#they’re kind. they’re fast as fuck. in love with a ghost. they have knives for fingers. they introduce themself to everyone they meet

[starredforlife]

diggory graves character of all time

[theonewiththefanfics]

You’re My Choice (one-shot)

Synopsys: Soulmate!AU

The only thing that kept Bucky Barnes going through every horrible thing imaginable was the thought of meeting his soulmate. But it wasn’t how he thought it would go. And when Hydra get their hands on him once more, there might not be a second chance.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: angst, fluffy-ish ending

Warnings: blood, gore, talks of torture, swearing

Word count: 5650

His whole life Bucky Barnes was excited to meet his soulmate – the person whose name he carried with him everywhere he went, their name inscribed on his skin in golden letters right under his heart. He wore it like a proud man would, and never failed to lay a hand over it when he went to sleep.

Even during his HYDRA times, although the word had lost its meaning for they took everything from him, he knew that it must've been special. Whoever this Y/N Y/L/N had been must have meant a lot to him. Luckily for Bucky, HYDRA never went after her. Their asset didn't even know what the words truly meant, so it was one less mess for them to deal with.

They had tried to erase it off his skin, of course. Fire, knives, literally carving out a chunk of his skin, yet the name always grew over the marred tissue. HYDRA gave up after one time where they had dug until they reached the assets ribs to remove the name, but stubbornly it never went away. So, they just decided to wipe him more.

That all came crashing down when Bucky got free. After years of control, he got away and was now on the path to recovery in Wakanda. He didn't try and look for her while he was in hiding. Nobody deserved a life like that. And when he was finally ready to search the history archives of the countless people with the names 'Y/N Y/L/N', Thanos had decided to fuck over the whole universe. 

But that was done now. Bucky had gone through hell and back, and for the first time ever, he was ready to fully commit himself to love. Steve couldn't have been happier when Bucky asked him about his soulmate, though the truth wasn't always the easiest to stomach. His heart hurt when he looked at Bucky's hopeful eyes.

The blond shook his head. "You never found her, and there are no records Nat could find that says she was killed. 'M sorry, bud."

"Missed my chance, huh," Bucky gave Steve a tight-lipped smile as a doctor helped Shuri attach a new prototype of his metal arm to his body. "D'ya think she had a good life?"

Steve shrugged giving him a small sway of his head. "Honestly, who knows, Buck. We can only hope that she did. War wasn't kind to anyone."

"Or she couldn't have had a life at all," Shuri stepped in unwrapping Bucky's arm. "Because she wasn't even alive then."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you on about?"

"I mean, that may be the reason you didn't meet her in the '40s, mister Barnes," she now addressed the man directly. "It’s because she hadn't been born. Soulmates are supposed to be there for you when you are ready to be with them." 

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean she could be alive? Like now?"

The thought that the reason Bucky hadn't found his perfect other half was because she hadn't even been born yet, was something that had never crossed his mind before. And it was true. He understood that you'd only be able to meet them once you were at peace with yourself. As a kid and as a teenager, he had thought that he was the most himself than ever.  But maybe he actually hadn't been. And during the war even less so. Had he been cocksure and absolutely had the ladies swooning at his feet – yes. But he hadn’t truly known who he was.

Now, however, he had the chance to start a new life. To be a new person and leave all of the terror and pain behind. Bucky Barnes was finally ready to live for himself. 

A small yet hopeful smile came over his face. He was truly ready to find his soulmate. 

Shuri had been right, as she was most of the time (except for that one time she had convinced T'Challa that taking Nakia out on a date in the jungle would be romantic, when instead they'd gotten ambushed by poachers with Chitauri tech and had to spend three hours trying to negotiate cause neither were prepared for anything other than a lovely day out, but other than that, she was always right). 

***

In fact, Bucky's soulmate was very much so alive. Right as he was being led through the compound which would become his new home, Y/N Y/L/N was feeling all the intense feelings a living person did. For one – it was anger.

"I will slit your throat at night, Samuel," she pointed at the man. "Mark my words, I'll do it."

"Oh, stop overreacting!"

"You completely undermined me! In front of everyone!"

Sam shrugged. "It's not my fault you're so shit at it."

"No! You were just being an absolute dick!"

"All's fair in love and monopoly, sweetheart," he smirked and took a swig from his water bottle.

Y/N pointed at him. "You are just asking for it. You better keep a good watch of your six, because just maybe during the next mission, a stray bullet might be coming your way."

"Y/N Y/L/N, you are the worst loser of all time!" Sam cackled as she flipped him off, stomping into the kitchen to find herself some food.

It was that moment when Bucky with Steve in tow had decided to enter the Avenger's living room. And it was that moment that made the brunet soldier stop dead in his tracks.

It was her. Finally, after years, decades, almost a century of searching, he had found her. Not only was it her name that settled it, but it was also the feeling that rooted itself deep within his chest, an invisible connection that was now made between the two people.

"Y-You're Y/N Y/L/N," he breathed out as a dopey smile stretched over his face. He watched her features as they turned into a frown before she snorted.

"I am…? So what? Who're you?"

This was it. The moment he had waited for his entire life. With one last shuddering breath he composed himself. "I'm James Buchanan Barnes." Her eyes widened at his words. "I'm your soulmate."

But what happened next was not what he had expected. Instead of her mouth widening in a smile and her Y/E/C eyes shining with happiness, her whole body went rigid and she took a step back, shaking her head.

"No. No, you're not. I don't have a soulmate. You have me confused for someone else."

"No," Bucky was adamant, "I don't. It's your name…" he paused for a second. "I've been looking for you for such a long time."

"Then keep fucking looking, because I'm not it!"

The words were laced with as much venom as Y/N could muster up, leaving Bucky stunned, hurt and very much so confused. But he had waited so long for her, he had gone through so much and the only thought, even when he didn't explicitly know it, had been of his soulmate that had kept him going. So, he was not about to give up.

Leaving a frozen Steve behind, Bucky ran after Y/N as fast as he could. He hadn't expected instant love and for her to throw herself into his arms with a desperate kiss upon his lips but it truly hadn’t been that. 

His arm wrapped around her wrist making her spin around. Y/E/C eyes blazed, but he met her with a small smile hoping to diffuse some of the tension. 

"I -," Bucky gulped. "I know I'm not the ideal person to be stuck with as your soulmate, but could I at least have an expla-"

"Because they're not real," she hissed, ripping her hand away from him. "Soulmates don't exist. Period."

Bucky's palm instantly settled on his chest. "But the name…"

"The name," she seethed, "doesn't mean anything. I. Don't. Have. A. Soulmate." 

As quick as a viper Y/N turned around, opened the door to her room and slammed it shut in Bucky's face.

The pain he felt was indescribable. It left Bucky without breath, and his heart twisted by barbed wire. She hadn't outright rejected him, but she had completely rejected soulmates as a whole, and somehow it hurt more. 

He could understand if Y/N had no wish to be with him, but he had at least hoped whoever carried his name on their chest would like to get to know him. He wasn't completely recovered, but he was at a point where Bucky felt good enough to make new connections and forge relationships.

The way Y/N had beaten and then ripped apart the notion of soulmates was worse to Bucky. It told him he did have one, and yet he was all alone. 

***

To make it worse, Y/N did a marvelous job at avoiding him. At every twist and turn wherever Bucky was, she would disappear. She had become the compounds personal ghost, as most times she floated around for a second to grab a bite or a coffee before fluttering back to her room. But that couldn't last too long.

Unfortunately for Y/N, she was still an Avenger, and Bucky had become an Avenger too, which meant they were now teammates and would have to work together. 

Civil didn't even compare to how she treated him. It was ice. Anyone who entered the room with the two, felt as if they had been cut by a blade as sharp as a razor, so the eight-hour flight to the middle of some woods on the outskirts of Poland was not pleasant at all for anyone. Even Natasha was relieved to exit the jet and run into an old KGB den which had been transformed into a HYDRA hideout rather than spend another minute with Y/N trying to glare a hole in the jet’s side, while Bucky looked at her with a heart-broken gaze.

The fighting started off almost immediately, but Bucky wasn't focusing on any of that. Maybe that's why everything got so fucked up so quickly. It was like ever since meeting Y/N, his senses attuned to her and just her, and the fact that she completely ignored him threw him off balance.

He'd made (somewhat) of a peace with the thought that she didn't want to be with him, but that didn't mean anytime he did have the chance to look at her for even a moment, he didn’t take it.

That's what had happened in that second. As his guns flashed and he delivered jaw-dislocating punches, his blue orbs caught the glimpse of Y/N getting hit in the side. 

Her body thumped to the ground on her knees with a dull thud, and she released a disgruntled sound. It took him less than a second to turn his rifle to the agents behind her and allow bullets to ricochet in their brains, but that second cost him his concentration.

A blow to Y/N's face with the back of a gun sent her sprawling onto the blood-soaked dirt, but she just used the position to kick the HYDRA goon's knee and hopefully break it in half as the soles of her shoes were lined with vibranium. Another one to the face, and a sickening crunch made her smile, but it dropped as easily as it had morphed onto her lips.

There, not even twenty feet away, Bucky's unconscious body was being dragged away by two HYDRA men, but Y/N didn't have a moment to process what was going on before she was blasted away by a stray ball of energy Wanda had thrown and plunged into darkness.

***

He awoke chained to a wall, half-naked with a pounding head and soreness in his shoulders. Bucky had no clue how much time had passed since the mission; all he knew was that HYDRA, once again, had him. But his time with the psycho organization was much more different than before. 

They didn't put his head through a blender as he thought they would. Oh no. They no longer had any use for him. Bucky had failed HYDRA. He had broken free and regained his own thought and will. They wanted to punish him in the cruelest way possible.

After the rejection, Bucky believed he would want Y/N's name off of his body, but as the agent dug the knife deeper into his skin, Bucky willed every bone in his body not to move and hoped every day that Y/N's name would reappear on his skin. She was his last tether to the outside world. He didn't care she hadn't accepted him as her soulmate. All he cared about was having her with him because her name had gotten him through the worst. And she might not love him, but he sure as hell did love her.

Maybe that's why had Y/N rejected him. Bucky knew that he was not an appealing character. Or so he thought of himself. His past was less than pretty, and his brain was mush, not to mention how emotionally unavailable he was, but with a soulmate, he had thought they'd love him no matter what. That was what had been helping him go on – the thought of unconditional love and acceptance. But he had had to have known that's not how the world worked. That he didn't deserve his soulmate. Though that didn't stop his heart from beating for her. 

Bucky didn't know how many days or months or years he spent as a captive. All that existed was pain, the damp walls of his cell and his own ragged breathing echoing around him. His eyes were closed as he leaned against the stone, and his shoulders ached as his hands remained chained above his head. They had fed him and given him water, but just the bare minimum. They had no intentions to use him to do their dirty bidding anymore, this was just so he had enough substance so they could have their fun.

The door to his cell creaked open, but Bucky didn't even lift his head from where it had dropped to his chest or open his eyes. He no longer cared about what they did to him. For a second, his eyelashes fluttered, and he saw a silhouette come in view. It was a familiar silhouette; one he saw in his dreams. It was Y/N's form, and he could only imagine her Y/E/C eyes widening at the scene in front of her.

There was blood. There was so much blood Y/N thought she would vomit. Bucky was practically covered in it. He was slumped, torso shivering with a bare chest and only his combat pants had been left on. 

But it was a hallucination. Y/N didn't love him, so why the hell would she be here? A calloused palm, roughened by years of fighting, but so unbelievably gentle touched his cheek.

"Bucky?" she lifted his head. "Bucky, can you hear me?"

His eyes fully opened to see her face. He wasn't dreaming. "Y – Y/N?" 

Her head whipped back towards the open door, focusing in on the sounds of gunfire that finally invaded Bucky's consciousness. There was fighting going on. The Avengers had come to save him. 

"Lower level," Y/N said addressing someone Bucky couldn't see, no doubt one of their teammates through the comms. "He's pretty banged up, but lucid. We're gonna take the East exit."

Bucky didn't try to listen in on whoever responded even though he easily could've. All Bucky did was look at Y/N and take in each of her features. She looked a bit gaunter and more exhausted, like she had only eaten, breathed and drunken stress for only who knows how long. When Y/N met his gaze, his eyes were filled with confusion and what looked like hurt at the messed-up state Y/N was in. "You came for me."

"Of course, I did," she whispered, eyes watering. "We all did." 

Bucky's brow furrowed. "You're crying."

"Tears of happiness," Y/N shook her head and gave him a small smile. "I'm gonna get you out of these cuffs, okay?" She didn't make a single move until Bucky gave an affirmative nod. 

It took her a bit of time to shimmy the lock and pry open the shackles. She was as tender as possible, as she took hold of Bucky's wrists and helped him lower his hands by his sides, careful of the stiff position he'd been in for so long. 

The second she gently rolled his shoulders and felt the skin warm up indicating the serum was re-stitching the muscle back together, she threw her body into his and, by God, did Bucky think it was the best feeling ever. Nothing that had happened before mattered to him. Sure, it still stung and would sting for a while, but having Y/N in his embrace soothed the gash instantly, making it become a dull ache. When he felt her pull back and her gentle palms cup his face, he didn't feel the pain at all.

"How long was I here?"

"Close to a month," she sniffled, pulling away while massaging his shoulders, letting the blood circulate in the joints once more. Well, at least the one that still had any blood vessels running through it.

"Can you stand up?" she asked placing one of his arms over her shoulders to take some of his weight on her. 

Bucky grunted and used the wall as leverage to pull himself up, but after that Y/N allowed him to hang onto her.

"Sam and Nat have cleared out as many agents as possible, but we still might have to fight. Stay behind me and close to the walls, please."

Bucky nodded, but still asked for one of her guns. "Gotta have your six covered."

Reluctantly, Y/N handed him one of her weapons. "Stay out of the fire as much as you can. Please."

And then they were off. With Bucky still heavily leaning on Y/N, they made their way through winding hallways that stunk of mould and damp and iron. She didn't even want to think how much of the blood that covered certain rooms was Bucky's, but she just concentrated on getting out. 

They had gotten two floors up already with minor hitches, all of which she could handle, and Bucky didn't have to exert himself when they reached the East side of the building.

"Steve, we're coming up on Level 3, we need the door opened," she informed Bucky's friend, and this time he focused in on the answer.

"Wanda has the exit secured," Steve grunted through a punch, "but Tony says they're bringing in reinforcements, so you gotta move fast. Four minutes tops."

"Okay," Y/N sighed and looked at Bucky. "You ready to do this?"

Bucky was going to respond, 'with you by my side I'm ready for anything', but thought better of it. This was not the time. That would come once they were out and back in New York. Right now, they needed to escape first. So, he nodded and took his body off of Y/N's to lean against the wall.

"Unlocking the door in five seconds," Tony counted down, and both Y/N and Bucky readied themselves for the hell that they were about to walk in. They let out deep breaths and raised their guns.

Even though Wanda was there to provide a shield for both of them, Y/N was absolutely floored at the amount of HYDRA agents that had swarmed them. Yes, of course, she knew the place would be extensively guarded especially because they had had Bucky, but it still surprised her.

The battle to get inside had been bad enough, but in the twenty-five minutes it had taken her to locate him and get them out, the number of agents had quadrupled, and it seemed like more were on their way.

In a swift move, Wanda disposed of an oncoming hoard of enemies and rushed over to Bucky to provide him protection.

"Get him to the jet!" Y/N yelled despite her having a comm. Over the commotion, she could barely hear Steve screaming commands. 

Somewhere up above Sam cursed, and a piece of debris impaled itself besides Y/N and Bucky.

"Watch where you're throwing shit!" she shouted up at him. "You almost decapitated us!"

Gunfire from behind them made Y/N and Bucky cover their heads as Wanda threw red balls of energy on the advancing enemy. In the blink of an eye, Y/N had pressed two guns into the ex-soldier's hands.

"Buck, go!"

"I'm not leaving you!"

Y/N's eyes flickered over to where the Scarlet Witch stood. She hated herself for even thinking of it, but she had predicted the possibility of Bucky refusing to leave without her.

"Wanda! Do it!"

And then suddenly Bucky was moving. He didn't want to, and he wasn't doing it on his own volition, but Bucky was running. Wanda had made him. Tears streamed down his face as he moved his legs, not only from the immense amount of physical pain but from the thought of leaving Y/N behind and how she had made her friend use her powers to control his body. 

Bucky should be angry and disgusted and absolutely enraged as to what Y/N had done, but he couldn't be. All he could do was tremble in exhaustion and fear. He knew she was capable, and he knew her chances of getting out were larger than not, but just the thought of leaving her behind, when he finally had gotten her in whatever shape or form tore him to shreds.

His lungs were on fire, and his muscles screamed at him as Bucky collapsed on the ramp of the quinjet, metal hand over where the ruined skin of his chest had weaved and split back open, Y/N's name still etched in golden letters. A sob racked his body one of relief and pain.

He was out. He was safe and with his family, but everything hurt and ached and stung so much, he couldn't keep his body upright and promptly passed out.

***

Bucky didn't know how long he was unconscious, but it was a soft humming noise that woke him up. Bleary-eyed, he looked at the metal mesh ceiling of the jet, only to realise the humming wasn't the sound the engine was making. It was actually Y/N singing a song.

"You made it out."

Her head snapped back up from where she had been sitting on the ground to meet Bucky's eyes. A nasty gash ran down the left side of her forehead into the hairline. It was bad enough that Bruce had had to stitch it back together and butterfly band-aids didn't help. Not only that, her nose seemed to have swelled a bit, and when Y/N smiled, Bucky noticed the slowness in the movement, and how she tried not to use the right side of her jaw. He could only hope that whoever had delivered the nasty punches and cuts were dead because once Bucky was back on his feet, he was gonna raise some hell.

"Hey," she cooed, smoothing away matted hair from his face. "You're okay. You're safe. We're on the jet back home, and they're gonna fix you right back up. You're gonna be alright."

His eyes closed as Y/N's palm slid down his cheek in a soothing motion. But as quick as it was there, her touch was gone. Instantly his hand reached out to grab at her wrist like he had month ago only this time she didn’t snatch it away. 

"Don't leave," he rasped.

"I don't thin-"

"Please," Bucky mumbled squeezing her hand. "Please stay."

For a second, she just looked at him, and his blue eyes. He was looking at the woman with such a soft expression, with such trust and longing, Y/N felt her throat close up. Even after how horrible she had been, he still wanted her near him. 

"Okay, Buck," Y/N nodded leaning down to sit on her knees on the floor in front of him. "I'll stay, I promise."

And she did. She didn't leave his side as he was put onto a gurney and wheeled to the med bay, nor did she leave his side when the nurses finally tucked him in on the bed. Instead, Y/N asked Steve to bring her some spare clothes, and she quickly showered and changed in the med-bay's bathroom. 

"All of your stuff was in the dirty wash," the blond super soldier said, giving her one of his large sweatshirts and a pair of Tony's sweatpants. 

Y/N gave him a small smile. "Thanks. I prefer your guys' clothes anyway."

"Thought you might." Steve put his hands in his pockets. "Want any food? Nat's thinking of ordering take-out. We’ve earned it anyways."

"Is she gonna leave anything for me or is she just offering to buy my food to eat it later herself?"

Steve snorted and shook his head. "I'll make sure to get it before she gets her claws on it."

Y/N smiled. "I'm fine, but thank you for asking. I think I'm gonna go and take a nap in a bit, and maybe have a bit after that." Her eyes flickered over to a peacefully sleeping Bucky. "Don't really wanna leave him."

She heard the blond man sigh. "You don't have to feel guilty about anything."

"I do actually. I did this to him," Y/N bit her lip and closed her eyes.

"No, you didn't," Steve replied putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But you do need to tell him."

With that, he left the girl sitting by his best friend's hospital bed.

***

When Bucky woke up, he woke up feeling completely and utterly exhausted. His head pounded like crazy, eyes felt itchy and tongue felt like lead in his mouth, not to mention the cotton that was stuffed down his throat.

His hand slid backwards to support his body as he leaned up, but a warm palm pushed him back down onto the bed.

"Hey, hey, don't move too much. I'll get you a glass of water." He heard the words through a haze. It took him a moment to gather his bearings to understand where he was and who was with him.

Y/N took his hands and held the cup to his lips until his fingers wrapped around it, and she was sure he had a tight hold on it.

Bucky gulped down the cold liquid as fast as possible, and, in a split-second, Y/N was back with another one. Only after drinking three more, did he feel somewhat sated, and slowly relaxed back onto the bed.

"How long have I been out?"

"A few hours. Docs needed to stitch you up but they had to  sedate you first."

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

Y/N snorted. " 'Cause you were very high on pain meds, and to quote you – I'm a bad bitch you can't kill me." She bit her lip trying to hide the smile growing. "You need to stop hanging out with Parker and his gang. Soon enough your last words will be a meme."

Bucky gave her a smile. " ‘I'm a bad bitch you can't kill me’ seem quite appropriate."

And when she snorted, Bucky's heart soared as he had succeeded.

"They'd be quite ironic if nothing else."

For a second a silence settled, before Bucky's soft tone broke it.

"Y/N?"

She lifted her head to face him. "Yeah?"

"Can you just tell me… why?"

"I just..." Y/N sighed and huffed. "So many things in my life haven't been my choice. People have always decided in my place ever since I can remember myself, and it got even worse when I started growing up. How I dressed, how I looked... what I thought. My mom was the worst." She let out a bitter chuckle and shook her head. "It was like I was her pet project. 'You have to look a certain way for your soulmate otherwise they'll be embarrassed to have you as one' or 'Do this, do that, otherwise your soulmate won't want to be seen with you'. All-day, every day pretty much since I learned how to walk and talk… all because she couldn't find her own soulmate."

Bucky's eyebrows rose at that, so Y/N explained. "She married a widower. My dad had lost his soulmate to cancer before they ever had kids. A couple of years later, he met my mom… I think he loved her because she looked like her." He didn't need elaboration on that. "And that wasn't fair on her. To compete with a ghost of for the rest of her life, I mean that's just fucking torture… So, when I was born, she took it out on me. I mean, I don't think she saw it that way; I'm actually fairly certain she thought she was doing me a favor, but fuck... the first time I was able to cut and dye my hair the way I wanted to, was when I turned eighteen.”

Their eyes met for a brief second before Y/N lowered them back down onto where her hand rested on Bucky’s bed. “I … I know it doesn't compare to the things you've gone through, but it was hell… Everyone else was making choices I should've been, so when I finally got out, I told myself if there was one thing in my life that will be my choice, it's who I love. Not some bullshit universe picking it for me... Bucky I want you to know, I don't hate the idea of you being my soulmate. Not because it's you, and don't you dare think it's because of your past. If I gave a shit, I wouldn't be sitting here... in fact, after finding out you're my soulmate... I was kinda happy. For the first time in my life, I didn't think it'd be that bad to have a soulmate. You were my dead-crush,” the last part she muttered, and Bucky couldn't help the smile that rose on his chest.

“I was?”

Y/N snorted as did he. “Yeah well, before I knew you weren’t actually dead... But I couldn't step down from my principles. I can't. The thought of this stranger coming in my life and suddenly me having to love them… that's not something I can do."

"I'm sorry," he said looking down at their interlinked hands. "I didn't think it'd be that way… I'm sorry you had to go through that shit."

Y/N shrugged squeezing his hand. " 'S not your fault."

"Still… no one should go through that."

She gave him a small crooked smile. "You've been through worse shit than me."

"Just because someone has it worse, doesn't mean your pain is meaningless," he shook his head. "Just because someone else might be down on the ground but you're still kneeling, doesn't mean it won't take just as much effort to get back up."

Tears brimmed at the edges of Y/N's Y/E/C eyes and she sniffled, shifting in her seat. "Can you show me?" Y/N asked.

Bucky didn't need an explanation of what she wanted, so gently he pulled down the blanket and lifted the hospital gown just past his ribs. Seeing her name on Bucky's skin like that – gold letters defiantly weaving across marred tissue, the name that someone had tried to forcefully remove from his life, the last reminder that he wasn't alone wherever he went, made tears blur her sight.

"I'm sorry," Y/N whispered kissing his palm and resting the one not intertwined with Buckys over where the inscription was. "I'm sorry I was so harsh to you."

"I'm sorry, I sprung this whole thing onto you like that."

" 'S okay," she murmured keeping ahold of Bucky's palm and running her thumb over it. 

"Could," he swallowed, "could I see it?"

Y/N released a shaky breath before lifting her shirt up. His name was as smooth as it had been from the very beginning. His metal thumb was cold as it ran over her skin, making goosebumps rise, but she didn't flinch away. Actually, she leaned into the touch if only for a moment. Bucky's hand slipped down her waist after a bit, down her arm and grasped now both of her hands in his.

"Can we take it slow?" Y/N asked. "I-I don't know if I'll be able to love you from the beginning, but I'm willing to try."

"Sweetheart," he placed his palm on her cheek making her look at him. "Soulmates don't have to be romantic. If you don't want me like that, I won't push you… soulmates are meant to be there for one another."

A watery chuckled, escaped Y/N before she shook her head. "I choose you, Bucky… and I'd be honored if you chose me too. Not because we have some magical fucking link between one another but because we want it. I’d love to get to know you."

"I've always chosen you," he said pulling her closer to him and pressing his forehead to hers. "Right from the start. I chose you. I still do."

He saw her whole-body shudder in relief, and she threw him a wide smile, sniffling a bit.

" 'C 'mere," Bucky mumbled and scooted in his bed making room for Y/N. She didn't protest. Instead, she laid down next to him on the bed, head on his left shoulder and her hand resting on his chest where his heart steadily beat. Right, where her name was. Bucky placed his own hand over hers and closed his eyes letting sleep take over him once again.

And in a way, the feeling of being chosen was so much better than simply being accepted by his soulmate. This meant that Y/N had consciously decided to care for him, to have him in her life and maybe at some point would even love him. All because she wanted to.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane​ @its-nott-my-problem @emmalbg​

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

A/N: My tags are always open :)

What did ya think?

P.S. I don’t accept requests.

P.S.S. Please don’t plagiarise my work or repost it onto other mediums without my express written permission.

[marcipancake]

I hate you! ....but not that much

Summary: Miya Atsumu realises how much he loves his boyfriend when it's too late

Warnings: blood, fight, hospitals, open ending

  “I hate you, Miya!” Sakusa panted from the fight, and even the other could feel the tiredness radiating from his form. His eyes were diluted but kept their focus. His voice was cracking all over his shouted sentences, slowly getting hoarse. 

  "I didn't force you to be in a relationship with me, for fuck's sake! If you hate it that much, why don't you just turn your back on me like you do with all your problems and walk away?" Atsumu asked, seeming much more collected than his boyfriend. He wasn’t short on his breath, nor did he care for what left his mouth. 

   "Maybe that's what I should have done from the start. I should have rejected your pathetic ass confession you could barely even say and treat you like the person you are" the spiker grabbed a vase from the coffee table—one that was a gift from his mom—and threw it at Atsumu, who didn’t even try to dodge it. He just let it break on his chest and fall to the ground, not taking his rage-filled eyes off of Sakusa. 

   "What was that? The Almighty Sakusa Kiyoomi feeling sorry for someone? Feeling pity? Or even feeling anything??" Atsumu in return sent a mug flying. It barely missed the targeted head, as Sakusa caught it. And also broke it with a shaky fist. 

   "Me, the Almighty? I'm not the one going around saying how fucking perfect I am and how everyone who is slightly feeling tired or not always giving their 200% can lick dirt and fuck off!" a pair of mole spotted hands took off, and for a moment Atsumu thought he was going to get hit. But instead, Sakusa only grabbed his collar, shaking him by it with every word he spat out. 

   "Because you never go around and you never say anything unless it's to make fun of me or hurt me!" the blonde grabbed onto his hands. They felt ice cold against his hot, burning hands. He took a step forward, forcing the other to retreat, barely not stumbling on his own legs. 

   "Why, how else am I supposed to act? Just stand there and silently endure the way you talk to me?" Sakusa suddenly threw his hands in the air, catching his lover off guard, thus being able to push him to the ground. 

   "Endure? Endure what exactly?” the setter jumped up at this as if nothing had happened. Sakusa raised his hands, maybe in defence, but the other hit them both away, fuming. “Me accumulating to you and changing myself in a way you would maybe like me? Is it that hard the big Sakusa Kiyoomi can't handle?" 

   "So this is all it was about?” a cruel grin appeared on Sakusa’s face, making him look like a distorted version of himself. “Shaping yourself so you would be loved by someone? And what made you pick me? I seemed the easiest target? Or you missing your brother and wanting someone else to replace him in your heart?"

   "At least I have a heart!!"

   Tick. 

   And tock. 

   Breathing in.

   And breathing out. 

   Sakusa let the other go slowly and Atsumu did so, too. He was still filled with rage, but the pair of dark eyes didn't match the fire burning. He stepped away and started his way to the door, only grabbing his keys on the way. 

   "Don't you dare, Kiyoomi! Don't you dare walk out on me like that!" another plate went flying across the room, only to meet its end on the broad back of the spiker, already opening the door. Not even looking back, he walked out. 

   The heavy panting quickly turned into panic in Atsumu's lungs and ran after him after just a second of hesitation. 

   "Don't you come after me. Or that will be the last thing you do" the sharp voice of Sakusa cut both Atsumu's actions and heart in half, stopping him by the doorway as he continued his way to the car in the pouring rain. 

   "You know what? Then don't even come back!" Atsumu shouted back at him, but he didn't seem phased by what he said. He just watched as his boyfriend— was he even still in a relationship with him? —drove away, still panting from all the emotions.  

   He slowly closed the door after himself and collapsed to the floor. He angrily ran his fingers through his already messy hair. 

   "Shit."

   But he couldn't take back what he said. Even if once he did mean them. And now he had to wait it out until Sakusa calmed himself down and—hopefully—came back. 

   As he looked around in the house, it was a mess. And not just the usual mess with clothes all over. No, it was as if a tornado went loose inside, destroying everything in its path. But, Atsumu realised, that's exactly what happened. They started as a small and harmless rain with their usual bantering about some leftover crumbs on the counter. His own quickly angered and kind of a hothead nature that collided with the coldness of Sakusa quickly grew into a heavy storm that went havoc spiralling more and more out of control with every word said—or later shouted. Not even the room could escape something like this. Broken mugs, plates and glasses everywhere, the dining table pushed aside and the dinner from it now on the floor, their pictures poking out from under the broken frames, as if reminding the setter of the happy and carefree past they just shattered. 

   Atsumu tried to stand up to clean up at least a bit, but he slipped on something on the floor. It was a blood wetted piece of cloth. As the setter raised it to take a look at it, he recognised it as being Sakusa's sock. He stepped into a broken plate and took the sock off when the wetness of the blood annoyed him. 

   The voice of him saying 'I hate you, Miya' haunted him even when he managed to get up from the floor. The utmost confidence and hatred that radiated from his words through the whole fight really made Atsumu wonder if he meant any words he said. He only called him Miya on two occasions. When playfully and harmlessly teasing each other or when he was mad. 

   He brought the sock to the bathroom, along with the torn apart pillows and blankets, putting them in the laundry basket. It was almost full. He should also put some clothes to wash… but he had more urgent things to take care of now. At least only the living room and the kitchen was destroyed. 

   Somewhere along the lines, his vision got blurred so much that he couldn't even point out which direction he was facing. As he raised his hands to touch his eyes, fat teardrops met their ends on his shirt, pants and the floor as they raced down on his cheeks. And at this, his vision also cleared. Just enough to be able to make out the broken mug he threw at Sakusa. It had smaller and bigger pieces of it around him. The first-ever really romantic gift he got from the other. The act itself still warmed his heart as he reached down for the biggest part remaining together. On that part was a picture of their hands entangled. The perfectly tended fingers of Atsumu with the long nails he kept short—possibly the only part of him that Sakusa wasn't disgusted by from the get-go—, together with the fragile-looking but firm fingers and bitten down nails of the spiker, dotted by moles he couldn't stop kissing. 

   It all felt so far away by now. Their lovely-dovey nature in their own unique way that started to drive everyone else up the wall seemed like a distant memory. Or rather, a fairy tale. 

   After long hours, Atsumu’s tears have finally come to completely dry out, leaving him gasping for air through frequent hiccups and with hurting eyes and lungs. Upon rising from the ground, his eyes scanned through the apartment in search of his partner, only giving a negative answer. Sakusa's been out for hours by now, and though normally Atsumu wasn't worried when the other was by the wheel, his calming down drive hasn't been this long. And he couldn't even ignore the growing pain of anxiety forming into a bigger and bigger ball of cramps in his upper belly, either. 

   He didn't have time to think about it for long, as soon their landline phone rang, and Atsumu jumped on it as foxes jump headfirst into the snow at the noise of a prey; precisely and deadly. 

   "Omi-kun! Where are yo-"

   But his excited and relieved greeting was cut short, and the setter felt like he received a punch in his guts from a professional boxer. The caller was from a hospital, and Sakusa just got in the emergency room. She called only to inform, but Atsumu didn't need more. He thanked her as fast as he could, and not even bothering to close the door or to dress up, he ran out into the storm, all the way to the hospital. His lungs were burning, his legs on fire, the rapid rain cutting his open skin like knives, but he couldn't care less. 

   Upon arriving, soaking wet and panting as if he’s run a marathon, a nurse guided him to the room, telling him to wait until the doctors came out. Not really having a choice, he sat down. And tried his best not to think. Especially not remembering the pained and almost broken look of Sakusa had in the last moments before he drove off. Or his own rage-filled shape in the reflection of the darkest green eyes that were almost black. How the spiker's hands shook and then came to a halt as if he had a short circuit. In just a matter of seconds, he went from a fiery volcano that demolished everything in its past to the ice caps that though cold, they're also the ones being demolished. All because of a simple sentence he said. It was all his fault. If he didn't overstep the line, Sakusa wouldn't have gone out to drive in rage and he wouldn't be fighting for his life now and-

   The doctors came out. Atsumu stood up alarmed. After a few exchanged words, they informed him of the situation and finally let him inside. He felt weak and unsure to his core, but he went inside. 

   Sakusa looked like a broken machine, laid upon a table to be repaired. Then cold, lifeless colour the lights painted on him only enhanced the ghost-like appearance as it mixed with the now pale complexion of the spiker. As Atsumu looked at him, his skin wasn't that much different in colour from the gauze they wrapped his injuries in. The huge sack that was hanging on his right, with the dim pee coloured liquid that slowly dropped into the tube that connected into his gauzed-over hand to keep the needle in place and the few more infusions that were here and there forced into him didn't make the setter feel relieved even if he should have been. According to the machine, his boyfriend was pretty much alive. And if he wouldn't have seen the state the other was in, it would have been enough for a celebration. But now, the barely visible breath and the other, more silent machine only reinforced in Atsumu what the doctors have already told him. 

   A coma. He entered a coma, and Atsumu was the sheer cause of it. No one told him that, of course, but no one needed to. He knew it deep down even if he didn't want to admit it. And now, not even his twin was there to help him snap out of this or to help him deal with it. Not even the ever-energetic team, not his own boyfriend. He was completely alone to carry the guilt and burden. 

   Atsumu couldn't bear it anymore. He basically collapsed onto the white chair beside the bed. The things he threw at the other, both physical and verbal things, came back to haunt him now. He thought his tears have all dried out, and yet, here he was, burying his face into his hands again. 

   "Fuck!" the setter sobbed through his hands before attempting to wipe his tears away. "Shit, I'm sorry, Omi" he tried again, still as weakly as before, and reached out for his hand. He couldn't really hold onto it because of the pulse oximeter but feeling his hand was enough. Even if said hands were cold, almost as if he was holding a statue. 

    Ah, maybe a statue would be more exact than a machine, Atsumu thought. The lifeless and cold grey that Sakusa's skin now had really did remind the setter of classical greek statues, all of which looked like they could start to move any second. But all he wanted now is for this statue to start moving. To hit him, to shout at him, to break up with him, to start crying, or even just to breathe more regularly. He would have even sold his soul for that if it were possible. 

   “Please, Omi” Atsumu begged again as he carefully brushed on the fragile fingers of his boyfriend, the way he always loved. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean all of what I said. You can just be really annoying. Don’t get me wrong, I am, too! It just-” he took a deep breath to calm his cracking up sobs before he would continue. “It’s been a rough week for the both of us.”

   “Who am I kidding?!” the setter’s other hand gripped onto his own thigh, shaking in frustration. “I shouldn’t have been such an idiot! I should’ve given you your space and- I threw so many bad things, horrible things at you. Can you even forgive me?” he tried to put on a weak smile as his blurred vision wandered onto Sakusa’s face. “I can’t lose you. Please, I swear I’ll do better. I will do it. Just for you. Just please-” at this point, Atsumu gave up in trying to hold his tears back as he choked on his own words. He looked away from the ghost-like face of his love to wipe those annoying tears away before he rose his head back up. 

   “Just please, give me a sign” he begged with a stifled voice. 

   At that moment, the monitor changed.

[thenixart]

Unedited Dorohedoro fanfic (opening of chapter 1)

Bioremediation

What do we say to Death?

-Location: Hole?-

“Uhg...” Consciousness comes back to Ton like a hammer to the side of his head. Searing pain radiates from his temple to his ear that only increases as he gets up. He groans, “Oww.”

Taking stock of his surroundings, Ton is absolutely certain that he is no longer in the Hole shopping mall. There was no sign of the door he just opened or the wave of sludge that washed over him. Not even the hallway he’d just been in with the numbered doorways. The place he was in now looked decrepit, like a building long abandoned and left to rot. The ground was uneven, cracked and broken in places, large slabs that looked like they’d been moved and some point before being dropped. Massive metal pipes, plastic-covered soft grungy tubing, corroded iron girders, walls with struts, and studs visible. It felt like a half-finished construction project left in the rain.

And it reeked.

A familiar kind of raw sewage, wet mud, and rotting corpses kinda smell. The boss’s scent. Strongly emanated from the thick sticky reddish-black liquid dripping from him. It was some kinda sludge, grainy and thick and not unlike the stuff he’d see in the bathtub as a kid after the boss had done his weekly shower. He had an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach about this. Using his relatively cleaner undershirt he wiped the muck from his face and set about trying to find his comrades.

“Saji!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. One hand cupping the side of his mouth and the over carrying his now ruined undershirt. “Tetsujo! Ushishimada! Damnit guys where did you go?”

There’s something niggling in the back of his mind like he’s forgotten something very important, something he saw in the dark fluid that washed over him. As he walked he realized that this place is far far larger than it first appeared, starting to look more like a rotted rundown city not unlike Hole. Just worse. And in places freakishly organic. 

He stops and there is a hole in the ground not too far ahead filled with clay-colored bubbling muck. An arm sticks out of the hole and lays limp along the ground. Seeing what is probably a person in trouble he rushes to action. 

“Hey! Hold on tight!” He grabs the hand and pulls, bracing himself with his weight on his back leg and not the leg close to the edge of the hole. The pit looks nasty and he doesn’t know if the edge is stable or not. The mud makes a horrible sucking sound as he wrenches the person free. Whoever they are they’re fairly slim with long hair and absolutely covered in the muck.

Using his undershirt he cleans the person’s face and after clearing the layer of grime his heart jolts-- “Natsuki!”

He clutches her close and can’t help but shout, “Hey! Hey! Hey! Wake Up! Natsuki!!”

Then he realizes that she isn’t breathing. 

“Shit!” He lowers her back to the ground and tries to pull up those CPR lessons from back in the day. Medicine along with fighting were the two main things that the boss actually taught them. He inhales as deeply as possible then locks lips with her and forces that air into her lungs.

“Natsuki! Don’t die!” He downright orders as he starts with chest compressions. Using his full upper body strength he pushes down directly on her sticky bare chest and then releases and counts. One... two… ten… thirty… forty-two… sixty-six… one hundred! “I said breathe! Damnit!”

Natsuki complies with wet coughing that forces red slime out of her mouth and nose. 

“Thank goodness!” He sighs in relief and cleans more of the gunk off of her. His shirt now irredeemable is left on the ground. As he looks at Natsuki’s naked huddled form turned away from him his mind swarms with questions and the nagging feeling that he’s forgotten something important. 

“Hey,” He says to get her attention as she seems to be very distracted about the whole nearly drowning thing. Ton takes off his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders. “Natsuki, how did you get here? Why are you butt naked? And how did you get to Hole?”

She says something. He knows she’s saying something. He’s looking right at her and can plainly see her mouth moving and she’s even gesturing with her hands. She’s saying something but he heard nothing. It felt like there was water in his ears and something he needed to remember. Whatever had happened to her didn’t change the fact that they were still lost in a strange and possibly dangerous place.

Compared to the other heavy lifting he’d done that day carrying Natsuki was a breeze. Hell, she was even smaller than Dokuga and Ton knew for a fact that he could bench press the other man without breaking a sweat. He picked a direction and kept walking.

And walking.

And walking.

And he is forgetting something important.

A flash of memory passed him by so fast that the only thing that registered was the sound of torn flesh. Ton becomes aware that he has a splitting headache. For some reason, it feels like it’s been hurting for a good minute and he just didn’t notice. Natsuki taps his shoulder and he notices that their surroundings are dimmer and the walls are oozing sludge. An uneasiness settles into the pit of his stomach and he has her hand him one of his knives from his jacket. He carries it in his mouth just in case danger appears and he keeps walking.

The feeling of danger passes and Ton fills the time and silence with idle chatter. Worry gnaws at his gut as they find no exit or any other people around at all. He knew he’d been walking for damn kilometers at this point. Worry turns to dread when he sees a hole filled with sludge. His protests that it couldn’t be the same hole that he pulled Natsuki out of are killed by the sight of his crumpled and dirty undershirt beside it.

He has remembered the thing he forgot.

The realization of death feels like the floor falling out from under him. He feels the pain in his head and ear and ah… That’s why he couldn’t hear Natsuki. The thing in the sludge tore through his head.

They were nowhere. Alone together in the void and fully dressed.  He was so very tired. 

“You’ve been here a long time, huh,” Words came slowly as his mind grew foggy. “I… wasn’t able to help you… I’m sorry...”

The darkness closed in.

Rough slender fingers closed around his hand and squeezed. 

With a jolt, they are thrown from the abyss. It feels like his body is full of pins and needles as his surroundings come into focus. They were laying in a hallway full of numbered doors in a pool of blood and back powder. What?

“Ok! I haven’t had a trip like that since that time Maki gave me a bad batch of Black Powder.” Natsuki’s voice croaked as she rubbed her temples. 

“Natsuki!” Ton shouted and engulfed her into a crushing hug. “Thank the devil! You’re ok!”

She hugs him back just as tight. When he lets go he notices her expression and the fact that he can see right through her to the door behind. Oh.

“Ton...” She says and her smile is tinged with sadness. She pokes him in the chest and he notices that he too is transparent. Weird. Weirder is the faintly glowing blue cord going from her wrist to his on the hand that she’d grabbed not too long ago. “I’m pretty sure we’re dead. Maybe ghosts or something?”

That made sense, given the whole weird ass gunky… limbo? (Limbo? That’s a word he hasn’t thought about in a very long time.) that they were just in. Plus his memories of something taking out a chunk of his skull and slashing up his ear. If the blood on the ground was his then he was extremely dead. But…

“That’s… not possible.” A touch of the past flashed behind his eyelids of a quiet conversation. A heavy hand on his head and flowery incense. A woman’s voice. That may be what happens, but that’s not remotely fair. And damn the devils for it. “Sorcerers go to hell when we die. Like immediately. Only humans turn into ghosts.”

Natsuki shrugged and an ‘I don’t know’ sound. “Big bro, all I know that this isn’t hell and that I definitely died.”

“...how did you die Natsuki? Last I heard Doguka sent you on a solo mission. Did something go wrong?”

She stood and turned her back to him. He heard her take in a deep breath then release it. “I was leaving the manor. For some reason, Dokuga insisted that I leave through the back exit. On the way out I ran into the boss. He… licked me. On the mouth. It was weird. Then he told me he wanted me which you know super exciting--”

“Eww! You like fifteen and he’s almost thirty!”

“Sixteen!”

“Same difference! Still nasty!”

“As I was saying. Super exciting! Butterflies in my stomach and everything. Then he kissed me (btw the boss really needs to brush more often like hot damn) and...” She paused. He could see her hands shaking even while hidden inside of her poofy hoodie. “He used En’s magic. He filled my insides with mushrooms and cut me to pieces with his knives. He was… smiling. Smiling as he killed me.”

She buries her face in her hands and he’s there instantly one arm around her shoulders and another on her head. He makes a soothing sound because his words fail him. He wanted to say that the boss would never because… well, the boss half-raised him and the others. Saved their lives and gave them a reason to live. Sure he was pretty cold and blunt but he… Ton, Saji, Ushishimada, Tetsujo, and Dokuga… they all loved the boss and it was clear that they were loyal. That Natsuki was loyal. Why would the boss…

The one who killed me was a Crosseye! I’m sure of it. Risu’s voice bubbled up from a traitorous part of his mind. As Natsuki turned to cry into his chest he felt the phantom pains of his knives turned against him by Risu’s magic. Powerful rare magic. Yeah… the numbers on Natsuki’s smoke readings were pretty damn good and defense magic? Well that’s really fucking useful, isn’t it? If they’d have met under different circumstances if she hadn’t been a Crosseye and able to use her magic? Well, neither he nor any of the guys would have hesitated to take her head for the boss. That was the stone-cold truth yet something about it made him nauseous. 

Natsuki was a nice person. Hell, from what he heard about Risu before his death the kid was bright eyed and bushy tailed too. Actually in it for the cause and not the money.They were killed by the boss. The faces on the thing that killed me had cross eye marks, his brain supplied. Natsuki and Risu didn’t deserve to die.

“You can let go now.” Natsuki said, pulling away from him. She rubs her eyes and looks very tired. “Alright. So… what next.”

He shrugged. “No idea. Wanna find the others?”

“Why not?”

------

It doesn’t take them long to find Ushishimada, Tetsujo, and Saji who are now rather loudly looking for Ton. Which was nice. 

“Where’d that dumbass go?” Ushishimada was saying when Ton and Natsuki caught up with the rest of the group. Rude. Ton stuck his tongue out at him. 

Natsuki waved her hand in front of Saji’s face as he read a sign about where exactly they were. “I don’t think they can see us.”

“Nope. Let’s see if this works,” Ton took in a deep breath, “HEEEEEEEEEEY GUUUUUUUUYS!!!!”

No response. Huh. The guys continued with their conversation and Ton shuddered when Tetsujo walked right through him like he wasn’t even there. Tetsujo stopped and his shoulders tensed and his eye darted around. Oh! Perhaps? Before he could try again his attention was drawn to the horrible wall of ooze pulsating further up the hall. About around where he’d woken up. Very familiar black slime.

“Ewww, you see that?” Natsuki said, pointing at it. Ah good, he wasn’t just seeing shit. 

“Whooa!” Tetsujo’s hand flew to his sword because apparently he saw that shit too. 

“What’s wrong Tetsujo?” Saji did not see it.

“I--I dunno,” Tetsujo was on high alert now. Granted it didn't take much to really set him off. Man carries his sword even to the bath, he’s got issues. Not saying that the rest of them don’t have issues but Dokuga and Tetsujo were the most paranoid people Ton knew. “But just now something..”

The phantom wall of slime vanished the moment Ushishimada’s shout caught their attention. He’d picked up the powder trail and found the door marked with Ton’s blood. Door nineteen.

“Shit! Ton we have to do something!” Natsuki shouts as she reaches out for the guys. Her touch fails to even raise the hair on the backs of their necks as they open the door. Ton’s nerves feel like they’re on fire, his attention locked onto the bloated monster inside of the room and the meaty sucking noises it was making. It wasn’t the only thing he saw. From the blood spatter patterns and bullet holes in the wall it looked like there’d been a gunfight in here recently. Even from this angle Ton could clearly see that it looked like the boss had been partially decapitated, the top of his head flopping a bit as he… ate. The boss was eating something. 

“...Is that really what the boss looks like now?” Natsuki’s voice was barely audible as the pain in his ear returned. His head throbbed and half of his face felt raw and torn. There was static in one of his legs and it felt like his guts were falling out. 

Ah, well that’s that then. 

A hollow feeling slithered inside of Ton as he detactedly watched Tetsujo, Saji, and Ushishimada’s excitement at finding the boss turn into unease and confusion and then morph into horror as they discovered what Ton had already figured out. There was something weird about seeing your own corpse. Even weirder to see someone who you genuinely loved just going ham on your carcass like your guts were made of bacon. Something that was almost a laugh escaped Ton’s ghostly lips as the puns caught up with him.

Though looking at the boss, he definitely didn’t get that big by just eating him. Hell most of his carcass wasn’t even in him yet. There was a lot of blood everywhere. And there was no way the boss could have gotten to this room on his own and as strong as Dokuga was this was pretty damn far to carry that thing on his own. And definitely no way that Dokuga would have made such a sloppy attempt at decapitation if he had reason to harm the boss. So a firefight in which someone hurt the boss and the boss ate the resulting bodies. As well as Ton because... he’d shown up. The boss had still been hungry and he’d shown up and as far as the boss had been concerned Ton was food.

The monster that was the boss pulled his torso closer and seemed to hesitate for a moment before digging its claws into the flesh of his chest and tearing it open to get access to the organs inside. Ton felt that. Pain seared through his ghostly body and his ribs snapped and popped in time with his real ones as the boss tore out his ribcage. 

Saji was the first to act. His voice was shaky, begging, and on the verge of screaming as he tried to pull Ton’s remains away from the boss. “S...Stop. Stop it already! That’s your friend! Have you forgotten that?!”

Was the boss ever actually their friend? The part of his heart that would always remember being beaned in the face with a burger, the one and only time the boss shared food that was meant for him. The fun trips to the fancy restaurants.The fighting as a team. But… really it was more the boss tolerated them while they loved him unconditionally. Well sort of. The boss… Kai… saved their lives when they were kids. Gave them a reason to keep on living in these shithole worlds. Not the reason they told themselves or the recruits but reason enough. To be useful. To feel protected. To be provided for and free from want. That’s probably as close to loved as a bunch of losers like them could get from someone (something because the boss was never quite like a proper person now was he?) that powerful. They used the fear of Kai to use others. And the boss used them. And threw them away once they were no longer useful to him. Simple.  

And yet it made the traitorous part of Ton’s heart burn with rage.

They’d been loyal! Saji deserved better than to be on the verge of tears playing a pathetic game of tug of war with one of his best friend’s rib cage while begging the man who half raised them all to remember that comrades aren’t snacks. They’d been kind! Ushishimada should have been home, helping Ton cook up a hot breakfast for their brothers in arms instead of sinking to the floor in grief.  They tried to make things better! He didn’t want to see Tetsujo vomit from stress and feel the need to draw his against someone he trusted, it was like watching something get irreversibly broken. 

THEY DESERVED BETTER!  

Like a match in a methane mine heat burned through the numbness of Ton’s incorporeal body. (And how dare that bastard actually finish eating his body while the others were breaking down!) There was a fight brewing and the odds are astronomical bad. Neither he nor Natsuki could really touch anything or be heard. Tetsujo was the most ready to fight but he was emotionally shaken. Saji was still in denial and Ushishimada was in a worse state. And Ton knew exactly how fast Kai’s horrible horrible tube mouth was even if the monster could barely move the rest of its overstuffed body. Then the odds decreased rapidly when it called upon the magic it stole from Natsuki.

Fuck.

That didn't stop Ton for instinctively reaching for his knives. What did stop him was the large gloved ice cold hand grabbing his wrist. Colors muted and time slowed enough for him to actually be able to track the movement of that whip quick tube mouth as the monster simply bit a chunk out of Ushishimada’s chest. Instantly killing him with Saji following soon after and about as gruesomely. From the corner of eye a shadow flies out and over the corpses of his friends, pausing briefly and then flying back out of sight. 

“Ton!” Natsuki calls out in alarm and he sees a similar shadow wrapped around her. 

“Hey!” He shouts turning around quickly the hand still firmly grasping his wrist. The figure before him causes a shiver to run down his spine. Her face was a skull partially obscured by a gas mask not unlike the mask of that Aikawa dude (the one who tried to stop the boss who the boss turned into... ), there was even a thick black tube running from her mask that dropped down in loops around her waist like biomechanical intestines. Thick leather armor reminiscent of firefighter gear largely concealing her figure. She towered over him and Ton was not a small man. The black scythe in her other hand felt like a solid threat.

“You are dead,” Death said, sounding tired which given all of the recent killings she probably was, “Rejoice. These problems are no longer yours. You can rest, forget, and move on. Your friends will meet again in Hell.”  

His friends will meet again in Hell? “But I’m still here now. I could help Tetsujo survive.”

“Buy doing what? You are one soul against a mountain of angry dead. Even if you did manage to kill the host, and he’d probably thank you for it the poor boy’s been trying to stop himself for years… even if you did kill him your living friends are unlikely to survive the birth of that thing. Either they’ll be eaten very soon or just after the kid gains its own physical form.” 

“Host? That thing?” There were puzzle pieces coming together but so much that he still didn’t know enough. And why… hadn’t they been taken to Hell? Ton had to assume that those shadows that ghosted over Saji and Ushishimada’s bodies where their souls getting harvested. But… “Why did you say my friends will meet up again in Hell?”

“You certainly are nosey,” Death sighed. One of her tubes looped around him and she let go of his wrist. She altered her grip on Natsuki to a singly less restrictive loop around the girl’s waist. “And I still have so much work left to do.”

“Ok but--” Ton started only for everything to go dark.

[smallgayblanket]

New/revised/whatever- List of stuff

Egos (Marks/Jacks) that I have written for or at least actually have thought about HCS/other universes for:  (Just some brief rambles about them, please don't hesitate to ask about them :3)

  -Anti,   Two takes really, I like him soft, like him mean, hes just fun to write, plenty of different ways to spin why he acts out, what he is and all that. My current fav way to portray him is a missing piece of Seans soul, which means hes unstable as a ‘person’ (cough, not really a human but not, not human either.)  And how he has static filled blue eyes but usually hides them with the scary emerald green...

-Jameson,  I will always stand by this kinda universe i created with a friend aages ao that Shawn took away Jamesons voice when being puppeteered by an awful ink creature that shares his body.  Giving Jameson a lovely fear of knives, some scars, and some very damaged vocals..

-Crank, Oh my fucking boi, a near dead human spliced with a bunch of robot parts..human skin tangled with wires and a heart incased in metal..hes a right mess, a voice in his head that makes him feel all sorts of bad.. He tries his best..he cries oil,  I hardly get to write  him but I love him.

-Blank, another big fav oi, black hollow eyes..a tendency to faint... My Hc involves him having been in an accident that almost killed him, leaving him with a very rare heart condition. He also has an aura which..kinda ties into him having a few abilities and stuff. 

-Nes.. He started off as my own kinda Ethan ego, basically Ethan who was mistreated and really lost his marbles..hes great for the real twisted messed up kinda stuff, so dependant on others, a minor murderer, and has been eyed off by a certain ice cream driver for quite some time...

-Were eth,  Okay granted this was literally just kinda an idea that..Eth became a were wolf boi, fangs, tail, ears. Hes just a fun lil pupper

-Eden. Succubus Ethan basically, but well, he again kinda turned into his own thing separate from Ethan. He's got a tail and wings, and hes a lovely lithe thing. He doesnt dare do things without consent, just gets a bit touchy-feely when hes gone without any energy for too long. Very wide stunning saphire eyes. 

- Jackie  Oh my lad..Buff, trans, adorable, sweet. I always love tinkering around with how/what powers he has tbh..and like- I’ve always had the hc that his eyes are lilac?? or gold. Depending on things.. and he works either at a comic book store, a gym, or at the counter of a gas station. Gives the best hugs. Also I love AUS where hes a phoniex because of uhm?? Big fucking red wings??? YES.

-Hen, Getting his accent right is tough but other than that I love writing about the tired doctor living off coffee and ignoring himself in favor of others. 

-Chase The fucking best dad, sunshine lad. Running a vlogging channel and doing his best while combatting depression..I hc him to have chronic fatigue so he has to push himself extra hard. but He does well in trying to get better and look after himself and only slips up like any other helpless human. Very fun to write. 

- Robbie.   Sof.t zombie lad. Drown in a sweater. Stutters and is v quiet. Slow with speech. Struggles to see sometimes. Loves soft textures.Loves attention. Overall soft fucking lad.

-KOTS, To mean known as Simon. Actually v smart, big brain, very scattered n shy and nervous and squirrelish. Loves books n plants, loves nature. Red is his best colour. Warm sweaters and nuzzling and cuddling up. I always get torn between him being a hybrid of human/squirrel or just a lovely soft guy. 

-Yan ! My fem nb/trans gal! They’ll kick ass with their katana, have the hots for Bim, and looove Japanese culture and stuff. Very adorable. Loves pink. 10/10 love to write. 

-Technically I do have a muse for Mark, or..idea? I’m thinking about shoving it into my own oc/thing..but basically he got tortured n abused by Authy so hes not quite like the real life markimoo..just a nervous mess whose dealing with his traumas..

-Bing, Skater lad, yellow/orange eyes, sunflower vibes. Tries his best, clumsy as fuck, great for a laugh when hes not cowering under google. 

-Edward iplier,  Gah my doctor lad.. I have a hc that he Lost arm. In fire..or by dark n wilf.  He has heterochromia too!! One cho ceye one blue one. He is a fucking nerd (Minor adhd lets be honest) He fucking loves space and science and space/science related lights. He has a bat plus with spacey wings. He likes reading, likes being clean and is quite a quiet indulger in food which has left him with a big of a softer figure. Super gentle nature..nothing like the arrogant portrayal we got in some videos. 

-Angus   I love this man!!! Part Aussie, part irish, a whole lot of gruff old dad with a soft spot for nice people and animals, has his own big place, next to a large ass forest. Loads of scars. Loves boots and cameo coloured clothing. A lovely guy when you get past the rough edges. 

Aand onto all my ocs as of writing this (cause you name well know I be writing new ones like..all the time.) 

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

OC’S (My original characters!)

-Jessy, Cowboy-   Choker with gold bell. Lil ears/horns. Spots. Shy but sweet. Hands and feet different colour to rest of skin. Kinda  fur ish feeling rather then just straight-up skin.  Pear shaped figure. Shy lad. Likes to take lots of naps, anxious easily but a big people pleaser too. 

-Ailan and Keros. Moth n butterfly boi.  (Literally just made up with a friend, just a random soft pair of lads tbh nothing too fleshed or spesh)

- Louie - Followed by a dark being/creature/spirit... Yet to determine what else about him, but hes got brown hair, pointed ears and looks lovely in green.

-Quinton  A Hybrid of Demon and Angel otherwise called a Guardian. Quirky, Pan as shit, great dress sense. Extremely calm. Can see auras. Lovely black feathered wings. Bright blue hair.  Kind smile. Works at a little coffee shop in his spare time.

-Ori  Very pure angel boy, previously owned and not very well treated by a god, came crashing down to earth with no memories but his wings intact. Some help him. 

-Lumi  Ghost boy! Died years ago under awful circumstances..now lingers around on earth, sometimes meeting humans who happen to be able to feel or see his presence, he has the ability to make himself solid for short periods of time. 

- Lucio Witchy..dragon soul something or other- Deaf.Paralyzed? In the arms??They might use alot of energy trying to hover around instead of having to use a chair..(I mean how many witches do you see with chairs??).. Although they could not have use of their arms instead, like..paralyzed from the shoulder down- they still have them but theyre effectively useless and easily sore.. (which might make magic really hard, cause theyd have to master it again without their hand gestures.)

- Eztli, Bit of a prick. Basically got cursed to have really weird blood that replished and rejuvinated too fast/too much by a witch he angered. So he turned the curse into a good thing and basically goes out offering himself as a human blood bag for vamps willing to pay in info, items, cash or uh..other services..  

- Gallio Photographer, has hypocalcemia. Haven't really done much else with him tbh.

-Aomi Warlock/witch in training. Downright awful at it. Young and lives in a nice lil cottage outside of the village he was abandoned in.

- Lucas A moonstone gem perma-fusion, he kinda has SPD/DID but he doesn't, cause..hes two gems that became one but not fully. Leaving him to be a bit of a mess and not as strong as other moonstones. 

- Kiyan. A little assistant android!! Created to assist, he can make portals!, He works at a post office. Hes under surveillance by the company that made him and isnt yet aware of many human customs/emotions.. 

- Alex  A very confused, overly optimist Alien who doesn’t know what they are. Come from the planet Eutychia, 4'3. They fucking glow. You know  Kilowatt from space chimps? think that. But hair n freckles and more human and just as  bubbly and energetic. 

-Locus  Mer/Fish boi!  Transparent fins, glowy patches, plays harp + loves music.

-Lir  A Tiny Octopus/Human hybrid lad. Makes little burble and trill noises. Quite harmless. Needs a home. 

Benji (Strawberry shortcake boi- Cursed tape /bandages. Demi half god.? One eye. Uses notes. To communicate but also sign. Really. Good sweets maker)

 Small bois (A collection of tinys because G/T is fucking great okay?)

- Tobias. Literally Made of hair gel. cleary, adorable, aaand Eats soap..amoung other non food items he probably should not ingest but does..

- Hinto  Guy made of foam slime. Very chill n laid back.

- Glowstick bubs. (Alo/aloke -  Green and blue  +  Siro - Yellow n pink.  + Mavi (Vi) Red and silver. + Roxy (Ro) - Orange and  purple )  They’re a cross between glowsticks and lava lamps and its epic- asides the fact they have like.half a brain cell each. Lots of sleeping n lazign around.

- Theo  A tiny ink creature.  A clever little lad, who likes to drawn and write n paint in ink and leave cheeky little black splotches everywhere. A very good writer companion tho. 

- JellyBubs! A collection of tiny sentient jelly babies, hungry lads will raid your cupboards. 

-Miel A tiny little bee boy! Loves flowers <3 

Apocolyse Squad:

The planet Keres,  Left uninhabitable after the invasion that ruined the air and killed almost the entire race.

Sameal o’Ceirin (Being of smoke- partly blind.)

Mallory Thomas (Part cat. Vet, partner to Sam who ends up dying in the canon of their story)

Hamrish Benat  (Hayden. 4 eyes, soft tongue. PTSD. extra tiny heart in wrist. Quite fem/soft. Likes soap cutting vids and stuffed toys/teddies.)

Joshua who cares (An asshole. Staight up. He dies. Fuck him. He sucks ass.)

Andy peters (Strong, kind. Kinda like Tyler shied. Big, tol, but actually pretty soft.)

Adrian  Géarán  (Tail, fire abilities, likes to make little robots. Very weak n has a couple of disabilities that leave him tired n such, which aint great for his esteem or his team when the apoc hits.)

--

Wyatt ???? ?????????????????

Pace- Nerdy. Finds a cat. Observer for the aliens. Is immune to black goop. 

Four - buff. Scary. Deadly. 

Apocolypse Squad Part 2  Small lads who dont derese to be in danger: 

  -Apep, Naga boi  Legs mutate into a cool tail. Hisses, fangs. Adorable loves the sun. bout 20 years old. 

Chris. Camp leader! Biig dad type, redhead, buff, likes gardening and camping, very outdoorsy. Little awkward but great.

Small child Talise- nickname tails? ..   Blind and slightly traumatized by the car crash that killed his mother and ended up with glass in his eyes, very sensitive to noise n textures.     Ends up mutating tails.  6 v young n smol  blocks n colourin

Shirin Parvis. Crystal boi .. trained solider/ royalty.  Tried to warn people before the apoc hit and failed. Now tries to protect the small group of surviors he stumpbles across. 

 Zephaniah, mutation turns him into a  Chameleon basically, just.. a human one. He  Prefers Zeph. Big gamey Nerd-  gets a pet gecko.  16. Quiet. Loves Lazar skirmish and lazers. 

Moyachi, Cactus boi!! Plant bab. Loves water and has clear/lime green tinted aloe/herbal helpful blood. Spikes up at defense from bad people 18/ 19   likes drawing. Pretty grumpy and needs a break.

Colin, nicknames: Coco,  Lady bug lad, who is baby trans  mutation resulted in a weird Red/Orange skin condition basically.  Can predict weather v accurately.       Ballet/dance, 14   Likes cooking. 

Hotaru , Firefly bby  - Glowy bub with antenna,  possibly mutates wings.. Sassy and tired. Turns nocturnal as the apoc progressed. Also becomes Colins first love <3

Zeno  A Siren of sorts.  DC/ hip hopper/   Lost his arm in apoc.  He loooves music alot. Very purple aesthetic and checkerboards.

Liren Pichi, deaf peaches n cream aesthetic boi- Nickname Pichi.  He is alone during the apoc, sneaks aboard and ship and goes missing..

Neighbours AU:

They all live on the homeworld, Ermioni.

Lesbabs:

Blake Aglaia  A human with a gift of being able to put emotions into glass balls.. Red head, quite fem, but gay, sweet, but not mousy. 

Lynx ?? An alien and human, the alien somewhat resides inside its host but they coexist. Sometimes goes feral.  Alien half likes to go by Perse  (Percy)  They have cool looking saliva- viens that run down their arms that are pretty cool- sharper nails/claws. Tendrils. Large ol mouth. Lots of pointy ass teef. Lynx likes to train,go to gym, and kick ass. Big ass butch energy.

Demon fam:

Hyacinth  A six-armed demon with serious parent energy. Big gardener, his body grows flowers depending on his moods/strength of emotions. Purple neck length hair. Great at comfort and cooking. 

Rhys  A Demon with a great curiosity about humans has a sibling, Feri.  Rhys is a big nerd, but very hard to get to know. Not great with emotions, comes across a tad distant and cold without always meaning too. Loves candles and lots of autumn aesthetic. 

Anthos, AKa Ant. Rhys and Hy’s accidentally created/summoned a toddler.. and hes fucking adorable. 

Vato - V   Hy has another bub later on who's more purpley blue with red curled horns and 4 arms.. No tail.. 4 eyes. V cute and inquisitive. Less noisy and wreckless than Ant. 

Roommates:

Douglas Connelly  A regular chubby human bean! Learning to become a chef. He loves food, loves cooking and also loves dancing. Hes a big guy, big cudddler, but a little shy and akward at times. 

Donovan Amores  Real fricking cool and smokin hot Bartender with a love for dogs. Dougs roommate. Has glowing fuckin orbs- donates his heart to a fucking god is smooth as fuck, background heavily Spanish, moved when young.

Haris Alaksim Real name (lost in translation, Huitzilopochtli God of sun and war) ) - A god whom Dono is very close with and donates his heart two one every 3 years during the day of the highest sun. He is a god / Mouros.    Donovan refers to him as “Dios gentil”  or “ Viejo colibrí sabio”   (“El viejo colibrí sabio es un dios gentil” (The old wise hummingbird is a gentle god.)

Donovans Family

Rem (Looks after magical creatures- Cane is from Haris)

Oscar  (Not sure what trinket or power but He’s just a casual store worker w/ good arms. Surprisingly good with knives- perhaps has one from Haris?)

Nicole  (His only sister Makes clothes..possibly got some ability to do with seasons..?  Perhaps earrings or a bracelet from Haris)

Javi  (Makes jam, cute boy, wears cloaks. Maybe has a cute little jar necklace or magic jar??)

Luca (Trans bookkeeper- Talks to Haris most often and likes to ask questions..Has precious books...Possibly a special pen..) 

Forest bois!!

Cypress The soul of the forest - Mentor of Rem. Very calm, very wise. Kinda like master oogway type. 

Unicorn boi, Hes rare, missing a chunk of his horn. Dont hurt him. He doesnt even have a name.

Fyn. Mushroom boy. Protects a gate. Lost his twin during a human-caused fire. Very mad about it. 

Fie. Bat boy. Loves fruit. 

Moh. Fairy/incubus hybrid.  

Tucker. Bunny boi, Best friends with Ainsley. Got some like, punk vibes about him, piercings n such. Not as soft as one would expect but still nice at heart.

Ainsley. Fawn boi, clums, shy, round glasses,  Looks smart but doesn't always know stuff. Very unsure of self. 

Experiment AU: 

Izekiel Iris A being of Paint. Hes made of paint. He has trauma from being experimented on. Slightly depressed. Loves art, loved creating. also regresses to try to deal with said PTSD.  Hard to get to know at first. 

Matty  (Matthew Libelle)   An experiment, part human, part lizard, part dragon. Much smol.  Hes fucking baby and i adore him alot please do ask anything and everything about him. 

Cult bois:

-Nero Aakil   (Means Genius/Orange blossom)   Orange bub  - Leader. Smart. Telepathic link with all cult members.  V corrupted…  (Parents were rich and ignorant)

-Mao Cerise   Pink - Ditzy, Looks after their ‘little bird’ (aka Jey) 

-Jey Michael Cherubim   Fallen angel -  Corrupted..desaturating and weak.. Was summoned by the cult and captured as a trophy. 

-Jaden Hirav  Looks after a garden of plants both harmless and some not for master. Previously Neros old pet..His  The family was alright but he was moreso raised by like his mum and bro. He was kidnapped from his garden and never seen again. The cult ritual to initiate him into the group failed and he was spliced with plants making him near useless to the cult.

-Rowan maverick - Now known as  Rogue- Red. Lost their tongue. Does Not follow orders to the T but gets their job done.   Has another voice/god/soul looking out for them… Very assassin ready, very perceptive. Wants to get out the cult but knows theyre too far in.. Cool glowy words in the air because they don't have their tongue. Possibly only lives of medication and vitamin pills..possible OD? Possible addiction. They struggle alot with it. 

P - Pax -  God who watches over Rowan. Was killed by the Master but their spirt lives on.

Cato.   Purple - Another smart one.. Possible Wiccan?  Sadist. Mean. Tall.  Scary. Abuse. Twisted. Loves being in the cult. Eventually wants to host Masters soul.. 

Gin Short for Ginger but the real name is Xanthe.  Blind. Also another assassin like Rogue but more obedient.  Doesn't talk often out of fear. 

Benjamin Brandy  (Benji. B) is Gins friend, Gin is trying not to get him involved in the cult but was too late as B had previously already been cursed and dealt with mythical beings..

 Silver bub. Demir. A demon summoned by the cult to complete the collection. Wants out, very stressed.  

Adopted AU: (This is like a mess of some of the boys but younger and in a different timeline to their universes smushed together intoa kinda cute school/adoption au idea.)

Matthew is smol autistic, malnourished and heavily abused both mentally and physically, leading to selective mutism and being a small fragile easily tired bab.  He loves hanging in the library once he gets used to going to some schooling. Gets tutored by Chris? Goes to camp and helps around n has fun..

Jaden, loves the school garden, and likes science class. His family is alright, However he ends up mostly raised by his sister? Or brother? 

Iz is the lil art bab, also in foster care of a big family, not so much abused but semi neglected. Quiet.

Nero is the gifted nerdy child..Parents ignorant. They love history and fictional books and reading and learning.

Benji is the slightly older kid whos possibly maybe a little behind or delayed or..something, they help out with other kids as a buddy? They like to do cooking classes.

DA AU

So this Au was like..the Septic tank births all the egos.

Angus first- He has..some kinda strength I imagine/..

Then Anti, Hen, Jackie. Marv. 

Chase -  He kills himself because of Glitch- also falls in the tank a second time and ends up with odd powers. 

Glitch Starts off as very bad and misunderstood. Turns out they were just highly unstable and required medical treatment.  Their real name is Arius and they cant stomach solid foods all the time. Mostly a liquid diet. They have glitchy fits/static seizures. Very unpleasant. Can enter tech, and its not so great, can get trapped. Can absorb certain amounts of electricity because of this they Got hit by  ightning once and has epic lighting scars!! Up arms..some on neck. All over his chest and back. 

Septic clone AU

Sean giving up bits of soul to make clones ends up in coma

Experiments and torture and odd shit with the egos ensues??

Minecraft AU??  

Yeah i had weird ideas for a cute minecraft gang of minecrafters who had accidents involving getting merged/recded with other creatures traits ect. 

Vail.  -Vex / Human

Snow golom hybrid? Or Blaze?

Slimey boi

Kitsune

Panda lad.

Pokebabs au

Mainly for Matty, Iz and Blank.. were they have pokemon forms and when bonded with a human long enough can evolved into human forms?? 

Horned AU  (With Troiseh/Glitch-in-the-static)

Shiro  -Prince lad  (This is their lad :3)

Junji - Battery..whump/slave/lost prince 

Isao Asuka -  Shiros Royal Guard 

Alien AU

Hami if he were..alien instead of being a human in an apoc basically. 

Angel AU stuff: 

Good omens inspired boi

Leo Halvar   Part..humany..demon..Cambion are according to google "In late European mythology and literature, a cambion is the offspring of an incubus, succubus, or another demon with a human, or of an incubus and succubus"

Ryan  Hot archangel guy: One wing, demon hunter thing.. Good kinda reforming from a less nice lifestyle previously. 

Mute angel possibly demon idk- -   Latif? Emmet? Evan? 

Long fringe shy boy-  Cael / Lox

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Stay Ch. 10

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Natasha X Reader (Female)

Summary: You have a gift, the ability to see other people’s innermost secrets. For years you used it to gather intel for the highest bidder when you take on The Widow. After she becomes more than a mark the two of you spend years stealing moments. Post snap you wait in your designated meeting place, look back on the sordid past you share with the woman you love and hope against everything that she’s still alive.

Warnings: Physical violence, light smut, feels

A/N:  I love that Only For A Moment and Stay both reached big milestones (for me anyway) this weekend. I really thought I wouldn’t have chapter 10 ready but then it just kind of spilled out of me in one painful rush (thanks, music).  

Thank you so much for loving my girls like you do! Things are about to get... interesting for them. Don’t hate me.  

This is another longer chapter (at least in comparison to how I’ve been structuring this and OFAM) but I hope y’all like it! 

Tags are open!

@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @5aftermidnight @jeromethepsycho​ @marvel-randomness @daniellajocelyn @katecolleen @yanginginthere @wonderlandmind4 @piensa-bonito

- Post Snap -

You must look like a fool. Sitting alone in a hotel bar, at the end of the fucking world, smiling from ear to ear. That or you look like you’re about to snap.

Laughing a little at yourself you slam back what’s left of your drink and decide to head up to your room. As much as you don’t want to leave the bar, want to hover here until you see her walk through those doors, your body demands sleep.

It had taken you almost two whole days to get to Vienna after the… whatever the fuck that was. Planes were grounded, roadways littered with cars filled with nothing but ghosts. Chaos growing with every passing hour.

Most civilians didn’t ever truly realize just how razor thin the line between order and anarchy was at any given moment. They put faith in their institutions to hold society together without knowing that their institutions were made of nothing but poorly kept secrets and dust. Now they’d know since it felt like half the fucking planet had dissolved into just that… dust.

Regardless, that long journey left little room for sleep. Add to that the ridiculous amount of liquor you’d consumed in the last 20ish hours… you were spent.

Once in your room, you practically face plant on the lush bed. Darkness consuming you immediately. Hoping that you dream of her.

You do…

A few hours later you wake up drenched in sweat. Immediately you bolt for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before your stomach contracts, filled with nothing but fucking bourbon… it’s about as unpleasant as throwing up can be.

“Fuck,” you groan, leaning against the wall clutching your abdomen.

Why that memory? Of all the things for your brain to pull out of the archives, it had to be her… covered in blood.

You think back to what it was like at the beginning. After Prague.

For two people who made their living in the world's underbelly, you couldn’t help but feel you didn’t deserve just how good the past year had been. Together you had seen the world, worked some jobs and lived as much like two normal people in love as you could.

Like any couple, you formed your routines. Wherever you were the first person up would make the coffee so the other would awake to sleepy kisses and the sweet smell of caffeine. Usually followed by a long shower together. She would always order you a Makers if she made it to the restaurant or bar before you and you’d order a Stoli or Grey Goose martini if you did. Natasha actually liked doing laundry so she would do the both of yours and you would handle folding and hanging (not that either of you carried much). Between jobs you’d train to keep one another sharp, you were even good enough to beat her more than once.

Movie nights were frequent. Just the two of you curled up in whatever hotel you found yourselves at with a few rentals and take out. Sometimes you’d kill days doing that. Other times you’d land in a city and never check in anywhere, just squat in one place or another exploring until you got bored.

It wasn’t all pure domestic bliss though.

Her dreams could be soul crushing. You’d awake to her cries a few times a month. Sometimes she’d want to fuck the memory away and you’d happily oblige. Others she would just want to curl into your arms, you’d hold her, stroking her hair, and kissing her tenderly until the tremors stopped. She never had to talk about the dream unless she wanted… most times you saw or at the very least felt them. They’d haunt you for the rest of your life. Not just the images themselves but because you couldn’t go back in time to save her from them…

More than once, mainly at the beginning, you had disagreements about jobs. You took one for a prominent South Asian crime syndicate she deemed too risky. The two of you argued for days about it. Finally, she conceded and while it was close, it all worked out. A few hits she took you thought were more than a little tasteless but ultimately you both decided to let the other do what she did best and generally stay out of it. Leave work at work.

That worked until she was given an order to take on a job with a fellow Red Room alum.

- December 2005 -

“Natasha… I don’t fucking like this,” you could have held your tongue about anything else but this.

“It’s not a discussion, baby. Remember? We have a rule-”

“Yeah. We do. But… kids.”

“There won’t be any children there. They’ve been moved to a new facility-“

“That’s not it,” you hand her one of her knives, “Children are involved. If the KGB wants the research they’ve been doing-”

“Y/N, I-”

“You know it can’t be good, Nat,” your voice is rising. “We were both kids once, used and-“

Her eyes shoot daggers at you, “Do you really think that didn’t cross my mind? I’m not happy about this. But if I refuse I’m putting a target on both our backs. I won’t.”

You sneer, “I don’t want any part of your justification for this one, Natasha.”

It didn’t matter that the hospital would be empty. You read the briefing. The two women were to slip into a donor event celebrating the new hospital’s opening. Snag the two lead doctors, bring them back to the old facility, get all the research that was still being stored there, destroy the evidence. No witnesses. No survivors.

Her arms wrap around you from behind, a soft kiss just under your ear. “Please tell me you don’t think I would do anything to harm a kid… I can’t-“

You turn in her arms to face her, “I know you wouldn’t honey. I know. But… if they’re performing research on… children. Fuck. I just, I don’t know.” Your foreheads rest together.

“I look at it like taking from the wolves. The men in charge of whatever they’re doing are going to die tonight and-”

“It can’t be taking from the wolves if you’re handing the knowledge to a different pack.”

The look on her face is pained. “I’m sorry,” she releases you going to the closet to pull out her gown for the evening and you plop onto the edge of the bed. She sighs heavily, “Look if there’s anything too bad I will make sure the KGB doesn’t get their hands on it. I’ll bring the other agent to you and…”

Your eyebrows cock-up, “Don’t you think her winding up dead will be more than a little suspicious?”

“I didn’t say dead. Head injuries are tricky things,” she smirks and winks.

“You’re diabolical,” your smirk matching her own.

She saunters over to you in nothing but her underwear and holsters and straddles you. Taking your face in her hands she kisses you hard, “You love it.”

Honestly, you did. Your hands slide slowly up her muscular thighs before hooking onto her underwear and you nibble her bottom lip.

She groans, “I don’t have time.” You don’t respond, just slide your fingers into the front of the lacy garment. Her head falls back as she grinds against them.

“You sure,” you whisper into the hollow of her collarbones. She shivers, “Can’t stay a few more minutes?”

“I can’t be late,” she says laughing at the look of disappointment on your face. “Tonight.”

“That’s so far away,” you whine playfully as she pulls your hand away and licks her own moisture off your fingers with a wink. A hum of pleasure rumbles in your chest.

“You started this,” she nips at your fingertips. “Deal with it,” she places a quick kiss on your lips before getting up.

“Bitch,” you say with a wink as you fall back on the bed your own hand sliding the zipper of your jeans down.

“Oh hell no!” Natasha pounces on you, pinning your hands by your head. “Don’t you dare.” Her kiss is hungry as her tongue fills your mouth, hot, wet, everything you want. “You had better wait for me,” she whispers into your ear before nibbling at your earlobe.

“Fine,” you sigh out.

As Natasha slips into the sleek black gown your mouth waters. The silhouette perfectly hugs her curves and the plunging neckline is just enough to tease while still remaining tasteful for the event. She catches you taking her in as she slips diamond studs into her ears.

“What do you think?” She asks as you stride over to her, spinning her to place her back against the wall before placing a passionate kiss on her lips.

“I think,” you kiss her once more, “you need to make sure this shit goes fast because if not I may have to crash the party to bring you home.”

“I’ll be sure to inform my colleague of the dire situation.”

“Good,” you kiss her once more. “Be safe.”

“I will.” She pulls away from you and steps into her pumps, grabs her clutch and coat. Tenderly she cups your face in her right hand, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, honey.”

4am, she should be back by now. You sit on the open window, fully dressed and armed, booted foot anxiously bouncing as you smoke your fifth cigarette in a row. You’ve been arguing with yourself for the better part of the last hour.

She had, of course, told you just where the hospital was. You could make it there on foot in less than a half hour. However, if you showed up and blew the mission she would have your ass and not in the way either of you wanted. Part of you didn’t care and wanted to rush in guns blazing. The other was saying you were being a paranoid idiot. Natasha could handle herself.

Sighing you duck back into the room, deciding the latter is right. Let the woman do her job, Y/N. Don’t be the hovering girlfriend. The thought barely finishes crossing your mind when something in the city blows, just powerful enough for the aftershock to rattle the hotel windows.

You bolt to the window, a few car alarms scream and the sky is red in the direction of the hospital.

“No,” you say into the cold night. Without hesitation you swing out onto the fire ladder and climb down, jumping the last few feet too eager to begin sprinting in that direction.

Even though you’re running as fast as you ever have in your entire life it feels like you’re in quicksand. You stick to the back routes, avoiding any emergency vehicles or dispersing crowds. Heart thundering. You’re practically blind with determination.

When you’re close enough to the scene to not only know it was unquestionably the hospital but to smell the fire someone grabs you. Panic surges you. You spin, unthinking. You sweep the assailant's feet from under her and pin her to the ground. It’s only then that you realize that the person covered in ash and blood is Natasha. Tears clearing a path down her cheeks.

“Honey!?” You gasp jumping off her. She sits up trembling, wheezing. “Oh god,” kneeling next to her you begin to check her over, there was so much blood. “Nat…” your hands come way red and black.

“Not,” she tries to suck in a breath and coughs, “mine,” she barely gets out.

“Ok. Ok, that’s good.” You can see the lights from the sirens and hear people far too close for comfort. “Come on,” you help her to her feet noticing that they’re bare, “let’s get to the hotel.”

“No,” she gasps panic filling her face head shaking frantically.

“What? That may not be your blood but bab-“

“They know,” she coughs, loud and violent, “not… not safe.”

You stare at her for a long minute trying to understand what she means by ‘they.’ “Ok. We can’t stay here though.” Her head shakes in agreement. “Different hotel?” She nods yes.

A handful of blocks in the opposite direction of your hotel there’s a questionable inn. You pay the half drunk attendant in cash and sneak Natasha in a few minutes later. She’s gone quiet, distant, her head lolling to one side as you sit her on the bed.

You turn the shower on, brown water spurts from the head concerningly before finally clearing. Steam quickly fills the stall.

“Honey,” you gently turn her face to yours. She looks at you but her eyes are cloudy. It hits you then that you’re not feeling anything from her. Not one single emotion is rising to your senses. Panic fills your stomach.

You will your voice to be steady, you have to be strong for her. “We need to get you cleaned up. Come on, baby.” Gripping her shoulders you guide her up onto her feet. She doesn’t fight you, moving like a living doll.

By the shower, you unzip the back of the now ruined dress and slide it off. Without prompting she steps free and pulls her underwear off as you unbuckle her holsters. Quickly you strip down too and bring her into the stall.

Placing her in the stream you grab a washcloth and begin to tenderly clean the grime from her. As the soot slips down the drain you see the blooming bruises on her face, her body. A few cuts would need stitching you note as rivulets of red seep from them. That was the least of your concerns right now. Still, she had absolutely no emotion, nothing, just a void where there should be… anything. You had seen and felt shock before, this wasn’t that. At least not how you’d ever known it to manifest.

With her as clean as you could get her here you guide her out. Drying her off and wrapping her in a towel before drying yourself off. Still nude you guide her to the bed again and sit her on the edge. You’re about to go dress when her fingers rise to the thick pink scar on your abdomen, lightly tracing it.

“Honey?” You ask softly, unsure how to read this.

“Why?” Her voice is a rasp.

“You know why,” you tilt her face up. “I knew you were worth it.” There’s a quick searing lash of emotion from her, so intense you almost stagger back. It’s too fast for you to even grasp what it is.

“What if you’re wrong?” There’s still no emotion in her words. Hollow.

“I’m not,” you lean down so your face is level with hers, “I am not wrong, Natasha. You’re worth everything to me.” She doesn’t react just stares blankly at you. Sighing you go and get back into your clothes.

She needed clothes, you needed a way to stitch her up, you needed some of the things in your hotel room. In the dirty bathroom mirror, you see her looking at her hands, static-like emotions coming from her. That was at least somewhat better.

Grasping her hands in yours you keep your voice level, “I’m going to go to the hotel,” you expect a fight but her eyes only search yours, “I’ll be careful. But there’s shit there we can’t leave and I need the med kit to stitch you up.” She nods. “I’ll leave you my gun and a knife,” her weapons were likely buried in the rubble of the hospital.

Pushing a few damp strands of hair from her face, “Will you be ok here? Be honest, Natasha.”

“Go,” her voice low. “Sooner the better. Before they have time to get there.” You want to know who this they are but you figure it’s best saved for later.

“Ok,” you kiss her forehead and slip your boots on. “I’ll be back.”

“Y/N,” you turn to her. “I love you.” There’s a whisper of that familiar intoxicating emotion with that word.

You smile, “I love you too, honey.”

At your hotel you climb back up the fire ladder, sending your sixth sense ahead of you to try to sense anyone in the room. It seems clear so you climb back into the window.

Hastily you stuff your duffel bags with the essentials, some clothing, basic toiletries, weapons, and the med kit. You take one last look around the room, the memory of your earlier flirtation filling you with a strange dread, and head out the door.

The whole trip took maybe an hour. As you walk back through the lobby of the inn you notice the front desk guy isn’t there but think nothing of it. At your door, you softly knock.

“It’s me, honey,” you wait, thinking she’ll open it but there’s nothing. Swallowing the bile rising in your throat you quietly set the bags down and pull your Ka-Bar out before slowly unlocking the door.

Your senses don’t pick up on anyone. There are no lingering ghosts of emotion from a struggle and everything is just as you left it. Methodically you open the closet, look under the bed, but there’s nowhere else for someone to be in this tiny room. She’s just gone.

On the little notepad by the phone, you notice writing that was not there before. One word.

Sorry.

[believerindaydreams]

the day after

that is, Ash Wednesday. Tuco has a long day. 

It’s hard finding a chance to talk to Pablo alone, amongst the rituals of the day, but Tuco finally corners him in a stray moment between masses. “I know I said to trust him, but- why trust Angel Eyes?”

“Because you said to,” Pablo says, wearily. “And I had no better ideas. Because if this devil who loves you so much wants to take you home, I don’t know it’s my place to tell him no. With my work, what you two share looks like a clean thing.“

It occurs to Tuco that his brother is labouring under several misapprehensions; but it doesn’t matter so much. “It’s not me he loves, it’s Blondie. Angel’s a gentleman, you know, so he prefers...”

“You always would make a joke of it, whenever a girl asked after you,” Pablo says. “Don’t think you have me fooled, little brother.”

“- after all this time, why can’t I lie to you any better than this? You know how much practice I’ve had at it?”

“Only when it didn’t matter to you. Teachers, police officers, but not people you cared about. Not people you love.” 

Given the tangled disaster that’s his relationship with both Angel and Blondie, that says- that says- 

that says there is a good reason why he hasn’t been back to see his brother in nine years, is what. Bastard. 

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

“So how was it, Blondie?” It’s one thing letting the two of them have their pity fuck; but he’d like to hear all the juicy details. “What you two got up to in the gatehouse last night.”

“He told me he’ll be waiting for me, if I happen to slip,” Blondie says, sober and somewhat wan. “Ready to take me away, and close the gate behind me.”

Maybe expecting crude details was too much, but this is something too. “And you told him what?”

“That the day I went with an avowed murderer, I’d consider myself damned for sure and certain.”

“But- Blondie, I thought...” He remembers this moment; remembers it with utter broken clarity, blood on Blondie and none on Angel and the desert dust getting in his mouth, as they stood outside a contemptible diner. “What Angel Eyes said. When you two were going your separate ways, and I had to decide who to be with, I thought he said you were a killer too.”

If there was blood on both our hands, would it make a difference? 

And Blondie nodding, eager to take the guilt upon his head- and he’d followed, afraid for what his partner would do if left alone. Whereas Angel Eyes seemed to have long since made his peace with that. 

“I never said that,” Blondie says quickly. “Not ever. If you believed Angel’s lies about that, you’re a bigger fool than I ever realised.”

Maybe he is, sure; but he has no doubts about his instincts, awareness for things unspoken. Everything he recollects says that Blondie wanted him to think so, liked the idea of being thought worse and more terrible than he is. Playing at being an elegant assassin, not the classless, penny-ante hayseed he’s always been trying to get away from. 

“So you’re staying here, then. Even once your wound’s healed.”

“Of course we’re staying here,” Blondie says. The sharpness with which it’s said, as though he’d questioned a long-settled decision...maybe, Tuco worries, his instincts aren’t so good as he thought. 

“But you still slept together, no?” he ventures. 

“If it keeps him here and not murdering more people, I’m doing God’s work.”

Only Blondie. Only Blondie would have to construct a whole theological justification, just to enjoy the satisfaction of a shameless fuck...

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

He makes his way to the gatehouse after dark, as surreptitiously as possible. Angel’s request aside, it seems like a good idea to not let on to people that he has a free pass in here.  

This is a place he remembers from last time he was here, an occasional haven for crying jags or rat-hunting. One thing anyone would have to say for his brother’s tenureship, there are certainly fewer vermin running around the place now. (The four-legged kind, at least.) 

Still, there’s a difference between clean and being homely, and it startles Tuco, to see how much softness has been imposed on the harsh Wisconsin granite. There are decorative hangings, hooked rugs on the floor; everything has the gracious simplicity of wealth that needn’t show off. The wall separating the kitchen from the winter room has disappeared; the back wall is hidden behind a set of cherrywood bookcases, heavily laden. A rich, thick scent of soup fills the air, chicken and too much rosemary; his mouth waters. 

“You managed all this in a day? It looks like you’ve been here for years.”

“Money works miracles,” Angel Eyes says. He’s bent over the sink, washing pots in a flurry of cheerful suds; it’s a disorientating sight. “I had quite a few people in here, to get it fixed up quickly. Last thing I did to blow my fortune in a hurry.”

A wave of hot, overwhelmed dizziness rolls over him; Tuco finds himself blessing a priceless crushed-velvet sofa, for giving him somewhere to collapse. “Everything? The house, all of it?”

“All of it. Vende et da pauperibus, et veni sequere me...count yourself a very convincing hustler,” Angel Eyes calls. “With Blondie as determined as he is to play the saint, and you having gone and got religion, what else was I going to do?”

“...what you do?”

“Oh, I could go back to that,” Angel Eyes says reflectively. “Or I could stay on here, making soup, frightening the locals, teasing the ever-lasting life out of that blonde-haired angel. You wake up one day, calculate how many times you’ve killed men in the exact same tedious fashion....no, I think this is an arrangement that might suit me just fine.” He dries his hands on a towel. “And it should be interesting to find out, whether you have any affection for me that isn’t just cupboard love. Door’s over there, I won’t be offended either way.”

“I don’t know.” Damn it, he doesn’t; but on the other hand he’s not sure he’d even make it to the door without passing out. He stays put. 

“Fair enough,” Angel Eyes says, a smile playing around his lips. He dries his hands on a cloth, comes over to sit behind him on the sofa arm. The ideal position to run a hand under his collar, it turns out: hot and slightly damp against his flesh. “I could suggest a few ways of passing the time, while you’re chewing it over.”

A vague recollection of what he’s doing here returns to him; that Angel’s notion of giving up everything is still a lot more comfortable than the situation he’s landed in, a cold bed and a cold room and no one to share it with. “Por qu�� carajo no?” 

“Gracias,” Angel Eyes says; with such politeness it’d surprise him, if he had any energy left for shock. “Blondie tells me he’s given up fucking for Lent. I can see how we might be keeping each other company a fair bit in the next forty days.”

“Mine was cigarettes,“ Tuco says. His voice still sounds normal to him, just about; unlike his vision filling up with stars. But then he needs his voice for hustling, the other’s just him. “I said to him, at least I can tell my brother what it is I’m giving up...”

“Doesn’t he know?”

“Maybe. Probably. It’d be embarrassing, to need to say it.” He closes his eyes in the hopes that’ll steady him; instead it just feels like he’s sinking into blackness, on an endless giddy fall. Quickly he opens them again, grasps Angel’s hand in both his own; maybe the right kind of intimacy will cover for weakness. 

He does like Angel Eyes, and what’s worse he’s curious about the man, and in any case he is not going to admit to being badly thrown, not when this situation’s been so perfectly engineered for his humiliation. Maybe that’s Blondie’s rubbing off on him. Or pride. Hell, that’s probably the same thing. 

Fortunately, Angel Eyes is fond of his subtle intricacies, ropes and knives and classy fetishes that do not, as far as Tuco’s concerned, have a damn thing to do with sex; what they mostly require is a great deal of passivity and the patience not to get bored with the whole thing before they get to the good parts. Right now, that’s just perfect. He waits it out, encouraging his partner to linger over the process, tells himself to sell the trembling as eroticism instead of exhaustion. Sex is not a hustle for him, never has been; but he’s always vaguely wondered whether he could pull it off. From the way Angel Eyes takes him, slow yielding strokes, the answer is yes. 

(It’s being with someone, he reminds himself. It’s warm.)

By the time they’re on to the action scenes, he has enough breath back to handle topping. Angel Eyes has a decided preference for playing bottom (probably for all sorts of tedious psychological reasons; he should find a ghost writer to flog their perversions in a tell-all); and once he’s seen his partner through, it’s almost too easy to finish up himself. Inconvenient sometimes, having a kink for dangerous situations; inconvenient, but it saves trouble now he’s in one. 

And then they’re done and he can finally black out, gracias a Dios...

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

When he comes to, he’s alone on the sofa; Angel Eyes has drawn a rocking chair close, a stiff, stern piece softened by fluffy cushions. Between them the coffee table bears a hefty dish of soup, also bread to dip in it. His stomach growls uncontrollably. 

“You’re hungry. Eat.“

Tuco grabs an overflowing bowl, shoves a spoon in eagerly; then pauses. “What time is it?”

“Just past eleven. You’ve been asleep quite a while.”

Not quite long enough. “Then I’ll have to put this aside an hour...it’s still Ash Wednesday, I can’t eat yet. Fasting, you know.”

“You are just about the worst Catholic I’ve ever met, except for all the other ones,” Angel Eyes says, looking him up and down with his usual uncannily encompassing stare. “You stick to the rules, every fast day?”

“There’s an exemption for travelers,” Tuco says, putting the bowl down with reluctance. “Maybe sometimes I prodded Blondie into making sure we hit the road, that day...but I didn’t have a good excuse this time. Believe me, as soon as the clock hits midnight I’ll be only too glad to do this justice.”

“Now I would never do such a thing,” Angel Eyes says, “and it makes me curious that you would. Deliberately making yourself vulnerable, just to pay respects to a god you’re generally indifferent to.”

“Following the rules, sometimes that’s easier than thinking about them- you should know that yourself. You thought I’d go to a mass that my own brother’s celebrating, with a full belly?”

“Yes,” Angel Eyes says; and allows just enough certitude into his tone, to make the confession sound contrite. “I thought you wrote that letter just for family’s sake, not believing a word of what you were saying. One of your vaunted hustles. Calling you out for hypocrisy would have been an amusing capstone for the night.”

“You mean, you didn’t give up everything like you said?” He wishes he didn’t sound so hopeful; but that can’t be helped. 

“Oh no, I did,” Angel Eyes assures him. “Blondie.”

Right. Yes. He might as well be sixteen again, hungry and lonely and trying to keep himself warm on dreams of deserts...

“You know, I ought to have remembered sooner,” Angel Eyes says. “This watch of mine is an hour slow. That makes it well past midnight.“

Tuco glares at him. 

“You’re a guest in my house. I’d consider it a breach of politeness, to doubt my word on the matter.”

He thinks about it, for maybe three seconds; then grabs the bowl to start eagerly shoveling it down. Angel Eyes hasn’t lost his touch; the soup is dark, substantial, slightly spicy (if that in itself wasn’t a blessing, after so much bland northern cooking). Not a bit of elegance about it, this is exactly what he needs right now. 

“Why soup?” he asks. Once he’s scoffed enough that the lingering silence and being stared at becomes more of an issue, than satisfying his hunger. “When Blondie suggested things, or when I did, you never minded. But when we left it up to you it was always soup.”

“Stick to what you’re good at,“ Angel Eyes says. “A motto I’ve always lived by...which makes me wonder just how long you planned to stay here.”

“It’s not so bad here. I don’t have to think, I don’t have to lie.”

“You enjoy lying,“ Angel Eyes points out. He takes up the bread knife, starts cutting thin slices to dip and eat. “You would be very bored, if you didn’t have any complexities to lighten your existence.”

“Maybe I would like being bored, for a change.”

“Maybe it’ll do you good, to carry on an illicit affair requiring you to tiptoe around praying monks and make excuses for your absences. It wasn’t just Blondie I was thinking of, with this arrangement...I know what you think,” Angel Eyes murmurs. “That he’s broken and it fascinates me, that he loves me out of anguish and I take him the same way. So we do. That doesn’t mean I want nothing else out of life.”

“If you say you want me because I’m soft,” Tuco says, “you get this soup in your face, that’s all.”

“Call it sanity,” Angel Eyes says; and Tuco just about manages not to let his mouth drop open. “Not a usual quality in your profession or mine. You don’t want too much, just what it takes to be content yourself. You like risks, but not suicidal ones. A man like Blondie, who fools himself into head-on madness and can’t remember at the end of the day just what he hoped for in the first place, I can find that type easily enough. But you’re like me...” the smile is genuine, if a little thin. “And I’m egotistical enough to enjoy a man, who reminds me of myself.”

“I think I get it,” Tuco says eventually. “You like me, because I like your soup.”

“It’s good soup.”

“That’s true.” 

He can’t remember the last time he was feeling this content, secure, maybe just plain happy- oh yes he can, it was the last time he was at Angel’s house. And the man’s an idiot for giving that up, but trying to get through to Blondie isn’t an easy job. He can see why an amateur might see the need for an over-zealous gesture, in order to sell the lie.

Truth. Whichever. 

A clock chimes in the corner, twelve times: Valentine’s Day. Tuco gestures at it, rolls his eyes; Angel Eyes just shrugs. He reaches under the table, for a black ribbon-wrapped box.   

“And since you’re not soft, I won’t up and give you these, but you could buy them off me with an answer. I think they’d be to your taste. Truffles, dusted in Mexican chocolate.”

This kind of teasing, now he doesn’t mind that with a good meal inside him. “So now you want to interrogate me, eh? You’re very greedy.”

“Maybe so...why didn’t you tell me to stop earlier? It was a good performance, it had me fooled at the time, but I wouldn’t have put you to all the effort today if you’d mentioned fasting.” 

“What, I should have told you no?”

“if you wanted me to stop, you should have,” Angel Eyes says. 

It’s not that simple, Tuco wants to say; it is never that simple, and if you think power works that way you are an idiot. 

However, he’s not simple, so he doesn’t say it. “Maybe I am also greedy...and a little lazy, too. You might have to come over here, feed me those chocolates one by one.”

“It’s been a very long time,” Angel Eyes says, “since anybody ordered me around. I don’t even let Blondie do that.”

“Then it’ll be good for you...”

(He’s so full and comfortable, he falls asleep on Angel’s lap before they’re halfway through the box.)

[brckenwords-blog]

when we get home (it won’t be home at all)

who: EJ Downes & Scarlett Greene verse: always the tone of surprise

<p>EJ stood in front of the mirror, struggling with his tie. On a good day, wearing a tie was one of his least favorite things to do, second only to tying one. This was not a good day. Under the satin noose looped around his neck was a scratchy bandage covering his stitches. Stitches that would scar white along his throat and down past the collar of his shirt. For the rest of his life. 

<p><i>(Raining glass.)</i>

<p>His right hand arm was useless, in a cast and a sling, making the tying of his tie an even more frustrating process. His broken bone throbbed against his chest, reminding him that pain wasn’t something that just went away because of a little white pill in a little orange bottle. 

<p><i>(Burning metal.)</i>

<p>His face was bruised too, nothing to be done about that. Just a mass of dark purple and swirls of angry red against the blue of his right eye. He looked like shit. And he scoffed at himself, disgusted. Really, he should be grateful. It wasn’t his funeral he had to wear a tie for. Out of the four people in the car that night, he hadn’t been the one who died. 

<p><i>(“Not the kids!”)</i>

<p>Scarlett had been driving even though it was his car. Aaron and Cyrus sat in the back seat, saying their last goodbyes before Cyrus had to leave the country. He was a wanted fugitive, a literal government spy who was about to be burned for knowing just a little too much about his country. EJ didn’t ask too many questions; neither had Scarlett. All they knew is that Aaron asked them for their help and for Aaron, who had already lost his parents, they would do anything. That’s what best friends did. They helped each other, no matter what.

<p>There was no way Scarlett could have seen the car coming. EJ definitely didn’t, too focused on watching Scarlett and her laser-focus on weaving through traffic to get to the private airport as quickly as possible. What EJ did see was just a blinding white light before an explosion of black.

<p>He heard all the screams though. Aaron’s scream for Cyrus. Cyrus’s scream for Aaron. Scarlett’s wordless scream of terror. His own, as if not his own, in pain.

<p>The car hit them on his side, pinning his arm painfully and wrongly between the mangled door and his own body weight. His head had broken the window and glass was in everything he tried to look at, blinking blood out of his eyes. Scarlett had crawled towards him, underneath him somehow, her hands on his neck. Aaron was pulling himself out of another broken window.

<p><i>(A day later, EJ figured out that the car had been upside down.)</i>

<p>He tried to look at Scarlett, who was saying something to him. But her hands kept his neck turned at a weird angle and he watched Aaron stumble toward two men fighting. One fell to the ground. They other stood on his chest. 

<p>“Aaron-” EJ tried to shout. He remembered that. He wished he hadn’t. Scarlett turned just in time to see the gun go off. To see a man shoot another man. To watch someone die.

<p><i>(Two days later, EJ remember Cyrus, on the ground, pleading that the kids be left alone. That they didn’t know. That he’d go with him if he’d leave the kids alone. Leave Aaron. Please. Please. They’re just kids, they’re just-)</i>

<p>Aaron had tackled the other guy. Stupid. So fucking stupid. Scarlett was crying, screaming for him to stop but she never left EJ. And EJ… he just started at the gun that had fallen to the ground in front of him. Barrell at his nose.

<p><i>(Five days later, the night before last, he remembered the blood on Scarlett’s hands as she kept her fingers pressed to the cut on his neck. Not quite his jugular, but no one knew that then. She’d saved his life. He woke up in a cold sweat, shaking.)</i>

<p>Today was Cyrus’s funeral. He hadn’t seen Aaron since he’d come into EJ’s hospital room, quiet. Like a ghost. Just appeared, squeezed his shoulder, and left. But he’d be here today, for the quiet little funeral where he would bury Cyrus next to the mother and father Aaron had never known. Cyrus might have helped but now he was gone too. How unfair it was, EJ though numbly, that Aaron never had a chance to really love anyone. 

<p>There was a soft knock at this door and EJ made some kind of grunting noise that pulled at his throat. He wasn’t even sure it was loud enough for anyone else to hear but they must have because Scarlett was suddenly there. Soft and gentle as she closed the door behind her, looking for once as small as the world clearly wanted her to be. 5’ 3” and slim as a branch, as his mother would say, she was the kind of girl that should have been quiet and unnoticed. Instead she was loud and bright, with the confidence of an Amazon. 

<p>Just not today.

<p>“Hi,” she said. Her dress was not quite black, he noticed, as she tugged at the hem. “I wanted to come see you.”

<p>“Hmm,” he nodded, staring at anything but the bruises on Scarlett’s chest. From the seat belt, they said. It looked like rot from the inside, he thought; he hated them on her. “I hate this tie.”

<p>She stepped between him and the mirror, her fingers making it look easy as she finished the knot. He couldn’t keep himself from staring at her cracked fingernails, usually so perfect. There was a small cut on her forehead too. Every day, every minute, he swore he found another injury on her. And if Aaron had been gone completely, it was like Scarlett had never left his side at all. And suddenly, he wondered if Aaron blamed them somehow. Like maybe if EJ had a better car. Or if Scarlett hadn’t been driving. And what if-

<p>“Too tight?” she asked after he made a choking sound. She loosened it before he could answer her and he was glad for it. Because he might have asked her if… if she thought the same things he did. Maybe she blamed herself. Which would be even worse.

<p>“Your eye looks better today,” she said, matter-of-factly as she brushed her hand against his cheek. “Definitely less red.”

<p>“Thanks,” he muttered, flexing the fingers that poked out of his casted hand, still feeling nothing but numb. “You too.”

<p>That was a lie, but only because he was positive he’d break down if he thought about how he thought she really looked. Scarlett being hurt was the worst thing in the world to him. He hadn’t known that about himself until a week ago.

<p>“I look like shit,” she scoffed, and the amount of venom dripping from her actually made him look up in surprise. “And what’s worse is I hate it. I hate this. It’s a funeral we’re going to and I just spent the last hour trying to do my makeup in a way that covered all of this-”

<p>She waved her hand frantically around her face, drawing attention to the bruises and he winced. She’d seen him because she scoffed again. “And for what? For nothing. And this dress isn’t appropriate at all. The back is too low and it’s navy. It’s blue, EJ. I’m wearing a blue dress to a funeral because I didn’t like the black one. How vain is that? How stupidly girly is that and I-”

<p>EJ realized she wasn’t really complaining about herself. She wasn’t this superficial. What she was was panicked and out of control of herself and the only thing she could do was tear herself apart because it was better than admitting she was hurt and suffering and at a complete loss of what to do. It was better than admitting she was like him. Scared and worried and numb and traumatized in a way that 16 year olds should never be. And since words were her weapons, her sharp and shiny knives, and she had nothing to point them at, she pointed them at herself. Cutting deep as if to make it better.

<p>He reached for her with his only good hand, pulling her to his chest as she started crying into his shirt. It wasn’t comfortable. The buckles of his sling bit into his arm and he was sure the rough canvas was grating against her broken skin. But she didn’t move and he held her as best he could. He’d never been the one to say the right thing. But he could try to calm her by holding her, hoping that she could hear him in his actions instead. 

<p>She had to know this wasn’t her fault. She had to know that no one was going to care about the navy blue of her dress. That Aaron definitely didn’t blame her because Aaron never blamed her for anything. And EJ was so grateful for her. That he was still here because of her. So he could be with her. That she mattered so much more than him.

<p>“I like the dress,” he whispered softly after awhile when her sobs had quieted down. She looked gently up at him, brushing her nose against his jaw as she did. And she smiled. Not a big smile, or a good one. It was still sad. Small and sad, but she sighed and he could practically feel how she shuddered as she breathed. Her breath next to his.

<p>Her lips were salty when they touched his. She wasn’t crying, but if even if he hadn’t seen her cry a second ago, he might have guessed it because of how she tasted. And then he realized, with a startling clarity he hadn’t had in days, that she was kissing him. She’d never done that before. She’d never tried before, even pretended that she wanted to.

<p>He kissed her back once her hand hooked around his shoulder, using it to pull herself up. And he stumbled a little forward, trying to move his hand to her face, to find something to hold onto. But she stumbled with him and her back hit the mirror and that seemed to pull her out of it. She pulled away, her hand covering her mouth. 

<p>“Oh god,” she cried, new tears in her eyes and for a brief second, she looked horrified. But then just as quickly - and he’d seen her do this before, seen here brain work fast as it tidied everything up until only The Most Important Thing was left - she straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat.

<p>“We’re supposed to leave for the church in five minutes,” she said, strangely calm. “Your mom is already there with Aaron so your dad is driving us. And Rosie.”

<p>“O-okay,” EJ stuttered, unrecovered as she turned and walked out the door. Like nothing had happened.

<p>Hours and hours later, the funeral over, he and Aaron had gotten drunk and poured their hearts out to each other. But EJ didn’t mention Scarlett and now he just lay awake in his king bed as Aaron snored on the other side of it. Aaron deserved the sleep. EJ was just glad he was back. That he’d be staying before the state made him go home to his foster family for the rest of the summer.

<p>Scarlett would be staying with EJ and his family. And in less than three months, they’d be back at boarding school. All three of them together. But EJ knew things were different now. Things had changed in a way no one could take back. Cyrus’s death had been a catalyst for that.

<p>And he could hear Scarlett crying again. He wasn’t sure how. She was two doors down on the other side of the hallway, but he could hear her even if no one else seemed to. So EJ got up, his breath caught in the bandage on his neck and his arm too heavy to do anything but gather a dull pain, he inched her door open. She sat up immediately, heaving a great sigh when she realized it was him. Inching over in her own borrowed bed as he sat down next to her.

<p>“I suppose you want to talk,” she whispered, hugging her knees.

<p>“No,” he whispered back and she gazed at him quizzically. 

<p>“You don’t want to- about…” she trailed off.

<p>“No,” he replied and hoped she understood that he was okay with it. He didn’t understand it at all, not really, but it had happened and he was okay with it. Whatever it meant, whatever it didn’t, whether it happened again or never. 

<p>“Elijah,” she smiled, now resting her head on his shoulder and she breathed deeply. “Sorry. EJ.”

<p>“Elijah is okay,” he admitted, then quickly amended, “for you. Once.”

<p>“Okay,” she repeated. “Once.”

<p>He stayed until she almost fell asleep but since he couldn’t get her under the covers on his own, he prodded her just enough to do it herself; but with his good hand, he smoothed her hair back and leaned down to kiss her forehead. He kissed her mouth instead just as she whispered “goodnight”.

<p>He fell asleep next to Aaron that night. But instead of dreaming of the gun, the car, the bruises and the blood, EJ dreamt of Scarlett. 

[shysweetthing]

I love your financial posts. I am curious what your opinion is on items other than clothes and cars, as far as how much to spend? Like food, kitchen/household supplies, technology, furniture, so on? Like I got that brand names/aesthetics are pretty low priority for you compared to longevity/maintenance, but like, where do you draw the line and for what sort of things? What if it's something that needs time rather than cash to fix, for example a knife that dulls easily?

These are huge categories of things, and there is no real rule for “how much to spend” because it depends on who you are, what you need, how much money you have, and what you’re trying to accomplish.

If you have not surmised from my fics containing thousand word recipes and various posts on eggs and cooking with dashi, and perhaps the first chapter of the fic I just posted which lovingly detailing a perfectly coursed breakfast menu, I really, really like food. And cooking. And food.

I have strong feelings about kitchen equipment and food, PARTICULARLY knives. (I have strong feelings about most things, but particularly strong feelings about food-related things). I also have an unusual amount of kitchen gadgetry–if you read my onsen katsudon post, you’ll realize that I have an immersion circulator, for instance. So I obviously am not going to preach extreme sparsity in the kitchen.

So…massive post about kitchen gadgets and food below the jump.

Random thoughts on kitchen gadgets!

Unless you’re a chef, you don’t need a knife set; you need ONE EXTREMELY GOOD CHEF’S KNIFE. 70% of the knives in any given knife block don’t get used, and 20% only get used because the one knife you do use isn’t clean. Don’t put it in the dishwasher. Don’t let it jostle around in the random crap drawer and get the edge jostled. Hone it on a regular basis. You need to get your knife sharpened when it gets dull (every year or so), and this costs like maybe $7-12. This is the holy grail of knives, but this will do.

It is worth it to pay money for a good knife. Good knives make cooking easier by about eleventy billion percent. Good knives also mean you use less pressure while cooking, which means you’re less likely to cut yourself and have to go to the ER for stitches–an outcome that would probably swamp any savings you might have on the actual knife itself.

It is also worth it to watch some basic YouTube videos on knife skills for that same reason. (As a general rule, buy kitchen equipment at your skill level, not above it.)

By contrast, there is a lot of kitchen equipment that quite a few people actually really don’t need–food processors and stand mixers come to mind. Yes, many people use some of these things some of the time, and some people use some of these things all the time. But if you would only ever use your fancy KitchenAid stand mixer to make whipped cream twice a year, I have a horrifying suggestion for you: get a wire whisk and whip your cream by hand. It really doesn’t take as long as you think it will.

Likewise, food processors–I guess some people use these all the time? But many people get food processors because they should have them, and rarely use them, if ever, because it turns out that while they may chop things faster they’re a lot harder to clean than a knife, and if you have a good knife and decent knife skills, unless you’re cooking for a bloody army, you don’t need it and aren’t going to use it. At the fast and small end, you can use them for home-making pesto, which is definitely useful, but if you have a good blender you can do it there, too.

Here’s my set of kitchen gadgets that I use on a semi-regular basis: blender, rice cooker, waffle iron, immersion circulator. Some people will ditch the immersion circulator in favor of a slow cooker; most rice cookers double as slow cookers. I also have a travel rice cooker that I bring on business trips.

I started with really super-basic versions of all of these things, and then, as those super-basic versions gave up the ghost, replaced them one-by-one, first with really decent medium-quality versions of themselves, and then, as those lasted longer, with the holy grail versions. 

Random thoughts about food

Food spending is something I have only recently started to get a handle on, in large part because food is such a deep and emotional subject. I’m still not all the way there, but I’ve learned a lot in the last couple of years, and maybe the things I have learned will be helpful to others.

I’m going to beg your pardon for going into emotional things that may not seem relevant here, but I for me–and possibly for others, which is why I’m detailing it here–spending the right amount of money on food has been very closely related to my emotional relationship with food.

Food is very important. Money is a consideration in purchasing food, but it is not the only consideration. Food is the source of health. You need to be eating a properly balanced diet. If you aren’t, you’ll get tired more easily. You’ll feel sick. You’ll be more prone to developing certain diseases. These things are costly, and you need to take them into consideration.

Food is also (very often) a social activity. It is a time for families and friends to get together and talk about their day. It is (for me) an expression of love–something I can do for the people I care about that shows my caring, because I absolutely hate having to express myself verbally on these kinds of points. One of the ways that I personally say “I care about you” is to spend seventeen hours perfecting a recipe just so I can make something that is utterly delicious. This is particularly true for some members of my family with food sensitivities/dietary restrictions–being able to make delicious things that they would never imagine they could eat just see the look on their face makes me really, really happy.

Food is an emotional activity. Tastes can tap into memories. They can bring up nostalgia. They can bring up bad memories. Eating can be comfort; it can also be a way to hurt yourself.

What you put into yourself is very, very important–it should taste good, nourish you, and feed your soul. I just really, really believe in food, okay?

But. Our society sends us so many bullshit messages about food and our relationship with it. People get told that they can’t eat fats, or carbs, or this kind of meat, or soy protein, and if you eat too much you’re doing it wrong and if you eat too little you’re doing it wrong, and if you spend too much on food you’re an avocado-toast devouring wastrel who will never own a home, and if you spend too little on food you deserve the health disaster that is inevitably coming your way.

Over the course of my life, society and an array of health/diet-oriented books told me that my body was my enemy and the only way to transcend it was to ignore what it was telling me–to ignore hunger, to ignore cravings, to ignore the emotional response food brings in me, to treat these things as pariah, and to see myself as a weak, bad person because I hunger, crave, and respond emotionally.

Over the last couple of years, I’ve started working specifically with a food therapist, and I’ve started to unravel some of this. It has been a deeply emotional process.

And so let me say, with all the love I have in me, FUCK THIS SHIT. My body is not the enemy. Food is not the enemy. And yes, this is relevant to spending–learning to love myself and my relationship with food instead of hate it has helped me save money.

You’ll see why in a little bit.

A couple of years ago, I sat down to figure out how to spend less on food. At the time, I was spending an absolutely ridiculous amount on food–something like $125/week per person. (I’m going to use this as the measure of food–$$/week/person–because it’s most generalizable across the board. I think the national average is something like $50/week/person.) While this wasn’t breaking my budget, I have depressive episodes that really dampen my productivity and earning capacity, and I knew I was due for one, and *cough* I figured it would behoove me to tighten the budget where I could as much as possible.

That meant I had to figure out my pain points in food. At first blush, my thought was–I shouldn’t spend much less money than this, this is the kind of food I should be eating. I was buying lots of vegetables–organic, for the ones where it makes a big different. I bought organic meat, because it’s not laden with antibiotics. Et cetera.

Then I noticed a second thing: I was throwing out a lot of food.

Sure, I was making use of some of it. But I didn’t want to spend time cooking every day, and so I didn’t. Worse, I was purchasing the food I thought I should eat, and not the food I wanted to eat–meaning that my motivation to actually sit down and prepare the food I thought I should eat was weak, and so instead of making the planned uninspiring meal for the day, I would tell myself, “oh, I’ll make that for tomorrow” and then I’d get pizza.

In other words, I was lying to myself about what I actually wanted to eat, because I felt I should eat a certain way. Because I was lying to myself, I was spending money buying food that I was only ever going to hypothetically eat. Spending money for something that is going to get tossed is not a good financial decision. Because I couldn’t admit that I was lying to myself and didn’t want to eat the food I was purchasing, I was eating out more, which is both expensive and rather less healthy than just being fucking honest in the first place.

One additional thing that is specific to me, but that other people share, is this–even if I picked food I liked, and wanted to make, and usually would make, if I was having a really bad week depression-wise, I would not be arsed to take the 45 minutes to prepare it because depression sucks. This meant I was buying food while depressed that there was no chance in hell I would make.

In other words, the fundamental reason I was spending so much money on food is that I was buying food for a different person than I was. To fix the problem, I had to figure out who I was, and how to buy food for me and not this hypothetical always-health-conscious, never-makes-a-mistake, always-cooks-every-meal person I was pretending to be.

It’s taken me about eighteen months to get to the point where I have a food strategy that works for me. Here’s what I’ve come to as my guiding principles.

1. I deserve to eat food I want to eat.2. I deserve to eat well-balanced meals with a variety of foods.3. While I occasionally like going all out on cooking, I mostly want to spend about ten minutes on dinner prep because nobody has time for that shit on a regular basis.

My strategy has basically three components for me, but it will vary for everyone because what you like to eat is…up to you.

Component One: Protein.

I like eating meat. I particularly like fatty meats–chicken thighs over breasts, what have you. But I don’t need to, or even want to, eat a lot of it.

Solution: What I do is prepare meats in large quantity, and then portion them out into three to four ounce per person servings, and then freeze these. Thus, for instance, I’ll braise an entire lamb leg very slowly, and then weigh it into meal-sized bags. Or I’ll make a giant pot of butter chicken. Or turn a butt-roast into carnitas. Or cut up chicken thighs into pieces, and put three ounces per person into bags and freeze them. Or I’ll simmer several pounds of pork belly into chashu pork (https://www.justonecookbook.com/homemade-chashu/) and then set it aside in two ounce servings for person–two ounces because it is SO fatty that the satiety from a few ounces goes a very long way.

The night before, I take whatever it is I’m going to be making and move it from the freezer to the fridge.

Then for dinner, I microwave it. Or, in the case of the chicken thighs, turn on the oven broiler, skewer the chicken pieces, and make yakitori (recipe here: https://www.justonecookbook.com/yakitori/). Or, toss it into ramen broth. Or sometimes I’ll just scramble a bunch of eggs because eggs are delicious.

Things that go in the freezer are things that take 2-10 minutes of prep, max.

Three ounces is enough to satisfy me; two minutes is enough time that I don’t have to think about it.

At this point, I have a Costco membership, which means I can buy organic meat in bulk. That helps lower the price on things substantially.

Component Two: Fruits and vegetables.

I also like eating fruits and vegetables. That being said, I like variety, and unless you’re feeding an army, it takes freaking forever to get through the general amount of vegetables you can purchase from the store.

Solution: What I do is pick 3-4 vegetable side dishes every week. The rules are that the side dishes must vary in color and preparation method, and that I have to want to eat them.

So, for instance, this week my side dishes are: Quick salt-pickled cucumbers (these are pickled, and they’re green). Seasoned soy bean sprouts (these are blanched/boiled, and they’re white and yellow). Stir-fried eggplant (Using this recipe, http://www.koreanbapsang.com/2011/09/gaji-bokkeum-stir-fried-eggplants.html; these are purple). And a tomato salad seasoned with olive oil and red yuzu kosho (these are red and raw).

I also get fruits of different colors, too. The rules are the same–I have to get things I like. This week I have navel oranges and these utterly delicious peony grapes that make me want to break down and weep every time I eat them. It’s usually ¼ of an orange per person + about ½ handful of grapes at the end of each meal.

Component Three: Rice.

Look, I’m Asian, and yes, it’s stereotypical, but steamed rice is delicious and people have been eating it forever around the world, and plus, if you have a programmable rice cooker you can set it up way ahead of time and boom, rice is ready right at dinner time.

Here’s how a typical week works.

I do most of the work on Saturday.

On Saturday, I assess the state of my freezer. Do I need to add anything to my store of meals? If so, I’ll put that first on my list for the week. Sometimes I won’t need to add anything. I’ll round everything else out on the basis of what I have in there. My projected meals will look something like this: lamb / eggs / carnitas / pork belly ramen / yakitori / butter chicken / mapo tofu

I’ll also figure out my vegetable side dishes, and list all the ingredients needed to make them.

I go shopping. I come home. If I need to make something to add to the freezer, I make it. While I’m doing that, I also make my three to four vegetable side dishes and set them in the freezer. (I also make miso soup and some extra dashi; here’s why I make dashi.)

The assessment, planning, shopping, cooking, and parceling out the food I’ve just made takes me around 3-4 hours.

Thereafter, the production of dinner on every day other than Saturday looks like this:

Put whatever protein I have in the microwave/under the broiler/etc.Put rice in a bowl.Add small bits of vegetable side dishes to the bowl on top of the rice, taking up approximately 2/3rds of surface area.Put now finished protein on top of rice. Put on table.Microwave miso soup. Add seaweed to it. Plonk on table.Wash/cut fruit; put on plate.Take things for tomorrow’s dinner out of freezer and put it in fridge.

Dinner now takes approximately 3 minutes of morning prep to set up the rice, and 2-10 minutes to assemble. It consists of some kind of protein, rice, tons of vegetables, miso soup, and fruit.

There is a crapload of variety. It’s delicious. It’s nutritious. I don’t have so much of any one vegetable on my plate at any one time that I get tired of it, and I rotate weekly.

I have other things I do for variety’s sake–for instance, I made a huge quantity of this (https://www.justonecookbook.com/vegetarian-ramen/) up until just before the point where you add the soy milk, and then froze this in tiny packets as ramen base. Now if I want incredibly fucking delicious ramen, all I need to do is take my bag of ramen base out of the fridge, add soy milk and dashi, boil frozen ramen, add pork belly and a bunch of vegetables, and boom. FUCKING DELICIOUS RAMEN.

I’ll also sometimes make katsudon, because katsudon. And so forth.

In terms of cost, because I’m using the vegetables I buy for all the meals, I’m not buying a cabbage and throwing about ¾ of it because damn it is hard to eat an entire cabbage. (I grew up in a family of nine, and it was not hard for us to eat an entire cabbage then, but I am not currently in a family of nine.) Because I’m buying organic meat in bulk, I’m paying as little as possible for it, and because I’m freezing it until just before I use it, I’m not wasting it.

At this point, I probably only have to make a replacement for something in the fridge approximately once every 2 weeks. I’m eating better than I’ve ever eaten before. I’m eating out much less. On those weeks when I’m struggling with depression/have heavier workloads than most, I don’t even bother to try and replenish the freezer stuff, and I go to the Korean grocery store (I’m lucky enough to have one near me) and instead of making my side dishes, I just grab a handful of their pre-made ones, because my strategy is flexible enough to allow me to be the person I am on a regular basis.

The first few weeks when I started doing this, my costs–because I was putting two sets of things in the freezer every week, and because I had no freezer meals to draw off of–were fairly high, probably like $75/week/person, which is still higher than the national average, but less than I was spending before.

At this point, my costs per week are about $35/week/person. This is more than some people spend, but below the national average, and that’s pretty cool, considering that I’m still eating organic meats, and many organic vegetables.

Your solution to this may not look like my solution to this–your pain points are different, and you are different. But for me, I couldn’t start to get a handle on either my food spending or my eating habits until I started buying food for the person I was, not the person society told me I should be.

I also want to point out–again–that there are several items of privilege in this post that should not be assumed to be universal. First, in order to build up a solid store of freezer-stuffs, to the point where you can sustain a $35/week/person grocery bill, you need to be able to overspend the national average for a couple of months. Second, you have to be able to get yourself to a grocery store that sells organic stuff, and if you live in a food desert, it’s hard enough just finding a store that sells fresh vegetables, period. Third, I have a CostCo membership–I live less than a mile from a CostCo, and this isn’t open to everyone. Fourth, I live very close to multiple Asian grocery stores, and I really couldn’t eat delicious food regularly if I had to scramble to find broad bean paste or miso or the ingredients for dashi, or if I had to buy them from grocery stores that largely cater to white people and overcharge on these items by massive amounts if they even carry them. Fifth, I have a reasonably large freezer that is extremely reliable. Sixth, me and my family members are reasonably open to eating a wide variety of foods and have few food allergies or sensitivities. Seventh, I have one day a week that I can reasonably devote a large chunk of to food preparation.

There are other things, too–those are just the ones that jumped out to me upon immediate inspection. So my typical reminder again–this is what has worked for me. I’m telling you because it might work for you, and if it can help, that’s great. But please don’t lecture people with this post, because there are many ways that this strategy depends heavily on privileged statuses.