.

  “Hey wait a sec, isn't that Johnny’s jeans jacket?” Pony spoke up once his precious hair had been rearranged.

  Dallas’s pesky fingers swiped the jacket in your hands with a mind of his own – and like a chimp, he examined its authentication closely. The five other members gathered around him as if he held the fifth wonder, which left you and Johnny with the liberation of simultaneously backing up at the edges of the throng. “You wanna make a break for it?” You hissed your suggestion at Johnny, who nodded his head.

  That’s when five heads whipped up with dumbfounded expressions. This was Johnny’s jacket! The one he said he’d lost. Soda’s eyes were the first to eye up that bag strapped to your shoulder, a familiar grey sweater poking out through the zipper that wouldn't close properly. “Hold on one stinkin’ minute.” Realisation hit him with a dopey grin.

  Two caught on next, his hand grasping the bag strap and pulling it from your shoulder. In the same motion he’d freed the grey sweater from the confines, only to find more clothes underneath. “Haha!” He cackled noisily, “You’re the one who’s been swiping his clothes? You sly fox!”

  “Johnny and yn sitting in a tree-,” Steve cackled, only to get cut off by Dally who smacked him in the chest.

  “What are you man, four?”

  “Four?! I’ll show you four!”

  “Oh glory-,” You mumbled, looking at Johnny, “I think I made a mistake.”

  “You think?” He hissed, his tone was somewhat biting, looking scared stiff for the incoming of terrible teasing.

  "Johnny's got a girlfriend! Johnny's got a girlfriend!" Soda and Two started chanting, patting and shaking their pal with enthusiasm. It wasn't long before the other three started in on it too. The chant of the year belted out from strong chests on shrill wails of hyena laughter.

  "Check him out, famous ladies man! I knew you had it in ya Johnny." Dally clapped his back.

  "Should've known you were stealing my girl, Johnny." Two teased. "You can have her the first five days of the week, but I call dibs on weekends! That's when she gets extra sassy."

  "In your dreams, two shits." You barked.

  "I dream of sixth grade every night!" Two swooned, making you laugh.

  Johnny was as red as a beet, even Ponyboy couldn’t contain his laughter. 'Boy, do we have something to tell Darry!' Pony's and Soda's eyes gleamed dazzlingly.

  "Eh, guess you won't be needing this!" Dally grinned from behind you both, softly tugging on his leather jacket Johnny was wearing. In one fell swoop it was off of his shoulders and draped over Dally’s humble forearm.

  “Here you go, young sire!” Sodapop bowed with a roll of his hand, an English accent flawlessly executed.

   In came Steve on one knee, holding up the humble denim article he'd swiped from Dally's pesky digits. “Oh Johnny, with all of my love for you, will you take this humble offer?” he exclaimed dramatically.

  Johnny snatched the jacket from Steve’s gripey hands, along with the bag of his shirts you’d brought along from Two-bit. He was embarrassed, that was evident. Wished you’d done this at a different time, but hey, duty called; a promise was a promise. Scout’s honour, right?

  Without even thinking he grabbed your hand in his, reeling you away from the madness, all sassy. “Alright, that’s enough now!”

  A chorus of wolf whistles expelled into the air. Wildness evident in the five guys who'd grown up with the both of you. They were just playing of course, excited that Johnny finally had a lady in hand. It wasn't often the raven haired greaser picked someone up, let alone initiated any physical contact – romantically of course. Johnny had always been quite reserved, but here he was taking the initiative, pulling you around in the opposite direction of them. Surprisingly assertive despite him shaking like a goddamn ghost.

  You guys got maybe a few feet away when Dallas called out on the wind, “Hey yn, you better not be takin’ off the clothes on Johnny's body or he’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

  "I said that's enough!" Johnny called back, heat vivid on his cheeks.

  With that you both escaped around the next corner, the gang's calls and laughter fading into the background. Dipped into an alleyway to lose them for good. Glory knew they'd follow you both, and Johnny couldn't bear the thought of that. There was exhilaration in your chests. Johnny's hand was hot and sweaty in yours when you wound onto Pickett and Sutton. The air felt tight and you were afraid you'd just made an inconsolable mess of everything.

  “Honest to God Johnny, that wasn’t planned-,”

  He was sour, scrunching up his face, “Shoulda just let you keep these things.” He said with a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “They looked better on you anyway.”

  “Johnny Cade,” you gasped, stopping in the middle of the street, the yellow light from above illuminating you both, “was that you flirting with me?”

  Albeit clumsy, he was endearing. “Maybe, I dunno.” His cheesy grin warmed your heart.

  All you could do was gawk at him.

  “Look, all I know is that I kinda don’t mind you stealing my crap, okay?”

  “So I have special authority to steal? What is this, a secret mission for your girlfriend?” You grasped onto his arm, leaning into him.

  Girlfriend settled in the air in a peculiar fashion. It had never been uttered before, you both had just been friends up until this point. The confusion between you both seemed to fizzle away. The term sounded right. Johnny didn't want to be your friend any more, the guy on the sidelines dreaming of being with you. He swallowed thickly, looking at you.

  "I'm sorry I-," he cut you short.

  "Nah don't be." He shook his head softly.

  "So uh," you breathed a laugh, "that means we're like dating? " You tested the word on your tongue.

  He exploded with a blush, and a sense of pride swelled in your heart. "Y-yeah-," he nodded softly.

  It went quiet, but nothing was awkward about it. Two hearts galloped like wild horses through summer filled fields. You found the courage to speak first, whispering mischievously into his ear, "So what about that secret mission?"

  Johnny rolled his eyes, but breathy humour expelled from his lips, “Operation Shirt Thief!” He said in his best movie man trailer voice.

  You burst out in a fit of giggles, the walk home feeling bountiful and warm.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: closed!

[altaneenarts]

"Oxeye Daisy" Printable PDF

Here it is! A physical copy of @cgogs amazing c!dnf series "Dreamer's Memoir", "Oxeye Daisy", and "epilogue." It's taken a lot of time and effort to put this together so I hope you guys enjoy :) And thank you so much to @cgogs for letting me bring this story to life and for writing such a lovely fic series <3 The files included will be a 409 page PDF containing all three fics (which have been lightly spellchecked & grammar edited), a summary of all three fics, a table of contents, some decorative graphics, and a separate PDF of a Penguin Classics style book cover (both for Paperback & Hardcover). They're all sized for an 8.5" x 5.5" (Digest Size) book.

Below I've attached printing instructions and the needed files to print your own book. To be clear, I am not selling this book and any price you pay will be strictly printing and shipping costs. These files are for personal use only and if I find anyone selling copies/files I will take them down <_< so behave. Now go have fun and enjoy your own copy! (And if anyone catches any spelling errors that I've missed, feel free to message me so I can fix them & reupload the document :D) INSTRUCTIONS:

Create an account on lulu.com

Go to the home page and click on Create > Print Books > Start My Print Book

On the Start My Project page select Print Book for both the Product Type & Select a Goal. For Book Details put whatever you'd like & click Design Project

Upload the interior file PDF (ignore the transparency warning)

For Book Specifications I recommend Black & White Standard > 60# Cream > Paperback or Hardcover (depending on your budget/preference) > Matte

For Book Cover Design, upload the respective Cover PDF (Hardcover or Paperback) > Click Review > Publish

Once published, you can add the book to your cart and buy it :)

FILES:

Interior File PDF

Hardcover Design PDF

Paperback Design PDF

[barbwritesstuff]

Thicker Than December Update

The update link:

Thicker Than Free Demo

Update info:

As of the 26th of December 2023

Finished Chapter Six

Started work on Chapter Seven (currently incomplete)

Added explicit scene with Freya in Chapter Four

Several bug and spelling fixes

Additional Words: 27,104 (excluding commands)

Total Word Count: 175,440 (excluding commands )

Other links:

Supporting me on KoFi helps ensures my ongoing survival, which I really do appreciate.

You can email me at barbara truelove writes at g mail dot com.

I have a website that I spent actual money on. I'm not sure why, but it's pretty.

If you like the way I write vampires maybe consider checking on the first story in this series, Blood Moon, which is about werewolves and is polished and pretty in a way this very much isn't.

Other free games can be found on my itch.io page.

My ramblings:

Merry Christmas and happy full moon. I really hope, wherever you are in the world, you’re having a great day. I won’t be able to see the moon tonight thanks to a circling storm cloud, but I’m hoping it’ll clear up tomorrow and I can do some stargazing.

I’ve managed to get quite a few words down this month, so I’m really happy about that. Chapter Six is finished, and I’ve started work on Chapter Seven. Chapter Seven is still in the early stages. Depending on your previous choices, it may not even exist yet on certain playthroughs. I’m sorry about that. It’s going to take some time to fill in all the different routes and bring them all together again.

I’ve also gone back to Chapter Four and added some more content in for Freya because several people told me they weren’t really vibing with her romance arc. I’m really glad I did that because I think speeding up her romance route makes a lot of sense and it flows better overall.

I’ve also done a lot of little edits scattered throughout. Nothing super major, but I hope it improves the flow of certain scenes.

On a more technical note: I’ve been having a weird issue with the automatic Choicescript tests in CSIDE. The random_test has been slowing to a crawl and/or freezing. It doesn’t spit out any errors, and the quick_test has been working fine, so I’m really not sure why this has started to happen. It may mean there is an infinite loop error somewhere in Chapter 6 or 7. If so, I haven’t been able to find it. If anyone encounters a page that loads forever but doesn’t show any text, please let me know. The game won’t be able to be submitted to Hosted Games if it can’t pass a random_test, so I really want to sort this out sooner rather than later.

If you spot any other errors, large or small, I’d be really grateful if you could let me know. Thicker Than is big enough now that it’s a little unwieldy to navigate, and hard to edit. I’m really grateful to the people who’ve taken the time to send me things which don’t look quite right. It’s so insanely helpful and really encouraging knowing you’re rooting for Thicker Than to succeed.

💙

[littlemssam]

Mod Updates

As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache, when updating my Mods!

---

Calendar Tweaks Reworked Mod a bit to make it a little bit easier to handle. What I changed: You still need to manually allow Exam/Prom to be added via my Interactions. I recommend to do this between Sunday-Tuesday to make sure they get added correctly the next Friday/Saturday. You don't need to manually disable it anymore. It will automatically get disabled: Exam - Fridays at School when attending Exam or when you send them alone after School when the Teen comes back. Prom - When attending Prom. You can still manually disable them, but that is limited to a small time frame, to prevent Issues with the actual Events: Exam - Fridays 8am - 6pm Prom - Saturday 7pm - Midnight When you want to have Exam/Prom two weeks in a row you need to enable it again Sunday-Tuesday. PreProm Invites should now be prevented as well.

Improved Practical Spells - New Spells Upgradios Fixed a Compatibility Issue with my Purchased Items Via Mail Delivered Mod

Improved Practical Spells - New Spell Harvestio Fixed a Compatibility Issue with my Purchased Items Via Mail Delivered Mod

Objects don't share Inventory Update to add a missing Inventory Type, which is needed for my Transfer Inventory Gemology Table Update.

Transfer Inventory Added Support for the Gemology Table. Be aware the "Put all Crystals & Metals into the Gemology Table" Interaction will only show up, when my "Objects don't share Inventory" Mod is installed. EA did not add the Gemology Table Inventory Type to the needed Inventory Tuning and that will cause Errors, when using the Transfer Function. I added the missing Code to the Tuning, which I edit in said Mod, so until EA actually adds the Gemology Table Inventory Type themself this Mod is required for the Gemology Table to work.

Foster Family Fixed a possible LE after Adoption, when Cats & Dogs is not installed.

---

My Site with all possible Download Links: lms-mods.com

Support Questions via Discord only please!

[linnaealyn]

Old mod page, abandoned 3/2/24; New mod page @ Godsibb

Finally, after 2 years of work, it is complete. -But still being updated.

There's a Japanese version of the mod now!

今は日本語版のMODがある！

This is a mod for Xenogears using Retroarch's Beetle PSX HW core real-time texture replacement feature. (It requires the Vulkan driver, so make sure your graphics card supports that.) (Duckstation doesn't have a similar option, unfortunately.)

It replaces every single character dialogue portrait, menu portrait, & (almost every) battle portrait (looking at you, Yggdra officer Gear pilots) with high quality, cleaned up artwork, as well as recreated high quality UI while keeping it as close to the original game as possible.

And best thing about it is, if there's anything you don't like about it, like certain aspects of the UI, you can locate and delete that file from the folder. Everything is optional. (if you have any questions as to what's what, drop them into my dms)

Current version: 1.4

現在の日本語版: 1.4

(More screenshots below download info and UI changes.)

Being a real-time texture replacer, it should work with any English version of XG, both base-game and modded/patched. Any fan-translated patch using the US version as a base should display correctly.

There's a separate version for the Japanese version of the game. May need some editing still with other characters' UI ("Ether"/"Spells"/"Arcane"/etc) but for the most part its good to go in terms of battle UI. Let me know if you find any errors.

(I've been using it with the Perfect Works Build mod. Highly recommended!)

(Note!!: If you use PWB mod, don't use its "readjusted portraits" patch when patching your rom, as that patch interferes with this mod's portraits texture replacing.)

(It works on Steam Deck... but don't ask me for details in setting that up in particular, I don't own one 😅)

~~~

Download/ダウンロード

I recommend reading the instructions txt files I included in the DL.

This includes information such as how to set up .cue and .m3u files, swapping discs, renaming the texture folder, Retroarch settings and Beetle PSX HW Core settings to get the mod working, settings suggestions for making a cleaner looking and faster playing XG (YMMV), and settings to fix certain emulation issues Ive come across (freezing on fast-forward, crackling audio during 3D/effects-heavy cutscenes/gameplay, blank screen during Rico flashback, etc).

~~~~~~~~~~

-Changes made to the UI include:

Menu UI:

selection triangle, Walk/Gear icons

menu portraits

▲ ■ ● ✖ button DeathBlow menu icons

ABXY button DeathBlow menu icon- alternate textures

Battle UI and on-foot specific battle UI:

Circular battle palette and tags behind text

Battle palette text, "Combo", "Return", "Enter", "Miss", "EP", & HP/DMG/heal/AP numbers

HP/AP bars

"Time", "fuel", "total damage", AP numbers, "1/2/3 point(s)", "cancel end"

battle portraits

▲ ■ ● ✖ button DeathBlow icons

ABXY button Deathblow icons- alternate textures

Bottom screen mid-DeathBlow ▲ ■ ✖ icons (unfortunately, there's no way to change the other mid-DB quadruple-button icons)

Combo 1-7 and Accept icons

In-Gear specific battle UI:

"fuel" and fuel numbers

"Fuel" (when using boost)

fuel bars (top and left)

All Gear status menus' green text/numbers

Attack level numbers and ∞

Gear menu backgrounds

Gear "power shut down", "camera damaged", "out of fuel", etc, statuses

background UI elements, runes, triple red triangles, Gear lock-on UI (unfortunately, there's no way to change the circular part of this UI)

Misc UI changes:

Red/grey spheres (in the menu and loading screen)

All instances of selection diamonds, both horizontal and vertical

Load/save screen "CARD 1"/"2" text, memory card icon, load/save bar/text

Disc 1 and 2 maps (with alternate color versions; makes the enterable area indicators harder to see though)

NESW compass letters (unfortunately, there's no way to change the circular compass texture)

~~~~~

-Screenshots (before & after and alts):

And Japanese version's (日本語版) UI:

⬇!!Spoilers in images further down!!⬇

--

I won't be showing all portraits here; only the ones worth mentioning.

Portraits created for the mod that have no artwork equivalent:

Portraits to match their sprites vs official unedited artwork:

(default on left, alt on right)

Roni/Medena/Erich edited sprite equivalent vs their official PW art

Citan edited unsmiling (dialogue-only) sprite equivalent vs official smiling art)

Krelian(s) edited sprite equivalent vs official art

Portrait alts created for fun:

Both sides of scar-eyed Bart

Two-eyed Bart

Kim lab coat with glasses

Fei-colored Id

Fei-colored Id with Id's yellow eyes

Fei-colored young & older Emeralda

(might add to this list later. have any suggestions? fun ideas? lmk. It doesn't have to be canon-compliant.)

Screenshots of alt portraits in-use:

I'll continue to update this and subsequently reblog it as new versions are released.

With any new updates, just DL and replace/overwrite the old folder.

In-progress tumblr post of the past as a bit of a time capsule for myself 😄

[leighsartworks216]

My King

Ganondorf x gn!Hylian!reader/no-name OC

I just wanted to write bein kissed by Ganon can I really be blamed tho? So the Hylian character is referred to by they/them pronouns and not described (except as being much shorter/smaller than beefcake man) and isn't referred to by a name so feel free to read is as a reader insert or as an oc insert

Also I wrote this with BOTW/TOTK Ganon in mind, but it could probably be read as any version of him

Edit: fixed some spelling errors

Warnings: makin out, brief allusion to sex, possessiveness, size-difference

Word Count: 457

Masterlist

AO3

Their lips touched for a brief moment, merely ghosting over each other. Ganon pulled away, golden eyes shadowed in the night as he studied their expression. His hand cupped their cheek, dwarfing their head. They were so small compared to him. So fragile.

A quiet, shuddering breath slipped past their lips like something inside was letting them go. He couldn't fight the grin that pulled his lips as they leaned forward ever so slightly, chasing his lips, and the brief flicker of disappointment when they came up empty. Their eyelids fluttered open, staring up at him with stars reflecting back at him. They were confused and worried - wondering if they did something wrong. They were Hylian; unaccustomed to all of the Gerudo's beliefs and social intricacies. Had they broken some law about kissing the King, even if he was the one who asked in as soft a voice he'd ever used if he could please, please kiss them. It would be the only time he begged, he'd make sure of it. And yet, for that brief brush, that whisper of a kiss, he found suddenly that he would not mind dropping to his knees and pleading for just one more.

He stroked the pad of his thumb across their cheek. They relaxed into the touch, eyes closing as they leaned into his large palm. Worry was replaced with ease, quickly. They didn't do something wrong. He simply could not stop himself from admiring how the desert moonlight danced across their skin. If he didn't know better, he would have confused them for a deity.

Golden eyes glanced at their mouth, still parted, waiting for his to find their place. Soft puffs of white air dissipated between them, carried into the night. It was freezing out here. His oversized robe draped loosely around their shoulders, half of the heavy fabric pooling on the sandstone floor around their feet.

A flicker of possessiveness lit up within him. He was the only one allowed to care for them so; the only one allowed to dress them in his belongings and show all of Hyrule who he wished to be his.

"Say you will be mine," he whispered. Dark eyes, almost red with desire, greeted them as they opened their eyes to look up at the Gerudo King.

A small, soft hand, un-calloused from the desert sands, pressed against his, holding his hand more firmly to their cheek. "I'm yours, my King."

His lips find theirs once more, but this time it is not the careful, hesitant touch from before. Now it was burning, demanding, rough. He pulled their face in as close as he could, lips and teeth sucking and biting and pulling until their lips are red and swollen against his. Every soft, desperate mewl from their throat eggs him on. He wants nothing more than all of Hyrule to know who they belong to, and he will not stop until he is certain everyone knows his name screamed in their voice.

[king-zacharyy]

Part 1 (Here) Part 2

EDIT: I fixed some spelling/grammar errors and added some things to a couple areas.

TW: Injury, hospitals, surgery mentions

——————————————

"Four chimes. Max."

Nancy had barely finished speaking before Steve was out the door of the Creel house, sprinting back the way they came. He wove through the forest on muscle memory alone, a resurgence of adrenaline fueling his exhausted, wounded body.

The pain and lightheadedness faded away under the constant stream of Max Max Max because that's his kid. His kid, who he let get put in danger. His kid, who he wasn't there to protect, and she has to be okay. She has to be.

Because they had plans for a concert in summer that he had spent months saving up for just for her. And she has to be okay, because if she isn't, he doesn't know what he'll do with himself. He doesn't know how he could possibly live without one of his kids. Without Max. Without his little sister. Without Max.

The sound of loud, gut wrenching, sobs and screams cut through his thoughts, and he stuttered to a stop. Dustin. He bolted in the direction of the sound, absent-mindedly stepping over the demobats littering the ground, motionless.

In the center of the bats, sat Dustin, hunched over a motionless form, his shoulders shaking with the sobs that were much louder now that he was closer.

Steve's shoulders drooped at the sight of Dustin alive before his brain registered who Dustin was slumped over and the state he was in, and he had to bite back a sob of his own. Because there lay Eddie Munson in a pool of his own blood. Munson, who clearly pulled some hero shit, and damn it, Eddie, I told you not to be a hero!

Steve slid in front of Dustin, causing the boy to look up. "Steve! Steve, you have to help him! Eddie, he– he cut the rope– and– and—" Dustin's voice trailed off into sobs again, and Steve sprung into action.

"Dustin, you gotta move. I'm gonna help him, but I need you to move." The curly haired boy nodded, hiccuping, and moved out from under Eddie.

Steve was quick to check his pulse, finding a faint, but very much there, thump thump thump. Steve ripped off his jacket and tied it around the wounds on Munson's side. He took a deep breath to steady himself as he hefted Eddie into a bridal carry and stood.

When he turned, he was met with Nancy's determined face. "Dustin said Munson cut the rope, so I won't be able to get him through there. I want you to take Dustin back through the gate in the trailer and call for an ambulance to Fred's gate. After that, go pick up the kids. Robin, you're with me. Meet us at the hospital."

His tone brokered no arguments as they set off in the direction of the highway, his thoughts a constant stream of Eddie Eddie Eddie and Max Max Max.

The next moments were a blur of movement and sound as they got Eddie and themselves through the gate and into the ambulance once it got there.

They rode in the ambulance with Eddie, Steve making sure the paramedics were doing their job. As soon as they got to Hawkins General, Eddie was taken into surgery, and Steve and Robin were alone in the parking lot.

As they entered the lobby, they were met with chaos. He wove his way through the crowd of people seeking treatment or waiting for loved ones and went to the reception desk, Robin following closely behind him.

"Excuse me, was a Max– um Maxine Mayfield admitted recently?" He asked the nurse there, body thruming with anxiety. She clacked away on her computer for a minute before turning to him.

"There was. Are you family? I'm afraid I can't give any more information unless you are."

"I am. I'm her brother? Please, we got separated, and all I know is she got hurt. Is she– is she okay?"

Pity swirled in her eyes, and he tried not to snap. She glanced back at her computer, reading something before answering, "She's in surgery right now, I'm sorry, I don't know much beyond that."

He nodded shakily, stepping back from the counter. He stumbled as the adrenaline faded. His vision blurred, he felt lightheaded, and his sides burned.

"Steve? Steve!" Robin shouting was the last thing he heard before he collapsed, and his world went black.

●●●●●

"Scoops! I work for Scoops!" He thought he escaped. Why was he back in the base? His head felt light and floaty, so they must've drugged him again. Robin. Where's Robin?

"Steve! Calm down! You're in the hospital. We're not in the base. We got out. I'm right here. Breathe, dingus. You're okay. I'm okay."

Slowly, Steve's breathing evened out, and his vision cleared. He took in the white walls around him and sagged against the bed. White, not steel gray. He glanced to his right, where Robin was sitting, gripping his hand, and he relaxed fully.

The memories of the last week rushed back, and he fought the panic that threatened to rise. Robbie squeezed his hand, reading his mind, and said, "You collapsed because of your wounds and had to be rushed into surgery. You've got some damage to your throat from being strangled, and your bat bites got a minor infection. Your back is also raw and had some cuts on it. The doctor said you'll have a lot of scars, and you'll likely need some physical therapy to rebuild the muscle the bats took, but you should be okay. Don't ever scare me like that again, though, Dingus."

He squeezed her hand, urging her to continue. "Max is.. She's hurt pretty bad. She has a broken arm, both of her legs are broken, and her eyes took a hit. They're not sure if she'll ever walk again, and they have to wait until she wakes up to know if she'll be able to see, but they're hopeful. She's in a medically induced coma so she can heal.

Eddie got here just in time. He lost a lot of blood and needed several transfusions, but he's alive. He'll probably need physical therapy, and he'll scar, but he's gonna be fine."

Steve practically collapsed in relief. They were okay. Hurt, but alive. He squeezed her hand in silent thanks, a question in his eyes when he looked at her.

How is everyone else?

"Everyone else has minor injuries. Erica has some scrapes and bruises from Andy tackling her, and Lucas had to get some stitches because of Jason. Apparently, they attacked the kids, and Jason went all pitchforks and torches on Lucas. Max's Walkman broke in the scuffle, and that's why she got all hurt."

Steve had to breathe for a minute to stave of the murderous rage he felt and the sudden and all-consuming urge to kill the bastards who dare lay a finger on his kids.

"Down, boy. Jason got killed when the gates split open, and Andy is currently in custody. And before you ask, the gates closed pretty soon after they nearly split the town open. We don't know how or why, but they're closed.

Back on the topic of everyone's health, Dustin got a sprained ankle when he went back through the gate after Eddie cut the rope, so he's got an ankle boot for that, but he'll be fine. Nancy and I are okay. The only injuries we got were from the vines choking us, but there was no lasting damage."

He nodded, opening his mouth to talk, barely getting a word out before he's thrown into a coughing fit. Robin handed him a cup of cold water, and he was quick to gulp it down.

"Try not to talk. Like I said, you've got a bit of damage to your throat, so it's gonna hurt to talk for a little."

He nodded again and mimed writing. She grabbed a legal pad and a pen that sat on the table by the bed and handed it over.

'Any word from the Byers?'

"Yeah, Jonathan was able to get into contact a few hours ago. He said they were on their way back to Hawkins and would explain what happened on their end when they got here."

'How long have I been out?'

"About a day. Your surgery lasted for a few hours, and then you were in and out of consciousness a couple of times after the anesthesia wore off."

'Why was everything chaos when we got here yesterday?'

"When the gates initially opened, it caused a pretty massive earthquake, and a lot of people got injured. Now, enough questions. You still need rest. When you wake up next, I'll see if I can convince a nurse to let you see Max. Sleep, everyone will still be here when you wake up, and I'm not gonna leave your side."

With that last bit of reassurance, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Part 2

——————————————

This was mostly an excuse to write Steve passing out from his injuries in Season four and some Steve and Max sibling-ism!

[iintervallum]

Sometimes I think about how the dndads cast should be on tumblr, with them having a subreddit(you know how they can be) and dndadstwt being like 10 people, tumblr would be the perfect place for them to see more of the fandom, if they wish to that is. Since quite a lot of people on here are way less honed in on negativity than reddit and twitter.

My edit of this is getting long lol so I'm putting it under a cut

Especially reddit, the people on there honestly I think just get too attached to a specific format or way of doing things, its a common pattern in any long running show fandoms i've been in where its reddit that constantly complains about the "good ol' days" and hate any new changes made. I would sometimes drop in and just see a lot of Scary hate at times, or people getting very irritated with the rule breaking, or just complaining that they're "forcing" the humor. I saw a post like that when i just started s2 and that couldnt have been more incorrect (yeah the piss jokes got a bit much but every other part was golden!...pun not intended)

There were absolutely points where I felt my interest wanning, but I think people would get pretty vicious about it and make a lot of mean spirited accusations. Like if anything the things I really enjoyed about this season was how different it was to s1, the contrast was really nice and i liked a lot of the story choices made, i still think about the apollo four teens and the fucking goof realm episodes, they were amazing. Which is why I remember thinking it was odd that they suddenly started involving the dads from s1 more, but knowing now that Anthony was struggling with people not liking this season as much it makes perfect sense.

Idk if it were just me, but i liked the earlier parts of the season for how the teens were still kind of discovering more about themselves and through gathering each anchor, learning more that their parents are people too, with their own fuck ups revealed and the teens have to clean up after them, so having it shift to be about Willy again was a little odd if i'm being honest(I didnt hate it but a repeat villian is hard to do, and for what its worth i think Willy did get the end he deserved and i loved the finale).

Funnily, in its own way it fits the theme of being a teenager and having to live up to your parents expectations. In a meta sense this being the successor to the first season and it being awkward at points and having issues with its identity is very fitting and just like how teenhood actually is.

I've gotten off topic but my point is fandom is just fandom, and letting it influence the way creators can view their own work is an interesting side effect of the internet and the way we navigate with the media we enjoy or hate. And spaces like reddit are grown in a way to encourage more brutally critical ways of analysing media which has very little consideration for the creator. By no means am I saying that the creators of things should be coddled, heck I literally airing my own annoyances with the podcast in space where i'm uplifting the positivity of tumblr over those spaces lol. I just mean that seeing the more genuine side of the fanbase would be more of a better time for them.

EDIT: (I just phrased things better, fixed the spelling and grammer errors and added more thoughts) The more I ruminate on this the more I think that it would honestly be a good idea. Like I do get the base worry of being too close to the more intense side of the fandom, as people on here are unafraid to gush about the show in ways that can be a little much and theres parasociality and all that jazz.

But it would be really good at least to see some actual genuine positivity, so many people provide their thoughtful meta and theories that even if widely off base are just interesting to read through because of how various different people see themselves in the characters they play. And even the critiques people give are not unkind, they come from a place of wanting to understand the choices made better.

I mentioned this in the old version of this post but having a blacklisted tag that only the people who don't wish their post to be seen by the cast use, something along the lines like how the magnus archives fandom has "do not archive", would be a very useful tool to create a barrier in the fanbase. I know i'm someone who feels very nervous about creators seeing the posts I make. Something like "not safe for dads" could work well or any other joke or pun about it being hidden. I doubt it would be filled with discourse or whatever it would mainly be people hornyposting since i know fandom well enough lol.

[zoe-oneesama]

Hi Zoe, I saw a few asks before about a physical edition of Scarlet Lady, I'm curious how you are planning to go about it? For now I saw you talk about volume one, are you planning to make one season = one volume? Will there be any changes to the current comics? (Like color, bonuses etc.) thank you in advance!

Yes, the plan is 1 Volume = 1 Season, with Volume 5 having the finale episodes, so, extra thiccccc.

I have edited the pages to fix spelling errors and made a few changes so subtle that I can't even remember them, as well as trying to make old pages more legible. And there are bonus images and commentary to fill in the blank spots left by page bonuses.

^Here's an example bonus pictures I made for "The Pharaoh". It's the picture Alix joked about sharing with the class of Marinette dressed as Scarlet Lady, and Plagg dressed as the Black Cat statues that the group walks past at the end of the episode.

Because mixam (the ones who'll be making these books) needs pages divisible by 4, I do have some full color pages for the Volumes that happened to not fit that number nicely (so far it's just Volume 2), so look forward to that. I think I'll share those pages later this week.

Additionally, the chapters got new "headers" since they're in a new format:

^Ivan finally got his moment!

So, it's not as easy as just throwing it into a PDF and giving it out like that. I want this to be a special gift for anyone who's willing to put down money for my content - they deserve something extra for their interest, which is also why I'm not trying to spoil everything.

As for the status of everything: - Volume 1: Final Walk-through. I've gone through one draft and added a few things to match changes I made to other volumes, so after I complete a few commissions I'll be ordering in another (hopefully final!) draft. One book costs me about $60 to order, but that's because I'm not ordering in bulk. But it does mean I take plenty of time between ordering draft. - Volume 2: 2nd Draft. Volume 1 had very few errors in its first draft but Volume 2 had quite a lot, starting with the cover being so dark it was basically a black blob with green eyes (the covers are the different heroes). So I've been editing saturation on the cover and need to print just the cover locally to find the right balance. Additionally, there were a handful that accidentally got cut off, so I needed to fix those. The cover is really the biggest thing holding things up. - Volume 3: Ready for it's 1st Draft. Again, these are expensive, and after the debacle with Volume 2 I want to test print Volume 3's cover to make sure it doesn't have the same problem since it also has a lot of black. - Volume 4: Only the pages have been edited. That means I need to do chapter covers, extras, chibis, and page fillers, as well as the cover. - Volume 5: Same as Volume 4, as well as not being done with the season.

Additionally, I'm not out here trying to get sued, so I need an original product to sell with the book being a "freebie". I don't do a lot of original content, so any suggestions would be appreciated. A print? Charm? Bookmark? Stickers?...pencil?

Then there's obviously the store to use, launching a page, creating marketing materials~ All super fun -_-

[aliensunflower-fics]

A Winter Dance: Has been REMASTERED.

Sooo to buy myself more time to work on other fics (Im trying guys I swear adhd brain nightmare) I have a little surprise to hopefully keep you all entertained this Holiday Season!

For awhile now the spelling errors, words in wrong places, and just 'could have been even better' feelings toward my 'A Winter Dance' fics have been driving me crazy, so slowly on the side I have been fixing them up. First it was just correcting the errors, then I just rewrote a little here, added a little more there and oops?

So as a special 'thank you' and my way of wishing you all a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays I updated the two fics here. Don't worry if you still prefer the old version I will keep them up on AO3 where I will also be publishing the updated version as its own thing.

Thank you all for your support, kind words, and patience with my adhd brain chemistry. I wish you all only the happiest of holidays and I hope you enjoy:

A WINTER DANCE REMASTERED EDITION:

The Winter Dance was widely considered by all students of Francois Dupont to be one of the most romantic events of the school year. Each year as the snow began to fall and teachers got there last minute exams in before the holidays the students would grow restless knowing that soon the time would come. The winter dance was the time for romantic confessions, heartfelt words, and shy first dances between blossoming young couples! Even those without dates would find joy and fun in the festive atmosphere dancing with best friends and eating snacks, it was a time of merriment and love or at least, it was suppose to be.

Continue Reading...

A WINTER DANCE PT. 2 REMASTERED EDITION:

Adrien Agreste, was NOT jealous. He just wasn’t the sort! He had seen Chloe jealous often enough to decide that it was a ridiculous emotion one he had no time for! Why be jealous of your friends when you could be happy for them and support them! It was such a simple logical conclusion Adrien had no idea why that wasn’t everyone’s solution! Oh sure he had tried to explain his feelings to Nino, tried to make his friend understand what he was really feeling was obviously concern! But for some reason his best friend kept on calling him jealous! It was frankly starting to get annoying.

Continue Reading...

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Reader

Wounded, bloody, and just the two of you. A mission gone wrong leads to a long overdue moment between both you and your Captain, perhaps too late to count for anything. Not if either of you two can help it at least.

Part One of Two (Possibly Three Part short story).

EDIT* I went back and proofread this again and fixed errors. I didn't realize I posted this in such a crummy state before, I'm sorry!

TW//: Blood, Violence

Angst, Drama, Action, Romance, Near Death Experiences, Confessions, slightly Dark, some Fluffy Dialogue (not a ton though), Tension, slight Suspense, slight Slow Burn, For the girlies who like when their romantic moments feel a little teased and earned, Though this might still be boring garbage, plus the real stuff doesn't start 'til part two. The "developing feelings through almost dying in front of each other" trope, my favorite trope lowkey

This was not the smut piece I have been planning to write for Price (That's still coming), I wanted to practice writing him a little and this sprung on me after playing MW 2019. Figured I'd post it, though this is just to indulge my growing obsession with this man. Let me know if he's OOC, I want to write him well! Enjoy!

Part Two | Part Three

Price's voice suddenly shouts out from the living room, frantic and wired...

"Ambush! Get behind cover!"

...However, his warnings are drowned out by the whistling of an RPG heading straight for your location. It cuts through the evening sky, coming to you as a black dot zipping by at the blink of an eye.

The rocket breaks through the window of the house you and Price had been tasked to raid for intel, as the explosion goes off against one of the walls behind you. The sound which follows is unlike any you've ever heard the likes of before. A piercing, defeaning pop; the loudest and most unpleasant thing imaginable.

The sharp, crashing boom it erupts around you is hot like fire, singing your uniform and blasting you forward. It's the last thing you remember, before being greeted into a world of swirling blacks and oranges. In pain and completely immobile. Momentarily knocked unconscious.

You're not so sure how much time passes before you come to again. Only a handful of minutes or so. Though in that span, you've listened to the sounds of growing gunfire and shouting rise like a terrifying mob outside. Coming in and out in hot flashes.

Had your Captain's shouting not broken through this foggy barrier, you would have thought you'd have just died. You wouldn't be so lucky.

"Lieutenant!" you hear him call out. His voice grows more desperate the longer he hasn't heard from you. "I'm comin'!"

As the dust began to settle, you felt yourself coming back. You groan in pain, your entire body sore from the blast. Brick and stone rubble surround you like a straightjacket. You're pretty sure the entire roof of the house had fallen on top of you just now. Beneath it all, it was hard to tell for certain.

As you lie trapped, waiting to be rescued, you couldn't help but think about the mission. You and Price should have known this was some sort of setup.

Even Laswell had doubts this lead on Makarov wasn't just some trap to lure out their rivals and take them out, but with this recent dry spell on the investigation, your team couldn't afford to pass up the chance at some potentially valuable leads. It's why Laswell kept the team small, sending only you two on this one.

An easy enough operation: infiltrate the building, gather the intel, and get out. Nothing new. Only all you've found in this rinky-dink building on the outskirts of Urzikstan was a handful of AQ remnants and their new Russian PMC allies. And they knew you two were coming too.

The marked house was empty, both of any life and intel. And not even a second later were they all on top of your location, every inch of this town and the hills that surrounded it dug in with hostiles.

You'd have to ask Price later how it was he was able to push back that hoard alone, if you can make it out of this. There's no telling what they'd do to you both if they caught you in here, and that's if they even take you in alive.

You feel bits of rubble being shifted off your body, immense amounts of pressure releasing upon their departure. It's quickly replaced by the sharp bruising and pain it's left in its wake beneath your uniform.

"I'm right here," you hear Price's voice try to soothe you from up above, that gruff Liverpool accent of his clear enough even through the strain and stress. He hasn't let you down a day since you've known him. He wasn't about to make today his first.

Another large bit of rubble gets removed, taking the darkness away and flooding light down from above.

You could have sworn you were looking at an angel when you finally made out the silhouette of the man rescuing you. Your Captain. John Price.

"I've got you," Price assures you, his words felt wracked with adrenaline, hands moving near on impulse.

His hat was gone, short brown hair in a light tussle, and dust and light soot coating the black of his uniform and scruff of his beard. It almost worried you not to see him in it; he never parts from that thing. Perhaps during the blast it had gotten caught in the crossfires and rendered unwearable.

For some reason, it only made the situation feel much more worse than you originally thought.

His blue eyes find yours beneath the rubble, and you watch all the dread he'd been juggling with subside into relief the second he hears you cough out all the dust and wall you'd inhaled, struggling to catch your breath. He sighs to himself with a smile.

He doesn't even hear the words when he says them. Price only says the first thing that came to mind the minute you've finally stopped coughing to see him again.

"Thank fuckin' Christ."

Once Price saw you weren't dead, he finished removing the rubble from off of you. It's the bit he removes from your right arm that finally pulls a pained cry out of you. It's so intense it's as though reality just now set back in for you.

Your entire right arm felt numb from the elbow down, your fingers no longer feeling attached to your body. Had you not held your breath and sucked up the courage to look (with your peripherals first), you would have thought you'd lost your arm in the explosion.

Though it didn't make it any less broken and fucked. Nor did it make it any easier to not become fearful of what this could mean for you.

The Captain immediately notices the condition of your arm once he's cleared the debris off you. Cursing under his breath, Price helps you to your feet, brushing as much dirt from you as he can.

"You broken?" he asks. "Apart from the arm?"

You feel for what weapons still remained attached to your body after the blast, finding just a slender knife and your holstered pistol. Only two clips though. Of course.

Your arm and entire backside ached something fierce, and your brain felt as though it had been rattled inside your head and then some. If you shut your eyes now, you feared fainting dead away, and the ringing in your ears has yet to subside.

But your current state would have to do. It's that or die here. You knew that, and Price knew that too.

"I'm still here, Captain."

Price smiles, his gaze softening for just the slightest second. Happy to see his training and advice being taken seriously.

It just now was beginning to dawn on him that you hadn't died in here with him either. Seeing you OK and still ready to fight felt fuel enough for the Captain to keep going.

"That you are," he says.

Price parts from you to take post back by the freshly made hole in the wall, readying his rifle. Most of the building had collapsed in on itself, with the exception of the back of the house still being mostly intact.

Outside you could see the mountain of bodies Price had no doubt created while you were buried. None made it too close to where your position was.

With the coast temporarily clear, the current objective at hand remained the same: Get to the Evac Zone stat and get the hell out of dodge.

"This building's gonna be surrounded by Russians and AQ in less than a minute if we don't bug out now," Price warns. "And there'll be more where that came from, so ready yourself for a fight."

"Price..."

The Captain looks back at you, hearing the sudden dread in your voice. It takes him having to have stepped away from you to finally see that something really was up.

Your eyes look down to his waist, where you see the blood beginning to pool at his hip, staining his clothing and growing larger by the minute. It's clear he'd used what he could to try and wrap it, though it hadn't been enough. The adrenaline must have taken his mind away from it.

It figures you weren't the only one who got wounded here.

You look back up at Price, worried. Quiet.

Price looks down at his wound, placing a hand against it and seeing the warm, wet liquid coat his tattered glove. Whether it be a front or really only a flesh wound, Price doesn't dare break composure in front of you. You both would need him clearheaded.

"It's nothin' fatal," he simply tells you.

You knew Price wouldn't make a big deal about his injury, even if it were serious, which you honestly could not tell from where you were standing. You also knew Price wouldn't want you to worry about it either. He never liked when you worried for him; that's his job.

The time dwindled all the same; you can worry about it when you both get home.

You look to Price with contentment. You wouldn't be another reason for his worries if you could help it. "It'll make a good story for the boys later."

Price smiles back at you. "You'll tell it better than me, I'm sure."

The growing sound of men shouting and vehicles rushing to flank your position makes your blood run cold. If you didn't leave soon, neither of you would make it out of this to tell your stories.

You try and get that adrenaline you felt before to spike back up, knowing this was a matter of life and death now. Though your body betrayed you.

Your heart won't stop racing, no matter how much you try and calm yourself. Your hands keep shaking, and you can't help but keep checking the recently blasted hole behind you and your Captain. Soon to be flooded with enemies. Afraid.

Price must have noticed your worrying, because he steps away from his position and does something completely outside of himself suddenly. Though as he did so, it couldn't have felt more natural of a thing to do. Like a gesture he's spent his whole life waiting to give you.

He rests his hand gently on your cheek, bringing your eyes forward so you could see nothing beyond his own gaze. This close, even as night falls over the town and darkness shrouds the remains of this little house, this felt the clearest you've ever looked upon your Captain.

There's a glint of determination in his eyes, all the years of experiences that have worn and torn him the older he has gotten, defining the finer parts of his features. His expression always softened at the sight of you, an act you alone pulled from him for the first time truly, now.

Price was here with you. At that moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

"Hey," his thumb caresses your cheek, his jaw clenching to keep from wincing at the pain in his abdomen. "We're alive. Let's keep it that way, yeah? I'm not leavin' here without you."

His jaw tenses once more and you think for a second he might say something else. But he holds his tongue, wanting the most for you to keep calm beside him.

You can feel it in the air around him; the captain's as bugged out as you are right now. He was just doing everything he could to keep being a leader and bottle it up, channeling those fears and turning them into fuel to keep going. His words may be more for himself, than you, but they're true enough.

You lift your good hand up and let it rest over his, feeling his hand stiffen at first, but then find its home against your palm. You didn't want to have to let go, but you knew you must eventually. So you nod. "Damn right, you're not."

Price chuckles, happy to see you on the same page. "Fuckin' A, love," he quickly quips. "Now let's move."

The rocky hills stretched further out ahead of you. At some point their edges seem to blend with the black of the sky, all the stars gone away someplace. Luck would see a full moon above your heads, providing the only bit of light on this makeshift route to the Evac Zone.

You have Price's arm over your left shoulder now, having to help him the rest of the way since you've escaped the base. No amount of tough guy act the Captain put on could prevent the amount of blood he'd been losing. Had he not started tumbling over mid-shootout suddenly, you wouldn't have even known. And you wanted to kill him yourself once you did too.

It's nothin' fatal, he had said. The lie of the fucking century, right?

By now his dark blood has practically stained the entire lower right side of his body, making his skin pale and his eyelids heavy. His movements slowed, his reflexes taking a severe hit because of it, and he was beginning to breathe heavier. You've gone through all your supplies trying to stop his bleeding before leaving the house. Nothing worked.

It had been infuriating, just as it'd been scary to realize that your Captain really did need a medic right now. If he didn't see a doctor soon, he might just bleed to death before you've made it out of here.

Of course, having to help him now meant you couldn't shoot at all, given the state of your other arm. Price helped with what he could, but even a man of his talents couldn't prevent shaky shots from increasing blood loss.

"Nikolai's not far out now," Price grunted out, doing his best to put one more clip into his pistol. The last one. "Should be a few more clicks along this trail."

"He couldn't fly a little closer," you huff out, readjusting your hold on the Captain. He wasn't a light man, and while he did everything in his power to make this easier for you, his weakening state only grew harder to carry.

"You holdin' up alright?" Price asks. You feel him once again, ready himself to try and pull away and stand on his own feet. Having to rely on you was eating away at him, you could tell.

"I'm fine," you tell him, though that's not all the way true. Your vision had started to blur, and your lungs felt on fire. Now that some time has passed, all your once numb injuries were suddenly starting to scream at you for relief. Had you not been concentrating on your steps in front of you, or the thumping of your heart inside your ringing ears, you would have fainted already.

But you were all Price had right now; there was no way you'd fail him when he needed you most. "I'm more worried about you, Captain."

"Still got my wits about me..." he says. "Maybe a little lighter now, given I've been leakin' like a faucet."

"I'd beg to differ."

"Eh, you can use the exercise, lieutenant."

"Or you can lose the weight, Captain."

You both chuckle, and for a second, it felt easier to pretend you both were somewhere else right now. Spending all the time together you only wish you had before.

The levity was needed. It kept you both sane and human, and right now, Price was kicking himself in the ass for not appreciating these moments with you sooner.

The team really lucked out when they recruited you, he saw that now. You've always made sure you were someone Price could trust. That you were someone he could depend on you. You kept a cool head and you did what you must, while staying both good-natured and sweet, despite everything.

And when everything was said and done, you came back to him, keeping a smile as neutral as his own could manage. Your eyes bright like stars with him in your sights. His would often do the same.

All the times you've been at his side before tonight, keeping his head on straight when he needed it most, and always reminding him of life outside of all of this, they've only increased over the years. In every moment it always felt as though you two only teetered at the next level of your fondness for one another. Both wanting to push further, but not wanting to push the other too quickly either.

Your roles on the team always came first; they seemed to be the most important thing at the time.

Every lingering touch, a longing gaze brought by excitement and recognition, a check-in during work, or a brief moment of conversation... that's where your relationship has stayed for years now. You both felt OK with that. You thought so at first.

However, Price knew one thing. He couldn't lose you tonight. He wouldn't. Not on his account. Not when there's so much more that can still be. John's lived long enough to know that when something feels this right, there is no time to waste, lest he lose that chance forever like he has with so many others before.

You feel Price grow slack against your side now, his blood starting to soak through your uniform. It took everything in you not to panic.

"I won't let you fall," you assure him now, adjusting him against you. "Just keep holding on."

The smell of blood is so strong, you'll never forget its scent long after you've left this place. Nor would you forget seeing your Captain this way. Hurt and broken. You know he's no stranger to it, but alas, John is still human.

"...I'm taking you out for dinner after this," Price up and says suddenly. He figures he should just throw that out there, in case he didn't get another chance to. "My treat."

You nearly trip when you hear him, as if you're heart needed any more of a reason to fluctuate. You lost count of how long you've waited to hear him say that, having spent so many nights daydreaming about a time he'd come up to you and actually asked you out. It felt like everything you imagined it would; if only it had been under better circumstances.

"Is that a promise, Captain?"

"You know I wouldn't bluff about that, love."

"Well, then you better keep it then, John."

"As you wish."

He could hardly understand how it was you were still able to push through all that growing pain in your body after taking such a blast. He couldn't be more proud of it either.

The town illuminated like a glowing city behind you, AQ and Russians creating an uproar there, regardless of your presence. It was no longer your problem, however. The approaching convoy heading your direction was.

You weren't out of the fire just yet.

You look around yourselves, only having a few large rocks and boulders to hide behind in your immediate vicinity. Little word is needed to be shared between you two before the plan was nonverbally green-lit.

You both take cover behind a large rock facing the hills, Price resting down against the rock as you took out your pistol. It was time to see if your shooting with your left hand has improved any more than it did a few minutes ago during your escape.

You peak over the stone, seeing four AQ soldiers step out with rifles and flashlights, already hot on your pursuit. Tracking the trail of blood you'd left behind. Price peaks around the other side of the rock, raising his pistol.

"You take the two on the right," he whispers. "I got left."

You nod, and then take position. Price takes the first shot, dropping both his targets with swift precision. Even wounded, the man always had a way with pistols. Forever the dead-eye shot.

You drop one AQ soldier, happy to see your aim improve. However, your heart sinks when you go to shoot the other soldier and you hear the click of your pistol suddenly. Out of ammo.

The AQ soldier fires at you, the bullet just grazing by your cheek, before another hits you straight at the center of your chest, rattling your sternum and knocking you off your feet. Without your bulletproof vest, that bullet would have torn straight through you. Though you might as well have died, with the pain it sent through you instead. Knocking the wind out of you.

Before you know it, Price has reached over and started pulling you back behind the boulder. "Hold on!" he says. "You're not dead yet."

Price goes to try and get to his knees and peek over the boulder, however, now that he's sat back behind the rock again with you, it's become an impossible task to even wiggle his feet at this point. Like his legs were losing feeling. The blood loss really was starting to catch up to him now, it seems.

So instead, Price did the next best thing, simply waiting for the AQ soldier to round the corner, which he stupidly does. The minute the enemy's head peaks over, Price shot twice for good measure, watching the man drop to the ground with a heavy thud.

"I think we're clear," he says. "Still breathing?"

"Yeah," you gasp out.

A lot of times, you're not sure if you'd make it through a lot of these missions if Price wasn't here. The true backbone of the 141. The man always just seemed to be prepared for anything, even with the odds stacked against him. Often feeling like some other worldly being on the field, unable to be truly harmed by the threats he faced.

Until now, you couldn't even picture him so hurt.

When Price went on a mission, you could trust he'd get it done, if no one else. And you could always trust he'd make it back too. One way or another. Of course, he wasn't always lucky, as rare as those days actually came. Luck seemed to only be a recent thing for him in fact, and of short supply tonight.

You push yourself up, rubbing your hand over your chest in an attempt to soothe the throbbing. You're unsure what bad juju you yourself had crossed, or why lady luck seemed on your side even despite it all, but maybe fate wanted you to make it out of here.

One of you at least.

You look over at Price and see him barely able to keep consciousness now, cold sweat forming at the sides of his face, and a puddle of blood building around his legs. His breathing broken. Dying.

Seeing him now, pale, bloodied, and relying on a rock behind him to keep himself upright... for the first time ever you felt fear for your Captain.

"No, no, no," you rush over to Price, taking hold of his face and bringing his eyes to you. Seeing them so close again wakes him somewhat. "Stay with me, Captain."

"I'm still here..." Price answers weakly. Even still, he tries to keep up an act in front of you, like he truly was fine. It only made you more afraid to lose him now. Out in some rocky hilltop in the middle of nowhere because of bad intel. You couldn't lose him like this.

You look over the boulder, seeing the convoy those AQ soldiers showed up in still running a few feet ahead of you. Just what you needed.

"Can you stand?" You ask.

"...I'll need help," he said.

"OK, OK..." You take a deep breath, plotting everything out in your head before taking Price's hand in yours. "There's a convoy over there we can take to the Evac Zone. It'll be faster than going on foot."

You start trying to pull Price up, feeling the man use all the strength he can muster to try and push off the ground and back to his feet. Having one hand to help him didn't make matters easier, however. He made it halfway before falling back against the cold stone with a sharp grunt and some swearing.

Rather than comment, you take Price's hand again, feeling your face turn red with trying to lift him. He gets his knees bent to stand this time, but whenever any weight was applied afterward, an aggressive pain would awkwardly shoot through his body, taking all the momentum from him and causing him to sink back down. And with how heavy he was, you couldn't stop him once he it happened.

Price falls back against the rock again, as frustrated as you are about it all. He can't even bring himself to look you in your eye he's so mad, ashamed of the situation. It's not like him to be the one holding things back. He shouldn't have gotten wounded like this in the first place, he felt.

"...If you go and get help, I can manage here 'til then," Price starts to say. Feeling like a burden, he no longer wished to hold you down. But you wouldn't hear it.

"Fuck that," you protest. "I didn't carry you all the way over here to leave you so you can bleed out."

"...You didn't do it to die here either." He grabs at his side, gritting his teeth along to that burning pain he felt, as the taste of iron tinted the back of his throat now. "Look, this ain't how I plan on goin' out, trust me. Plus we've still got that dinner, yeah?"

Price smiles at you after he says it, and it takes everything in you not to cry. An unspoken reality lingered in the air soon after, because you both knew what it'd mean if you couldn't pick him up from this spot. You'd give anything to not make that so.

You hear more vehicles heading your way from the town. A good handful of them now. Too many. All armed and ready to take out the two 141 soldiers responsible for killing their friends. You knew if you left Price here now, you wouldn't see him again.

"Fuck..." Out of breath and defeated, sorrow starts to settle in and you swallow it down, letting the feelings stir into frustration. "Why'd we wait so long, John?"

Price felt at a loss for words. "I don't know..." he admits. He couldn't quite give you an answer for that; it had always just been... something. He could at least look you in your eyes when he spoke to you now. "But... I'm sorry for that," he says. "Probably should have said somethin' sooner, huh."

You have to bite your cheek to keep from letting his words fill you with so much sorrow and regret. "You and me both."

Fearful that these may actually be your final moments with your Captain, now you wish he hadn't said anything at all, not knowing you'd be losing him so soon after. Leave it to Price to twist the knife in a wound you didn't even know had now grown.

However, Price did not share your begrudging feelings about how things turned out. He'd just been happy finally getting that off his chest. Now, if you could just get to safety then if he did die tonight he'd be satisfied enough with things.

"Better late than never, right?" Price chuckles through the pain. And then he grows quiet. "You know I've always had a pension for dramatic timing."

The vehicles in the distance getting closer now. There was no more time for further talking.

"Forever the attention seeker, Captain," you comment.

"Yours is all I ever needed."

You look back to the town a final time, seeing the convoys getting closer. You take a deep breath, and then you reapproach your Captain, taking his hand. You prepare yourself to try and lift Price back up to his feet again. "Well, you've got it."

"Now hold on-"

"No," you didn't want to hear any more of his excuses to be left behind. If helping him means you both die here, then that was something you were willing to risk. "I'm not leaving you here, so give it up already."

With one final pull, you use all the strength you have left in you to lift your Captain up to his feet. He uses your momentum to push himself up from the boulder, actually managing to stand, though it feels as though his guts are about to spill out of him when he does.

As he's teetering over, you quickly grab hold of his arm, restabilizing him, and trying not to jump too much for joy that you actually got him up this time.

You take his arm and wrap it back around your shoulder, as you guided him over to the convoy.

"We're damn near home free, Captain," you say. "Just hold on a little longer. You'll make it. You're the toughest man I know."

He is the toughest man you knew. A man ready to jump into the fire to save others in need. A man that can shrug off a helicopter crash, take a beating and still keep from succumbing. You knew he'd never go down without a fight, and it's why you felt so safe beside him. It's why you wouldn't leave him.

You open the passenger door and help Price inside.

"...You really want that dinner, don't you?" he teases you.

"Is that even a question?" You check to make sure the vehicle can still run, feeling for any tracking devices that might overcomplicate your escape. Once you see you're good to go, you buckle your seat belt and take the wheel. "Yeah, I want that dinner. Now stop bleeding and sit tight."

"Yes, ma'am."

Next stop, the Evac Zone.

Part Two