#she really made that goat sound to shut him up??? I LOVE HER

[machonnes]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (2022-) 1.06 | Like Angels Put in Hell by God

[capobegone]

My Thoughts on the Swordsmith Village Movie!

Alright y’all, this goes without saying, but I’ll announce it anyway:

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE KNY MOVIE. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE SPOILED, DO NOT PROCEED. DO NOT PASS GO. DO NOT COLLECT 200 DOLLARS.

Anyway. Now that that’s said and done, let’s begin! Here are my favorite parts, in no particular order.

-GOTOU. GOTOU THE KAKUSHI. He’s always been my favorite background character; he only shows up a few times but somehow he is around SO MUCH for the key events in Tanjiro’s journey. His abdominal breathing to scream for the butterfly girls was fantastic because a) abdominal breathing really is effective to project, from a vocalist’s standpoint, and b) it goes to show that even if he can’t wield a sword or use a breath technique, he still understands the importance of proper breath support! Good for you, Gotou-san!

-My theater’s audience laughed the most at Inosuke hanging from the ceiling. That was a hit. I already knew it was gonna happen but I was laughing too because I was just so giddy!! They also really enjoyed the scenes of Tengen’s wives arguing while he’s dying of poisoning. A classic.

-ZENITSU IN HIS LITTLE SCARF. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.

-But seriously, I enjoyed the scene of Zenitsu with the other slayers and Gotou with his Kakushi friend. It gives us a rare glimpse into daily corps life when one is not fighting extremely important battles against upper moons.

-They recapped bits from the previous episode in the beginning of the swordsmith village arc, so we got to watch poor Kagaya choking and gagging on his own blood TWICE, BACK TO BACK. Which, as much as I love him dearly and felt awful for him, it was kinda funny. Side-note, Amane is a GOAT for sticking with him and taking care of him during all of this. She’s a queen through and through.

-Mitsuri. Oh, Mitsuri, the love of my life. I want to kiss her little face. Her voice actor is so wonderful!! Watching her play with Nezuko and easily pick her up and hold her hand was so heartwarming!! Her little song about dinner made my heart sing too!! The little sparkle edits whenever she got excited!! Mitsuri-chan, please be my wife. Just, uh, don’t tell Obanai.

-Also, the hot spring scene?? Hello?? I had seen the leaks, but they didn’t do it justice. I was not expecting them to fully show her entire butt. With both cheeks. I was gripping the seat for dear life so I didn’t screech out loud. Ufotable really went for it with the Mitsuri fanservice, and as much as my feminist side wants to disagree with this, I am unfortunately too gay to care. I shamelessly enjoyed every second of it.

-Speaking of hot springs, the crow noise that Tanjiro made when he jumped in took me OUT. And baby Nezuko swimming by was SO CUTE I CAN’T TAKE IT. UGH. 

-AND ALSO: GENYA!! I LOVE GENYA!! I’m so so excited to see more of him! The talk Tanjiro and Mitsuri had about his relationship with Sanemi made me sad, but then them worrying about him not eating enough and going to bring him some rice balls made it okay again.

-Speaking of which… why was Genya skipping his meals? Was he just avoiding Tanjiro and Mitsuri? Did he bring his own food like they hypothesized? Was his tummy messed up from eating demon, like Gyoumei always worried it would be? Seeing as he still had fangs, it had probably happened recently, and if demons can’t eat human food…am I over analyzing? I think I’m over analyzing.

-The snapping of Gyutaro breaking Tanjiro’s fingers in surround sound made the woman next to me physically recoil. Girl, same. Shit was nasty.

-NEZUKO SLITHERING AROUND UNDER THE TABLE LMAOO

-The little tease of Muichiro at the end. Come on man, I want MORE!! DON’T DO THIS TO ME!!

-The entire upper moon meeting. Wow. The animation was insane. Good lord, the infinity castle was wonderfully confusing! It was a little overwhelming with all the flashes and transitions, but it helped that Akaza was in just as much of a state of sensory overload as the rest of us. Man did NOT want Douma touching him on top of everything else that was rubbing his temper the wrong way, and Douma could not have given less of a damn. But wow, did they make Douma such a funny little dude!! Crawling all over the floor and flashing peace signs and such. How wonderful. The scene of Nakime immediately shutting him down was glorious.

-Not sure if I’m the hugest fan of the way they just. Blipped out? I guess I always imagined Nakime would make them doors to go in and out of the infinity castle, so it felt a liiiiittle underwhelming. But, of course, that’s just me.

-Akaza falling was sick as hell. I just know he thought he was super cool. Which…yeah, he totally was. What can I say, I love him. Akaza punching off Douma’s face only to immediately get in trouble with Kokushibo? *chef’s kiss*

-But…the credits. They left in all of the credits, which was just a teeny bit awkward. I was just sitting there staring at them (I cannot read Japanese and I saw it subbed) and anxious out of my MIND to see swordsmith village! (Which, the village itself looked gorgeous, by the way!) Still, I think it was absolutely worth the wait. 

Overall, it was just such a fun experience!! I’ve never been to a movie on my own before, and I’m so glad this was the first one. It was so, so epic and I enjoyed myself thoroughly! Planning on going to see it again with my sister when she’s back in town. Easy 10/10 for me, because I just adored every moment with every character!! If you haven’t seen it yet, I encourage you to do so! :D

[wonderlandleighleigh]

“Because you being here hurts! It hurts so fucking much!” If you wouldn't mind <3

(a continuation of the subway fic from earlier)

(TW for brief mentions of sexual abuse)

The words play over and over in her head, and she's not sure what to do with them as she washes the dishes in Lenny's kitchen. They don't need cleaning. He already washed them yesterday, but she can't sleep, and she doesn't want to wake him up (he's not a great sleeper. She wants him to rest when he can).

But it's hard to get Joel's words from dinner at Moishe and Shirley's dinner that night out of her head.

She's been playing them over and over and over again. On the walk to the subway. On the train coming home. On the walk to Lenny's place. As she got ready for bed that night.

Lenny had offered to try and take her mind off of things, but she's just too in her own head for sex. She knows it's a nice distraction, but she just feels...

Midge isn't sure. Unworthy of it, maybe? Like being the cause of someone else's pain makes her undeserving of that level of affection. And Lenny hadn't fought her on it or tried to convince her. Just kissed her gently and left her to finish getting ready for bed.

And that's another thing she's not used to. If she wasn't in the mood with Joel, he'd eventually get his way one way or another. Either by verbally pushing or...

She shuts down thoughts of nights where she'd wake out of the dead sleep to find her husband taking what he wanted. Telling her how good she felt. How much he loved her. Claiming to know she wanted it too.

Because it's always been about what Joel wants, and Midge knows hat now. She knows that her entire life revolved around what Joel wanted, and her own well-being and wants and needs be damned. All the times she was sick and he never noticed. All the times she was sad and he never caught on. Or frustrated, or angry about something. All the times she did everything and he would snap at her. All the times it was never enough and so she made it enough.

But just the sight of her - just her being in the same room a the same family dinner - hurts Joel. As if he wasn't the one who blew up their marriage in the first place.

Never mind how hard it's been to get over her own hurt in the last few years. Never mind swallowing the pain of being cheated on and left, and then jerked around by him, and then jerking him around (that's on her. It is. She shouldn't have).

Never mind.

"Never mind," she mutters to herself. And it's only then that she realizes she's crying over the clean dishes.

"Midge?"

She takes a breath but doesn't turn to face Lenny. "It's fine. I'm almost done."

"The dishes were clean, Sweetheart," he reminds her. "What's wrong?"

She wipes her eyes and turns to him slowly, shrugging helplessly. "Do you ever just- wish you could fucking disappear? Change your name. Move away. Be someone completely different just so the person who continuously hurts you can't do that anymore?"

Lenny walks over to her slowly, taking her hands. "Once or twice. Go back to being Leonard Schneider. Buy a farm upstate. Raise goats or some shit."

Midge huffs out a teary laugh. "Really? Buy a farm?"

"Sure. It's nice to grow things," Lenny shrugs. "Have some fresh vegetables. Fresh eggs every morning for breakfast."

"I can't get you out of bed before ten," she points out.

"You've never given me a cow to milk," he tells her. "If I knew I had a cow to milk..."

Midge shakes her head and raises both their hands to wipe her eyes again.

"We could just be Mr. and Mrs. Schneider," he offers playfully, stepping closer. "Our farm could be Fort Fuck Yourself, and we could grow fresh herbs for you to use in your cooking, and I'd plant you roses."

"I really like roses," she admits.

"I know," Lenny says. "But also, that life sounds fucking awful, doesn't it?"

She nods. "It does. It sounds terrible."

He sighs softly. "Joel is not worth all of this angst."

"I know."

"He just says shit. I don't even know if he believes it."

Midge nods. "I know."

"But you're still sad," Lenny points out gently.

She nods. "I am. I'm sad that my very existence makes someone else fucking miserable."

"Which is hilarious, because most women I know would be over the moon about making their ex-husband's lives a living hell," he smirks. "You're too nice to him, Midge."

"I can't help it," she confesses. "I'm just- I can't help it."

"What can I do here?" Lenny asks. "How do I help you out?"

"You help me out plenty," Midge reminds him.

"Okay, but right here, right now? We can wash the dishes five more times. You wanna go cry in the shower? It's a good shower for crying in, I know from experience."

She gazes at him sadly. "Lenny..."

"Mostly joking," he says, kissing one of her hands. "You wanna sit in front of the television and watch the test screen? Raid my refrigerator? Get drunk? Score some coke? Coke helps when you're sad."

Midge laughs. "Weren't you the one who claimed I'd be a megalomaniac on cocaine?"

Lenny snaps a finger. "That's right."

She sighs and wraps her arms around him. "Can we go lay down? Will you just hold me for a while?"

He nods, kissing her forehead tenderly. "Far less expensive than coke. I think I can swing that."

[longlivelindanny]

can we have a one shot of Danny being the best boyfriend or husband (your choice) to Linda on her period?

Oh my word, yes! I just finished one, actually

Oh no. Oh crap no. No no no no no!

Linda cursed profusely in her hand as she pushed her sobs in the stroller. How could it do this to her? Why did it do this to her? She usually could feel it, there were usually signs! But she was feeling it all right, which was why she had to get home. Why didn't she bring Danny along?

*******

All the way home, her boys cried. Sean cried because he was tired and hungry, and probably needed a change. Jack cried because they didn't get to see the goats, like Linda had promised, and he was making it abundantly clear he was mad about it.

She had half a mind to spank him, and maybe it'd come down to that, but right now, she just needed to get home.

An agonizing half hour passed of crying children. At the end of the drive, she was just about crying too. She slammed her car door shut as she got Jack, then Sean, out of their car seats. She slammed both their doors, and practically stomped up to the house. She handed the kids to their Dad as soon as she walked in, and went straight up to their bedroom.

Danny had no idea what had happened, but he could deal with that later. Right now, he had to get his sons quiet and calmed down... and maybe even get them to take a nap, so he could look after his wife.

*******

After Jack was calmed down, Danny got him to nap. Sean was changed and had had his bottle, and was now sleeping peacefully. The Dad blew out a breath of relief before heading to the room he shared with his wife.

He found her curled on top of the covers, the sides of it wrapped around her. She had clearly been crying, and he wasn't sure if she was still crying. He kneeled in front of the bed, "What's wrong?"

Linda blinked a few times, her lip wobbling. Gosh, she felt pathetic. "I got my period, and it's bad. It's really bad. I didn't have anything with me, and I couldn't just leave Jack and Sean alone while I fixed it. So I had to rush them home. Jack was throwing a hissy fit because he didn't get to see the stupid goats. And Sean started to cry because Jack was crying. And it was so embarrassing, and I hurt so damn much."

Danny nodded along, showing that he was listening. He stroked her hair the whole time she ranted. "Okay. I'll get you the heat pad, and ice water. Do you want chocolate or anything to snack on?"

She shook her head no.

"I'll be back. And I'll keep an eye on the kids. And figure out dinner."

"You can't cook."

"I'm perfectly capable of putting food on the table." He kissed her nose, "don't worry."

He left and grabbed the heat pad from the closet, then plugged it in for her. He'd have to come back and unplug it if she fell asleep, but that was no big deal. Then he filled a thermos with the coldest ice water and delivered it to her.

"Here you go, baby. Take a nap- I can hold down the fort for a while."

She smiled, "you're the greatest. I love you."

"I love you more," he pushed her hair behind her ear.

"I love you most." She made a kissing sound, signaling him to lean in for a proper kiss.

Once he got his kiss, he perked in on the boys. Both were sleeping soundly, so he went downstairs to figure out dinner.

Sean ate breast milk, so he was taken care of. Jack was pretty picky, but he'd always eat chicken nuggets. Linda probably wouldn't eat much, because she never did on her period. (She could eat like a pig the days leading up to it, but she hardly ate anything on her period). And Danny would eat anything and everything.

That was the easy part. The hard part would be actually cooking the meal. They didn't have enough ingredients for the pastas he knew how to make; they didn't have steak or frozen burgers or even hot dogs.

"Man, we gotta go shopping."

So he picked up the phone, and waited for the person on the other end to answer. "Hello, China King? Do you deliver to Staten Island? You do? Great!"

*******

Just as he suspected, Linda didn't eat much. He'd even go as far to say she didn't eat at all— he didn't count four fork-fills of rice as eating. He, Jack, and Sean, however, ate their dinners.

Afterwards, things were quiet. Jack threw a little fit when Danny said they couldn't play the loud game Jack had wanted. The hissy fit earned him a good spanking and an earlier bedtime. Sean was pretty calm, except for one crying episode, before his own bedtime.

Once both boys were tucked safety in their respective beds, Danny suggested Linda go lie down too. "I'll get things cleaned up down here, and then I'll be up."

"Okay," she responded.

He noted how slow and painful her walk looked. If he could take her pain, he would- he really would. He didn't know what he could do for her. Her periods were supposed to be better now, now that she had two kids. But they weren't. They weren't anything like her periods before kids, but if she was still in pain just sitting still...

Danny sighed as she started to pick up the toys scattered about. He felt kind of weird asking his Mom about what to do, and he felt even weirder asking his Dad. He'd just have to ask Linda in a day or two, when the cramps and the raging hormones calmed down.

He took the stairs two at a time, checked on the kids, and then on his wife. He pushed her hair away- even when she pulled it back to sleep, it still fell in her face.

That's because she moves so much, Danny smiled. "Are you awake?"

"Yes.”

"Is there anything I can do?"

".... Stay with me. And refill my water please."

He left her with a kiss, quickly refilled her water, and got comfortable beneath the covers with her. "Try to relax until Sean wakes up screaming bloody murder."

She laughed (and he chalked it up to a win), "you really are the best. I'm glad I married you."

"Well that works out well, because I'm glad I married you too."

[lucky-peoqle]

reunions and beloveds | c!wilbur soot

requested ? : yes !!

“c!revivedbur finding reader after asking tommy about them and just fluff and happy reunion :]”

pairing : c!revivedbur x reader (gender neutral)

warnings : swearing, fundy is mentioned a lot.

a/n : okay, so in this everyone is like their skins or the fanon hcs. like ranboo is an enderboy n tubbo has lil horns !! finally back to writing !! i’ve been in a weird funk abt writing so sorry about that ! all i gotta say is revivebur my beloved <3

he was alive.

wilbur soot was alive and breathing.

he didn’t know how, but he was.

all he could remember was dream dropping off a version of him, the version of him looked …. discolored and his face burning as tears fell from the corners of his eyes, and wilbur leaving him behind.

he look around his surroundings. ‘what the fuck is this,’ the man thought, looking at the alter type thing in front of him.

“oh fuck…,” he heard from behind him.

he turned, recognizing the voice. the corner of wilbur’s mouth twitched into a smirk.

“oh hello again.”

“awe fuck you,” the blonde boy said.

“really tommy? that’s all i get? come on! i’m alive for crying out loud! tommy, i have a second chance at life,” he somewhat shouted, laughing.

“calm yourself wilbur- here have some blue,” tommy threw it in his direction, hoping he’d catch it.

“don’t give me that shit-,” he said, walking away, looking out at what use to be l’manburg.

“oh shit,” he laughed, “oh fuck! did i do this?”

“yes!” tommy shouted angrily, “this is yours, take it,” he said, handing wilbur the lead to friend.

“no it’s not, who the fuck is that?”

“i- it’s friend?”

he ignored him, obviously not interested in the sheep. tommy sighed defeated, “at least take your sword.”

wilbur took his sword from him gratefully, he looked back down at…. l’manburg, looking at a certain goat boy and…. enderboy?

“tubbo! my man! look at you! aren’t you the president of this place? you don’t look very president-like,” wilbur laughed, walking down to the boy, ruffling his hair, careful not to hit tubbo’s small horns.

“well…. thing’s have certainly changed,” tubbo nervously laughed, fixing his hair.

“and who’s this? ronbow… ronboo?”

“that’s ranboo to you, pal,” tommy said defensively behind him, a scoff escaping him.

“ah okay, ranboo, hello!”

“yeah, um… hi?” ranboo said, somewhat awkwardly.

“wilbur, what did you do to ghostbur,” tommy demanded, “is he still in there or?”

“who? oh, ghostbur. i know him, yes. the discolored guy who looks like me. he’s stuck in my limbo now,” he chuckled.

“what do you mean?”

“my limbo is a train station, tommy. a never ending train station. finally, a train came, you know who was in that train? ghostbur and dream! he dropped off ghostbur and brought me here!”

“….dream?” tommy let out.

“dream! dream my hero!”

“… your- your hero!? that’s bullshit!”

“wait- wait! the memories are coming back! ghostbur lived in the sewer, it’s down here!” wilbur started to move down, but abruptly stopped once he remembered something very important.

how could he forget?

how could he forget his own damn significant other?

he needed to see them. now.

he wondered how they were doing. god, how he missed them.

their touch, their hugs, their kisses, their everything.

he turned to tommy, a look in his eye the blonde couldn’t recognize.

“what now wilbur?”

“where’s y/n?”

tommy let out a chuckle, “i’m not taking you to them, you hurt them enough.”

“tommy, you have to take me to them.”

“i won’t! you don’t deserve to see them after what you made them go through!”

“fine. i’ll just kill you then,” he said, lifting up his sword.

“WHAT? okay! FINE,” tommy said frantically, “just put down your sword!”

“good, you lead the way.”

so, tommy and wilbur said their goodbyes to ranboo and tubbo and set off.

y/n was settled in wilbur and their’s shared home. it was big enough for the both of them, very cozy.

a small cottage for the both of them, one bathroom, a kitchen, a living space to sit by the fire, dining era, two bedrooms, one for the two of you and what use to be fundy’s room.

fundy had been visiting you since wilbur had died, since he had always seen you as a motherly figure, since he grew up around you of course.

wilbur would have to visit fundy after his visit with you, even if fundy didn’t want to see him.

tommy and wilbur were now in front of the cottage he knew all too well. the flowers outside vibrant and colorful.

the lights of the cottage were on, the smell of baked goods coming from the open windows.

“are you ready?” tommy whispered to him.

“of course i am,” wilbur said, walking up to the door and opening it, walking inside.

“tommy? is that you? or is it fundy? i thought you were coming tomorrow? or is it… ghostbur?”

wilbur rolled his eyes at the mention of ghostbur, he walked into the kitchen, tommy following close behind.

“hello darling,” he said.

y/n whipped around, her eyes looking the man in front of her up and down.

“w…. wilbur?”

“did you miss me?”

they nodded, “of course! you just scared me, i thought you were fundy,” they giggled.

god, did he miss that sound.

“you also thought i was tommy and ghostbur apparently,” he smiled.

“oh shut up,” she said, “but um… how are you even…. alive?”

“dream, but i don’t want to explain it right now, i just want to enjoy your company.”

you nodded, walking up to him and holding his face in your hands.

“i like the hair,” they chuckled, running their fingers through his white streak.

he laughed, “really? i thought you would think i look dumb.”

“you know i wouldn’t,” they smiled, they noticed tommy awkwardly standing they.

“tommy help yourself to whatever you want, i just made cookies,” they pointed at the window where the cookies were chilling.

tommy thanked them and went off to the cookies.

they turned their attention back to wilbur, taking a good look at him before tearing up.

“oh darling, don’t cry please,” he said, wrapping them in his arms.

“i just missed you so much, i can’t believe you’re here,” they let out at sob.

wilbur held them for a little bit longer before pulling away and holding their face in his large, calloused hands.

they leaned into his touch as he wiped their tears away.

“i am never leaving you again, okay sweetheart?” wilbur continued, “through fire and ice, i am never leaving you, i promise.”

they nodded, a smile on their face, “i love you so much.”

“i love you more,” wilbur chuckled before pulling them into a long awaited kiss.

[hardlyinteresting]

Better Judgement

Helmut Zemo x F!reader Enemies to lovers fic

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of war/conflict, borderline panic attack, mild hurt/comfort, blood (please lmk if you want me to add any other warnings!) Thank you to @exit-goat as always, @therenlover for beta reading a very early version of the first little bit of the fic, and @scuttle-buttle for hyping me up!

The first time they meet is a blur of people and camera flashes, a million and one questions, and instructions overlapping as the team assembled to organize the tour leads him through the crowd to the jet. If he had his way he’d be taking his own plane, but he understands the need to adhere to a brand, to represent a united front, especially as the country emerges from decades of chaos and destruction. Her heels click up the metal stairs behind him, and by the fourth step he’s walking up faster to free himself from the irritating sound. He settles into his seat taking a deep breath. After several years of keeping such a low profile, it feels odd to be so exposed again, to be somewhat thrust back into a previous chapter of his life. He won’t admit it, but his heart beat faster with each click of a camera lens outside. He pulls the shade down over the window next to him, trying to forget even if just for a moment so that he might keep some kind of composure. She sits down across from him their knees nearly touching beneath the table between them. “So that wasn’t bad, but we might need you to smile more for the cameras when we get off the plane,” she says looking at some notes on a tablet. “And you are?” he asks. “I’m your public relations correspondent and personal assistant for this tour”. “I was unaware that I had hired anyone for such a role”.

“You didn’t. The government did,” She explains looking up at him, “Turns out that while the excitement of one of Sokovia’s youngest living members of the extended royal family--” “A fact I love to be reminded of, thank you,” he interrupts.

She pauses for a second before continuing right where she left off, “Member of the extended royal family returning has been great for publicity and tourism, the fact that you also happen to be a war criminal is a point of concern”.

“Ah, and you’re the one who’s going to keep me in line then?” he asks sarcastically. He leans back in his seat, shutting his eyes. “So long as you’re not too stubborn and you follow directions it should be fairly easy”.

He resists the urge to sigh as she begins to rattle off statistics, dates, names, places. He ignores her.

Originally he had jumped at the opportunity to leave the raft, but now he wonders if this is really the opportunity he thought it was. Perhaps this isn't freedom, after all, he thinks, maybe this is just a new sentence. To be paraded around as part of an agenda? Or maybe this is penance, a chance to repay the debt he owes to his country. This may be the only way to squash the reputation he's made for himself, to move on from the harm he's done. This is his chance to give back to the country he risked it all for and to remember those who died, during Ultron and in the wars before.

He shuts his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. He’ll need his sleep if he's to put up with this “personal assistant” for the whole tour.

---

When he opens his eyes again everyone seems to be preparing for landing.

His babysitter is still sitting across from him. She isn’t organizing bags or shoving laptops and cables back into cases. She sits nearly perfectly still reading a book. He tilts his head just enough to read the cover.

A Farewell to Arms

Judging by the cracked spine he can tell the book has been read more than a few times.

“Bleak,” He smirks. “I’m sorry?” She asks without looking up from the pages.

“‘The world breaks everyone,’” he quotes. “‘And afterwards many are strong at the broken places,’” She adds the second half of the quote he began. She puts her book down. He chuckles bitterly, “‘But those it will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and very brave impartially’; see,” he says, “Bleak”.

The jet touches down just beyond the large garden of a royal estate. The manor home is fairly small all things considered. It had never belonged to the Zemo family though. The former owners had been the 8th cousin of the crown prince and his wife. Luis and Elga; Zemo remembers them fondly. Despite living at one of the country’s most southern borders (where no one was harmed, and no buildings were damaged during the day of The Avengers’ reckoning), the couple had the misfortune of being in the city visiting family when Sokovia was attacked. Both were killed.

Zemo takes a deep breath heading down the steps of the jet, his coat billows lightly in the wind. He turns on his most infectious smile. And he greets the other members of the tour crew and house staff with an almost impish charm. “It is good to be back here,” He says shaking hands with one of the maids, an elderly woman he recognises from his visits to the manor with his family all those years ago, “Elga would be happy to see someone has been taking such special care of her rose garden”.

It’s obvious that the interaction touches many of the staff. A few even have tears in their eyes. Y/N takes mental notes. This is the Zemo Sokovia needs to see.

After a few hours everyone is settled inside, between the bedrooms in the home and more than a few tour buses outside everyone has a bed for the night. The people who are most essential to the tour sit in the dining room. A long table that seats 14 is in the middle of the room, at the end is a fireplace framed with skillfully carved stone a large oil painting of one of Sokovia’s oldest churches hangs above the mantel. Warmed by the crackling fire and comforted by the dinner of a traditional Sokovian stew Zemo leans back in his chair, removing the cloth serviette from where it had been draped over his lap during the meal. For a moment he allows himself to forget why he’s here, and what lies ahead. He gives himself a taste of memories nearly forgotten; the remembered sound of a young boy playing in the corridors; he can almost feel champagne bubbles against his lips as he thinks of all of the dinner parties that were once hosted here.

“The tour will be two weeks long, with seven stops before the gala in Novi Grad,” the voice of his new handler break him from his daydream, “the goal is to comfort any citizens who are concerned about the reformation of the country and to garner publicity for new residents and tourists”. She slides manila envelopes to everyone at the table, “Inside these envelopes is all of the contact information and schedule for everyone and everything on the tour. You may notice as you read that the UN council is also planning on endorsing the announcement of Sokovia’s first democratic election after more than 15 years-- everything must go according to plan. A lot is resting on the success of this tour”.

Tired and irritated Zemo sighs, tucking the paperwork back into the envelope, “fantastic, now-- I hate to be rude, but I’m going to bid you all goodnight”.

“I think you might want to stick around a little bit longer,” she speaks. He tilts his head intrigued, he settles back into his chair, “by all means then, please get to the important part so we might all be excused”.

His comment ruffles her feathers and she lets out a short but heavy huff, “The flag smashers are technically gone, but there are other rebel groups all over the continent. We have reason to believe at least one of these groups is being led by former members of the flag smashers”. “Not possible,” Zemo dismisses the theory. “Because they all died in an explosion?” she asks with a pointed stare before continuing, “We know little about them beyond their interest in creating unrest in reforming nations. With their preference for open borders and free movement between countries, they’re upset, to say the least, at the re-establishment of borders. Sokovia is a prime target right now, as the country reforms and reinstates its borders there will be push back from members of these groups”. “Is there any specific cause for concern? Any threats?” “No. Everything is being handled”.

“So, there is cause for concern?” Zemo challenges.

Everyone else at the table has remained silent so far, but she can feel their eyes on her, silently asking the same question as the baron.

“We have concerns that the announcement of an official election and this tour could stir them. But we have no specific intel so far-- at least none that’s been given to me. Though I have been assured that we are travelling with only the best security possible and every stage of this tour has been meticulously planned. No one here needs to be worried about it”. “I hope, for your sake, you’re right,” tucking the envelope under his arm he nods a silent goodbye to the others in the room before leaving the room.

She lets out a deep breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

On the second official stop of the tour, Zemo speaks to some local farmers, laughs with them, samples the goods they offer, helps feed some animals. He answers their questions and shakes hands with each person he speaks to. He’s a natural, and part of that startles her. Part of her was expecting him to be rude or pompous, another part expecting him to be overwhelmed by the past. But, he is neither, at least not on the surface. He ruffles a young boy’s hair before kicking a rogue soccer ball back into the makeshift pitch the local children had set up. On the third day, they attend a church service in another town more than 3 hours from the last one. The sermon is dedicated to the lives lost during the attack on their country and the wars leading up to that day. Outside the church, people shake his hand, and old women kiss both his cheeks, people offer him their condolences and he offers them his. It feels like a funeral and in many ways it is. It takes her a moment to resolve herself, to shake the aching empty feeling that threatens to sneak into her heart. She has a job to do. “So, will you and your wife be staying here in Sokovia?” a man asks linking arms with his own wife. Helmut swallows hard before composing himself, “No. I lost my wife and son that day”. The man falters, his eyes jumping between Zemo and her, “I apologise-- I thought--” “I am Helmut’s personal assistant,” she clarifies, saving the man from his stuttering.

He nods politely, turning his attention back to Zemo, “It’s nice of you to come home”.

“Thank you,” Zemo claps the man on the shoulder and offers a gentle and reassuring smile.

---

“I imagine today wasn’t easy for you to manage -- I can’t imagine-- what I mean to say is I’m sorry about your family. I’m sorry for your loss”. He offers a curt nod sinking into the seat across from her as the tour bus starts their journey to the next town, “Life is easy to manage when you’ve nothing to lose”. “Hemingway?” “Yes”.

Day four, she notices the way his eyes almost sparkle when he speaks about something he’s passionate about. How he talks with his hands a lot more when he’s comfortable. She notices how steady his hands are, not even the slightest tremor, she remembers reading a brief that mentioned he had been in the army so it makes sense. She accepts that while irritating, he is intriguing.

Day five, he watches her pick wildflowers at the edge of a village. He notices the way her shoulders relax as the wind blows softly. He sees her smile while talking to a woman at a market, he thinks it’s probably the first time he’s seen genuine emotion from her. He wonders who she is when she is not overworked with schedules and keeping him and the tour in check.

By day ten she knows how he takes his coffee in the morning. She knows how he likes his toast made, and how he likes his eggs at breakfast. She watches him keep his eyes on the forests and cities that fly past the windows of the bus and she knows how much he misses his homeland. Sometimes she catches him looking at her with what feels like a look of confusion, but she can never quite place it before his eyes flit away once again. She continues to admire the way he befriends and comforts every person he meets and she wishes she was able to talk to him the way they seem to; to be able to speak to him as a friend she’s known for years rather than a person she’s been hired to boss around. There’s a gentleness to him she wishes she could see more of. And most of all, he’s handsome when he smiles. He should smile more.

Day twelve, he notices the way she plays with any jewellery she’s wearing no matter how small the piece anytime she’s not actively working at a task. He sees the way offers tea and coffee to the team, making sure everyone has eaten. He feels ashamed comparing her to his late wife, but it’s been a long time since he’s met anyone so genuinely kind, so willing to put others before themselves. While he stays silent unless directly spoken to, he listens to the conversations on the bus and at hotels and tour stops, he hears how intelligent she is, how concerned she is for the people she meets, the level of compassion reaching beyond what he’s expecting from anyone, let alone someone not from Sokovia. Despite her dedication to her job, she approaches each city with childlike wonder, eyes wide, and so eager to learn. He scolds himself for thinking the worst of her like he had learned to with everyone else. He respects her, beyond that, he knows that under different circumstances they might be friends.

The rest of the tour goes by relatively quickly, and for the most part without issue. Zemo however, watches her anxiety increase as they get closer to their last stop in the capital. As the tour bus pulls onto the highway making its way to Novi Grad she receives a phone call informing her that the tour manager has fallen ill and will not be able to manage the last stop, or the gala; while everything has been planned for months the execution of said plans now falls on her shoulders-- and to make matter worse the hotel they originally reserved is closed due to an unexpected power outage. Zemo watches her furiously make notes, the days of sitting back and reading a book behind them as her workload triples. He swears he has never seen anyone compose emails, or dial phone numbers as quickly as she does in the 3 hour travel time to the city.

“Fuck!” she exclaims under her breath. “Oh, very professional,” Zemo teases coming to stand in front of her. Curse him and his silent footsteps, she thinks looking down at the 12 brass keys in her hand; old fashioned and elegant with their little silk tags embroidered with room numbers. She counts them for a second time, and then a third. “You’re awfully quiet, is something the matter?” He asks concerned by her silence, where there’s normally a mile-long list of instructions spilling from her. His brows furrow as he watches her breathing grow heavy. “This is wrong,” she says holding both hands full of keys towards him, “there should be 13”.

He nods understanding. “I fucked it up--I’ve been trying to keep everything in check and on time and--and here I am messing things up,” she stutters, tears gathering in her eyes. He pulls her off to the side. As much as all of her scheduling and planning bothered him at the beginning of the tour, he’s grown to appreciate it. He’s always respected the ability to think ahead and it can’t be easy keeping everyone and everything so organized-- lord knows he hasn’t made her job any easier either. Two weeks ago he would have laughed to himself thinking it served her right for acting so sure about everything all the time. Today he puts a warm hand on her shoulder, “Do they have another room?” She shakes her head, “No, they’re full because of the gala”. “Can any of the crew share?” His voice draws her back out of her mind forcing her to look up at him and focus on his words rather than the overlapping thoughts in her head. “We already have them doubled up or in the smaller rooms with single beds”. “So, who’s missing a room?” he asks carefully. “I -- oh, me, I guess. I hadn’t thought about it,” She says, “I was meant to have one of the single rooms. Yours is the king suite,” she hands him the key as she speaks. There’s a moment of silence before he says, “Then you’ll stay in my room”. “That would be highly inappropriate!” “If it makes you more comfortable I will sleep on the sofa or the floor. I offer with no motive other than making sure you have a place to sleep tonight-- and because you went through the trouble of booking me a room far too large for one person”. “People will talk. I’m not worried about you doing anything--but I am concerned about what people might think. With your role on this tour and the media coverage for the gala, it could be a very bad look if someone saw anything and took it the wrong way--” “Schatz--” he cuts her off. “Don’t call me that!”

“Give the crew their keys so everyone can get some sleep. I’m sure you have an impressive itinerary for us tomorrow”.

“You’re teasing me,” she huffs. But he’s right. She hands out the keys bidding everyone goodnight before meeting Zemo by the elevators.

Upstairs she follows him down the short corridor to the carved double door that he unlocks. She hovers by the door after closing it behind her; almost nervous.

“I will take the sofa,” he proposes shrugging off his coat and hanging in in the closet. “Don’t be ridiculous. You take the bed I will sleep on the sofa” “You have a long day ahead of you. You deserve a good night’s sleep,” he argues. “And you need your beauty rest if you’re going to be in front of all those cameras,” she shoots back.

They settle for sharing the bed, a line of well-fluffed pillows dividing the bed down the middle. Both of them sit in bed leaning back against the headboard, books in hand.

“Is that Machiavelli?” “Yes,” he responds turning the page. “An interesting choice,” he hums in acknowledgement.

“You're still reading that same book?”

“Yes. I've been busy I've only gotten through a couple more pages since the first day on the jet”

“But you’ve read it before, yes?” “I have. I assume given your past you’ve read Machiavelli before”.

“I have. But I consider him less of an inspiration and more of a contemporary”. “I like Hemingway. His books are never the same when you read them again. They’re different every time. It’s almost like a type of love I guess,” she confesses. Her voice is softer now in the quiet of the evening, not needing to nearly shout to be heard or to be listened to. “There’s a lot of love in this world but never the same love twice,” he quotes lowering his book to turn his attention to her.

“That's Fitzgerald, not Hemingway”

“Indeed. But, given the context it was a better quote”.

“You’re a very well-read man”. “Between a very expensive education, and several years in prison I’ve had no choice but to read”. She smiles closing her book, “You’re nice when you’re not trying to make my job so difficult”. She swears she sees the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly. “I apologise. I’m sure you can understand that this tour was not something that I agreed to by choice, or with levity. I hope that this evening might serve to prove that I do still have some of my manners”. “A truce then?” she asks. “A truce,” he nods.

In the morning he wakes to the feeling of movement near his head, at first it startles him, but when he opens his eyes he’s comforted instead by the woman next to him still fast asleep her smaller hand resting on the row of pillows between them. Her fingers twitching ever so slightly in her sleep, her face pressed against the silky pillowcase eyebrows furrowed. Tentatively he puts his hand over hers hoping to some way comfort her without waking her. A moment later her pinched expression relaxes, her hand relaxes too under his. Slowly he climbs out of bed, making his way to the bathroom to shower and ready himself for the day.

When he returns to the bedroom still slightly damp wrapped in an expensive bathrobe she’s sitting up in bed making notes in her notebook, and typing and clicking away on her laptop once she’s put her pen down.

“Good morning,” he smiles.

“Morning,” she offers curtly, eyes not leaving the computer screen. “Did you sleep alright?” He asks moving towards the wardrobe where his suit has been hung up. “Yes,” she pauses typing, sighing deeply, “I had a bad dream though”. He nods, unzipping the drycleaning bag, “what about? Me?” he jokes. “No. I was at a ball and just walking around but I didn’t know anyone even though I knew their faces-- it was just this dreadful sinking feeling,” And then as quickly as she stopped, she’s typing again,

“I think I’m just nervous about tonight”.

“Perhaps you need a companion for the evening”.

“I don’t know anyone to bring”. “We’ve shared a bed Schatzi. I think we can manage to keep each other company at an event”. She shuts her laptop, making her way towards the bathroom “Okay. But I have to get ready. Please, make sure you wear the tie I put in the bag with the suit. Colour theory is important”.

Glancing inside the bag he sees the purple tie draped around the hanger. Purple.

Power. Ambition. Devotion. Peace.

Perfect.

Nearly three hours later she emerges from the ensuite. A dress of deep purple silk wraps around her. Her make up done in a way that draws every bit of your attention to her eyes and then lips. She’s stunning there’s no denying it. He takes a sip of his scotch to avoid looking at her backside as she pads barefoot across the room to find her shoes.

“Do I look okay?” she asks as she puts her earrings on. “You look beautiful Schatzi,” he answers honestly. She nods, the compliment filling her with warmth, but her mind is elsewhere, “Have you seen Alexi or Saron today-- the brother and sister from the security team?” “No. I haven’t. I haven’t left the room”. She bites her lip, “I haven’t heard from them all day. They usually send updates every couple of hours”. “Perhaps there are no updates to give,” he offers the solution to calm her, but he can feel the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. He’s glad he had the forethought to wear his holster under his jacket. “We should get going”.

---

It's so warm. No one ever thinks about how warm fresh blood is, or how quickly a body goes cold without it. He pulls her closer pulling her to lean against him between his outstretched legs. He leans back against the wall, his hands pressed hard against the wound in her abdomen. Her head lulls against his shoulder, eyes fluttering. A whimper escapes her lips and she's crying. The original shock wears off slowly, the pain finally kicking in, in full force.

"Shhhh, you're alright--you're going to be okay Liebling," his own tears start to fall but he tries to ignore them keeping his voice calm and steady as he mumbles comforting words against the shell of her ear.

"Don't go" she whines her hand clutching onto his arm that wraps around her body. Her nails leaving marks against his skin,

"I'm not going anywhere," he promises.

She sobs, "I'm sorry".

He shakes his head, "Nein. None of that"

"Hurts," she cries both her voice and grip weakening.

"I know," he soothes, "I know".

The blood seeps between his fingers and across the back of his hand. Her fingertips are ice cold on his arm. He tries to ignore the way her breathing has become more erratic her torso spasming in pain.

"I'm scared," she whispers with a new round of tears.

"I'm right here," he tells her taking a deep breath not wanting her to know how scared he is himself, "everything is going to be okay" he repeats.

He's not sure if it’s true, but he knows he needs it to be. All his time with EKO Scorpion he saw a lot of death but never had he held someone while the life slipped away from them, he's never been in a position to save a life. In some sick, twisted way he was spared the torture of having to watch his family die. He wonders if he's cursed; destined to roam the earth alone forever if everyone he's loved and will ever love is destined to be torn from the world too early. He's never really been religious, even in his home country surrounded by beautiful churches, but he catches himself praying. He thinks back to going to services with his parents and grandparents when he was a child; dressed in traditional Sokovian formal clothes to smile and pose next to his family on special occasions. He tries to think back, to see beyond all the pomp and circumstance, wracking his brain for a memory of a prayer he can say; silently begging any higher power that might hear him-- they need to save her, they can't take her too, she deserves more.

One moment he was helping her out of the limo, the next there were screams. With reflexes as quick as ever, he pushed her behind him drawing his weapon he shooting with deadly aim at the handful of men and women who stood on the nearby balconies and in the street, their guns pointed.

It’s nearly 72 hours later when she opens her eyes, in the hospital room his hand holding hers tightly. “‘Maybe...you'll fall in love with me all over again.’ 'Hell,’ I said, ‘I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?’ ‘Yes. I want to ruin you.’ ‘Good,’ I said. ‘That's what I want too.’ ” He stops reading when she squeezes his hand. “You’re reading my book,” she rasps out. He nods, “I thought you might like it read to you-- the doctors said to keep talking to you”. “What happened?” she asks trying to sit up. He puts the book down gently pushing her shoulders to lay her back down. “You were shot. You need rest, but you’ll be fine”. “I don’t-- Who?” her eyebrows furrow as she looks up at him. His lips press together in a thin line not wanting to tell her how deeply her, and the team and the country had been betrayed; “Alexi and Saron”. She only nods in response, he says nothing about the tears that roll down her cheeks, but silently wipes them away. He finished reading A Farewell to Arms to her by the end of the third day. He then read her Crime and Punishment, Anna Karenina, The Great Gatsby, and Great Expectations before she’s allowed to leave the hospital. He escorts her to her hotel room, and she stays glued to his side face pressed to his shoulder the entire walk from the car to the lobby. The fur trim of his coat wrapped around her shoulders tickles her cheeks. Inside he opens her door for her, and is only mildly surprised when she says, “Stay”. Tilting her chin up he captures her lips with his, “Of course Schatzi”.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

the batfam + food

because i don’t have the time or the energy to actually write, but i do have the inspiration, so here we go

damian: can cook pretty well but only if it’s in a recipe. if you set him loose in a kitchen he’ll be lost, but give him instructions and he’ll make a meal that’s pretty decent. he’s got some old recipes that martha wrote that he likes making with alfred there to guide him. he also has a couple of recipes that talia gave him, ones that the cook in the loa base where he grew up made. “of course i can make cahā tf you talking about” and then is horrified to discover he actually can’t because the cook always made it and he never bothered to learn but now he can’t drink cahā the way he likes and it’s a tragedy.

tim: “come on guys please frozen hot pockets with marshmallow fluff, gummy bears, and hot sauce on top is good just try it!” he puts skittles in pancake batter and he puts cool whip in canned chicken noodle soup and he eats pineapple pizza only when there’s tartar sauce on it. the rest of the family are completely sure his sense of taste is destroyed beyond saving. the funny thing is, he grew up eating nice and proper foods his nanny would make him when his parents were away, and those simple meals were what he learned to cook too. he also ate those bland, tasteless little meals at whatever function or party he was dragged to. he used to be very upper class white american. but now, his palette is possibly the most disgusting thing to ever exist and that is entirely because of one Bart Allen.

cass: slices open a guava, sprinkles some salt and paprika on top, then monchity cronches. she likes fresh fruits and veggies, partly because there’s no preparation required, partly because fresh and organic foods weren’t a luxury she was afforded and she loves it now. she prefers snacking in little periods all throughout the day rather than having three big meals. and by “snacking” i mean celery with ranch, or popping grapes in her mouth, or sometimes even goat cheese. so it’s either farm fresh produce or the greasiest, most disgusting fast food meal to ever exist, there’s no in between.

jason: brings tears of joy and pride to alfred’s eyes. he just knows his way around a kitchen. his spinach-ricotta-chicken lasagna is a thing of beauty. his muffins will make bruce behave like an actual dad for an afternoon. he knows how to make do with the ingredients he has, and create something incredible out of them. cooking with alfred had been the thing that really convinced him he was a part of the family back when he was robin, and it’s the thing that brings him back when he’s red hood. its,,,,,relaxing in a sense. he’s not real good at art like damian or photography like tim. he’s honestly a little uncomfortable in his body and not at all graceful like cass, doesn’t know how to even begin turning movement and dance into a work of art like dick. but it feels nice to create something rather than destroy. so, cooking it is.

dick: health nut. no. shut up. he’s an aerialist and an acrobat, he knows damn well how important it is to monitor what goes in your body. also, he grew up in a traveling circus. get your lucky charms and cereal addiction out of here. no way in hell. dick thinks homemade poke bowls with chicken and brown rice are a good lunch. (actually that really does sound like a good lunch and i’m hungry rn). avocados all. the. time. because he tried them that one time the circ toured ecuador and never grew out of them. he made sure to learn simple but good recipes, and uses them often, like marinating some shrimp in mediterranean spices for half an hour and frying them on a cast-iron skillet, and eating them with rice. or smoothies with whatever fruit’s in season, greek yogurt, and oats. i am literally describing my diet oh my god.

bruce: a disgrace. a Fool. you can drop him in the middle of nowhere and he’ll be able to survive by eating the bare essentials, but dear god if he didn’t have alfred it would’ve been takeout every day and every night for the rest of his life. he can’t even follow instructions on a ramen noodle cup. he can’t cook because he never had to, he never had to learn, and he doesn’t really plan on learning anytime in the near future. 

alfred: he is god. he is the god of the kitchen. he knows so many recipes, and if he doesn’t, it takes him one try to learn. he is the deity except when it comes to pies. i mean, his pies would win baking contests under normal conditions. but pies are the one thing that martha kent can make better than him, and it infuriates alfred to no end.

this actually got long so i’m tagging the babes: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @dangerduckjpeg @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog

[iwillbeinmynest]

Redcove Harvest - Bucky x Reader(f)   Chapter 9- Final

Author’s Notes: I’m a garbage human who’s only just now had the inspiration enough to finish this. I won’t be surprised if no one even remembers this series. Also this is the last chapter. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to finish it but it just worked out that I got it all summed up (albeit poorly) in this chapter. Thank you to those of you who have liked, commented and reblogged this. I really appreciate y’all!

AU: Farmhand!AU and SingleMom!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Notes/Warnings: (Notes are for the whole series) FLUFF, mentions of a past toxic relationship, a wild storm at the end, drama and a break-up, mentions of drinking, kids being adorable and ridiculous, kissing, romance and a tiny bit of angst if you look hard but nothing more than that of a Hallmark movie.

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

Moodboard by @itsanerdlife​

 Bucky Ran straight to the barn and found it empty.

 “Y/N!” he called, but the wind and rain drowned out his voice. He cursed and ran his hands through his now soaked hair.

 He heard a whinny and snapped his head to the sound.

 He ran out of the barn to see Y/N tugging on Star’s lead. The horse was too scared to move through the storm and was shaking its head to try and free itself from YN’s hold.

 Bucky ran to her and took the rope from her hands. He pulled the lead down until she could get a hold of Star’s bridle. Even with Y/N tugging, the beast resisted.

 Bucky took hold of Star’s mane and hoisted himself up.

 “Let go!” Bucky shouted.

 Y/N let go and backed up.

 Star reared up and Bucky struggled to hang on. Not only was he riding bareback, but both he and Star were both soaking wet causing him to slip. 

 Star landed and began to run towards the barn. 

 When Bucky looked back Y/N was headed towards the goat barn. He cursed under his breath but focused long enough to get Star to the horse barn and settled in her stall.

 He jumped on the four-wheeler that had thankfully been left here by Grace and rode as fast as he could to the older barn.

 He called out to Y/n and this time she answered.

 “Over here! I can’t get this door closed and Missy is still out there!” She had to shout over the creaking of old wood and the whir of heavy wind.

 “You’re gonna have to leave her out there! That field is too big to go searchin’ for her, right now!”

 Y/N looked at Bucky and it was clear she’d been crying, but the rain blended with her tears.

 “She’ll be just fine, I promise!” He hollered.

 Y/n nodded and continued to struggle with the door.

 He stepped beside her and grabbed the handle. Y/n moved as he tugged hard. With one swift jerk he managed to shut the door and latch it shut.

 “I could have done that.” Y/N grumbled. “I don’t need your help.” She closed the lid to the chick bin and secured it under a work table.

 “You’re one, stubborn-”

 “Why are you even here?!” she snapped. “I told you not to come back!”

 Bucky took another verbal gut punch from her. It was just as bad as the day she’d sent him away. “Grace called me scared half to death!” He didn’t want to be yelling but between the adrenaline, the hurt, and the storm he couldn’t keep it together. “She said you’d gone out here alone and that she was scared she was gonna lose you just like she lost her dad.”

 Y/N took a step back and transitioned from fury to shock. “She said that?”

 Bucky nodded. “And if I hadn’t come you’d better believe she’d be out here lookin’ for you! Better me than her, right? So, I came. And I came because I was worried about you.”

 “I don’t want you to worry about me.” Y/N walked out of the barn. “I don’t need your pity! I don’t need your help. I can handle everything on my own!”

 “No one said you couldn’t!” Bucky shouted back. “But you don’t have to!”

The storm raged around them as they walked past the old oak tree. It sheltered them just enough to take the sting out of the wind-whipped rain that pelted their faces.

 Bucky reached out and grabbed Y/N’s arm. He turned her around and made her look at him.

 “I love you Y/N. I have from the day I met you, and I’m gonna worry over you. I’m gonna keep on missin’ you if you send me away again. I’m gonna hate not pickin’ the girls up from school and having dinner with you. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life thinkin’ about you cause you’re it for me! You may not want me but I’m yours, Y/N.”

 Y/N’s brows pulled together as she cried. “I… I need to get back to the girls.They need me.”

 “What about you?”

 “What?”

 Bucky asked again, “What about you? What do you need? What do you want?”

 “It doesn’t matter what I want. I have to do what’s best for them.”

 “You can do both!” How was she not getting it? “What do you want?!”

 “I want you!”

 Bucky rushed in and captured her lips with his. 

 Y/N sobbed once before wrapping her arms around his neck.

 He pulled her into a hug and buried his face between her neck and shoulder. “You have me, sweetheart.” 

 “I love you, Bucky.”

 Bucky felt the hair on his arms stand up and wondered what -

 A loud boom shook the earth and threw both Bucky and Y/N to the ground. There was a flash of light and heat followed by a concussion that rippled through the tree branches.

  Bucky had landed on top of Y/N to shield her and he pulled her close to him. He tried to ask if she was okay but he couldn’t hear himself. He looked to Y/N who seemed just as panicked as he felt.

 Terror filled her eyes as she shouted something silently and pointed above them. 

 Bucky turned to see a crack that ran the entire height of the tree. The crack jolted and then began to grow wider.

 The tree had been split by lightning and it was falling.

 Bucky was on his feet in an instant as he hurled Y/N to hers and pulled her behind him. They ran as fast as they could towards the house and away from the tree.

 Bucky looked back to see half of the tree falling quickly towards him. 

 “Run!” He screamed. He could faintly hear himself now.

 “Bucky!” A voice in the distance. It was Steve running towards them from the front porch.

 Cracking and snapping filled the air and Bucky heard Y/N scream before leaves and branches landed on top of them both.

 The leaves rustled and then stilled. The rain continued to pour and pelt the ground.

 Bucky lay frozen as he assessed his injuries. There weren’t any.

 He called out to Y/N as he pushed his way up and out of what he now realized were the very top branches of the massive oak. He struggled to navigate his way out of the small branches that grabbed at his feet and legs.

 “I’m fine!” she yelled.

 “Y/N!” Steve ran into the tree and found Y/N pulling her up.

 Bucky intercepted and took her hands before dropping them and grabbing her face to check her for cuts or bruises. “Are you okay?” he asked frantically.

 “I’m fine.” She grabbed his hands and stilled them. “I’m fine.”

 Bucky sighed and pulled her in a tight hug.

 “I think it’d be best to go inside now!” Steve shouted over another distant thunder rumble.

 *  *  *  *  *  *  

 The storm continued through the night. Y/N and Bucky fell asleep in her bed with both girls between them.

 Steve took the couch downstairs.

 The next morning consisted of birds chirping through the light rain leftover from the monstrous weather.

 Bucky followed Y/N outside as they stood on the porch to stare at the fallen tree that had nearly taken them both.

 Y/N cried in his arms and she didn’t need to say anything for Bucky to know exactly what she was thinking.

 “We’re okay,” he soothed. 

 She nodded her head. She looked towards the garden which had been obliterated by the other half of the oak tree. Missy, the one stray goat, was out there nibbling on some tomatoes.

 “Nothing left to harvest. All that work, gone to waste,” she sighed.

 Bucky rubbed her arms and squeezed her a little tighter. “Nah, it’s not a waste. We’ll cut up the tree and use the wood around the farm. We can pull all the damaged plants and feed ‘em to the birds and the rest of the animals, and whatever is left is what was meant to be. Just cause it went through a storm doesn’t make it any less useful.”

 “I guess.”

 “Crops get ruined. Animals get out. Trees fall. It’s all a part of life, sweetheart. Storms don’t end the world, they just change it a little bit.”

 “Wise words, punk.” Steve smirked as he joined them. He leaned on the porch railing with a coffee cup in his hand and cursed as he looked at the tree. “Gonna take a lot of work to fix that.”

 Y/N smiled and leaned into Bucky. “That’s okay. I’ve got me a ranch hand that’s pretty good at fixin’ what’s broken.”

 Bucky kissed the top of her head. 

 Grace and Lex came out next.

 “Momma?” Lex asked as she rubbed her eyes. “Is Bucky gonna stay with us, now?”

  “If he wants to.” She answered without looking at her.

 Bucky turned Y/N around in his arms and leaned in close. “Nowhere else for me to be.” He closed what little distance was between them and kissed her.

 Lex scrunched her nose when she looked up at them. “Gross.”

* * * * * * * *

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[zackcrazyvalentine]

I'm living for all these latina and older siblings asks as I'm latina and the eldest of 12 and the mistake baby 😔🤙🏽

Mc is the goat at wielding a slipper. Any object she can hold in a 100 foot radius becomes and instant wepon. Has +100 aim idia calls hacks and if she had magic leona would want her on the magicshift team. Mc really resonates with kalim when she found out he has 30+ younger siblings(me 🤝🏽 kalim. Having a shit ton of younger siblings)

During chapter one when ace had to make Riddle an apology tart, mc and trey talk about their siblings.

Trey: since my parents were busy with the bakery i had to raise them... and yeah they're a handful but I still love them

Mc: 100% me to but my parents didn't own a 'bake'ry... and it's like they forgot how to beat ass when my fourth sibling was born and hell they never got yelled at when they asked for new toys while at the store.

Trey: okay mc what the fuck?

Mc:what..?

Cater: do.. do we need to have a talk?

The first time ace and deuce spent the weekend at ramshackle they were woken up at 'to fuckin early' o'clock with really loud tropical sounding music and the smell of food. They made the mistake of going to check it out. They see mc dancing and singing along to a song they can't understand while making breakfast. When she finally notices them they sealed their fate...

Mc: Oi! You two go set the table!

Ace and deuce: *zombie shuffle into the dining room with plates*

After they eat mc walks in while holding a whole bunch of cleaning supplies..

Deuce: uh.. Mc whatchu' got there.

Mc: now you've eaten now you help clean up!

Ace:*gulps* uh-uh well me and deuce need to get going...*gets stopped by mc with a mop*

Mc: now now tonto del culo... you eaten. Now. You. Clean. Up.. sí?

Ace and deuce: sí 😰

They don't know what to do when mc starts crying during a song.

Ace: um.. Mc? Are you okay?

Mc: *singing along como la flor* AYE SELANNAA 😭

After explaining what happened..

The first year trio: 🎵AYYYEE COMO ME DUELE🎵

After awhile they get into it and mc leaves them ignorant to the fact a majority of Spanish music is about sex.

Deuce: A ella le gusta la gasolina. Cómo le encanta la gasolina

Ace: lol a song about gasoline

Mc: *fighting the urge to tell them the truth* yeah.. a lot of songs only make sense in Spanish...(its kinda the truth)

As they add on to their group it becomes a ride of passage to be woken up at crack ass of dawn by mc to eat then clean for the rest of the day. When it came time for the VDC and vil tried to take over ramshackle during his stay there, he is not to please to be woken up by loud music just to eat fatty foods then clean wasting precious training hours.

Vil: MC SHUT UP AND TURN OFF THE HIRENDOUS MUSIC!

Mc: *stop dancing and turns around slowly.. if glares could kill vil would have been nonexistent* A quién le estás diciendo shut up tu? A quién le estás diciendo shut up tu? *griping her spatula coming dangerously close to vil*

Ace and deuce: 😰✝️

Rook: *knows shits abtbto go down when he see's mc rising her spatula* TRES BEIN! Mc your singing and dancing are very good! 100 BEAU!

Vil: *doesn't know what mc said but based off of ace and deuce reaction she insulted him* excuse me! Do you know WHO I am? I'm VI-

Mc: *ignores rook and cuts off vill* apparently not as famous as you think coño!

Pome trio: 😶

But after spend a few weeks their vil became accustomed to waking up at early hours and cleaning. It survived as a nice alarm clock, break workout, and song and dance training. Vil realizes how good and filling mc cooking is, he lover her horatcha and chilaquiles. Jamil asks to swap recipes with mc when she makes tamales for dinner one day. 100% reaches them bachata and other dances or at least tries kailm and deuce need some work.

This is all so specific.... AND SO RELATABLE

YO LIKE, WTF VIL, YOU'RE ABOUT TO GET A BEATING FROM MC AND ME!!!!! You do not insult morning rituals like that

NO, I WAS LAIGHING SO MUCH AT THE "hehe a song about gasoline" PART 😂😂😂 I would be fighting the urge to laugh at Ace's face after that comment sdkjfd

I'm living for MC & ADeuce singing songs and crying together omg such a wonderful bonding activity Genuinely, singing and dancing together with friends is the best

Vil soon finds in MC a place to eat nice food that fills him up like his favorite comfort food. Diets be damned, his cheat day shall forever be spent indulging in MC's traditional cooking

YES, MC AND JAMIL EXCHANGING RECIPES ❤❤❤❤

Thank you for sharing! I'm sure your ideas will be very much enjoyed by fellow latinx fans~

[lonely-lost-soul]

First Lady of the Court

(Wilbur Soot X Reader) 

    Eyes fluttering open, you came face to face with the eyes of the president of L’manburg, his dark brown eyes were full of tender affection. A smile spread across your lips at the sight and his fingers brushed your hair off your face. Your hand came up to hold his as you nuzzled your face against his palm. You watched the British boy’s face turn a bright red at the sight he let out a strangled sound. 

   “Good morning to you too Mr. President.” A giggle spilled from your lips as Wilbur pulled his hand away. 

   “Good morning my lovely first lady.” He cleared his throat, putting a hand over his mouth, “did you sleep okay?”

Stretching your arms above your head you nodded, you ruffled your (h/c) hair. 

   “Slept like a baby. How about you? Are you nervous for you and Tommy today?” You sat upon your elbows as he looked at you thoughtfully. 

   “Hm... telling you would be spoiling the fun now wouldn’t it?” Wilbur mused, giving you a cheeky smile. 

   “Boo unfair, I deserve to know I am the first lady after all.” You scoffed pouting at your lover. 

A lover is such a weird term to describe what you had with one Wilbur Soot. When L’manburg was founded and the presidency appointed to him you had agreed to take up the position of the first lady. Wilbur was ecstatic to hear you agree to the position after all, all he wanted was to ‘rule’ L’manburg by your side. To be more specific one of your duties was to love and care for the current president, be their pillar of sanity if the job became too overwhelming or stressful. Another job that fell within your duties was to keep the people happy and share their stresses with the president in hopes you could convince him to listen to the people. Luckily with Wilburs reign, there wasn’t many complaints you had to share with him, and on the rare occasion that there were any he was willing to listen and come up with a plan. All you wanted was to give the citizens of L’manburg the best life possible, and you knew Wilbur ultimately wants the same. 

Wilbur and you decided to embrace it the romantic assumptions that came with you being the first lady, solely for political reasons, that’s what he always wanted to stress. However, he always said it a bit franticly with a blush across his face and while flapping hands. You couldn’t help but snicker every time he did it, you would simply nod and say of course but those ‘political reasons’ never justified why he insisted you two sleep in the same bed. You didn’t mind, as long as it made Wilbur happy, you’ve always loved him and you had a feeling he felt the same without saying it. 

   “Yeah, I know you are. Even so you still have to find out like everyone else, plus there are always last-minute calculations that need to be taken into account. Especially since someone got bots to vote for them.” He rolled his eyes clicking his tongue in distaste. 

    “Oh we have drama, we love tea.” You teased swinging your legs over the bed and Wilbur followed your movements. 

   “You have such a way with words.”

   “Says the man who agreed with a sixteen year old to name his campaign POG2020.” 

   “It’s a good name!” Wilbur tried to defend and you just snickered in response he glared at you grabbing his L’manburg hat and placing it on his head. 

    “Yes, Wilby of course it is.” He moved back towards the bed and wrapped his arms around your waist placing his chin on your head. “Hey off, off! You’re messing up my hair!” You could practically feel Wilbur’s smile as he let out a little hum,

   “Hm no I don’t think so, after all, I don’t think I can mess up your hair more than it already is.”   

   “OKAY RUDE!” You squawked swatting at the hands around your waist already done with him today. “I’m telling you right now you keep this up and I’ll be rooting for someone else to win.” 

    “How fucking dare you.” Wilbur gasped dramatically falling back on the bed as you turned to stick your tongue out at him. 

   “You deserve it, now get dressed we have an election to get ready for you dork.” 

    “Do you need any help with that-” A pillow was thrown in his face and he laughed cheerfully, “-point taken!” You both went to your separate bathrooms to get ready for the day. You had chosen a nice black skirt that was very professional looking and went down to just under your knees. The shirt you’ve chosen was a nice (f/c) blouse with a L’manburg pin, pinned onto the front pocket. Bending over you slipped on black heels, you just wanted to try to reach Wilbur’s height so you didn’t look so atrocious standing beside him on the podium. You quickly ran a brush/comb through your hair just to make it look presentable, looking in the mirror you finger gunned at yourself and smirked. 

    “Looking good.” You beamed happily before stepping out of the bathroom, Wilbur was already standing in the bedroom looking over what seemed to be some stuff around the election. “Wow, Wilby. You clean up nice.” Wilbur looked up from over his book and a bright flush came across his face when he took in your outfit. 

    “I- Ugh- thank you- you too!” He squeaked pupils dilating a little as he took a step back as you got closer. You moved quicker than him though and reached out to fix the collar of his shirt. Smiling a little at his reaction you straightened out said collar and placed your hands on his chest. 

    “You’re gonna do amazing today darling.” Your voice soothed and he seemed to relax under your hands, “Whether you win or not, you were the best choice for L’manburg’s first president. I mean that.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, as your doe eyes stared up at him Wilbur felt like he lost his last life and went up to heaven.  

He brought his hand up to your cheek and cupped it gently, his thumb brushing across it in soft movements. “Thank you (y/n) that means the entire world to me. Truly you don’t know how happy I am to hear that from you.” You smiled and pressed a kiss to his palm and he sighed happily at the small gesture shared between the two of you. 

    “I’m going to need to go find Tubbo and Tommy,” Wilbur whispered to you after a few more moments of comfortable silence. “But I don’t wanna leave you…”

     “I’ll either be here  or at the podium, go converse with your brothers.” You smiled softly stepping away from him and crossing your arms. He gave you one last look eyeing you up and down before giving you a tight hug once more. 

     “You look really beautiful by the way! See you later!” He said quickly before scurrying out of the room, you blinked a few times before heat rose into your cheeks. You let out your strangled sound slapping both of your hands to your cheeks, 

‘He can’t just say that and run away the bastard!’ 

---

Stepping up to the podium you greeted everyone who was there early, and where greeted by you got a few teasing whistles from Quackity. 

      “You certainly clean up nice Ms. First Lady.~” He mused winking at you and you fondly rolled your eyes knowing that was Quackity being himself. 

      “Thank you very much I don’t look like his often so drink it up.” You teased as he laughed. 

      “I know I will sweetcheeks.” Schlatt mused appearing from besides Quackity once again that earned the duo another eye roll. “Hey come on now what’s with that look? Just what did I do to deserve that? After all, I’m going to be your new president, you’re gonna have to treat me with more respect.” An arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, he smirked down at you and you frowned. Before you could protest the statement, Schlatt made a startled noise as Tommy seemingly came out of nowhere and pushed him away from you by the horns. “Hey Hey hey! Watch it, kid, this face is a money maker!” 

      “There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be the new president of L’manburg!” The young teen shrieked standing in front of you as if to guard you against the goat-man. 

      “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, you think you have a better chance at winning than me?” Schlatt laughed loudly in Tommy’s face, “Hell even the broad has a better chance at winning than you and Wilbur and she’s not even fucking running!” 

       “Lay off him Schlatt.” You placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder to calm the angry boy down. “Let’s not start a fight, that’s the last thing we need right now.” Tommy looked like he didn’t want to listen to you but shut up as soon as Wilbur came up to stand on the podium. Tommy fumbled to do a little salute and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his almost desperate antics to please Wilbur. 

        “Thanks for trying to prevent another full-out fight darling.” He mused looking at you and you smiled. 

        “It’s my job, after all, that is what I’m here for.” You shot back with a smile going to take your seat behind the group that was already up on the podium. Wilbur smiled softly at you before clearing his throat and addressing the crowd, welcoming everyone here for the first-ever L’manburg election. You sat there watching him give his speech with power and grace and your face softened immensely. In your opinion there was no way that he could lose this election, he was the only one for the job no questions asked. You only zoned back in when you heard Tommy’s loud shriek of shock, you blinked your (e/c) eyes and whipped your head around did you seriously miss the announcement of who won the election? God, you were a dumb broad. You felt someone grab your arm and you turned to face them it was the worried face of Wilbur, 

      “Come on darling.” He spoke softly “We should move to the crowd. Let Schlatt give his speech in peace.”

       “Schlatt won?” You choked out your eyes bugging out of your head.

       “You bet your ass I did sweet-cheeks!” He laughed looking down at you, “Wilbur surprisingly enough I’m going to have to ask you to remove your hands from MY new first lady.” Schlatt had a wicked smirk on his face as he held out his hand to Wilbur who’s jaw dropped in shock. “What? Why do you look so surprised? You picked a looker Wilby,” He mocked with a wave of his hand “(Y/n)’s a fine piece of ass I’m going to let her continue to serve. Come on ova here.” Schlatt motioned for you to come over with his finger, you shakily stood up from your seat. Wilbur grip on your arm tightened as he ground his teeth, you turned to look at him and he looked devastated. 

      “Darling you don’t have to agree to this-” 

      “It’s my duty Wilby…” You murmured slipping your arm out of his hold and holding it to your heart. With careful steps you made your way over to Schlatts side, once more you felt his hand slide around your waist and pull you flush against him. He tilted his head a little so his horns rested lightly on your head. You watched Wilbur and Tommy descend the podium and sit within the audience down below, neither would look at you and you knew why...but you also felt a little hurt at that fact. You were just as upset about this as they were, they had to know that right? 

You heard Schlatt clear his throat and grab the microphone. 

      "That was pretty easy. And you know what I said, the day I got unbanned from the DreamSMP, and the day I said I was running... an election that I won by the way? I said; "Things are gonna change". I looked every citizen of L'Manberg in the eyes and I said; "You listen to me... this place will be a lot different tomorrow." Let's start making it happen. My first decree, as the president of L'Manberg- the EMPEROR! of this great country-! Is to REVOKE the citizenship of WilburSoot, and TommyInnit! Get 'em outta here! Get 'em outta here! You're no longer welcome!" Your blood froze in your veins and your jaw dropped, finally Wilbur and Tommy locked eyes with you. 

      “Schlatt no you can’t do that to them! Tommy’s a kid-”

      “Trust me (y/n) and just shut up for a minute.” 

‘Run.’ You felt yourself mouth as Tommy and Wilbur turned heel and ran from L’manburg, a city that they founded was just ripped right out from under them. You only felt Schlatt’s grip on you tighten as he looked down at you and almost as if he was speaking to your soul he addressed what has left of the crowd again. 

      "Oh, it was so easy! Until further notice... WilburSoot and TommyInnit are merely a memory of L'Manberg. A relic- A relic of the past. A reminder, of the darkest era this country, has ever seen- and I guarantee you all; dear citizens... Tonight, that changes. We are entering into a new period of L'Mangerg- a period, of prosperity! of strength! of unity." He finally pushed you aside and Quackity caught your stumble and held you up in place, you were a little thankful considering you felt like falling onto your knees. “Tubbo- where's Tubbo? where's Tubbo?”

     “I'm right here…” His meek voice wobbles from the crowd. 

     “Schlatt…” You warned trying to sound stronger than you felt.

     “Jesus, do you ever shut up?” He laughed “Is this what Wilbur had to deal with? Jesus you’re lucky you’re smoking hot sweetcheeks.” You grit your teeth and glared at him through narrowed lids, “Kidding kidding! I can appreciate a broad who’s got a brain on her makes it much more fun. Anyway, Tubbo- get- get up here! Get up here on my podium!”

    “Uh- uh…” The young hybrid stuttered hesitantly looking back and forth between the podium and where Tommy and Wilbur once stood.

    “C'mon Tobbo, you're the Secretary of State.”

    “Wait- what- Okay... Wa- I'm Secreta- am I?” 

     “Yeah I think- I think that's... I think he's always been that, I don't know…right?” He looked over at you and you gave a nod in confirmation. He’s trying to pit Tubbo and Tommy against one another the cheeky bastard.

     “Uh, yeah... yeah that's- I didn't know I got to keep-”

     “Well, I'm not gonna fire you! I mean you're Tubbo! What- am I gonna fire Tubbo?”

     “Uh... okay.”

    “Tubbo get- Tubbo get up here. Now.”  Schlatts voice boomed over the crowd another wicked smirk spreading across his cheeks as he looked down at his citizens. The horns only made him look more devilish and menacing to everyone looking up at him. 

    “uh- okay, I'm on my way, I'm on my way, I'm on my way!” Tubbo sputtered out hesitantly, unsure of what the right call was to go with Tommy or stay here with Schlatt. 

    “I don't think he wants the job!” Quackity mocked a grin matching Schlatts spread across his cheeks. You frowned up at him in disappointment, 

    “It’s okay Tubbo I’m here…” You murmured under your breath.

    “Get up here now!”

    “I do want the job! I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my way!” He sputtered walking up to the podium. You heard Eret scold him softly and some others match their distaste, you swore you heard Tommy in the crowd. “I need to... I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my way, President. I'm on my way- I'm on my way- I'm on my-” 

    “Ah Tubbo, so good to see you.” Schlatt pursed his lips an arm going around Tubbo’s shoulders like they’ve been best buddies for years. Tubbo made a weak sound of acknowledgment at the greeting. “Yes sir, there he is.”

   “Good day Mr. President.”

   “I love this guy!” Schlatt exclaimed with a loud cheer and Tubbo took a small step away from him. 

   “Okay... Schlatt...?”

   “Ohh my very own Tubbo... Tubbo. As my Secretary of State- as my right-hand man; of L'Manberg... I need you to do something for me Tubbo.” Your eyes narrowed into slits but you bit your tongue if anything you can work from the inside you, try to keep Schlatt reigned in the best you could. 

  “What Mr. President...?”

  “I need you... to find Tommy. And I need you... to show him the door.” Schlatt emphasized slicing his thumb across his neck in a beheading motion, Tubbo paled considerably at the implication. Finally finding your voice you couldn’t help but snarl, 

  “He’s a child Schlatt you can’t go around ordering a child to slaughter another child that’s insane!” You came up and grabbed his arm giving it a sharp tug,

   “I can do whatever I want! Wanna know why? It’s because I’m the president.” He only ruffled your hair with a mocking coo. “Quackity you take her back to her room, then come back home we got some walls to tear down.” You made a distressed sound as you were dragged away, Tubbo said your name with the same amount of distress. You hoped Tommy and Wilbur made their great escape and didn’t have to see the destruction of the walls, fuck this is one hundred percent the worst-case scenario. 

    “Quackity you’re hurting my arm.” You gave a soft murmur and his grip on it significantly loosened, he looked a tad bit guilty. “It’s okay.” You assured you couldn’t blame him for it, he was always kind to you before this which was what also made it so downright confusing. A plan was already trying to brew in the back of your mind, keep relationships with the citizens high even at the cost of yourself, in the end, they might be the only ones to have your back. There was suddenly a lot of yelling and shouting you saw a blur of pink burst past you followed my more of Jschlatt’s guards, Quackity pretty much abandoned you and joined the chase. 

     “Tehcnoblade!” He shouted out “Where the fuck did he come from?” 

Blinking in surprise as you were left abandoned, ‘what the fuck is a Technoblade?’ You glanced over at the retreating figures and you could’ve sworn you saw a glistening golden crown. A figure slammed into your side and you stumbled backward a few steps, looking down you noticed Tubbo clinging tightly to your middle. 

     “(Y/n)! What’re we gonna do?” He looked up at your eyes full of fear and you frowned, this child just got out of one war and it will be potentially thrown into another. “What if Wilbur and Tommy don’t talk to us again? I can’t kill Tommy!” 

     “Hey, hey, hey.” You shushed softly running a hand through his hair careful of the tiny horns growing on his head. “Take a deep breath for me Tubbo, in for five then out for five okay? That’s it you’re doing great sweetie.” You watched for a bit as Tubbo followed your instructions and after he calmed down a little bit you knelt to his height. “We are going to help them, they’ll need some men on the inside and that’s just what we’re going to be.” 

    “You think that’ll work?” 

    “If they’ll have us yes, I think it will work. You’ll probably be able to sneak away much easier than I’ll be able to do you think you’ll be able to handle that?” He nodded vigorously at your words, determination seemed to radiate off of him in waves. Now all that was left was to find a way to contact Wilbur and Tommy, wherever they ran off too.

~~~

I had this in my google docs for a while so I figured I’d post it to give you guys some more food. Under the Floorboards pt. III is in the works have no fear!

[bumbleleewrites]

Fighting Monsters

Written using this prompt. Thank you, @emmabloomo725! :]

Summary: Techno is play fighting with young Tommy, when he gets a bit too cocky. It’s his responsibility as an older brother, along with Wilbur, to take him down a peg.

[Canon] Lee!Tommy, Ler!Techno, Ler!Wilbur, brief implied Ler!Phil. Tommy is 7-8 years old and all characters are aged down accordingly.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: I’ll admit this was a bit of a challenge and isn’t my best work, since I wrote this on pretty much zero sleep. I hope you all enjoy nonetheless! As well, beeduo content has been giving me loads of ideas, so please feel free to pop in my ask box with any prompts for them! I really need to expand my writing past the SBI boys/lh

The dull sound of clattering wood filled the large room, echoing against the walls. Bright midday sunlight poured in through a small window, illuminating the space warmly. Tommy and Techno were in this space, training with play swords they had made out of branches a few days earlier. Despite the rest of his family thinking it was unnecessary for him to be taught combative strategies at such a young age, the boy was eager to learn. Techno, and occasionally Wilbur, had taken to training him in close-range combat. After the first few times, it had become a regular occurrence in the household, due to Tommy’s constant asking and the others’ inability to deny him of it.

“Techno, no!” the young blond cried playfully as the pink-haired boy gently prodded his shoulder with the end of his sword. Techno couldn’t resist a smile at that, retracting his hand and lowering the weapon to his side. “Not bad, big man,” he reassured Tommy, “But remember to guard your upper body, yeah?”

Tommy looked up and smiled at him, nodding. He was still clearly disappointed at his defeat, however, as he was unsuccessfully trying to hide the slight dejection in his eyes. Techno hummed, noticing the boy’s disappointment. 

“Hey, Tommy?” he asked, forming an idea for a new game they could play. Something fun, and even a bit silly, he decided, would hopefully cheer him up. “Yeah?” replied Tommy, with a fake brightness in his tone.

“Have I ever told you about Greek monsters?” the other began. “I don’t think so,” he responded. Although he had seen the term scrawled on the spines of a few books scattered around their home, he had never bothered to read them.

Techno smiled excitedly. “Really? I’ve never told you about them?” Tommy shook his head. “Well there’s a lot to tell...” he started, before looking behind Tommy to see a tall figure standing in the doorway, looking at them with fondness in his eyes. “Hi, Wil,” greeted Techno. Tommy’s eyes lit up at the mention of the name and he turned to face his other brother. “Wil!” he chirped, bouncing up and down on his heels. “Hey, Tommy!” Wilbur replied, stepping into the room, “Techno,” he added with a smile, “What are you two up to?” “We’re training!” interrupted Tommy cheerily, as Techno opened his mouth to speak.

“Oh really?” Wilbur fawned. “We were about to fight Greek monsters, actually,” stated Techno. Wilbur chuckled lightly as he walked further in. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it then. I just came in to get my guitar,” he said, motioning slightly to the instrument which was perched precariously against the wall. He sauntered towards it and wrapped his hand around the guitar’s neck.

“Nooo, Wilbur, stay!” Tommy shouted, running up to the boy and wrapping his arms around his waist. The brunet grinned and looked up towards Techno, who nodded in permission. “Sure, Toms,” Wilbur agreed, lightly patting his back affectionately. Tommy let go of him and ran back to Techno, hurriedly picking his sword up from the floor. Wilbur took his guitar into his hands and sat cross-legged against the wall. He began strumming a few riffs quietly, trying not to disturb his brothers. The faint melody echoed around the room, but nobody particularly minded. “Alright, Tommy. You ready?” asked Techno, beaming at him. “Yeah!” Tommy yelled excitedly, squatting down slightly into a fighting stance.

“Okay. Now, the Chimera was a really scary one,” explained Techno, being careful to slow down from his usual quick, passionate rambling so the boy was able to understand, “she was a lion with a goat’s head on her back, and a snake for a tail. Pretty weird, right?” Tommy nodded eagerly. Techno hesitantly descended to his knees and hands to mimic a quadruped, feeling slightly sheepish while doing so. He raised his head to look up at the blond with a mischievous smile. “So, the Chimera, in ancient Greece, used to cause trouble all over the country, and people really hated her. But a brave soldier, Bellerophon, defeated her and made everyone happy. You, big man, are going to be Bellerophon, okay?” “Okay!” the boy agreed enthusiastically, bouncing a little. 

He held out his sword as Techno inched closer. Suddenly, he charged forward, pointing the branch at his brother’s arm, but the eldest quickly ducked and rolled away. They continued this routine of Tommy attacking and Techno swiftly dodging him, while Wilbur watched from afar. The musician had stopped playing to observe their antics, smiling at them and resting his chin between his hands. He decided, however, that such a battle would surely benefit from a soundtrack. He began to strum some chords, letting each string ring out individually to mimic a harp. Slightly chuckling to himself, he tried his best to think of lyrics as he began to sing: “Bellerophon the brave is fighting the beast,

He’ll uh… it will be a struggle, at the very least.

The, er… his sword fighting is... reallyyyy gooood,

Will he lose?... uh… that has a… big unlikelihood.”

Techno snorted at the song as he narrowly ducked away from the sword, which had been aimed for his head. He flinched and squinted his eyes shut, however, when the branch came colliding with his forehead. Tommy cried triumphantly and threw his arms in the air. Techno whined slightly at the pain and rubbed his face.

“Well done, Toms!” Wilbur praised from across the room. He lightly tapped his guitar strings rather than clapping, creating an annoying tinny sound that echoed across the space. “Yeah, good job!” Techno beamed. He’d been going easy on the boy, not realizing how much his skills had improved since they began. “But maybe I was just making it too easy for you.” “No way!” retorted Tommy, “I beat you!” “Oh, yeah? Then you’ll be able to beat me next time, too?” “Try me,” said the youngest, crossing his arms proudly. Techno grinned determinedly. He loved his brother, but there was no way he’d let him be this cocky and get away with it. He crawled towards the boy, before stopping a couple feet away. “Tommy?” “Yeah?” “Do you think you could beat...” he paused dramatically with a smirk, “the tickle monster?”

Techno pounced, leaning over and digging his fingers into the boy’s sides before he had time to protest. Tommy fell on his back, not expecting the attack, and squealed. He flailed his arms, giggling, and Techno winced as he felt Tommy’s weapon hit his back bluntly. “Tehehechnohoho!” Tommy complained as his eyes squeezed shut. Techno moved up and wiggled his fingers against his ribs, making his laughter increase in volume. “Tommy- Ow! Wilbur, a little help?” Techno asked. 

It was getting difficult to keep Tommy still due to his squirming. The brunet gently rested his guitar on the floor and raced over, crouching near Tommy’s face. He leaned forward and grabbed his wrists with slight difficulty, holding them up so he would stop attacking his brother. The blond’s eyes shot open as he looked up to see Wilbur looming over him, smirking. “Wihihilbuhuhur, nohoho!” he complained through his laughter.

“Wilbur, yes!” he mocked, moving his wrists into one hand so he could scratch under the boy’s chin. Tommy squealed and tried to turn his head away, to no avail. Meanwhile, Techno had moved a hand down to squeeze at Tommy’s knees, relishing in his squawking at each contact.

“Nahahah- plehehEHese!” Techno chuckled. “Hah, no way, nerd, you said you could beat me!” “Yeah, Toms,” Wilbur added, “You shouldn’t start a fight you have no chance of winning!” The brunet tightened his grip as Tommy began to squirm harder. Techno suddenly began drilling his fingers into the boy’s hips. Wilbur, deciding it was an appropriate time to switch spots, swirled his fingers in light circles around Tommy’s neck. The blond shrieked and twisted his body even harder. 

“Well, Tommy, I don’t think this is accurate. I don’t remember Bellerophon being defeated by tickles!” he teased, as the boy writhed back and forth. Realizing he had no chance of escaping until he’d been thoroughly wrecked, Tommy resorted to calling for backup. “DADZAHAHA!” he yelled as loud as he could, causing both the older boys to recoil from the sudden sound. “Awwww, Tommy,” Wilbur cooed, “Cracking already?” Loud footsteps could be heard coming stomping down the hall and coming to a sudden halt at the doorway. Phil stood there, panicked for Tommy's safety, but sighed in relief when he realized the sons were just playing. He noticed, however, that the boy’s face was growing awfully red, and that it was getting difficult for him to inhale in between his giggles. The man slowly crept closer until he was hovering over the group. He spread his wings suddenly, attempting to startle the lers. “Hi,” he spoke. His plan worked, as Wilbur loosened his hold just enough for Tommy to slip his hands free. All three boys looked up at him, the elder two bringing their hands to a stop. Tommy gasped as his residual giggles faded away. “What’s going on here?” Phil asked, smiling, although his concern was evident. Tommy refused to answer, embarrassed, while Wilbur and Techno merely stared at each other guiltily. “Were you killing Tommy again?” “They weren’t killing me, ‘m a big man,” Tommy answered sheepishly. Phil continued to eye the other two with an accusing look. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Come on, up,” Phil said. Wilbur and Techno each backed away and stood up, trying to look innocent. The older man maneuvered around them and scooped up Tommy from the floor, who lay limp in his arms. He set the boy on his feet and ruffled his blond hair, at which he yelled embarrassedly. Phil cooed, before turning to the other two. With a smirk, he held out his wings and shook them threateningly, causing the feathers to softly ruffle. “Run.” The boys had never fled so fast in their life.

[angelsndragons]

So, after rewatching the Grove scenes enough times to make my head spin and rewatching Certain Scenes, let’s talk Caduceus. Yes, this is going to be long. No, I am not sorry.

Blanket TW for this series: as we will be delving into Caduceus’ backstory, quick warning for discussions of drug use, self-harm and self-neglect, and general depression.

Part 1: Chosen and Unchosen

So one of the most interesting aspects of 130 is how Taliesin and Matt took what could have been simple sibling rivalry and made it a fundamental core to both Caduceus and Calliope in particular. Back in episode 96, Colton and Calliope both were described as put out or annoyed that Caduceus saved them and created enough seeds to save the Grove. Matt specifically mentions their wanting to be the ‘hero of the family.’ 

In particular, what’s fascinating to me is that, all things considered, Calliope seems a much stronger ‘protagonist,’ a much stronger PC if you will than Caduceus on first glance. She wants out, she wants adventure, she wants to save her home and be a hero, she has spent years honing her fighting and crafting skills to be able to do it. If she is a paladin or cleric as many suspect, then her ‘lesser’ abilities connecting to the Wildmother and understanding her will are even the basis of a great campaign long character arc. Hell, her brother minding the Grove gives the party a somewhat isolated, out of the way base they can return to when things get rough. She seems to be precisely the character one would want on a journey like the Mighty Nein’s. And she would have been terrible at it, with them.

Caduceus, on the other hand. Well. Liam’s joke, “You’re just a random shop keep in the woods?’ is kind of on the nose. Unkind fans keep saying that Caduceus is a heal bot or a glorified NPC. Caduceus doesn’t fit the mold of adventurer and never has. And after 130, that is the point. Because the Calliopes are long gone; they don’t wait around for adventurers to find them. They don’t have the patience for it. From 130, we can gather that Caduceus was not just a quiet, responsible, self-sacrificing kid. He was also the kid who just went along with whatever was expected of him and who didn’t seem to have any contradictory opinions of his own. Notice that the Clays are confused and unsettled by Caduceus just walking out of the middle of the conversation; this is not normal to them. The Nein, on the other hand, are not bothered by it; they don’t consider it a tantrum or disrespectful. They are actually used to Caduceus not completing a conversation, to him saying something and walking away or shutting down the conversation. It’s only been the last several weeks that Caduceus has really been reaching out and actively trying to communicate fully. I think it is fairly obvious that Cornelius expected that Calliope would be able to shake Caduceus from his course because she had always been able to. As I said in my playlist analysis, Caduceus only realizes just how far he’s come, how far he has drifted from what his family expects of him when he runs into them again. And he is not ready to go home with them until he can resettle who exactly he is.

All of this is to say, Caduceus began the campaign fervently telling himself that he was chosen to save his home. He anchors himself to that fact. He says that he has always known deep down that saving the grove was his responsibility and that he had been neglecting it. Constance also says she expected him to do it in 96, Clarabelle accepts that Caduceus of all people saved her pretty quickly, Calliope reluctantly admits that everything seems connected to Caduceus, that it wasn’t her time, and thoughtfully agrees to let Caduceus continue traveling if he feels he must. So that begs the question: how did we get to episode 28? No, seriously, think about it. If everyone, from matriarch on down, had a sense that Caduceus would be their savior, what the hell happened? Why was Caduceus alone in that grove, waiting for the Nein? Why on Melora’s green earth did they leave him there?

Caduceus says it himself in 130: he didn’t want it. And his family loves him, imperfectly as we all do. So his sister steps up, says, “I will do it in his stead” and “I want this, let me have it.” And they all go about their lives hoping that it is enough. But. We can’t walk the path laid out for other people. They have to walk the path. Caduceus tried to unchose himself, Calliope tried to choose herself. And it didn’t work. At all. The Wildmother still waited for her chosen Clay to choose to start walking again then pointed him in the right direction. It sounds cruel, in a way. But the Exandrian Prime Deities have always allowed mortals to choose their fates. Even if Caduceus was the only one who could save the grove, it was still his choice whether to do so.

And here is what really gets Calliope’s goat and what Caduceus is sorry for: he enjoys being out there. He didn’t want it but now that he has been out there, there’s a part of him that likes it. What is left unspoken: What if you had left earlier? Taken your mantle sooner? You mean we did all of this for you, because you thought you couldn’t handle it and now you’re throwing it in my face how much the entire world has come to depend on you?

Honestly, I love this deconstruction of the Chosen One trope. Caduceus had to choose himself, as surely as he unchose himself. His fate, and the fate of so many others, is defined by his choices. What a painful lesson to learn.

I have *checks notes* four other parts I’m currently working on, including Apathy is Death and What Does Manure Do for a Garden, so I’ll be back soon with them.

[jaskiersvalley]

Devil Didn't Bite

Revenge should have helped. Or rather, avenging Aiden’s death because it wasn’t revenge really. Lambert thought that killing the bastards who slayed his partner so mercilessly would bring him some kind of closure. It didn’t. All it did was cover his hands in even more blood but it didn’t bring Aiden back, didn’t help make him feel better. Sure, there were fewer scumbags in the world now but it didn’t change the past.

He dragged himself up to Kaer Morhen with Geralt. The bitter cold of home paired well with his ice covered heart. Nothing could thaw him out, no matter how close to the fire he sat, his brothers around him. Grief gnawed away at him, made Lambert reckless and stupid. He wanted Aiden back, even if just to be able to tell him the truth that had been lurking in his heart. There were three small words Lambert never got to say, never finding the perfect moment, always thinking there would be a better time in the future. It was all well and good until he ran out of time.

Drink, grief and a night alone never served Lambert well before. The combination made him consider the ridiculous, the impossible. He’d heard about a ritual, a summoning of a demon at a crossroad so a deal could be made. It wasn’t like he had much to offer but he’d give his everything to have Aiden back. Doing his best to remember what he’d need, he gathered a small box of necessities and walked out of Kaer Morhen in the dead of the night, heading down the track until he got to the nearest crossing of paths. It would have to be enough, he had to hope it was enough of a crossroad for the ritual to work.

No sooner had he buried the box than there was a laughing hum from behind him.

“And what does a Witcher of all things want from a demon?”

She was pretty in her own way, long faun-like legs covered in a reddish fur. Her skin was dark from the hip up, the circles and spirals painted on barely visible. From her hair protruded two large, curved horns. All in all, if Lambert had been at his peak wit, he would have said she was curvy all over and quite horny too. As it was, he turned, arms held out by his side to put himself on display.

“You can have whatever you want, I just want you to bring Aiden back.”

His request was met with a low chuckle as the demon walked around him, eyeing him up like some choice meat. At least, he hoped that was how she viewed him, as worth something.

“You don’t have a lot to offer,” she purred. “You’ll die eventually and whatever’s left of your soul will be hell-bound anyway.” That had Lambert swallowing thickly. Surely he could offer more. Before he got even as far as opening his mouth, the demon stood in front of him, eyes dark. “Scrap of a thing, aren’t you? You have nothing to offer that I could possibly want. Especially not for something as difficult as resurrecting the dead. Run along pup, don’t bother me again.”

Just like that, she was gone and Lambert was left standing in the cold darkness. His hands shook as he stood, frozen and world shattering to pieces. He always knew he wasn’t worth much but he had hoped that a demon would at least find something worth trading. Alas, not even the lowest of low, a crossroad demon, found anything worthy in him. What Aiden had seen then was beyond him. Perhaps it was best if he stayed dead, that way Lambert could pretend he was valuable in someone’s eyes and Aiden never had the time to realise he was mistaken.

The trudge back to Kaer Morhen was a blur. Lambert numbly stepped back into the kitchen, uncertain what to do now. He didn’t expect Eskel to be sat by the embers, sipping on a warm cider.

“Took a walk?” Lambert only grunted in response. He didn’t miss the way Eskel’s eyes roved over him, assessing his state. It wasn’t like Lambert had dressed up for his attempted deal. No coat, no gloves, his fingers were coated in dirt from where he’d scratched the hard ground open to bury his box. Most telling though were his feet hastily jammed into slippers rather than boots. “You haven’t been messing with Vesemir and digging up his plants, have you?”

Lambert hadn’t done that in years and he snorted half-heartedly. “In your dreams. Since he stopped trying to grow cumin I’ve stopped doing that.”

Heaving a sigh, Eskel stood up and poured another tankard of cider. He passed it to Lambert and gestured for him to sit down. “So what gives?”

Hesitant, Lambert took a sip, allowing the heat to wash through him, even if it never touched his frozen heart. At least his stomach was warming up, spreading heat into his limbs. The silence stretched and Lambert didn’t know how to explain without sounding like a pathetic idiot.

“I tried to bring Aiden back,” he blurted out in the end, Eskel’s patient silence urging him on. Now that he’d started, it was difficult to stop. “Tried to make a deal, trade myself for him with a crossroad demon.” Lambert was so glad he had a tankard in his hands, it hid the way he shook. “She said I wasn’t worth anything, let alone be enough to bring someone back.”

There were many things Lambert expected. To be berated, to be pitied, to be yelled at. What he didn’t expect was for Eskel to set his tankard aside, lean forward with his elbow on his knees and give Lambert a long, soft look. “You really loved him, didn’t you?”

Miserably, Lambert nodded. He couldn’t say the words, not when he never got a chance to tell Aiden first. It was just going to have to be another regret in a long list of them that was his life. The pity party he was gearing up for was rudely cut short as Eskel sighed and stood up with a soft groan. Without any preamble he grabbed Lambert by the wrist and started walking. They marched out the door and into the cold. Eskel unerringly led them down the path Lambert had taken, reaching the crossroad. Without hesitation he called out, “Lilia?”

Just the call of her name seemed to summon the demon and Lambert crumbled internally. Throughout his whole encounter with her, the demon had probably been laughing at his stupid, half buried box, knowing it was useless.

Eskel gave the demon a disappointed frown. “What’s this I hear about you being mean to my brother?”

“He wanted a resurrection. You know those are expensive, especially when not under hell's jurisdiction.”

The hand around Lambert’s wrist disappeared and Eskel approached Lila. He could only watch as large hands settled on fuzzy hips and Eskel’s eyes softened into a pleading puppy look.

“Darling? Honeybuns? Snookums?” Lambert didn’t know how Eskel managed to make it look like he was staring up at Lilia despite behind a good head taller than her. He reached to brush a strand of hair from Lilia’s face, fondness dripping from his voice. “Sweetheart? Could you pretty please bring Aiden back?”

There was no denying that Lilia was fighting a smile, softening in Eskel’s hold. The moment Eskel started swinging their hips playfully from side to side, lips curled into a soft smile, Lambert averted his eyes. He still managed to see the fingers tenderly tracing the curve of a horn, far too intimate for his eyes. The murmured “Maybe even add him to the list too?”

A hand smacked a cloth covered shoulder but Lilia was laughing. “You and your list. It was just that darned goat to start with. Then just one other. Only one more. Starting with just one goat. Then your family. And now your brother’s boyfriend?”

“My little mistress of darkness-” Lambert heard enough and clamped hands over his ears, eyes squeezed shut so he didn’t see even the shadow of what the two were doing. The bright peal of laughter from Lilia was too much to ignore though and he looked up.

“You’d better hurry, puppy. There’s trouble in your kitchen.” Lilia told him. Not needing any other excuse to escape, Lambert turned. He still cast a glance behind him and regretted it immediately. Eskel had his hands under Lilia’s thighs, her legs around his hips and back against a tree. His lips were pressed against her neck, both of them looking rather happy with the turn of events despite the cold. That was not something he needed to see so Lambert hurried back towards Kaer Morhen.

He could hear the trouble before he saw it.

“This was no portal. How did you get here?” Vesemir’s voice was loud and clear. Rounding the corner, Lambert tried not to think about why Vesemir and Geralt were in the kitchen in the middle of the night. But, more important than that was the fact that Aiden was backed into the corner, clutching a frying pan defensively.

“Aiden!”

“Lamb!”

“You know this Cat?” The question from Vesemir went ignored as Lambert pushed past them, all but colliding with Aiden in his rush.

“You’re back!” Lambert’s words were barely audible as he pulled their foreheads together, taking in Aiden’s familiar scent. “I missed you.” An hand on the back of Aiden’s neck kept him in place as Lambert gathered up the courage. “I lo-”

“The arsehole you avenged isn’t even dead,” Geralt muttered darkly under his breath. “The fuck you make me come along for?”

Lips curling into a snarl, Lambert yanked the frying pan from Aiden’s grip and hurled it at Geralt’s head. He didn’t expect a wet laugh from in front of him.

“I love you too, you idiot.”

Aiden’s now free hand wrapped around Lambert and pulled him in, finally claiming the kiss he had been teased with for so long.

[rebelwrites]

Love Is A Battlefield || Chapter Thirteen

Clay Spenser x OC

Join The Group Chat Here - If You Want Tagging Manually Let Me Know 🖤

Love Is a Battlefield Masterlist

This Months Writing

“Favourite colour?”

“Urm blue”

“You are lying, it’s bad to lie Clay,”

“Fine it’s pink okay”

“Favourite animal?”

“Goats”

“Favourite princess?”

“Merida from Brave”

“Favourite car?”

“Nova”

“Favourite dinosaur?”

“T-rex”

“If you could be a sound, what would it be?”

“Car engine,”

“Do dogs know they are dogs?”

“I think so”

“Where do babies come from?” She asked so calmly, instantly the kitchen was filled with the sound of everyone choking on their food or drink.

No one expected a five year old to come out with that question, not when the ones she had been interrogating Clay with were fairly normal.

“Okay I think that’s enough questions, Athy,” Rylee said, trying not to break out laughing. “Now finish your dinner and then you can go play for a bit before we have pudding.” Before she looked up at Clay mouthing sorry at him.

Normal conversation soon resumed but Rylee stayed silent as she watched Clay and Athena chatting away like they were lifelong best friends. How could she stay mad at Clay when one he was hot as fuck, not that she would say that out loud and two he got on so well with her daughter. It was time the past was put behind her, she needed to move on from school and focus on the here and now.

She was in her own little world so didn’t realise that both Athy and Clay had finished their food and had disappeared from the table and into the living room.

“Are you a seal like my Uncles?” Athy asked as she plonked herself on the floor with Clay copying her.

“Yes I am,” he smiled at her.

“Okay cool,” Athy nodded, passing him one of her toy cars.

Clay knew that he would have a lot of making up to do for his behaviour but he didn’t want to push things, not tonight, especially when he was on the road to patching things up. So he did the next best thing, start bonding with Athy.

“You have a lot of toys kiddo,” Clay laughed as they raced the toy cars around the floor.

“Uncle Sonny spoils me,” she giggled, pushing the hair out of her eyes.

“I can see,” Clay chuckled.

“Can I do your hair?” Athy asked, looking up at Clay giving him the puppy dog eyes that she knew made everyone give in.

“I don’t see why not,” Clay shrugged, smiling at Athena.

“So I don’t feel as much tension between you and Clay now,” Metal said leaning his head on his fists, “does this mean you fucked him because girl the sexual tension between the two of you is through the roof,”

“Scotty if you want to keep your balls I would shut the fuck up,” Rylee glared, holding the sharp knife at him, “but if you really want to know me and Clay have history okay, we went to school together and he was a complete dick,”

“Oh shit,” Ray exclaimed, “you were the girl he was talking about the first night of the op you were on,”

“He spoke about me?”

“Yeah there was so much regret in his voice, he also said how he should have done more and that he was in love with his best friend,” Ray nodded.

“He knows I’ve not fully forgiven him and that he has a lot of making up to do but for the sake of the team and myself I’m not dwelling on the past any more,” she shrugged as she rounded up all the plates into the dishwasher. “Anyone seen where Athena went?”

“Think she dragged Clay into the living room to play,” Eric nodded as he helped. “At least you know he is good with kids,”

“Yeah I guess,” Rylee shrugged, the last thing she needed was Athena getting attached to Clay. “Can someone get them while I dish up the pudding?”

“On it,” Jase nodded, getting up from the table.

Within minutes all you heard was Jason dying with laughter followed by him shoving Clay into the kitchen. The moment he stepped foot into the kitchen everyone burst out laughing, his hair was in tiny little pigtails and looked like baby face from toy story, and he was rocking the brightest pink eyeshadow that Athy had.

“Well I can see you two have had fun,” Rylee snickered, “it’s a good look for you,”

“Yeah you should do this every day,” Sonny howled, as he pulled Athy onto his knees, as Rylee started serving the desert.

“Mummy, can Clay come round and play again,” Athy asked as she had cuddles before bed.

“I don’t know baby,” Rylee said softly, “we will see.”

“Oh Roo I’m not going to be able to babysit tomorrow” Sonny said as he sipped his beer.

“I will do it,” Clay smiled, “I don’t have anything planned tomorrow.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Rylee said looking up at him.

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering there’s a difference,”

Rylee was mentally cursing herself as her heart melted, she couldn’t let herself fall for him not again.

“Okay if you really want to I need you here for 9.30 in the morning,” Rylee nodded. “Now Princess, who do you want to read you a bedtime story?”

“Papa,” she grinned, “he does the best voices”

Rylee knew that would be her answer, whenever Eric was here he was always the one to read her a bedtime story.

@chibsytelford @mrsmarvelous1995 @supervalcsi @talicat713 @disasterfandoms @bravo-four-seal-team @jasonbabymama @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lotsoflovefromlea @seik-o @velvetcardiganbucky @phoenixhalliwell @pancakeisreading @itsonautopilot @pinkrockstar19 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @softi92 @abby-splace @theysayitscrazy @thelovelyleo23 @innerpaperexpertcloud @jomariekirby @i-love-scott-mccall @heathermann200 @pascal-reyes @fourthwallhateclub

[dynyamight]

here’s a concept: deku, a farmer boy goes out to the Wild West and encounters a cowboy kacchan. deku teaches cowboy kacchan to plant corn and take care of chickens. they then become close. after that they marry and are known at the “maize buckaroo duo.”

(this is so random hshshshsh. but the idea just sparked outta nowhere ;33)

i offer you, farmer!deku x cowboy!bkg you give concept. i create fanfic. ;33 i luv this idea & ilysm

—

When Midoriya registers the fast, loud gallops outside, hitting and snapping down on the ground, he ceases his movement, before smiling hard.

The Monday morning has just started, and already there’s excitement in his chest. Those familiar sounds gave him the absolute flutters.

However, that excitement drops. Daisy huffs, back kicking at the milk bucket in an annoyed fit. Midoriya hurriedly picks it up, before all their shared, hard efforts were to go down the hay. Literally.

“Sorry, sorry!” Midoriya urges the cow, quickly smacking his wet hands on the folded towel on his knee. Then, resting a short calm palm on her snout, he whispers reassuringly, “You did amazing, today. Let’s get you back on the field.”

After setting the bucket aside, Midoriya takes the rope around Daisy in one hand, and lifts open the gate with the other. Together, they slowly make their way out of the stables, more or less. Daisy steps on Midoriya’s heels, hurrying him up.

However, stepping outside, Midoriya already knows to turn to his left, instead of his right at the gated grass field. From the sounds he heard inside, he bets on seeing Dynamite, first.

And, sure enough, turning around the corner of the stables, the proudful stallion meets his eyes, neighing a loud greeting over his way. Midoriya halts Daisy and offers a small wave back.

There’s a small jolt from Dynamite, before he starts walking, at a quick pace over towards Midoriya. Finally, that’s when Midoriya sees Bakugou, riding on the back of the horse, the finest, leather saddle equipped.

Midoriya shakes his head, smiling up. “Surprising to see you, so soon. It’s not even sunrise, Kacchan.”

“How fucking rude,” Bakugou clicks his tongue, before stopping Dynamite’s steps with a small pull. He tips his black, cowboy hat down, though barely. “Not even a damn ‘morning’ my way.”

“You’re never one for pleasantries, anyway.” Midoriya teases, pointing at his hat. “You didn’t do a full tip, you know.”

“Tch, you ain’t special.” Bakugou huffs, “Be grateful.”

Taking a few steps forward, Midoriya pats the side of Dynamite’s face. “Good morning, boy! How are you, on this fine early day?” He holds in the laugh, glancing at the scowl Bakugou sends his way.

Dynamite doesn’t give any cues of delight. But, by the way Midoriya feels the stallion lower his head, and press firmly against his hand, it’s not too far-fetched to assume he loves the touch.

On the other hand, Bakugou swats at Midoriya, face twisted in disgust. “Gross! I don’t want that fucking creature’s juices all over him.”

Behind Midoriya, Daisy stomps on the ground. ‘The field, remember?’ Midoriya imagines her quip. And, from the wagging of her tail, she’s losing her patience. Quickly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou sneers aloud, speaking directly at Daisy, “Say whatever you want. But, I ain’t wanting your spoiled cheese on my damn horse.”

“That’s not what she’s upset about.” Midoriya deadpans. “And, what? Can’t handle milk, out of all things?”

“Milk that came straight out of her tit.”

“Where else would it come from? Trees?”

“Whatever, I just don’t want that shit on my horse, for fuck’s sake.”

Though, they couldn’t argue anymore about it. With a strong force, Daisy begins to pull Midoriya away, forgoing staying another second away from her beloved grass.

Fortunately, for Midoriya’s heart, Bakugou cues Dynamite to follow, trailing right next to them. “Damn, she reminds me of my hag. So fucking dramatic.”

“Your hag?” Midoriya questions, tossing a curious head over. “Is she your dog?” He guesses.

“My mom.” Bakugou corrects, nonchalantly.

Midoriya supposes the open expression of shock wasn’t concealed well, because Bakugou lets out a laugh, turning away with a fist to his mouth. “You’re such a mama’s boy.” He snickers. It leaves Midoriya red in the face.

It’s just he would never call his mother anything, but an absolute blessing. He loves her, dearly.

The moment they step onto the wide, open area of the field, Daisy tosses her head, wanting the rope around her neck off. Hushing her quiet and still, Midoriya loosens off the knot, allowing the loop to widen, and finally, pulling it over her head, free.

As Daisy trots away, passing through the sheep and goats, Midoriya’s surprised to see Bakugou pulling himself off Dynamite. Landing smoothly on his feet, leather boots shiny with clean spurs, Bakugou fixes his hat, showcasing more of his face.

His red meets green. “Nice farm you got building.” He compliments. “An improvement from before.”

Midoriya nudges him, with a dull elbow jab. “Stop, It looks the same.”

“That ain’t true.” Bakugou firmly states. “Two months ago, this place had nothing.”

“Well, it’s still not enough to open a public business.” Midoriya sighs, readjusting the straps of his brown overalls. ”I might have to pull out another loan, in order to afford some harvest equipment for my corn.”

“Tch, that’s why you should join the rodeos.” Bakugou insists, crossing his arms to his chest. “It’s the easiest way to make money, here. Good money.”

Midoriya looks back at Bakugou, unimpressed. “Says the state champion.”

Dynamite snorts, conveniently in tune to Midoriya’s mock. It causes a slight reddening in Bakugou’s face. He quickly turns back to his horse, munching on the grass. “Shut it.”

“Anyways, I’ll find a way. Rodeo, or not.” Midoriya continues, yawning in between his words.

“Geez, where’s your damn etiquette.”

“Left it back home. With all my sins and exes.” Midoriya teases, outright. And, despite the smack over his head hurting, Midoriya can’t help, but laugh. “I’m serious!”

“You’re so annoying.” Bakugou grumbles, digging one of his spurs on the ground. “Bringing up stupid shit.”

Midoriya shrugs, still rubbing the back of head. “I promise you, I was a lady killer, where I’m from.”

“Killing those poor, innocent ladies with your bad breath.”

Immediately, Midoriya raises a hand over his mouth, puffing out an air. Though, all he can smell really, is Daisy.

God, did that mean his breath smells like Daisy? The cow?

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Gullible Deku.” He simply states. “Your breath s’fine.”

Midoriya groans, and he tries to smack Bakugou back over the head. Though, Bakugou dodges his hand easily, leaning away.

“Making fun of a farmer on his own bought land, is an insult to his pride.” Midoriya huffs, taking back his hand.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bakugou mocks, a grin forming against his lips. “Make me work? Not a chance.”

With a lightbulb feeling running through his mind, Midoriya absolutely loves the off handed suggestion. “Actually, yes! You can help me feed the chickens!”

Turning his heels quickly, Midoriya smiles at the absolute panic in Bakugou’s voice. “Hah? What the— No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!” Midoriya sings aloud, taking quick steps towards the gate. “C’mon, hurry up, now! Leave Dynamite out on the grass!” He calls out, as he opens the gates, and goes into a full sprint out.

By the time he reaches the stables, goes to his feeding cabinet, shelves crowded with plastic containers and bags of nutrients for his livestock and crops, and grabs onto the chicken feed, Bakugou has begrudgingly made his way inside.

“It smells.” Bakugou complains.

“Suck it up.” Midoriya laughs, before taking a plastic bowl off the shelves and setting it down on the counter. He pours the feed inside. “I bet the rodeos smell just as bad.”

“They don’t.”

“Well, you’re being paid to say that.”

Bakugou walks over to him, standing by his side. He leans on the counter, as Midoriya lifts the feed bag back into the cabinet. “If they did, I wouldn’t do them.” Bakugou states, narrowing his eyes. “Simple as that.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Before Bakugou can insist otherwise, Midoriya pushes the bowl into his hands. He holds back a laugh, when Bakugou almost drops it completely. “Now, let’s head to the coop, shall we?”

Clicking his tongue, Bakugou grimaces. “S’too fucking early for this.”

“Hey, you’re the one who showed up.” Midoriya reminds him, as they walk to the back of the stables, where the clucks of the chickens resound louder. “Which, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the sudden visit? Forgot to buy eggs, from yesterday's pick up?”

“Does it matter?” Bakugou questions, instead.

That takes Midoriya aback. “I mean, not really. But, we never meet on the weekdays.” He admits softly. He takes a moment away, to crack open at the tall, wooden gate at the end of the hall.

The chickens weren’t too active, thankfully. Several of them are still sitting perched and hidden inside the coop. Otherwise, only a few were already walking around outside the coop, clucking aimlessly.

Midoriya feels Bakugou lean close to him. When he looks, he notices a chicken had passed by Bakugou’s boots, with no pay to mind. However, Bakugou was visibly losing his mind.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.” Midoriya smiles.

Bakugou scowls, glaring right down at him. “They got bacteria. Sick motherfuckers.”

For a cowboy, Bakugou has a keen distaste for getting unnecessarily dirty. It never fails to surprise Midoriya. “Well, just wash your clothes when you get back home.”

“I got other shit to do after, you know.” Bakugou growls.

“Again,” Midoriya sighs, “You’re the one who chose to be here. I’m simply utilizing you.”

As Midoriya leads Bakugou over to the coop, he grumbles under his breath. “Gonna have to pull another loan, if you want me working for your ass.”

Rolling his eyes, he ignores the silly comment, and instead gestures at Bakugou to start throwing the feed at the nearby chickens, surrounding the coop. When he stares back, confused, Midoriya remembers the guy’s not a farmer in the slightest. “Start throwing the feed.”

Bakugou hurriedly starts tossing small amounts. “I knew that. Thought you were gonna say something else.”

It’s hard to imagine what else an open hand in air would mean, but nevertheless Midoriya doesn’t argue. The chickens awake are already bustling over, surrounding the dropped feed in seconds.

Taking a handful from the bowl, Midoriya kneels down, going close to the small crowd of chickens. He notices some of them quickly waddle over to him, instead of feed dropped on the ground. The few that come to him peck at his hand, and it floods warmth to Midoriya’s heart.

“They prefer off the hand, huh.” Bakugou comments above him.

“I would like to think that they like me, but sure.” In seconds, the feed’s all gone, and the chickens wait around him for more.

“You should kneel down, too.” Midoriya offers gently to Bakugou, making sure his voice doesn’t startle the creatures. “Feed them off your hand.”

There’s an obvious hesitation, before Bakugou gets low, kneeling next to Midoriya.

One of the chickens tries to reach into the bowl in hands, in which he pulls it away quickly. “I’m getting fucking attacked already.”

“They’re eager.” Midoriya insists.

Dipping his hand into the bowl, Bakugou raises a handful of his own. He whips his head to Midoriya, glaring. “If my hand bleeds, I demand a lawyer to prosecute you.”

They don’t even hurt that bad. Though, telling Bakugou that would probably have him second guess everything. Hence, Midoriya shakes his head. “You won’t.”

Within a few seconds of only impatient clucking surrounding them, Bakugou finally puts his hand out. In seconds, the chickens start to peck at his hand, picking up all the feed quickly.

Midoriya stares at Bakugou. He’s cursing them out, demanding them to stop pecking so hard, for fuck’s sake. And, despite the apparent discomfort from the first handful, Bakugou goes for another handful, offering his hand once more.

Again, the cussing ensues, but it’s still all Bakugou’s free will. He could have stopped at the first hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he’s still kneeling next to Midoriya, feeding these silly, rambunctious chickens.

When Bakugou definitely had better things to do.

“Why did you show up?” Midoriya asks once more, standing up. The chickens have already departed, as Bakugou had tossed the rest of the feed from the bowl, out in the open. “You only buy my products on Sunday’s.”

“Why do you keep asking.” Bakugou reflects back, opening the wooden gate open for Midoriya.

Midoriya steps in front of him, back inside the stables. Once inside, hearing the wooden gate close, he turns around, facing him. “You know, I’m not letting you off, without hearing what’s on your mind.” He softly smiles.

Bakugou stares back at him. And, for an odd moment, his eyes scan all over his face, jittering, until they cease. “You’re making this a big deal, Deku. Just wanted to check up on the farm.”

Ah, that does make sense. “Oh my— Then, why didn’t you say that earlier!" Midoriya laughs.

Bakugou shrugs. “Again, it’s not a big deal. Now, where’s the damn sink?”

Midoriya leads them back to the entrance of the stables, where the sink was, alongside various cleaning supplies perched on shelves. They wash their hands, in silence.

They don’t say much either, when they head back to the grass field, to pick up Dynamite. Though, Midoriya doesn’t mind the silence. Bakugou has a limit to his social battery, and Midoriya has grown to know when it’s time to give him his quiet and peace.

After Bakugou sits back up on Dynamite, and they walk back to the open road, around the corner of the stables, he slightly pulls the reins, causing the stallion to come to a stop. It causes Midoriya to look up, wondering if the cowboy forgot something, back in the stables.

Instead, there’s a slight flush in his cheeks. He coughs loudly, clearing nothing in his throat. “There’s a rodeo this Friday.”

Midoriya waits for the rest, but instead Bakugou says nothing else. “Oh, uh, okay? Will you be participating?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou simply utters.

Again, nothing else is said. “Well, I wish you the best of luck, then.” Midoriya offers, despite the confusion in his mind.

“Are you—” Bakugou stops, inaudibly grumbling under his breath. “I mean, the rodeo ain’t too far from here.”

“Oh!” Midoriya’s genuinely surprised, “Who would have thought? That’s a shocker.”

“Yeah. You could go, even.”

“I’m not joining rodeos. No matter how many times you demand.” Midoriya laughs.

“No, to watch.” Bakugou corrects, though the moment he slips the words, it suddenly causes his entire face to go red. “Fuck, I mean, you could watch. Other riders, and competitors, or whatever the fuck.”

Midoriya can’t seem to understand where Bakugou’s coming from. This cowboy wants him, a new residential farmer, to watch a rodeo. A rodeo, which he has never seen in his entire life.

Though, if Bakugou’s asking, Midoriya’s heart will always simply agree. “I’ll go watch, then.” He reassures him, “And, I guess I’ll cheer you on, if you’re any good.”

Bakugou’s face calms, though there’s still a stiffness in his shoulders. “Cool.”

Midoriya thinks he wants to say something more, but instead Bakugou brings his thighs closer to Dynamite, squeezing him slightly. Instantly, Dynamite starts trouting off.

Before he can call out, Bakugou looks back at him. “Starts at 7 in the afternoon! Don’t be fucking late!”

And, just with a small kick, Dynamite starts racing off on the road, Bakugou leaving Midoriya only with his thoughts.

There’s not a lot of information about the rodeo, though Midoriya knows he will most definitely ask around for the rest of the details. Essentially, it’s a nearby rodeo, that starts at 7PM. Surely, there are others in town that know where exactly is the event.

Midoriya can’t help, but drift his focus away from the rodeo, and back to Bakugou’s distant figure. Against the morning sunrise, he looks so cool.

But, a farmer like him, attracted to a cowboy like Bakugou, is so embarrassing.

[brutal-nemesis]

Arthropod Day 2021: 🦀Time For Crab 🦀

Malacostraca Moment 😳🦀

So fun story I wanted this to be on a Saturday because SIDEWAYS SATURDAY but when I was deciding on the date I looked at the calendar for July without realizing it. Happy Sideways Stuesday I guess? 

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: drowning mention, animal attack (kinda chill tho it’s not really violent), dehydration, autocannibalism mention, parasitic insects, partial nudity, heckin surgery (but it’s CONSENSUAL (⊙ˍ⊙) who am I), suicide for convenience (immortal)

“This looks like a lovely spot for a vacation; thank you guys so much for finding it for me.” The small dingy had just landed on a sandy beach enclosed by dark rocks on either side, a lush forest leading deeper into the island. Casyts’s captor glared at him before harshly tugging the rope tied to his wrists, trying to get him to stand and step onto the beach with her.

“Shut your trap, Ragnarok, or I might change my mind about gagging you. Now get up or I’ll have my men drag you.” 

Castys sighed and rolled his eyes, getting up and following her so his rope burn didn’t get any worse. “Aye aye, Yvonne.” 

“That’s Captain Veldna to you,” she growled, jerking him forward. He stumbled a bit, but he was able to catch himself before he got sand up his nose. He debated trying to yank the rope out of her hands and running away or stealing the boat, but her very strong men were right behind him and that would probably just end in him having extra bruises. So he just followed her like a stupid little goat as she led him towards the rocks, hoping she wouldn’t leave him tied up so he could at least enjoy his time being stranded. But no, this was about sending a message to his crew or making him suffer or something. He didn’t really remember, he’d been dazed as hell when he’d initially gotten captured during a fight between their two ships. Blood loss was a bitch sometimes.

They forced him to sit with his back against a large rock, yanking his bound hands above his head and worming a large nail through the knotted rope before hammering it into the rock. “Not gonna lie, this seems a little extra. I’m not going to go anywhere, so, like, just let me-” Yvonne slapped him harshly across the face.

“You’re not here to have fun, you annoying little parrot.” She looked over at her men, who had just finished tying his ankles together and nailing them down in a similar fashion to his wrists. “If you lot are done, let’s leave.” She turned back to Castys, a wicked grin on her face. “I wonder how many times you’ll die before your crew finds you?”

“My money’s on eight. Do you want me to keep track and tell you next time we see each other? If only I could write in a diary what horrors I suffer sitting on this warm rock that you tied me to during high tide so I won’t even drown later. Now that-agh!” Yvonne stabbed him in the stomach, and Castys bit back a scream as she twisted her blade. 

“The sound of your silence is something I could get used to.”

“Well, the real question is, is silence actually a sound-” Castys’s very valid observation was cut off by the bitch yanking out her sword and promptly kicking him in the stomach. He couldn’t help but cry out, doubling over as far as he could. Yeah, yeah he should probably just shut the fuck up and let them get on their merry way before he got more unnecessary injuries. 

“Enjoy your vacation, Ragnarok,” Yvonne spat. As one last gesture of maturity, she kicked sand at him before walking off, and some of it definitely got in his stab hole, so that was nice. He watched them row away, sighing. Now it was just boredom city, but hey, at least he had a nice beach view. The sun was a few hours away from setting, not that it mattered that much since his skin was dark enough that he probably wasn’t going to get sunburned. 

Being tied to a rock on the beach was...just about as boring as he expected. His arms got all tingly after a while from being stuck above his head, so he couldn’t even properly relax, and a man could only watch little waves roll for so long. He had a nice view of the setting sun, and hey, that means the light of dawn wouldn’t be shining in his face. While the sun was still a little ways above the horizon, he heard an odd rustling noise over in the vegetation, different from the background sounds he had gotten used to. He looked over, hoping it was a friendly man with a knife.

It was not a friendly man with a knife. But it wasn’t something bad, either. “Oh shit hello crabs!” Castys watched as they scuttled out of the treeline onto the beach, glad to have something fun to watch. One of them was slowly making its way towards him, and Castys wondered if he would be able to convince it to snip his bindings. “Hey there mister crab man, come on down, and please for the love of god untie me.” Yes, yes he was talking to a crab, because why not go full send on the insanity right away? It would be so much more fun, and it’s not like anyone else was here to judge him. “Yeah crab get in my zone-wow you’re kinda big.” He’d thought the crab was closer to him, but nope, it had been farther away but giant. Not like giant giant but not, like, normal crab size. It was almost as big as his torso maybe, but he was never great at estimating the relative sizes of things. 

“You’re large but you’re a gentleman, ain’t ya? I don’t know why, but you just seem like a polite fellow.” The crab stopped not too far from Castys and just looked at him blankly. Or maybe it was making a face at him, but he couldn’t read crab body language. Could anyone read crab body language? Crabs, he would hope. “Could you bring me some tea, good sir? Or just...water. Water that’s not salty. I don’t actually like tea it literally tastes like nothing but you know what I would drink it now because I am thirsty.” There was a moment of silence. “Not like thirsty in the weird way some people are. I have no idea what that’s about. But like, I want water. Or...oh my god, Mr. Crab, bring me a coconut!” Castys closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Yeah… that would be nice. Food and water and it’s prepackaged and I don’t know how I would eat it because my hands are tied but I’ll figure it out.”

A sudden sharp pinch against his wound jolted Castys out of his daydream. He looked down in horror to see that the crab was holding something in its claws. Something pinkish-red that was dripping blood down onto the sand. The bastard. The crab brought the piece of his flesh to its mouth and just ate it while staring right at Castys. “That,” he blinked in surprise a few times, “was incredibly rude.” The crab stayed still, watching him as it did its weird mouth movements that were maybe chewing. “You are absolutely not a gentleman. I rescind everything. You little garbage boy. Rapscallion. I bet you never get invited to the crab raves.”

And the crab. Had the audacity. To reach out its stupid pincher. And do it again. “Little bitch!” Castys yelled, squirming against the ropes in an attempt to scare the thing off. Shockingly, it did not work, because wounded, dying prey squirmed all the time, and...that’s pretty much what Castys was in this scenario, wasn’t he? He was just stuck sitting here while that stupid crab ripped off little pieces of him with its stupid crab pincher and put them in its stupid crab mouth. If he was lucky, this would make him bleed out and die faster and then he wouldn’t have an open wound anymore, which would be a bonus. Though, it had sand in it, and then if it healed…

A problem for another day.

Not the next day, though, or the one after, because, hooray, he was still tied to a rock, so even though he did die a few hours later, he couldn’t do anything about the Sand In His Insides. He made up a song about it, but singing it loudly did absolutely nothing to scare away the crab, whom he had named Crabstard (Crab Bastard). Crabstard seemed to think Castys was his new best friend, coming back regularly for meals. Castys liked to imagine killing and eating Crabstard as a show of dominance, but that made him wonder...would eating Crabstard be a form of autocannibalism? Because Crabstard had eaten him...

He wasn’t sure what was worse, Crabstard and his stupid giant pinchers, or the mosquitoes. There weren’t a ton of them, but their bites were just awful, littering his arms and legs with swollen, white boils, which were unusual and also very concerning but what the fuck could he do about it. Because of course he couldn’t scratch them, and they itched so much it hurt and he just had to endure it. Just like he had to endure fucking everything. The heat of the sun, the awful tingling in his arms, the soreness of his wrists, Crabstard pinching off bits of his flesh, the maddening pain and itch of all his bug bites, the hunger and thirst, the boredom, and the...the loneliness.

No, he was fine, he was fine with just himself, it was always just him anyway. He wasn’t imagining his crew rowing to shore and untying him and tending to him in his cold, dark cabin, because he couldn’t get his hopes up, because they probably weren’t even coming for him. They were just going to leave him behind like everyone else and fuck he was wasting water like a useless idiot and he couldn’t stop or even wipe them away and he probably deserved this for everything he’d done so what did it matter?

And, great, the next day he started hallucinating a passing ship and a rowboat coming for him. Thank you, dehydrated whore brain! Let’s get our stupid little hopes up! Dang, the people on the boat kind of even looked like some of his crewmates, which was rude of his brain to make this so realistic looking.

It wasn’t until his first mate, Kaveri, was untying him that Castys realized that this was real, that they’d really...really come for him. “I’m so glad we found you, Captain.” She pulled him into a hug as soon as he was free, and he hugged her back as best he could with his sore arms. 

“I’m glad y’all did, too.” He leaned back when she let go and looked down at himself, wincing. “Well, before we get back to the ship, I am going to deliver a much needed death upon mys-“

“Captain, Captain, wait,” the ship’s medic, Sixtus, called as he ran over. He knelt beside Castys, taking his arm and examining the bug bites closely. “I knew it. These bites all over you are...they contain fly larvae. We’re going to need to dig them out before you heal yourself.”

“...what if I’ve died since I’ve gotten bitten. Like, earlier.”

“Well.” Sixtus breathed in sharply. “We will just have to wait for them to, uh, let us know where they are.” He sighed. “For now, let’s get you back to the ship and I’ll get out the ones I can. I don’t have the tools for it with me.”

“Can I kill Crabstard first?”

“Crab...stard?” Kaveri gave him a concerned look, and Sixtus felt his forehead.

“He’s a very impolite giant crab. He is my rival. I wish to vanquish him.” The other two shared a look.

“Do you know where this...this crab is?” Sixtus tried.

Castys held up a finger and opened his mouth, pausing for a second before shutting it and blinking a few times. “I. I do not. He just scuttles out of the trees to commit crimes every now and then. He has no friends.”

“Alright, in that case, no. You’re in no condition to wander around the island looking for a crab.” Sixtus held out his hand. “So, come on.”

“Fiiiine,” Castys groaned, letting the taller man help him to his feet. He was a little unsteady, but he was able to make it to the boat with Kaveri’s help. As they rowed away, he turned back to the island one last time, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yelled, “Fuck you Crabstard I hope you starve and die in a pit and the other crabs eat you!” 

Once they made it back to the ship, Sixtus ushered Castys into his office, instructing him to sit up on the examination table and take his shirt and pants off. Kaveri helped him, opting to stay in case Sixtus needed a hand. He examined Castys thoroughly, using a lightstone to get a good look at the swollen bug bites littering his body as well as the number of small wounds in his side.

“These from the, uh, crab?” Sixtus asked as he gestured to them.

“Yup. Him and his stupid pinchers.”

“Alright, I know you don’t really get infections, but I’m going to clean these out just to be safe.” He paused. “Also it just feels. Really wrong not to. It’ll bother me if I don’t.”

“Do whatever, doctor man.” Castys did his best not to let his pain show as Sixtus dabbed at his wounds with a stingy liquid. It really didn’t hurt that much, but when Kaveri placed her hand on top of his as he gripped the edge of the table, he didn’t wave her off. He’d let it be Fuss Over The Captain Day. For their sake. Because they seem to have been worried about him. 

“Alright, I’m all done with that, so if you could lay down, Captain, I’ll get started with removing those larvae. Kaveri, get him some rum and then hold him down.” She nodded, leaving and returning soon after with a small cup.

“You know, I haven’t had water in days,” Castys mused before winking at her and downing its contents. Kaveri shook her head.

“You literally emptied my waterskin while we were rowing back.”

“Oh dang, I forgot. Nevermind I’m actually not funny and am just stupid.” He scooted a bit and laid down with his hands behind his head. “Get rid of my worms.”

“They’re not-they’re not worms, Captain, they’re insects, since-” Sixtus stopped himself, folding his hands in front of his mouth. “Nevermind.” He cleared his throat. “Arms at your sides, please. Kaveri, if you would.” She nodded, holding down his shoulders as Sixtus turned Castys’s arm, locating the first larva he was going to remove. Castys breathed in sharply as the knife sliced into his arm, doing his best to keep still as Sixtus slid a pair of tweezers into the wound. The rum dulled his senses enough that it didn’t hurt as much as it could, but it certainly wasn’t painless, and he couldn’t help but gasp as Sixtus slowly pulled a small, wriggling grub out of the incision. He dropped it in a metal tray, cleaned the wound, and picked up his knife.

Then the process started all over again.

Castys didn’t bother counting how many times those tweezers probed around inside him, how many wet little plops he heard as another larva dropped into the tray. He focused on staying still, on the prickle of the rough wood table against his bare back, on the feeling of Kaveri’s hands on his shoulders, more comforting than restraining. They reminded him that he wasn’t alone in his suffering, for once. But he wasn’t supposed to need comfort, he was their immortal captain, the one who’d been through everything before and was strong enough to go through it again, the one his crew could always depend on to be strong. And here he was, teeth gritted against the pain, his forehead resting against Kaveri’s arm, fists clenched to mask their shaking, all over a few cuts and some little maggots.

“Alright,” Sixtus wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “I think that’s all of ‘em. That I can see, at least.” He looked down at Castys. “You had seventeen of those things in you, Captain.” He grimaced. “And possibly more, so please let me know if you feel anything, uh, wiggling. But for now, you’re free to...die.”

“Can’t believe I got a new world record for worm friends.” Castys grabbed the small leather pouch that usually hung around his neck from his pile of clothes, pulling it open.

“They’re not worms-”

“Thank you, Sixtus.” With that, Castys stuck his finger in the pouch and touched his death stone. He came back to life feeling infinitely better, but Kaveri and Sixtus still insisted he rest after he cleaned himself up. He grumbled, but he let Kaveri force him into his bed and bring him something to eat. Once he was finished, she collected his plate and stood awkwardly by his bedside.

“Do...do you want me to come back, Castys? Will you be alright?”

“Look, I’m honestly fine, you’re good. I’ve been through a lot worse, and I’m all healed up now so it doesn’t really matter.” 

She pursed her lips. “I suppose, but that doesn’t mean that that didn’t still take a mental toll on you, and…” she sighed. “Just...call me if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do.” She nodded, but as she started to walk away, Castys realized there was something he’d rather not leave unsaid. “Wait, Kaveri?”

“Yes?”

“Th...thank you. For, uh, finding me.”

“Of course, Castys. We’ll always be there for you.” Castys opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped himself and just smiled and nodded, his shoulders only falling once she’d left.

He wished that were true.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch