#very HEAVILY inspired by Bullet Train cause I can

[sequs-art-box]

Fear and Anger but they're trained assassins

[wienerbarnes]

Witch Bitch

Pairing: Bucky x Witch!Reader

Word Count: 3,943

Warnings: witch stuff, burning at the stake 😳

A/N: this is heavily inspired by american horror story: coven bc i recently watched and ive been binging all of it lately but its not necessary to know anything about ahs lol i kinda just used their fancy magical terminology and concepts bc they were cool🤪 

MAIN MASTERLIST

The best time of the day was breakfast. It was the time when Bucky, Sam, and Sharon were most often together. Sometimes training overlapped and they missed lunch. Sometimes missions ran long or friends were in town and they missed dinner. But the morning? They were all early birds, all awake by seven. They took that shared characteristic and shared breakfast together whenever they could. Bucky usually took care of the coffee, Sam usually took care of the eggs and bacon, and Sharon usually took care of the bagels, toasting them to perfection before slathering on a layer of cream cheese.

It was a moment of peace in their day. Quiet before the noise of the gym or the conference room or the jets or the private trainings or the interviews with prospective agents or anything else they do on a daily basis. It was a time for three friends to just sit and eat and enjoy each other's company as though they are just that: three friends. Not super soldiers or captains or special agents. Just people being normal. Normal doesn’t last long, though. It never does for them.

Bucky’s on dish washing duty this morning while Sam and Sharon chat idly behind him, waiting for him to finish so they can all leave together. A soft voice interrupts them, though, making the three of them stop what they’re doing because no one has access to this floor except for the people that live here - meaning them three.

“Who’s in charge here?” You ask.

“Who the hell are you?! How did you get up here?!” Sharon asks, ignoring your question.

You were in a long, flowy black skirt, slit cut in the left side exposing your leg, and a long-sleeve black shirt, tucked beneath the waistband. Think black boots cover your feet and a black hat sits on your head to complete your look. Bucky almost doesn’t notice the folded black umbrella underneath your arm as his eyes trail down the multiple chains and necklaces around your neck, falling between your breasts.

“I’ve been trying to find someone to help me but the people in this building are not very helpful. I figured I’d find who’s in charge myself, something that you all don’t seem to want to help me with, either.” You explain.

“The only way to even enter this building is through strict appointment and background checks, and no one’s even allowed past the nineteenth floor.” Sam explains.

“Why are you entertaining this? I’m getting her out of here.” Sharon says, moving to walk towards you to take you out of the building herself.

As she nears closer and closer, you wave your hand lazily, without taking your eyes off Bucky, the only one who hasn’t said anything this whole time, and Sharon collapses on the floor soundlessly.

“Jesus!”

“What did you do!”

Both Bucky and Sam panic as they rush to Sharon’s body on the floor. They frantically run their hands over her body, looking for the point of injury that made her collapse the way she did, but they find nothing. No holes, no blood; she didn’t even make a sound.

“She’s not breathing and she doesn’t have a pulse, what the fuck did you do to her?!” Sam yells at you.

You roll your eyes, “Okay, you got me. I don’t need help finding who’s in charge, I already know it’s you. I still do need your help, though.”

You’re ignored as the two men hover over their friend, unsure of what to do or what even happened to her.

“Oh, alright, move.” You order them, stepping over Sharon’s body.

You stand before her, lifting your hands to hover over her body before closing your eyes and letting out a deep and long exhale. Bucky and Sam watch as it takes only about seven seconds for their friend to suddenly gasp for air, jumping back to life. The boys crowd her once more, checking her eyes, her pulse, everything to convince themselves that she’s actually alive like that, and if she was even dead in the first place.

Sam finally looks back up at you from the ground, as though he just remembered that you’re there, “What are you?”

You smirk in response, ready to finally get what you came here for.

…

“So, you’re a witch?” Sam asks, the four of them now occupying a private conference room for some privacy.

“A witch who killed me.” Sharon adds.

“And a witch that brought you right back.” You reply, leaning back on your chair, leg crossed over your knee, slit exposing your thigh. Bucky’s eye twitch to look at your bare skin for a second before returning to meet your eyes.

“So… what do you do?” Bucky asks.

You smile at his innocent curiosity, “All witches don’t have one universal power. Some are clairvoyant, some do voodoo, some dabble in pyrokinesis, divination, transmutation, descendum,” You glance over to Sharon, who’s still pouting at you, “Resurrection.”

“And can you do all of those?” Bucky asks.

“Almost all of them, but I’m not here to talk about me.”

“Why are you here?” Sharon asks.

“You guys hunt the Nazi’s, right?” You ask, aiming your question towards Sam, knowing he’s the Captain in charge.

“Hydra, yes.” He confirms.

“Well, your Nazi’s somehow got a hold of my magic. And they are playing with very dangerous fire,” You begin.

Bucky interrupts, “We’re all for taking down Hydra, but, don’t you think you’re a little more… powerful than us?” He asks.

“Bucky!” Sharon slaps his arm, as though she’s shocked that he would ever admit such a thing.

“I am. But I’m not that powerful, either. Not anymore, at least. A group of those Hydra invaded the coven my sisters and I were at. I was the only one that escaped.” You tell them.

“Did Hydra take them?” Sam asks.

“No, they killed them.” You respond, growing irritated as the subject grows touchier and touchier.

“Can’t you just bring them back like you did me?” Sharon inquires.

“No! I can’t. Like I said, I’m not that powerful anymore. Maybe I’d be able to bring back a house full of dead girls when it was me and twelve others but it’s just me now. I wouldn’t come all the way over here if I had other options.”

Silence grows over the group as they process what you’ve gone through. Surviving through the massacre of your fellow witches and not being powerful enough to find the people that did it on your own. You’re vulnerable.

“So what can we do?” Sam asks, ready to join forces with you.

“Help me locate the men who did this so I can handle the magic part.” You tell him.

“What magic do they have?”

“Although witches control most of the magic, sometimes it can be taken on in… physical forms. Specifically blood. The blood they retrieved was from a witch that was skilled in Vitali Vitalis.”

“The alive within the living.” Bucky translates.

“There are two worlds: the living and the dead,” You begin to explain, “Vitali Vitalis keeps the balance between these two things and it’s one of the most difficult powers for a witch to master. Oftentimes it’s used to give parts of your own life, health, and energy to someone who needs it. But it can also allow you to take life from someone and give it to yourself.”

“Like immortality?” Sam questions.

“Not quite. Any witch can be killed with a knife or bullet. This kind of magic keeps you from dying of age. I’ve only ever known one witch who mastered it.”

“What happened to her?”

“She used it for evil, like this. Took the souls of hundreds in order to allow herself to live for almost three centuries. Until she was killed, of course.” You finish, a small smile on your lips knowing that she got what she deserved.

“What, you burn her at the stake?” Sharon jokes.

“Yes, actually. We did.” You tell her matter-of-factly, becoming more and more irritated at the fact that she doesn’t seem to take this is as seriously as you are.

Bucky interrupts, sensing the rising tension between the two girls, “So when we find these guys, you’re going to burn them at the stake, too?” He asks.

“Yes,” You say, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “The consequence of using magic like this for evil is death by fire. I hope you all don’t think the rules will change on account of these men being Nazi’s?”

“Well, we just have a different way of doing things -” Sam begin to defend

“Yes, I’m aware. The countless destruction caused by you and other militaries, the millions of innocent lives lost yearly, not only in the constant war and irresponsible handling of your nuclear and alien weaponry, but by incorrect prosecution. Not to mention the billions of dollars spent on your ridiculous prison systems that don’t work when actual bad people escape and the death penalty practices in certain states. I just figured my way was easier. And cheaper.” You reply.

Silence crowds over the four of them once more as they think over all their options.

“I’m in.” Bucky speaks first.

“Me, too. Even if I don’t like you.” Sharon follows.

“Feeling’s mutual, dear.” You smile at her.

The three of them look to Sam, waiting for his commitment as well.

“Alright. Let’s get to work.”

Plans were made, theories of location were thought of, and plans to execute the mission were put into place, all of which included you. A temporary room was given to you when the information of your lack of a place to stay was brought to light. Only for the duration of this mission, is what Sam told you, but you can spot the amount of love and light in his heart from miles away.

It was later that night, and you’ve since cleansed the room, going as far as to place a protective spell on the entire floor. You’ve lost too much already, and you’re not about to risk anything.

A knock at the door sounds and the visitor you’d been expecting has finally arrived. You walk towards the door, still in your clothes from earlier but now you’ve removed your shoes, and open the door to reveal Bucky.

“I was waiting for you.” You tell him.

“How’d you know I’d come?” He asks, stepping through the door when you step aside, silently gesturing to him to enter.

“I can hear your thoughts. You've been debating whether or not to come see me for the past thirty minutes. Your mind is very loud.”

“Tell me about it.” He mumbles to himself, thinking about the countless nightmares, voices, and all the other reminders of just how loud his mind was.

“You can ask all your questions, you know. I won’t take any offence. You’re just curious.” You tell him, settling on your bed, hoping he’ll join you and stop hovering near the door.

Luckily he takes the hint and takes a seat across from you.

“I’ve never met a witch before. A real one, I mean. Like, someone born a witch. Like Salem witches -”

“I understand.” You chuckle lightly.

“You don’t seem… afraid of me. Or, hesitant, rather.” You tell him, thinking about how he’s received your presence here compared to his colleagues.

“I was wary when you killed my friend, but… you just need some help, is all. I’m sorry, by the way, I’m not sure if I said it before, but, I’m sorry for what happened to your friends.” He tells you.

He’s very polite. But you supposed that’s not abnormal considering he got his manners from the 1920’s. You like it, though. You give him an appreciative smile before giving him the okay to ask you whatever he wanted.

“So you said that witches can master multiple powers but have one specialty; is yours resurrection?”

“Yes; it was the first power I ever exhibited when I was a teenager. I was about fourteen or fifteen. My next mastered skill is descendum and then clairvoyance, where I was in my twenties, or so.” You tell him as he looks at you with pure fascination in his eyes.

“What is - what is descendum?”

You pause, “The power to descend your soul down into the afterlife - to hell. And return alive.”

His eyes widened, not even knowing that was something someone can do; not even knowing that hell existed in the first place, “So, you’ve been to hell?”

“Yes. I’ve also been able to retrieve people from hell, their soul. A variation of my power of resurrection, I suppose.” You explain, not being too fond of that power; descending to hell.

Bucky sits in silence for a few minutes, and you let him. You can hear the question lingering around in his head; what he’s thinking. But you let him build up his own courage to ask it. You know he’s only scared of the answer; the answer you know he’s not going to like.

“What is hell like?” He whispers.

“It doesn’t matter what my hell is like. Everyone has their own personal hell they experience when they die.” You tell him.

Confusion clouds his features as he registers your answer.

“Is there… Is there no heaven?”

You smirk, “It’s nice that you’ve remained religious after all this time.”

“Yes, there's heaven. But only for the purest and most innocent of souls. And rarely do people escape life without sin. Everyone has evil in them.” You tell him, knowing it’s a harsh truth that no one wants to hear.

The people Bucky’s killed, the crime he’s committed, the families he’s hurt; it all passes through his mind. Everyone has evil in them.

“What was your hell like?”

“I’m not telling you that.” You tell him quickly.

Bucky ponders what his own hell will be like, after seeing the way you’re clearly shaken up about your own. The fall from the train. The man in a lab coat sawing off the rest of his arm. The needles poking through his skin in the middle of some facility. The chair.

He doesn’t realize that he’s looked away from you until he snaps his thoughts back to the present and sees he’s looking down into his lap. He glances up to see your face, your soft features and kind eyes staring at him. He glances from your eyes to your lips and back up again before clearing his throat, not realizing how close he got to you during his time here sitting on your bed.

“You know, I, uh, I should go. Thank you for, uh, answering my questions, but we head out pretty - pretty early tomorrow, so,” He trails off, standing and patting down his shirt to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in a nervous habit.

He makes his way towards the door and his hand touches the knob when he hears your voice, “Hey, Bucky?” He turns slightly to face you again, a hum to indicate for you to continue.

“Thank you for coming to see me. And thank you for all the kindness you’ve shown me. You’re a very good person.” You tell him sincerely.

He gives you a nod of you’re welcome before exiting.

He’s not sure if you told him that because you truly mean it, or if it’s because of the state of anxiety and existential crises you’ve put him in now that he’s going to be thinking about his personal hell, but he appreciates it, nonetheless.

He thinks you’re a pretty good person, yourself.

…

The mission goes off without a hitch. The combined skill of the Avengers’ stealth, spyware, and experience along with your magic and witchery makes for an easy capture of the men who killed your witch sisters and stole your magic.

It’s not long before the facility they were at was shut down and cleared out, arresting any officers and rescuing any prisoners or hostages, and the five men specifically responsible for the destruction of your coven are in separate custody. What’s left of the blood is returned to you, as well.

That’s where the group of you stand now, a decision to be made about the criminals you’ve captured. To be put in the maximum security prison floating in the ocean, or to be put to death by fire.

“I don’t believe in being the executioner of people.” Sam tries to convince.

You can’t help but let a laugh escape you, “Do you know who you work for?! Do you know who you are?!” You remind him.

“Those guys can’t escape the Raft.” He tries, referring to prison in the middle of the ocean you’ve heard about.

“You did.” You respond, knowing about when Steve Rogers took him out of that prison, along with other superheros.

You see Bucky and Sharon look between the two of you, torn between how these Hydra criminals should receive their fate. Staring into the hot depths of flames or rotting alone in a cell? Both seem to be too merciful, in Bucky’s opinion.

“This isn’t just running the facility or experiments, Sam. This is different. They were using dark magic to commit crimes. Maybe they should face the consequences of a dark-magic-punishment.” Sharon offers.

You don’t have time to be shocked at Sharon agreeing with you and picking your side before Bucky agrees and Sam is outnumbered. He stares at you and gives a single nod, allowing you to do this your way.

You smile, a silent thank you for giving you the closure and opportunity to serve justice to those who did you harm. “Off to Massachusetts, then.” You tell them, and Sam takes his seat in the pilot's chair, Bucky accompanying him in the front of the jet.

You take a seat, making yourself comfortable for the flight to Salem and you feel a body take the seat next to you. You glance up to see Sharon looking at you, but you notice she has something in her hand, offering it to you.

You look down to see a small plastic bag of fruit gummies. But not just any fruit gummies, you realize. Halloween themed fruit gummies. The pictures on the outside show the various options inside: witch’s hat, a broom stick, a melting pot, a vial, and a magic wand. Hilarious.

You take the gummies, though, accepting her attempt at a truce.

It’s not long before you and your temporary teammates find themselves standing before a large, empty field, multiple wooden stakes standing about fifteen feet tall scattered about with plenty of space in between.

You lead the walk to a group of them standing tall in line, so the men can be burned at the same time, as opposed to one by one. A group of large, burly agents lug the Hydra operatives along, behind you and the rest of the team.

Bucky hangs around your left, as to not be in the way of the black umbrella held in your right hand, and Sam and Sharon trail behind you. You can sense their uneasiness and tune out their worried thoughts. Everyone’s first burning is always an experience; they’ll get over it.

Bucky doesn’t seem worried, though. In fact, you can’t hear his thoughts this time around. But he still stands tall and straight, walking with confidence, so you make a safe assumption that he’s okay.

None of the men’s cuffs or shackles are removed, but thick rope is tied on top of it, around the wrist and looped around the waist, tying them to the stake. The cuffs are special grade - high tech Avengers vibranium - and they can be retrieved later once the fire burns out.

“Any last words?” You ask, more for tradition than whether or not you actually care.

They look scared, obviously not expecting their fate to look anything like this. You remember seeing Bucky tackle one of them in the facility, prying his mouth open to rip out a tooth, or what looked like a tooth, like a dog caught eating something it wasn’t supposed to. A cyanide pill.

Silence comes from them, except for one of them, “Hail Hydra!” He yells, as if that cowardly and pathetic phrase would change anything.

With a raise of your hand, seemingly with no effort, you wave it and the stakes all begin to rise up in flames. There’s nothing to spark, no twigs, no gasoline, nothing, and Bucky watches as the flames rise, growing stronger as they engulf the five men. They begin to scream, and Bucky looks over at you, as if to confirm you didn’t bring gasoline or something with you, and he sees a smile slowly grow on your lips.

They haven’t stopped screaming; they’re still alive when you turn and begin to walk back the way everyone came. Bucky follows, and eventually Sam and Sharon do, too, the other agents staying behind until the end to retrieve the cuffs and shackles that will survive the fire.

“So, now what?” Sharon asks, the air quieter as the screams have slowly stopped in the distance.

I can’t imagine what kind of paperwork follows this, “Back to the tower.” Sam responds.

“The coven’s only a short walk from here.” You say, not needing to elaborate much more. The men have been caught and brought to justice, but you still have a broken, battered, and beaten down coven to fix.

A friend of yours was meant to go by and retrieve the… bodies. Which you’re grateful for. But magic won’t help you fix the walls, the floors, mop the blood, or find other witches in need of an escape and a place to improve and master their powers. You have a lot of work to do.

As the view of the jet gets closer, you prepare to bid your goodbyes to the Avengers, your thank you’s as well. Regardless of your attitude towards them before, you couldn’t have done this without them.

A metal hand engulfs yours, pulling you back a bit as Sam and Sharon continue on.

“Do you need any help?” Bucky’s warm and gentle voice floods your ears, hand still in yours.

“You guys have been more than enough help, now, really.” You try to tell him, but he has none of it.

“You may be tough, but you can’t fix up that house by yourself,” He tells you, “I can be pretty handy, fixed up a few things back in my day.” A soft smile grows on his face.

You glance over his shoulder as Sam and Sharon wait by the entrance of the jet, “Don’t you have to go back?”

“They won’t miss me.” He tells you, not even looking back to confirm with his teammates, hand dropping to run it through his hair.

You giggle at him, before giving him a shy nod in answer to his offer to help you fix up your big house.

“I’m going to hang out here for a few days.” He yells over his shoulder.

“We figured.” Sam calls out, and Sharon throws you a wave as they board the jet, the opening close after them.

“Lead the way?” Bucky offers you, taking your hand once more, interlocking the fingers this time.

And so the two of you are off, one of your hands still clutching the umbrella, holding it above your head, and the other hand interlaced with the one of a handsome and kind super soldier. This wasn’t the way Bucky expected the last two days to transpire, but he’s glad they led to holding the hand of a very pretty witch.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list. 

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

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[jamestaylorswift]

what's your gaylor interpretation of Change? I've heard it mentioned before that it's far from a straight song

The short answer is that I don’t really have a strong opinion about this song because I hardly ever listen to it lol. My personal go-to 2000s #growth anthem is “The Climb.” Always gonna be another mountain? I'm always gonna wanna make it move! Always gonna be an uphill battle sometimes I’m gonna have to lose!!!  Iconic.

Anyways since you put me on the spot, the longer answer is an analysis sketch/set of scrambled thoughts:

The thing that’s always stuck out to me about “Change” is that it comes full-circle from “Fearless.” (The guitar riff at the end of “Change” is the same as the one at the end of “Fearless.” It’s like starting and ending a book with the same sentence. Very satisfying IMO.) I personally put these songs in conversation with each other.

In “Fearless,” the magic of falling for someone—everything shines a little brighter, pining and yearning bring up feelings of past disappointment but everything somehow still feels new and exciting and hopeful—is what inspires fearlessness. (See also: the Fearless album liner notes.) At the beginning of the album, Taylor’s beau is the encourager. It is their boldness—to drag Taylor headfirst into love, to exhibit PDA, to make the first move for the first kiss—which inspires her. And obviously these actions, and by extension the relationship, can easily be read as queer because the actions are mundane to straight people and not necessarily to queer people. Note that in “Fearless,” both parties seem to believe in love because they are both implied to fall for each other in their own way; however, Taylor needs to be assuaged of her fears about repeated history.

Per the literal meaning of “falling in love,” Taylor “falls” (i.e. is dragged) in “Fearless.” The turning point of the revolution in “Change” is when she stands and gets off her knees to fight even harder. This connection makes it plausible that the person with whom Taylor “stands up champions tonight” in “Change” is her “Fearless” beau. (It’s an intriguing connection regardless.) Accepting this, then there’s also an intriguing role reversal in “Change.” This song’s revolution is a cause behind which both people throw their conviction (“I believe in whatever you do,” “you can walk away, say we don't need this // but there's something in your eyes // says we can beat this”). However, Taylor becomes the encourager (“and I'll do anything to see it through”). Whereas the idea of repeated history made Taylor hesitant in “Fearless,” it’s something that inspires her to fight for victory in “Change.” The other party acts the exact opposite way in these songs. This suggests that the repeated histories that each party fears might not be the same.

There’s also the added complication of “Change” being (ostensibly) about Taylor’s career as America’s sweetheart being hindered by a homegrown record label. (See: the Fearless album liner notes and her commentary about this song.) It’s plausible that the history Taylor’s beau fears is related to a burgeoning career in country music. Not that it’s necessary for one to justify fears related to the big music industry machine, but queerness certainly adds more weight to the fear of repeated entertainment/country careerhood histories.

If “Fearless” and “Change” represent two people’s divided perspectives, then this division can plausibly be construed as due to queerness. It’s also notable that there’s a real “you have to see/experience it to believe it” element to these songs and the subjects’ feared repeated histories about (queer) love and (queer) entertainment/country careerhood. Tangible proof that something can work out—faith in experience that is captured in that “hallelujah” at the end of the album—inspires one person to try to pull the other (headfirst, fearless) into the uncertain future that looks like a repeated history. So the anthem of “Change” can be read as an attempt to mend the division about the possibility of a successful career despite complications that the kind of relationship in “Fearless” might bring.

Final tangent: I think it’s fascinating that the idea of faith in experience is central to the message of “Long Live.” (This could suggest a queer interpretation of “Long Live,” though it need not. This song has other connections with “Change,” such as the idea of “champions.” To me, the idea of being a “champion” doesn’t perfectly map to winning a revolution; it works much better in the context of winning the hometown sports game that evokes “girl next door” milieu.) Taylor’s encouragement is instead directed outward at her fans/band/anyone who’s supported her, making “Long Live” the anthem for her dragging the hype train into the unknown-but-hopefully-even-more-successful future.

The above observations about these songs as bookends of the Fearless journey eschew what happens in the middle. There’s obviously much more substance to the album than the simple “what changed from track 1 to track 13” lens. Such is a list of bullet points, I guess.

tl;dr “Change” is extremely generic on its own and that’s what makes it anthemic; any interpretation of “Change” is extra subjective. It can be about the Good Fight but it doesn’t have to be. To me, a queer interpretation of “Change” would derive pretty heavily from a queer interpretation of “Fearless.”

[alagalaska]

“Get Help!”

Summary: Thor and Reader do ‘Get Help.’

Pairing: Thor x Reader. Very brief mention of past Thor x Jane

A/N: This is the first piece of fiction I have ever shared. It’s just a silly one-shot I’ve been meaning to write for ages. I recently re-watched Thor: Ragnarok and I love the scene where Thor and Loki do ‘Get Help.’ I hope you like it! There is a reference to MC Hammer in this and if you don’t know his song ‘Can’t Touch This,’ you can watch it Here. If you enjoy this please leave a comment or reblog to let me know. I’d like to mention the very talented @shreddedparchment whose own fiction inspired me to start writing again (Thank you, beautiful!) 

Warnings: Violence, firearms, silly humour, puns, 80’s fashion.

Word Count: 4,321

Disclaimer: (I know, I’m old school) I do not own anything to do with Marvel or the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU).  The idea of ‘Get Help’ is from Thor: Ragnarok and this is a piece of fiction that has been inspired by that. I do not own and did not create the characters of Thor, Tony, Sam, Natasha, Clint and Steve (or any other characters or entities from the MCU that may be referenced in any part of this fiction). I also did not write and do not own any rights to the MC Hammer song ‘Can’t Touch This’. The actual written content of this fiction, however, is my own and should not be used or copied, in part or whole. Plagiarism is a crime, kids.

Word Count: 4,321

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s your turn!” You shout to Thor, over the roar of gun fire. You’re crouched behind an overturned desk in a Hydra facility; your back pressed against cool steel. It’s all grey walls and metal furniture. You’re in some sort of office, just off a corridor where Thor is busy punching a Hydra agent’s face into a wall. There’s four more at the other end of the room you’re in, shooting at you with assault rifles. One of their comrades lies unmoving in the middle of the floor, papers littering the space surrounding him. Bullets bounce around you; metal glancing off metal.

You pop up from behind the desk and take a shot at the shoulder of a woman in a long white coat, who you assume is some kind of lab technician. She is hiding behind a filing cabinet that’s tipped onto its side, fumbling to reload her gun; you guess she’s not had to use it very often. She’d left her shoulder exposed to you and your bullet hits it easily. She angrily returns fire over the top of the filing cabinet, exposing her whole upper half- another rookie mistake- and you shoot her in the chest. She falls backwards to the floor, dropping her gun.

Another agent, who is wearing black tactical gear and is clearly much more skilled with his weapon, fires a well-aimed barrage of bullets at you, causing you to duck back down behind the cover of the desk. He misses you by millimetres.

Thor sees this from the doorway as he finishes dealing with the agents in the hall, tossing an unconscious man to one side, and storms into the room to help you; blue lightning sparking from his hammer. He’s breath-taking to watch.

Thor snarls and hurls Mjolnir at the man who had shot at you. It collides with his chest and slams him backwards into the front of another filing cabinet, on the far wall. The metal drawers crumple around his body.  

There are only two of them left now, both hiding behind another overturned desk, opposite yours. You’re pretty sure only one of them is armed. The gun fire has paused and you can hear them whispering in frantic Russian from across the room.

You look over your shoulder at Thor.

“How’d you wanna do this?” You ask him, gesturing with your head towards the closed door behind where the agents are hiding. He glances down at you then towards the door with a look of consideration; but before he can answer, one of the remaining men leans around the right side of the desk and shoots at you.

You return fire, dipping back behind cover as you avoid his bullets. You barely notice as Thor calls Mjolnir back to him. He hesitates, crouched (as best as his huge frame can be) behind you, waiting to see if you’ll need him.

The other man, another lab technician by the looks of him, makes a dash towards the door behind them, a manila folder clutched under his arm as he frantically mashes his security card against the electronic pad on the wall.

Thinking quickly, you switch targets, shooting out his knees just as he manages to unlock the doors. He falls to the ground, groaning in pain.

Covering you whilst you take down the lab technician, Thor throws his hammer at the last Hydra agent, who is still firing at the pair of you, and it smashes obediently into him. Thor holds out his arm again for it to return to him and, with a metallic ‘whoosh,’ Mjolnir whips past you, into his hand. It reminds you of how this whole silly game had started.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was still quite early on in your training and you were accompanying Clint, Nat and Sam on what was expected to be a simple take-down of an illegal arms dealership in Pakistan. Thor had also insisted on tagging along. Although this was probably too small a job for The God of Thunder, who could easily take down the whole depot single-handed, you knew he was just looking for an excuse to get out of the compound.

Since his break up with Jane, Thor had been around the Avengers compound a lot more and was helping wherever he could in order to keep himself busy; not that anyone was complaining, least of all you.

As the newest member of the Avengers, you were desperate to get as much experience in the field as possible, so you and Thor always seemed to be on missions together; and sometimes it was just the two of you.

You had become fond of Thor over the past few months, having spent so much time in his company; and you were starting to develop a bit of a crush on him.

So, although there would be more of you going on this mission than was entirely necessary, you didn’t mind at all.

It was lucky that Thor had been with you that day, because the base had been a lot more heavily guarded then you had originally thought.

“There’s at least six more hostiles in the room below you, Y/N. All armed,” Sam informed you through your ear piece as he soared around the perimeter of the building. “There’s a stairwell through the door on your left.”

“Thor,” You shouted to him as you wrestled with a man in khaki cargo pants and a black vest, both of you clutching at the same gun; you, trying to prise it out of his grasp before he could use it. “We need to head down!”

Thor nodded at your instruction, slamming his hammer into the chest of a man who had been aiming a gun at him. Behind him, another man, who had scaled a stack of crates, leapt down onto Thor’s shoulders. Thor let out a crazed growl, shaking the man from his back and into the pile of crates he had just jumped from, causing the whole lot to tumble; crushing yet another man in an avalanche of splintered wood and limbs.

So far, the raid had not been going to plan, at all. You had been really looking forward to taking charge on this one, proving to Thor and the rest of the team that you could handle the responsibility; but from the minute Sam had dropped you off on the roof, you’d been outnumbered and under prepared. You knew you’d let yourself be lulled into a false sense of security the second Thor had announced he was coming on the mission too.

They’ll be loads of us, you had thought, It’ll be a nice chance to spend some more time with Thor- it’s gonna be a walk in the park…

How wrong you’d been. You’d already lost the gun that Tony had had specially made for you- as a ‘well-done’ for making the team- whilst fighting your way through the top floor.

And there you were, struggling with one guy, whilst Thor had just taken on three, singlehandedly, as if they were nothing.

You continued to grapple for the gun when a bullet whizzed past your right arm from across the room, embedding itself in the wall behind you. Before you could do anything about it, Thor had sent a bolt of lightning into the back of the culprit’s skull, the air around him crackling with electricity. He’d obviously forgotten Steve’s very clear instruction to neutralise only, unless entirely necessary. The gunman fell motionless to the floor, blackened skin, crackling.

You let out a frustrated growl as you managed to yank the automatic from the man’s hands and butted him hard in the nose with the handle; knocking him out cold.

You glanced around at the bodies littering the floor then allowed yourself to double over, leaning with one hand on a crate, panting from the effort of your struggle.

You had been fighting with the same guy for so long that Thor had already cleared out the rest of the room before you had chance to properly get involved. You knew you shouldn’t be annoyed at him for that, but it didn’t lessen your frustration.

You’d come a long way in the short time you’d been with the Avengers and knew that you were obviously good enough to be on the team or you wouldn’t have been there, but it was difficult to remember that sometimes. Especially in times like this.

You were vaguely aware that Thor was watching you as he crossed the room, with a crease in his brow, as though he had heard your thoughts.

“I had it covered,” you said frustratedly as he came to a stop beside you.

“And I’m supposed to let you have all the fun?” he chuckled, good-naturedly. He took in your expression and, after a beat of silence, said more seriously, “You can’t always take everyone on by yourself.” It sounded like he was chastising you, the way you would a child that had eaten too many cookies- ‘You can’t have them all; you have to save some for other people.’

“You did,” you bit back.

“Y/N, our abilities are very different.” He sighed. “For us to work effectively as a team, you must learn to let others play to their strengths.”

You perched yourself on the edge of a crate, still sulking, so he continued.

“There is no shame in needing to rely on your team. That is what they are there for,” he paused, his expression softening as he dipped his head slightly to catch your eye, “What I am here for.”

You felt your cheeks heating up and guiltily dropped your eyes to stare at his feet, trying to avoid his gaze. He raised his hand to your chin and tilted your face so that you were looking at him. You could feel the lingering buzz of electricity in his touch, making the skin where he was touching you tingle. “You put far too much pressure on yourself. You do not need to prove yourself, least of all to me.” He moved the hand that was cupping your chin down to rest on your shoulder; only then did you realise how close you were both standing.

You tried to force yourself to focus on his words, rather than the heat of his hand, still on your shoulder.

You knew he was right, of course, as Thor so often is. You always put too much pressure on yourself.

You must have been frowning up at him or something, because he was prompted to add, “Stop taking everything so seriously,” giving your shoulder a small shake. He smiled, to show he was only joking, and then he released you.

You watched, finding yourself still at a loss for words, as he started heading towards the stairs Sam had mentioned earlier.

You stood up suddenly, remembering you were in the middle of a mission; this was no time to be feeling sorry for yourself. However, you couldn’t help but let out a small huff as you followed him. I do not take things too seriously, you thought.

Just then, your ear piece crackled into life again; Sam bringing yet more bad news.

“Hey guys, looks like they got bored of waiting; they’re on their way up to you.”

“Ugh, great,” you grumbled, picking up the gun you had been wrestling for earlier. “Got it. Thanks, Wilson. You hear that, Thor? We’ve got incoming.”

You could already hear the sound of large, heavily booted feet approaching from the stairwell, as you raced across the room at full speed, overtaking Thor and ducking behind the pile of toppled crates, facing the doorway. I am so done with this day, you thought resentfully to yourself.

You glanced over your shoulder at Thor; he was hesitating behind you, poised ready with Mjolnir. “It’s your call,” his deep voice rumbled through your headset. He was trying to appease you.

You knew it had been wrong of you to get annoyed at him for doing his job. He was right; you couldn’t expect others to hold back during a fight just to spare your feelings. You had plenty of time to finish honing your skills and improving your technique during training sessions with Nat; team work should be more important when on mission.

Now was the perfect time to show Thor that you had taken on board what he had said. You would let him do what he does best, and wipe out the enemy with one easy swing of his hammer. Then you could go home and be done with this god awful mission. Win win.

But before you could communicate that to him, the men from the lower floor burst through the doorway at the top of the stairs, each holding a gun strapped over their shoulder.

Thinking fast, (or possibly not thinking at all) you leapt out from behind the crate, hands held up in front of you, and yelled, “Stop!”

They faltered, caught off guard by your command. You could see a couple of men at the back of the group stumble into each other, as the rest came abruptly to a halt in front of them.

Perhaps if it had been Hydra agents you had been dealing with, they would have shot at you without a moment’s hesitation; but these men all stopped, looking uncertainly from one to the other, hands frozen on their guns, as though they were trying to decide if you were a civilian.

Then a thought popped into your head. It was too perfect not to say it.

“Hammer Time!” You spoke into your comms, but loud enough so that everyone in the room would hear it.

The words left your mouth with a smug little smirk. As far as improvisation goes, you thought that was pretty funny. You’re not sure what made you do it; perhaps it’s true what they say, that people do strange things when under pressure.

But Thor obviously didn’t get the reference- why would he, he’s Asgardian- because he was looking around expectantly, clearly waiting for something to happen. You sighed inwardly.

“Thor,” you said, exasperated, “Throw the hammer.” You gestured at Mjolnir, feeling stupid. You forget sometimes that he doesn’t always understand ‘Midgardian humour,’ as he puts it.

“Ohhh,” he said, glancing down at Mjolnir and back up to you with a sudden understanding, then hurled the hammer towards the group of men. It whipped past you, sending your hair fluttering around your face.

One of the men gripped his gun, as if with the afterthought to shoot at you, but the hammer smacked into him, knocking him and the other men back out into the corridor and down the stairs.

There was a moment filled with the thudding sounds of bodies falling down a flight of steps and then a chorus of muffled groans that floated up from the bottom of the stair well.

“Er, thanks,” you said to Thor as he walked forward to stand next to you.

Something in the way he looked at you made you think that he understood the layers of meaning behind your thanks, without you having to vocalise it.

You were awkwardly playing with the strap of your stolen gun, really hoping he wouldn’t mention what had just happened.

He smiled and gave your shoulder a small squeeze in response then went back to examine the unconscious gunmen, without speaking.

Peering over the railings of the stairs, you looked down to see the motionless tangle of bodies in a pile at the bottom.

Then a sudden, harsh burst of laughter came through your earpiece, causing you to jump in surprise and the comms to crackle with static. It took a moment for you to place that it was Sam.

“Woooh,” he let out one final hoot of a laugh, “uh, sorry,” he coughed, trying to compose himself. “Back up has arrived. All hostiles have been neutralised and are being… are being detained,” he stumbled around another muffled laugh. “Nat’s coordinating seizing all the fire arms now. You guys better make your way back up to the roof; I’ll give you a lift down from there, Y/N,” he said, poorly concealing the teasing edge to his voice.

“No thanks, Wilson,” you grumbled in response, “I’ll take the stairs down.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you climbed back onto the quin jet afterwards, feeling exhausted from the mission and annoyed about making a fool of yourself in front of Thor, Natasha clapped you on the shoulder.

“Nice bit, MC Hammer. Real smooth,” she said, adding the last bit with a knowing smirk.

You could feel Thor watching the pair of you as he, too, climbed aboard.

Natasha laughed and passed you, moving to the front of the jet with the others. You heard Sam saying “Can’t touch this,” jokingly to Clint as they went and they both dissolved into laughter. Of course, they all must have heard you through your headset. Sam’s laughter earlier suddenly made much more sense.

“Ugh,” you sighed and took your seat in the back, opposite Thor.

“Who is Emsie Hammer?” he asked you as you strapped yourself in. You shook your head playfully, smirking at his mispronunciation, but didn’t correct him.

“He’s a… recording artist,” you tried to explain. “He makes hip hop music,” you added, seeing Thor’s blank look. “I’ll just show you,” you said, taking out your phone and opening the YouTube App. You pulled up a clip of ‘Can’t Touch This’ and leaned over the gap between your seats, showing him the phone.

“What is wrong with his pants?” asked Thor, looking up from the video briefly to catch your eye, then turned his gaze back to the screen, intrigued.

“It was the ‘80s,” you said with a shrug, “Everyone dressed like that.”

When it got to the part where he says ‘Hammer Time,’ Thor suddenly let out a bellowing laugh. It made you jump, looking up at him with startled eyes.

“I get it!” He boomed at you, “Hammer time- because I have a hammer!” he gestured to Mjolnir, propped beside his seat, as he continued to chuckle loudly. “That’s very funny!”

You felt your cheeks heat up again as you laughed lightly along with him, glad he finally got your joke, but still feeling like a bit of a fool.

You caught a movement in the corner of your eye and saw Natasha grinning at you over her shoulder from where she was flying the jet. You ignored her and turned your attention back to Thor as he handed your phone back to you. Nat resumed her conversation with Sam and Clint as if she’d never turned around.

“You know, it really surprised those guards. You screaming ‘stop’ at them, I mean,” Thor said, a smile lingering on his lips as he looked at you. “Maybe we should use that tactic from now on,” he suggested, with a chuckle.

You laughed at the thought to start with, but then you considered it properly. You’d heard worse suggestions, and, from your experience, surprise tactics were among the most effective; given the right circumstances.

“That might actually not be a bad idea,” you said, genuinely.

Thor looked at you with a hint of confusion, but you were quick to explain yourself, “It worked today, didn’t it? Granted, it might not always be appropriate, but, you know…” you continued, thinking aloud now, “we could have a bit of fun with this; make a wager or something?” His interest seemed to pique at that. “After all, you did tell me to stop taking things so seriously,” you reminded him with a smirk.

“That, I did,” he agreed, “OK… what do you suggest?”

“How about, most surprising entrance wins?” You were expecting him to say that he had only been joking and that it would be unwise to take such risks during missions; but you could see a faint twinkle in his blue eyes.

“But what will be the prize?” He asked you.

You both thought for a moment.

“How about,” Thor began, unable to hide the grin that was breaking across his lips, “If I win, you go on a date with me?”

You weren’t aware of how quiet Clint, Sam and Natasha had suddenly gone; with the fluttering that was happening in your stomach and the heat that had crept up the sides of your face and neck.

You had considered the thought of something romantic happening between you and Thor, of course you had; you’re only human. But you’d never taken those thoughts seriously, despite your growing feelings for him. He’s the God of Thunder, after all; why would he bother with a mere mortal? But then, you had said to yourself, he bothered with Jane; why not you?

“Ok,” you had said, suddenly feeling confident, “But if I win, you go on a date with me.”

He had laughed at that. “Win, win, wouldn’t you say?

“Ah yes, but, loser pays,” you said with a smirk.

That mission had certainly ended a lot better than it had started.

Since then, the pair of you had come up with such classics as, “Knock, knock,” “Who’s there?” “My Boot”- that was the time Thor had kicked down a door onto an unsuspecting Hydra agent.

And then there was the time you’d slid down the banister of a flight of stairs, childishly giggling “WHEEEEEEEE!” as you went, and knocked down three men who were running up them towards you. You and Thor had stood and laughed as you watched them tumble comically like surprised dominoes, one into the other, back down at least ten steps.

And you’d both been getting progressively sillier with your suggestions.

Thor looks at you now, a boyish twinkle in his eyes, and says two words.

“‘Get Help.’”

“Wait, what?” you ask him, as you step over the bodies of the fallen Hydra agents, peppered with bullet holes of your own making.

“‘Get Help.’” He repeats. “Loki and I used to do it all the time when we were children. It’s when you-”

You shake your head, laughing. “I know what ‘Get Help’ is,” you say, cutting him off. “I’m just surprised you know that, but you didn’t know ‘Hammer time.’”

You come to a stop in front of the door and pick up the file that the male lab technician had been trying to escape with and store it in the satchel slung over your shoulder, where you keep your emergency med kit. Whatever’s inside it, it was worth risking his life for; so you figure it’ll probably be useful.

“You ready?” he asks you.

“Yeah, alright, but can I please be the injured one?” you ask, sliding your gun into the holster strapped to your thigh.

Thor smiles at you. “Of course.” He pauses for a moment, thinking of something. “You’re more fun than Loki, he always used to complain.” He’s still smiling, but you notice a dull sadness that settles behind his eyes at the mention of his brother’s name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Get help! Please, get help; my girlfriend is dying!” Thor shouts dramatically, as he kicks the door open. Your stomach does a little flip as you register that he just called you his ‘girlfriend,’ but you try not to think anything of it. His left hand clings to your waist, your right arm draped over his shoulders as he all but lifts you against his left side. You hang limply in his grasp with your eyes closed, waiting for your cue. If you weren’t so focused on the current situation, you might have had more trouble ignoring his touch. You’d never been this physically close to him before.

Hydra agents run round the corner at the commotion and through slitted eyes you see them falter as they take in Thor holding your apparently lifeless body. They look at each other for a mere second then aim their guns. At this, Thor hurls you, unexpectedly, at the men. Going with it, you make yourself as long as possible, spinning in mid-air as you’re flung towards them. You smack into all three of them, knocking them to the ground. You go into a forward roll as you make contact with the floor, landing deftly behind them in a very Natasha Romanoff way; crouched on one knee, with your right hand on the floor between your legs and your left arm out to the side to steady you.

You look up at Thor.

“Did you really have to throw me?”

“I thought you said you knew how to do ‘Get Help?’” He says amusedly. “That’s how Loki and I always used to do it.”

“That might be why he didn’t like it!” you laugh, a little louder than you mean to. “You know, as much as I hate to admit it, I think this one puts you in the lead,” you say as Thor helps you to your feet.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thor muses, “The time you lead us in that line; what’s it called? The… Conga? That was pretty good,” He remembers, with a smile. It had been good, and was the only time you’d managed to convince any of the other Avengers to join in; Steve had been very reluctant, complaining about how you and Thor’s little wager was ‘getting out of hand.’

Just then, Steve’s voice comes on over your earpieces, “Hey guys, sorry to interrupt, but you think you could just call it quits and go on that date, already? Natasha is driving me crazy here.” You hear something that sounds a lot like Nat hitting him and then he laughs, “Aah, ok, ow!”

You both chuckle and Thor rubs the back of his neck with his right hand, looking nervous, which is unusual for him.

“Ok,” you say to Thor with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant, as your heart beats rapidly inside your chest, “But next time we do ‘Get Help’, I get to throw you.”

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[91whiskeygirl]

Whiskey Hangover

*Inspired by Season 14, reader insert. Slight foul language, some angst and maybe fluff? Changed things up so reader can be inserted, DUH🤷🏻‍♀️**

Everything is blurry. Every muscle you have is too relaxed to react to the strong arms trying to guide you to the bathroom. It’s been weeks since Dean had invited Micheal into him. There was no time to argue with him about it, he didn’t even get to say goodbye to you. He didn’t even look at you when Michael took control and vanished. The emptiness hurt you enough to drink yourself to passing out . Puking your guts out in a toilet was pretty much your daily routine, no matter what time of day it was.

“Y/n, breathe, it’s gonna be ok, just take it easy” Sam said to you softly as he held your hair back. You hummed in agreement while your gag reflex finally settled, and sat back against the cold tile wall, your eyes closed. Your head started to pound something wicked into your brain and you tried to focus on the giant in front of you cleaning you up. Pushing his hands away you get up with what physical will you had left in you and staggered your way into Dean’s bedroom. You only hear Sam’s voice as a muffle behind you, asking if you were ok, and to lay on your side before passing out. “Sammy, baby I don’t need you to take care of me, alright? I’m fine! I’m just peachy.”,huffing and collapsing onto the bed. Burying your face into Dean’s pillow the tears started to fall, you clutched to it tighter. You were angry, sad, numb all at once. Sam turns you to the side and places the wastebasket on your side of the bed. He gives you a small smile and gently pushes your hair away from your face.

“When you get up, I’ve got a couple of Tylenol and glass of water for you.” You blink your eyelids heavily and give him a small smile back, reaching for his chin. His beard tickling your palm. “Still the sweet Yeti as ever. I knew I picked the wrong Winchester.” He exhales harshly at that and his smile fades, but you don’t notice it since you fell asleep. He didn’t know if you were just teasing him or you actually meant it. You always had a loose tongue on your feelings when you were drunk. he admitted to himself that he had feelings for you, not as a friend or as a sister; but Dean was always the rambunctious one and took the first step to ask you out years ago after that one werewolf hunt. He stayed on the sidelines hoping those emotions whenever you gave him bear tackling hugs or pranked him while he was researching to fade, but it never did. He tucks you in and slowly makes his way to close the door, taking one last look at you.

Two weeks ago

“We had a deal!” You hear Dean groaning, straining to keep himself in his own body. The veins in his body start to pulse out and you watch him turn into Michael’s vessel before your eyes. You supported Jack with what strength you had while watching the man you love turn into an archangel. Too shocked to say a word you end up on your knees as he looks to you, Sam and Jack, “Thanks for the suit.”disappearing to god knows where.

Your blood shot eyes open and you feel yourself sitting up quicker than you wanted to, blood rushing into your head, the hammering pulse of a hangover presenting itself.

“Fuck. Never should’ve taken up whiskey.” You rubbed your temples and sit on the edge of the bed. Noticing your mouth feels very dry you look over to Sam’s little gift, a tall glass of water and a couple of Tylenol on the nightstand. “Thank goodness for you Yeti.” You say gruffly as you down the hopefully pills that might get you through today. You’d hoped to stay in bed but the only cure for a hangover would be food, you change into one of Dean’s shirts and put on some jeans, not bothering to brush your hair you place it in a bun and brush your teeth. It had always bothered you that there was a sink in the bedroom, but now it was a normal appliance since you barely left the room unless you needed a refill of whiskey for your glass. You head to the kitchen and see everyone scurrying around like working ants in their colony. Ever since they were saved and went through the rift most decided to stay and fight for the cause. You didn’t mind having company since it deflected what you were doing to yourself. Everyone was too busy to bat an eye at you unless it was asking where Sam was.

“Good afternoon, y/n,” a deep voice called out to you from behind. Cas was still an Angel, handsome as ever, but you could see the toll it took on him to keep everything in order while trying to track where Dean, Michael was. You shot him a wink while frying up eggs and bacon in a pan. “Hey Cas, it’s too bad you can’t taste food like before, I make a mean hangover breakfast.”

“Are you up for joining me trying to find...Michael?” He saw how your body stiffened as he asked reluctantly.

“It’s still Dean,Cas. But no, I’m thinking of hanging with Mary and showing what I made for the armory. I’m physically not able to be of help to you.Wheres Jack?” You replied.

“With Bobby, he insisted on getting some physical combat training since his powers....” Cas trailed off. It was hard for everyone, especially Jack. You knew how it felt to have your father tell you lies while you selflessly believed them, because you just wanted to be accepted and loved by him. But Lucifer only used him, the result, Jack basically being human, not that you minded, it was nice not having to tip toe around the kid, afraid he might blow up a town for just sneezing.You inhaled the coffee you made and engulfed your breakfast.

“It’s 2pm y/n, I see you slept in.” Mary pats your back gently as you send her a smile. “Just a bit, but you need to see what I did in the armory. I might be drunk 20 hours out of 24 but I still can finish a project if I want to . “

You both head into the gun range and open a small trunk full of bullets, neatly organized. Shooting yourself an approval lifting your eyebrows and biting your bottom lip, you showcase the display to her. “So, Angel, witch, werewolf, and vampire killing bullets. I’m even working on a leviathan version but they’ve been pretty distant since Dick exploded. But, you always need a plan in case. I’m supposed to be good about that, I WAS good about that.” You tell her, shoulders starting to slump. No matter what version of what you thought could’ve happened if you’d planned it more carefully, it always shows the same outcome. Dean inviting Michael to be his vessel without hesitation, and him flying out to wherever the hell he is now. It pained you too much to think about it, you always end up thirsty for something stronger than your usual girly drinks to diffuse the pain in your chest.

“ This- this is amazing y/n! You did good.” Mary praises you, holding a vampire bullet into the light, squinting to examine all the details. Placing the bulletin back into it’s socket, she sighs softly and looks to you. “Y/n, I might not have been there enough for my boys, but I know that they care for you deeply, especially Dean. Please, don’t hurt yourself more than you already have. This isn’t your fault. He was desperate, we all were, to save Sam and Jack. This is all Lucifer’s doing. We’ll get him back, I promise.”

The tears start to well up in your eyes but you don’t blink them away, letting them fall freely down your cheeks. You close the trunk and place it on the shelf. Mary pulls you in for a hug but you don’t hug her back. Your too exhausted from last night’s alcoholic binge to care the empathy coming from your mother in law.

She understands enough to leave you to your own personal space. You walk on to the range with a target sheet, longer than you, having to jump to reach to clip it up. Putting on safety glasses you load regular bullets into your pistol and aim at the target, cocking it. Exhaling slowly and rounding your shoulders, you aim and fire. The bullet goes through first into the target’s chest, a second shot to the shoulder, another to the throat, then two to the head. You shrug not impressed. Though hungover you still had very good aim thanks to Dean teaching you. It became second nature to you.

Couple Years Ago

“You need to relax your shoulders! You’re like a little gremlin, you won’t aim where you want to y/n!” Dean voices raises at you, ear mufflers on you glanced his way disapprovingly.

“Well, maybe I need a bit more help than just telling me what to do! I may be hands on but I’ve never actually shot a gun before if you hadn’t noticed.” You gritted your teeth as you fired another shot, missing the target and having the bullet ricochet. “This is bullshit!” As you were about to place the gun down you feel Dean behind you too close for comfort, your breath stuck in your throat. You can feel the rush of heat starting to emerge from your neck to your ears then your cheeks as you turn pink from the unexpected contact. He takes your hand holding the gun as if he’s your shadow and guides your arm up level with your shoulder. His other arm around your waist, starting to tighten his grip you straighten up your back, involuntarily rubbing your ass against him. A tiny groan leaves him and you try to ignore it.

“Relax, you got this, aim and shoot, just like I showed you baby.” Whispering to you, feeling his breath on your neck.

Exhaling slowly you look to the paper target and three shots ring out, three holes in its face. “Holy crap, holy crap! I frikking did it! Haha!” You jump for joy, turning around to hug him tightly. His one arm still on your waist the other grabs your gun and uncocks it then puts it on the table. “You did great sweetheart, you’ll be able to shoot with a rifle in no time.” A big smile on his face as he leans down to kiss your lips. Your hands travel up to the back of his neck receiving a pleasant reaction from Dean as you reciprocate his kiss. “Well, luckily you’re my teacher. I might need some extra credit Mr. Winchester.” A glint in his green apple eyes and he carries you in his arms as you try to wriggle out of his grasp. “Dean! I’m too heavy!” “Sweetheart, I’ve carried you out of hunts many times. Believe me when I say you’re not the heaviest thing I’ve had to throw around.” Your arch a brow at him “throw around huh?” A smirk on your face as he carries you back to the bedroom.

“Y/n? Are you ready? Y/n!” Cas is waving his hands at you, making you snap back to reality. Blinking a few times you see Cas is ready with his gear. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I haven’t even packed, I don’t want to waste your time, just go ahead without me Cas, I’ll be fine.” He gives you a disconcerting look. You stare back at him hard. No matter how long you’ve known the angel , the stare you give, he knows when to back off.

“I’ll, be, fine, wings. I’ll handle the bunker til you get back. Plus Mary and Bobby are here.”

With that he nods and heads out. You sigh heavily and rub your face down, deciding to look for Sam. The group that stayed back in the bunker are too busy to answer you, then you here someone call out.

“Hey Chief! We got a tip from a hunter of yours, says she might’ve sighted Dean.” Sam’s tall frame appears a few yards from you. His beard is scruffier and thicker than ever, the bags under his eyes show he hasn’t properly rested since Michael jumped his brother’s bones. You make your way to him as he sits in front of his laptop. Sensing your presence he looks up and gives you a grin.

“Hey, look who’s awake, sleeping beauty.”

You slap his shoulder gently and then lean over to see what he’s doing, you can smell his conditioner that he uses to keep his hair oh so soft and shiny.

“What we got Sherlock?” You tease.

He laughs sharply and tries to concentrate on the screen in front of him.

“ Get this, we got a tip where Dean could be, but he’s jumping everywhere. He’s frying up bodies left and right, the police are all over it. Eyes melted out of their skull.” Your neck tightens but you keep your composure. “Hm, classic angel-type of kill. So no location where he was last?” You ask, Sam shaking his head.

You straighten up and head to the mini bar. “Ok, so we know Dea-Michael, is grilling random people in random places. Great. He’s planning something but what the fuck is it?” You pop the glass bottle of whiskey and start to pour until a huge hand covers it and places it to the side. You look up to Sam and show you’re not accepting the rejection of your tonic, trying to grab it from him, only to raise it higher than you can reach. “Nuh uh. Didn’t you learn last night? You were keeled over the toilet for a good half hour before I got you to bed, hoping you weren’t going to drown in your own vomit, y/n.”

You sneered at him and tried to jump up to get the glass back.

“Yeti, it’s my own problem, if it helps me with what we’re dealing with so be it. “ he places the glass on the top shelf of the bar and you scowl. You reluctantly relax as he pulls you in to hug you. “It’s not going to help numb the pain you’re feeling y/n. It might feel like it helps but you’ll always end up feeling like shit at the end of the day. I need you to be strong. I need you.” With those last three words you look up at him as he looks down at you with his hazel eyes. You’ve never recalled being this physically close to the youngest Winchester, and you realize this is too close to be considered platonic. You don’t know if it’s because you’re lonely or you’re still drunk from last night’s binge, but you don’t feel anything wrong as you hold his waist a bit tighter than you should, clutching for dear life. You feel the heat of his back radiating on to your hands and your fingers spread to travel upward to the middle of his back, wanting to feel more of him.

“Ahem.” You both look to Bobby clearing his throat. Realizing you’re in the middle of the bustle of everyone, but no one can tell you’re holding his waist under his jacket, Sam let’s go of you and you cross your arms to face Bobby.

“We’ve got a problem.” Holding the phone out to Sam.

**Do I need to continue this as a series or what? So much slow burning of angst and almost smut I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.**🤷🏻‍♀️

[gasoliya]

now, before anyone ELSE makes this joke first...

A ella le gusta la gasolina ! Dame más gasolina !

i am very much aware that my url is one letter from being gasolina, thank you very much, but the alternative would have been soliyaga and that didn’t sound too hot either, so...*gasolina by daddy yankee plays in the bg*

so anyways, let’s get on with this intro (fair warning i talk A LOT but it’s cause i’m excited!):

hi hi everyone!!  i’m aza (i’ve also gone by wren) and a few of you may know me as i used to frequent indie krp and closed krp sporadically over the past few years!

super psyched to be accepted and want to dive FULL FORCE into plotting with as many people as i can! i’ve already got a mind for a second air nation muse, so if nothing works out between liya and your muse(s) to start, don’t fret!

me, aza, helping repopulate the air nation like aang and katara

sooooo this is her full bio, and it’s bullet format and relatively short (i think?) BUT if you want the quick and dirty, here it is:

31 years old, airbender. first born daughter of council member rinzen (torma family!).

fc is sonoya mizuno and she’s literally the perfect fc because she’s a dancer and there’s a shit ton of pics with her in motion! would have made her a waterbender, but also - the air nation needed some loving!

her family calls her “liya” as the a is an easy way to draw out her name as a term of endearment, close friends will probably also call her liya or soli! otherwise, she also goes by “soli” or “so” to acquaintances...otherwise, assume full name of “soliya” 

inspiration for her actually came during a rando conversation with my roommate, we talked a little bit about sarira, which is basically...“although the term sarira comes from the sanskrit word for “body” (शरीर), and can be used for relics like teeth or parts of buddha’s skull, it typically refers to the crystalline traces that remain after a respected buddhist’s corpse is burnt...in some cases, sarira are said to grow from the bodies of living people, usually at the culmination of a religious experience.“ we then talked about how in her family’s case, her mother used to tell her that buddhist monks would carry all their rage and pent up feelings and it would be pressed into these little ‘remnants’ and after cremation, you could see just how much they suffered and how much their self-discipline kicked in, by seeing how many of these sarira remnants remained. (this is more clear if you read my bio)

soooo yes! wild child, cocky as hell, confident and just...like, she’d be someone you’d want to party with.

literally the most stubborn child/teenager you could ever have met. people on air temple island were convinced that she was swapped at birth with another baby, and thought that she may be better suited as a fire or earth bender. but she had a natural affinity for airbending which shut them up for a while!

traveled around a LOT to the other nations and the north, east, south, and west air temples with her father!

LOVES HER SIBLINGS TO DEATH AND BACK! would probably kill for them (esp during her wild child days)

but really seriously injured one of her younger siblings (looking for this muse/plot aye) at the age of 16, and like - so much guilt

self isolated for about 4 months in guilt after, then went on a soul search at the other air temples for about another month. meditated - a lot, started to practice self-discipline

went into hardcore airbending training for about another 4 months, so total of 8 months of only air temple interactions and turned 17 during this self journey (aka went off the grid to anyone else in the 3 other nations)

disposition changed HEAVILY, went from wild child to very calm, relaxed, placid (still friendly though!) so anyone who knew her before is probably like ???? tf ???

but from like 17-28 was still a continuous journey of self-control as she travels around with her father on diplomatic visits and then more so on her own as she gets older, but by now she’s pretty good at keeping her outward emotions/outburts all inside.

doesn’t mean her control and discipline is perfect though!

damn, not as quick and dirty as originally planned, but what ELSE is new? a MASSIVE plots page is incoming soon! and to anyone who has written with me before/knows me...vouch for me that i’m a good time, aye

let’s write together!!! 💖 

[imagine-loki]

Mad Predictions

TITLE: Mad Predictions

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 8

AUTHOR: inspired-snowflace

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: “A freedom restrained the sun shall invoke, The gift from the plea a mother spoke, Purpose shall be bestowed upon your life, In form of one you should have called wife, A lover presumed dead shall be back, Now shall you truly pay for your attack.”

Ever since the fortune teller had spilt these words, Loki’s life was thrown into a hurricane. He dared to hope that after the attack on New York and the following arrest, things would get better, but these words seemed to point in an opposite direction.

Things would never remain the same, for better or worse.

RATING: Everyone

NOTES/WARNINGS: Description of war. This includes something that isn’t part of the MCU Canon. Also, a short ellaboration on your powers- when you turn your wrist counter-clockwise, it tortures your subject (The slower, the more pain) and turning it clockwise kills them easily and consumes way less power. Updates earlier on my tumblr!!

RECAP : Loki regrets his past actions but doesn’t confess the reason he did them. Time passes on.

~a month later~

The attack started the first thing in the morning.

The city of Sokovia was once again threatened by extra-terrestrial beings. They were similar to the Chitauri, but they were obviously smarter and stronger than their brethren who had attacked New York. Apparently, they wanted vengeance for their previous defeat and so they decided that the best place to attack would be Sokovia, which had already suffered one attack in the past and had not recovered from it entirely. For the first time, the tide was in favour of the Avengers.

Wanda put all her emotions in her fight since her brother, Pietro had died saving the city and she would do all in her power to protect it.

Unbeknownst to you all, even Loki worked overtime since he wanted his own sweet revenge on the Chitauri for making him a mere puppet in the hands of Thanos.

You stood in the place since the past hour, turning any nasty Chitauri that dared to come close to you to dust. But of course, they had a ace up their sleeve.

You first heard it over the comms, Hawkeye muttered, “Guys! How are you even dealing with these things? They don’t seem to die!!”

“Dear Hawk, looks like your eyesight has worsened. For each of these stupid things that die, there are two!” Black Widow said in the comms.

“Guys, for the past hour I have been trying to kill them, frying, roasting, boiling, deep frying, nothing seems to work on them.” Tony sounded exhausted through the comms. “I have been avoiding them by flying. Cap’s Orders- first evacuate citizens and then find a way to kill them.”

“Even lightning doesn’t work!” Thor sounded irritated through the comms.

“And from my and Hawk’s side, you can definitely eliminate arrows and bullets.”

You were completely confused. Two for each that die? What was going on?

Then Steve’s voice crackled through, “Team, focus on civilians first. We will deal with these creatures, later. Ok?”

“Umm.. Guys, could you please elaborate on the issue of ‘kill one get two free’?” You asked.

“Y/N, since you haven’t noticed…. THESE IDIOTIC CREATURES DO NOT DIE, NOT REALLY, THEY JUST SPRING BACK ALONG WITH A SECOND BODY AND KEEP COMING!” Tony screamed. “Does anybody have any ideas to kill them?” He added.

You looked at all the dust around you. Not a single one had resurrected. What were these guys talking about? Then you saw it. Hawkeye jumped over buildings with a small crew of Chitauri running behind him. When one of them came too close, Hawk shot him. But the monster would fall for a second and then suddenly awaken back as two. It was that moment that you realised that the perfect recipe to a dead Chitauri was shredding it to perfection.

“Have any of you guys tried turning them to dust?” You questioned over the comms.

“Well breaking news, Y/N!! You can’t exactly turn these things to dust with an arrow!!” Clint said, exhaustion and frustration imminent in his voice.

“Well, Congratulations Clint, for your birthday you get some Chitauri dust!!” You exclaimed while quickly twisting your wrist clockwise at Barton’s tail.

They immediately disintegrated into piles of Chitauri dust. Clint looked behind him in shock only to see no followers. However, killing so many together took its toll on you. You started huffing like you had just run a marathon. Meanwhile a grateful Clint jumped down a two floored building and landed gracefully.

He headed towards you and said, “Well, Chitauri dust makes a decent birthday gift.”

“Cap, your recipe is to turn them to dust.” Clint said in the comms.

“Well, I don’t think that except Y/N, there are many of us who can do that. Y/N, Charge to you. Over.”

“Fine. Cap, Nat, Thor and Clint; I want you to help the civilians. Loki and Wanda, my fellow magicians, just hold these guys out or if you can turn then to dust, do that! Tony head over to my location, I would like an aerial position to murder these creatures. Do not kill these creatures yourself unless there in an absolute necessary.”

“On it!” Wanda confirmed.

Clint quickly headed to the direction where he could hear screams.

“Ummm.. Y/N, I would gladly head over but I have a tail of like 40, very, very, angry looking Chitauri.” Tony said.

“Head over to my location and give me a window and a clear shot. I shall deal with them.”

“Fine Y/N, behind you!!” Tony screamed. You turned to see Tony soaring skywards and the Chitauri following him. You made quick work using both your wrist and soon it was raining dust a few feet ahead of you.

The effort caused you lots. You were literally on the ground trying to catch your breath. Tony came back down and lifted you from behind.

“Nice work there, kid!!”

“Tony, to Wanda and Loki’s position.” You panted.

You arrived quickly at Wanda’s location. Wanda had managed to turn many to dust herself, so had very few Chitauri in front of her. But you saw the deep gash on her left leg and figured she could use some help. Tony flew you closer so that you could get a better shot. You turned your left wrist and the dumb things turned to ash. Wanda turned and smiled at your pair.

“Loki is dealing with too many, I can sense it. He is at the centre of the city. Y/N, here is my energy.” Wanda said while red wisps floated towards you, providing you with a new boost. As a contrast, Wanda fell to the ground with all her energy drained.

Feeling newly energized with whole of Wanda’s energy, Tony flew you to Loki’s location. You had prepared yourself to be extremely professional on field, so Loki and your past didn’t matter on the battlefield.

But the moment he came into your view, you were shocked. Loki was fighting hundreds, if not a thousand, all alone! He froze some, trapped some in magical loops, cast illusions of himself running away to distract a few Chitauri. Behind him, Steve, Nat and Hawkeye guided the civilians to safety. By the sheer number of civilians present, you assumed that they were being held hostage. Steve would occasionally join Loki, to knock some out. Not strong enough to kill them, but enough to keep them down for a few moments. You intended on using your powers, but there were so many! Killing a mere 40 had caused the wind to knock off your lungs, but handling more than a hundred all by yourself!! Even with Wanda’s energy, you would die before you even erased half of them from existence. A sudden surge of panic hit you when you remembered that you were the only one capable of defeating them, the others could only assist you. This victory was riding on what you did.

“I can’t do this!! There are too many!!” You cried out from sheer panic gripping your veins.

“Y/N, you can do this. I have complete faith in you.” Steve said with firmness. This reassured you a bit.

You turned your wrist in the direction of a few Chitauri which were about to attack Loki. Your breath become more laboured almost immediately. It was ironic how an action as small as turning your wrist caused you to lose so much energy.

“Tony, set me down there; that will give me good height.” You said pointing to a crashed car behind Loki.

Tony flew you over while you decimated a few Chitauri that were heading towards the civilians. He set you down nimbly on a car, ensuring that you had enough energy to stand.

“Fly over to Wanda! Get her to the evac ships!” You told Tony.

“Kid, you sure?” Tony’s voice seemed uncertain.

“Yeah! The Chitauri might attack her!” and to prove your point a few Chitauri disintegrated on the turn of your hand. You started panting heavily, but there was no way the war was over yet. Hundreds of Chitauri still surrounded you, while Loki did his best to hold them off. Tony flew with a start, leaving black marks on the bonnet of the car you stood on.

Suddenly, a voice whispered something in your mind. While training with Wanda, you had learned that the thing you called your ‘gut instinct’ was actually the soul stone talking to you. You had got used to the soul stone warning you in your mind, but this didn’t seem like a warning. It seemed more like an idea.

“Uhhh… Guys? I have an idea…. Not sure of it, really…” You said uncertainly, this was definitely crazy.

“Is it crazy?” Tony asked over the comms.

“Would it kill all the Chitauri?” Steve enquired.

“Yes! Yes to both!” You exclaimed. “Not sure whether I have the energy though…” You muttered under your breath.

“Then go with it!” Steve and Tony exclaimed in unison.

You were sure that no one heard your second sentence. But a string of green energy flew into your body from Loki’s direction, leaving you energized, then surprised.

“It is all I can manage. I will require the rest to hold them off. You can do this, Y/N.” Loki said loudly while looking dead ahead, as if he wasn’t talking to you.

The Asgardian God did provide you with a lot of strength. Atleast now you will be able to save the avengers, even if you yourself die. “Thank you.” You said as gratitude flooded your voice.

On the comms you said, “I would need cover!”

“On it!” Steve replied almost immediately. You let the soul stone take over you. You started chanting a spell with your hands slightly raised at your side, palms as if you were holding two beach balls.

You saw Steve jump to your protection and knocking a few Chitauri out, even killing some in the process. On his left, Loki did as earlier, freezing the Chitauri, trapping some in magic and even lulling some to sleep.

You muttered ancient words that made no sense to you. However, You knew that they were your only chance. Suddenly, a group of about 50 Chitauri stopped completely and turned back as if they were being controlled by a remote. Was this the soul stone’s idea?

You traced the line of direction in which they were walking. Oh shit!! They were heading straight towards the civilians!! You wanted to use your energy, but you knew you couldn’t waste any. Steve also came to the same conclusion and started heading towards the small battalion.

“Y/N, you have lost cover!! Some are following the common men!!” Steve shouted over the comms.

At that exact moment, as if the Chitauri knew your vulnerability, he shot a weapon, which looked very much like an arrow, only sharper and extra-terrestrial, straight at your heart. You looked with shock at Loki, who was too busy re-freezing soldiers who had gotten free and were trying to attack him.

So this is how you would die.

[evalulu]

A story that was initially inspired by a sketch, but then prompted the completion of the sketch here also by @xmafiacatx :p (This does feature a kinda brutal death, but there is an alternate ending that will be posted in this too.)

IQ was well trained for various kinds of missions, and was by far the best for neutralizing electrical threats.  Blitz, Bandit, and Jäger were just as reliable teammates, and she always found relief in working alongside them.  The mission they had was simple enough; but all of GSG9 knew it didn’t mean it would be easy.  Jäger was often their pilot, able to secure and defend landing zones alone.  The ADS was almost irreplaceable on missions like these, where speed and efficiency with little manpower was vital.  

The moment the helicopter touched down, IQ wasted no time in moving to action with Blitz taking point and Bandit close behind them.  The house was heavily fortified, swarming with White Mask terrorists.  

“Do you think the welcoming committee will have cookies this time?”

Elias had a penchant for joking around, making light of stressful situations.

“Could we hurry up the breaking and entering?  I’d like to be home at a decent time.”

Dominic had a matching penchant to make everything sound like an illegal chore he wanted no part of.  Monika could only sigh, pulling her scanner and seeing several pings at the door.  She took position at the doorway, pistol at the ready.  

“On my mark.”  

Dominic and Elias nodded, rifle and shield raised respectively.  The pistol shots took out the prepared nitro cells, alerting the White Masks to their presence.  The flash shield blocked most of the incoming bullets, rifle shots finding their marks when flashbangs in the shield went off.  The rooms were cleared near silently, teamwork perfectly harmonized to each other.  They knew each other well, and knew how to operate best.  Marius’ silence would have been concerning if they didn’t know him as well as they did; the pilot simply preferred not talking unless he needed to mention something.  

Their mission was to retrieve a smaller container, but still just as deadly of a biohazard.  The container was the size of a luggage case, and could easily be mistaken for someone’s vacation packing.  It was left to Dominic to carry, with Elias and Monika keeping an eye out on their escape route.  

“I hope you three are moving, they do not seem to be very happy now.”

Despite the severity, Marius sounded incredibly calm.  It was more than likely he was watching from a distance, making sure reinforcements weren’t undetected as they snuck in.  Dominic hurried as much as he could, groaning.  

“I might as well be carrying a body in here.”

“Just move!”

Monika shouted, staying behind the shield as much as possible as she fired at the approaching terrorists.  The ADS’ littering the landing zone were promptly cleaned up and put into the co-pilot seat, Marius leaning against the helicopter nonchalantly.  

“You three took your time!”

He started to get the machine running while Dominic slid the suitcase into the cabin, getting in himself with Monika close behind him.  She fired at whatever target possible while Elias maneuvered his shield in first.  

“Move your ass, Kötz!  I don’t want to be here longer than I have to!”

“I’m not taking any longer than normal, stop whining!”

“I’ll stop when I’m dead!”  

They had to shout over the noise of the engine and the gunfire, Dominic dragging Elias into the cabin harshly.  Monika hurried to close the door quickly as they took off and avoid as many shots as possible, instinctively ducking her head when the loud bang resounded over everything else.  She barely heard the soft thud amidst the rumbling of the helicopter.  

“Dominic!”

All at once, a pit of dread sank in her stomach.  Elias never sounds so panicked, or says his full name like that.  The door slammed shut, giving her a chance to look over.  Elias was leaned over the limp form, blood already starting to pool.  No.  She couldn’t help throwing Elias back to see herself, a distinct hole in the side of Dominic’s helmet.  His eyes were wide and unfocused, and the overwhelming wave of horror washed over her.  

“The asshole finally get shit on?”  

Marius’ voice shouted out, entirely oblivious of the reality.  His focus was on flying, he couldn’t have known, but the statement still stung deep.  He only looked back when he didn’t get a response, the hail of bullets finally ceasing as they got too far.  The red stream he saw was enough of an indication, making him realize just how accurate he was.  

“...You’re joking, right?”

“No.  I…  will tell Six she’s down an operator.”

Marius leaned back in the seat, focusing himself on the flight.  He couldn’t let them crash, but the distinct feelings of emptiness and surreality weighed on him like the clouds around him.  Monika hated the silence.  She hated that there was nothing Elias could say to bring them up, nothing that could be done to make it any easier to bear.  She instead sat on the bench in the back of the cabin, already trying to form a coherent report of the situation to send to Six.  

Elias was the one to grab a sheet from the back and cover him, trying to keep blood from spilling everywhere.  ‘As much as it hurts, you’ll live’, he told himself, wishing he could find anything to say to brighten the mood, yet there were moments he knew it was better to keep quiet.  It didn’t feel right just yet, anyway.  

(Alternate Ending)

Bang!  

“Dominic!”  

The thud was barely audible to Monika above the roar of the helicopter engine and the distant gunfire.  She never liked the feeling of dread, and turning to see a limp Dominic on the ground did nothing to quell her fear.  The door of the cabin was closed at least, Marius wasting no time in getting away from the hostile zone.  They had their mission completed, and the only thing left was to head to base.  Elias was leaned beside Dominic, ignoring the blood that was trickling from under the helmet.  

“He’s not..?”

Elias stared at Dominic’s chest, waiting for the eventual movement that indicated breathing.  Waiting for that was taking too long in the span of crucial seconds, instead gently pressing two fingers against his neck.  He let out a deep breath, shaking his head.  

“Just rattled, I think.  Helmet did it’s job.”

Monika sighed, stepping closer to see for herself.  The helmet had taken the majority of a bullet, the force more than likely only causing blunt damage rather than piercing damage.  Any higher caliber bullet and the helmet wouldn’t have made a difference.  She shook the thought out of her head, grateful that they had lucked out this time.  

“Marius!  Radio Doc and tell him to get ready!”

“Our resident asshole isn’t thinking of dying on us, is he?”

“I don’t think he’s doing much thinking at all.”

Elias grinned, knowing not to remove the helmet until Doc told them to.  The last thing any of them wanted was to make matters worse for their friend, and trying to get the helmet off could cause more unwanted damage.  

“Just radio Doc, Marius!”

“No room for patience, is there?”

She shook her head, attention focusing back to Dominic.  His face was strained, eyes shut.  The rumbling was likely not helping whatever developing headache he was feeling.  

“Help me move him to the bench, Elias.  Carefully, we’re not going to hurt him more.”

He nodded, readying himself to lift him with Monika’s help.  The groan from Dominic as they moved him almost made her feel guilty.  Almost.  

“Now you know how it feels when you get on our nerves, ja?”

Elias grinned, meeting Dominic’s gaze despite how unfocused it was.  

“I will shoot you.”

“I think he’ll be just fine, Monika.”  Elias said through a laugh, sitting on the bench opposite of him.  She couldn’t help but grin, not needing to see Dominic’s full face to know he was scowling.  His normal sarcastic would only get worse with the sort of pain he was undoubtedly feeling, but there wasn’t much he could say that would genuinely get on their nerves.  They were far too used to it by now.  

Dominic hated the splitting pain on the side of his head, everything spinning and blurry.  He couldn’t think about walking, why did it seem like he entirely forgotten how it even worked?  It didn’t help his annoyance, clinging to the seat to not move around too much.  Everything felt so fuzzy, almost like he was dreaming.  He wasn’t, was he?  He groaned in irritation, closing his eyes.  Keeping them open was a struggle he wasn’t in the mood to deal with.  

He had just gotten used to the constant rumbling and slight rustling when it suddenly stopped.  Movement around him was obvious, but he couldn’t be bothered to try and get up himself.  Letting the others think he was napping was just fine with him, until he felt constant poking at his shoulder.  

“Rise and shine, ja?”

“Fuck off.”

Elias laughed, turning to wave Doc in.  

“Be careful, he’s grumpy enough where he just might bite.”

“Keep talking and I might have to, Kötz.”

“You see?  He’s okay, just upset over a nasty bump to the head.”

“I would thank you to let me be the judge.  Unless you’ve taken to medical studies when I wasn’t aware?”

Dominic could just imagine the sort of guilty grin on Elias’ face, the kind where the man was clearly wrong and his jokes weren’t going anywhere.  Doc simply appreciated them in a different way, he found.  

“I take it that’s my signal to get out of your way?”

“If you could, please.”

The kind of niceties Doc made efforts to stick to were the exact same kinds of niceties he didn’t care to bother with.  If people didn’t like him, that was their problem, not his own.  He finally tried opening his eyes to look around, instead met with a bright light.  His eyes instantly shut, near growling.  

“Are you trying to make me go blind?”

“How do you feel?”

Typical.

“Like scheiße.”

Doc nodded, carefully undoing the helmet.  The edges of the dent in the helmet had dug into the side of his head, leaving distinct bruising and small cuts.  His concern was on a potential concussion, which he was almost sure Dominic had received at least one.  

“Can you sit up?”

“No.”

Doc knew that Dominic wasn’t going to be extremely cooperative.  But, it was a sign that nothing was severely damaged.  

“Are you sure you want to rest on a bench in a helicopter instead of a bed?”

“...No.”

Doc grinned under the mask, gladly supporting the other man to the GSG9 quarters.  He nudged the door open, walking past Elias, Monika, and Marius.  He only turned to them when Dominic was at least sitting on the bed.  

“Make sure he rests, nothing strenuous.  The worst of it is a concussion.”

“So, zip-tie him to the bed?”

“You even think about trying that and I will ruin you, Kötz.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him, Gustave.  Thank you.”

Monika being the voice of reason wasn’t uncommon, and was sufficient enough for Doc to feel confident leaving.  

“So, how do you feel about bungee cords?”

“Don’t.”  

Monika shook her head, part of her wishing Doc had stayed instead.  

[twitchesandstitches]

In the continuity of the crossovers, ficlets, original stuff and various AUs I like to write, I have an idea for the overall cosmology it takes place in. This is the multiverse, comprising the worlds characters might travel in and stranger realms from which magic and eldritch beings might originate, as well as many unique realms of no particular astral alignment but might make good plot hooks, brief adventures or sources of antagonists or treasures, or even answers relevant to a given story.

This cosmology is very much a work in progress and heavily inspired by a mess of different series - primarily the Great Wheel of 3rd Edition Dungeons and Dragons as seen in Planescape: Torment, aspects of 4th Edition D&D, whatever was going on in Exalted, and whatever else feels like an appropriate addition. Consequently any of this might change later on, and I welcome suggestions.

A few ground rules for how things work, on the scale of the regular universes the characters know. These are places that aren’t so different from the world we know.

On the current scene of things, the multiverse - and thus the casts - has only recently recovered from a catastrophic incident that occured about a thousand years ago, with brief flare ups resulting in further damage a little less than a hundred years ago. This has left many universes collapsed, arun with terrible monsters and destroyed civilizations; warbands of hopeful conquerors run rampant, and newly established societies struggle to gain a foothold, while roaming bands of nomads move from world to world. However, things are not all doom and gloom, as society is making a comeback and people are recovering, now exploring the ruins of the past to piece together what happened and restore lost technologies and arts.

The multiverse itself is still wounded; demons, cosmic horrors, world-eating abominations and mysterious entities of all kinds regularly invade the material realms and make a real nuisance of themselves.

The general tone is similar to Space Opera settings, with a dash of epic fantasy overlaid with sci fi aesthetics; grand and, well, operatic adventures in space, flying from planet to planet, battling with wicked warlords who command whole systems and entreating with ancient empires and vast galactic councils that all beings have a voice in. Battles and wars are fought with laser swords, rocket hammers and energy shields, with firearms shooting stuff like lightning, mini-rockets and chainsaw-grains instead of bullets. Power armor and mini mecha are ubiquitous among the more powerful factions, tending towards ‘mechanical exoskeletons’ in design.

Visually, as far as the stuff relevant to our characters is, the look is a little bit of a combination of post-cyberpunk space travel, with a hint of modern Mass Effect-style shininess, and a heavy dose of scavengerpunk. Spaceships are big, bulky, round and scarred by the ages. People wear leathers, hexagon-toned bodysuits, bulky spacesuit/exoskeletons, or whatever rags they can stitch together into something cool. (If you’ve ever seen Eclipse Phase artwork, you might get an idea.) Technology generally looks bulky, powerful and comically oversized for whatever it’s purpose is; evidently miniaturization was not in fashion before the big breakdown of things. Things mostly look like grand and glorious works of quasi-magical wonder, but worn down by the ages and scavenged, pasted back together and holding on with tape.

This is not universal, however. Certainly some newfound place of philosophy and enlightenment might harken to buildings of crystal spires that act as vast computers, the people wearing elegant lengths of cloth fashioned into togas and robes. The marauding warband trying to annoy them with loud music might wear bulky armor bolted together and painted red (BECAUSE IT GOES FASTER). And RIGHT NEXT to that, is a cyberpunk corporation world of gloomy spires, neon lights, and a lot of slots to plug your stuff into your body.

The overall technology level and series tone can be described as Warhammer 40k IF Mass Effect’s Paragon tone modified the setting to be less grimdark and stabby. (Alternatively, it USED to be super grimdark but the near destruction of all reality made things calm down a lot. All the people responsible for bad stuff got killed and the societies that enabled them were no longer relevant.) Minus the most destructive weaponry and world-buster bombs, barring caches of weaponry or automated factories that pragmatic factions or overeager warlords would just LOVE to have.

This translates roughly to a very high tech setting prior to the big catastrophe; technology capabilities are usually pretty good (to the point that space travel is pretty common for regular folks and not a national effort), but the most powerful and game-breaking things are the stuff of old civilizations, and are bitterly fought for and studied. Massive war ships that can destroy whole civilizations or legendary mech suits are irreplaceable and unique, because no one knows how they work or how to make more of them, due to the surrounding sciences no longer existing.

Modding. This refers to the use of biological alterations (mods, or biomods for more formal stuff), as well as slang for minor aesthetic alterations, and full on reshaping of someone’s body. This is EXTREMELY common in this setting, not just to enable hyper curves, gigantic sizes or other appropriate changes, but for more practical purposes. Someone might make themselves huge and with powerful muscles to be a better fighter, for instance, or alter their brain for greater thinking. Hyper fertility for one-woman population booms is also quite popular, linked to mega-curve changes. Often these alterations are NOT subtle in the slightest, and will show dramatic changes; how kink-related those might be is situational.

Modding also refers to cybernetics. In keeping with the aesthetics, these cybernetics might be polished or elegant, but they are rarely subtle. People don’t have tiny chips in their brains, they have huge bulky thinking engines fused to their brains in perfect harmony. Robot prosthetic limbs are massive, bulky and shimmering masses of machinery. Even synthetic muscle tissue WILL be pretty dang obvious, whether it be glowy, replace weaker organic muscles, or just be huge. Finally, cybernetics has no inherently negative effect just because it isn’t ‘natural’. Neither is sitting at a table looking at a phone or computer, but there you are! Any complications are strictly health-related, rather than innate or spiritual.

Now, to explain the fantasy-ish elements.

There are gods, and angels, and demons, and other beings. They exist far out in the multiverse, far from mortal dealings, and mostly they do their own thing. The affairs of mortals is not their main concern, but they do take an interest in us. Gods and similar beings take on different forms based on the cultures revering them, and they might be shaped by mortal belief, but there is a notable distinction between gods MADE from mortal belief, and those who exist apart from mortal relevance.

Magic is a thing. Specifically it follows the model of magic as just a thing that almost everyone can do, but it takes skill and training to do impressive stuff with it. An example: plenty of people have enough ability to, say, boost their skills to superhuman levels briefly or have great control over their body’s growth, but not everyone can throw a fireball. Typically people draw magical energy and shape it into various effects - perhaps forging it into one of a kind relics for ‘super science’ gadgetry - or more standard fantasy sorcery, with a hint of sci fi rationale to it. It can be understood and is rarely persecuted, and underlies a lot of the technological abilities in the setting. There is a distinction between arcane energy in its many forms, which is just the background essence of the cosmos, and divine magic, which is the raw power of genuine gods or spiritual powers, descending onto mortal believers and champions and empowering them.

Magic is hugely differentiated across the cosmos, and even in specific universes. It is heavily informed by culture and personal experience, and magic is more or less a power caused by emotion and perspective bleeding into the fabric of reality, backed up by energy and force of willpower, and shaping it. (Thus, magic is related to the soul; all beings that have souls can use magic, and using magic means you HAVE a soul.) In some places, you might have people who inherit influence over an element that their people are culturally tied to. In another, it might be a matter of academic study with little personal relevance. HAving them MEET can result in some interesting consequences for their abilities.

A soul, for that note, is the consequence of sapience and also sentience; self-awareness combined with the ability to say to the universe ‘I AM’. Clones, robots, self-aware golems, and every conceivable artificial being has as much of a soul as a naturally born human. They are people, and if it can ask ‘Do I have a soul’, then they do.

Many standards of sci fi, and indeed many archaic concepts (berserkers, knights, plate armor, weaponry of all sort and many varieties of ancient armor) are still quite present. However they are rendered with a sci fi aesthetic. Instead of knights, you have monastic orders of power armored warriors that rule as lords over regions. Instead of berserkers, you have ferocious warriors who have modded themselves

Some tech and sci fi thoughts:

As mentioned above, warfare is more similar to older forms of combat in the romantic tradition rather than modern notions of military action. This is partly because I find realistic warfare to be rather boring to really handle on its own. On a practical level, its harder to do it; one can’t just bomb your enemies into submission when targeting systems are difficult to figure out and you’re not really sure how they work except in the most arcane terms. (And they might be magical and can argue with you.) Modern military action CAN still happen, it’s just not an immediate option most of the time. Tanks, speedy jet-bikes, big time charges ad people gazing in awe as giant robots march into the field like living gods is definitely a feature here. Again, think of Warhammer 40k-style battles. Mechanized stuff is still relevant, as well. It is likely also televised and made into entertainment… which is super messed up.

Technology levels vary… a lot. In general it can be assumed that your standard space faring faction, band or society can produce their own spacecraft without relying on treasure troves of ancient relics or treasure hunts to find intact ships; this also implies intact understanding of relevant scientific fields. Thing might get iffier with things like energy-based weapons, advanced personal shields, or something, but they are still reasonably common. It’s usually a local question whether that means that such things can be made cheaply, or if there is a very large pre-collapse cache of them.

Magic involved with technology is very, very common. Cosmic internet that manifests as interconnected chains of psychic energy between populations, bizarre creations that only function because of their magical nature, the use of mental powers to safely navigate through mysterious realms or send telepathic messages to a distant world; all of these are reasonably common. Many groups may replace advanced scientific know-how with magical experimentation entirely, causing a great deal of diversity in individual tool use and fashions.

On that note: faster-than-light travel. It is a thing in universe (how else would you go from world to world to have fun adventures?) but it’s not easy. It is not simple and it can be very, very dangerous. There are a few different methods; phasing into other realms of existence to ignore the speed of light, as that rule won’t apply, is a common one, but this runs the risk of attracting the attention of potentially malicious cosmic horrors, and surging people up with magic, for all kinds of weird transformations. There is also the use of ancient artifacts that transport ships from one point to another, or complicated warp drives that do stuff to gravity at the cost of enormous fuel requirements. In general, this stuff can’t be weaponized, and its most common that public transit between the stars involves the cosmic equivalent of buses; people pack their ships into really large barges and go along for the ride, saving on costs.

Alien life. It’s there! It’s a big deal! And most of it doesn’t look like us, SERIOUSLY GUYS I HATE THE RUBBER FOREHEAD HUMAN TROPE SO MUCH IT CAN BURN IN A DITCH. Think in terms of Mass Effect or Animorphs alien designs for how distinct they can get. Alien races that are canonically similar to humans will likely either be reimagined as being derived from humanity or redesigned into something more appropriate to their homeworld or, if artificial, the circumstances of their creation.

Feel free to ask me about other stuff you might want to know, or should take into consideration for world building!

[insideedensgate]

Jacob Seed/Staci Pratt - Stripper and Sugar Daddy AU

This alternate universe has NO abusive content and it stays in NO connection to original relationship which is based on abuse and torture of various forms.

I do not support abusive relationships, nor do I condone that the original basis of this ships lies within such an abusive contact!

But, and because I think these two could probably be adorable, if moved out of their original universe (and being less abusive and inhuman in certain ways), I decided to try this alternate universe out.

With Jacob not being an abusive monster and Staci being of full control of his actions, his mind and his body.

I decided to inform y’all, that I do not support any abuse or non-consent plot and the basis of the here presented relationship in this piece is not based on any of this.

Thank you very much. x

please klick the keep reading to - yeah, keep reading

nsfw-ish

english is not my mother tongue

also, this was heavily inspired by Frank Ocean's “Pyramids”

Staci started working in that luxurious, upper class strip club in Beverly Hills two years ago

he was trying to get into police school back in the days but they eventually didn't accept him to a lack of physical condition

so he started to train more to try again and eventually fell in love with dancing during that process

his best friend Joey Hudson, he knows her since high school, recently started her part time job as a bar keeper at Eden's Gate (she got a bullet in her leg during her second car chase and had to retire, caused by some nerve issues) and got him the job as a dancer

at first, Staci only wanted to stay for a few month and then find something more reputable, but he soon learned that the dim lights, luxurious and elegant interior as well as the loud music was everything he ever wanted in life

one evening, Grace had called herself sick for the week and it was Staci's time to shine on the club's main stage, he enters the club

Staci is overwhelmed by the red hair, the trimmed beard and the two thousand dollar Gucci suit (he's not a gold digger, he honestly isn't, but a beautiful man with a lot of money and a speedy car? He might drop his panties down a lil' bit)

he also immediately recognized this man as Jacob Seed, the older brother of Joseph Seed, the main investor of the club – and shit, he's fucked as the red haired man moves straight to his table

he only heard rumours about him once being a lawyer for war crimes at the UN and that had to retreat from his position, caused by some dubious incidents no one truly knows of and thus, he is now back in LA, assisting his younger brother John and his famous law firm Seed and Partners

there is some very unspectacular guy sitting right in front of Staci and he feels goosebumps rolling over his body as Jacob literally makes him leave by one of the club's bodyguards – just by a simple dismissive wave of his hand

he sits down and unbuttons his jacket and leans back in the expensive armchair, the whole suit is dark with light pinstripes and a fucking light blue bee pattern

Staci flushes as Jacob grins at him sublimely from below, two fingers gesturing for Staci to come closer

and he drops down on his knees, it is like he is fucking high like that Amanda girl from table 6, when she smokes that stuff Timothy brings in - everything just happens so naturally, the way he founds himself crawling towards the edge of the table

and god, is that man beautiful, his hair looking like liquid copper in the dimmed lights of the club, the dark blue of his suit melting together with the burgundy red of the chair and Staci's world is spinning as he presses his chest to the cold, solid table while pushing his hips up

“Aye, Peaches”, the not so unfamiliar man hums after he let his gaze wander over Staci's body a few times, “Knew you were what I was looking for when I came through that door.” “And what are you looking for, Sir?”, Staci smiles nonchalantly, rolling on his back and aching it, hooking his fingers playfully under the waistband of his expensive lace panties, soaking up every second of the blue eyed gaze darted onto him

when he leaves the club late at night, he has three thousand dollars to spent on his own and he hurries the fuck up, considering the cities' areas he has to cross to get home (he is actually so fucking scared he is getting robbed, but he also doesn't think of taking a taxi either)

 the second he comes home he hides the money under his bed and locking the front door twice and he is pretty sure he just heard gun shots down the road

the next day he takes Grace's place again at 8pm (“If that girl isn't seriously ill I'm gonna rip her extensions off”, Mary whines and Staci laughs at that) and there he is again, 9pm on the second, front seat

“Good evening, Peaches”, he mouths as he sits down and opens his jacket, the suit even fancier today, yet still suiting his red hair and Staci's cheeks turn red, his smile shy and Jacob genuinely laughs at that

and that's the game they play for the following two weeks, cat and mouse, Staci dancing for Jacob and only Jacob (“Nice to see you again, Mr Seed”) even though there are other people around they feel so isolated from the world when they see each other, Staci getting paid like he has never been before with the goal to impress the oldest Seed a little bit more every night

one night Jacob isn't around, the front seat taken by some guy who's sixty or what, and Staci honestly feels humiliated (He has found out, during his exceptional research, that Jacob is in his late 40s, which surprisingly doesn't disgust him at all, no he thinks of it as so attractive, “He is way too hot to be that age”)

when he arrives back in the dressing room there's a small white card, with neat black ink inviting him to Providence the same night

underneath the card is a slim black box, containing a fucking 800 dollar suit in dark green velvet

when he arrives there (this time he didn't even had to consider calling a taxi - someone, Jacob's driver as it becomes apparent, is picking him up in a black Mercedes), the whole restaurant is empty and Jacob is sitting there all by himself, and Staci shouldn't be so surprised but he probably booked the whole restaurant

it is one of the most comfortable date nights (he has to calm the fuck down, he is something like this guy's personal stripper, don't get too emotionally attached there - so he tells himself) Staci had in a long time, they talk about this and that and he eventually, just a little bit, feels his stomach tingle and becoming warmer by the minute

Jacob drives him home, after he had Staci mumble the address three times because he was too ashamed to speak it out loud - “So, this is where you live, Peaches?”, hand softly caressing his thigh, which feels so right “Uh, yes. I know it's not, I mean like - “, “Quite dangerous around here, are you sure you don't want to come with me?” and he would love to, but Jacob has already done so much for him, he just doesn't want to be a burden or something like that

he lays awake until the early hours of the next day, worrying if he pissed Jacob off, if he'll ever see him again

but he does, the next time he has a shift, Jacob is there again, taking a sip of his club soda – with scotch he assumes - on ice as Staci walks out on the stage and all the previous anxiety falls off his shoulders

and lord, he can see Jacob's arousal so clearly from up there, the glass in his hand near his mouth slowly tarnishing, the way he spreads his legs is so obvious it makes a familiar heat rise in Staci's belly

that night, they fuck for the first time and Staci doesn't want it to end ever, everything feels so fulfilling, so right and divine, like it was always meant to be this way, the way Jacob fills him up, makes him sore and leaves him greedy, begging for more and screaming out his name in pure, innocent pleasure

when he wakes up, some five star, many Michelin star prized hotel has delivered an overwhelming amount of fruits and pastries for breakfast and he feels like he is still at sleep, dreaming in his small ass bed in his flat, when he sees Jacob standing at the oven in dark blue silk underwear, brewing coffee and making pancakes

“Mornin' Peaches, I hope you slept well”, and the way he emphasizes his words makes Staci so greedy, washing his still tired body with the hot pleasure of lust

Jacob takes him right there, on the kitchen counter two times before they actually move on to breakfast and it is so peaceful, a lot of laughter and shared stories and Staci suddenly realizes, nearly choking on his strawberries, that it feels like fucking home

after a few days of seeing Jacob on a daily basis, fucking and making out, going out for expensive dinner Staci finds a small box once again

it's a key and an address somewhere in South Park, 20 minutes from the club

“Jacob, no. No, I am not going to accept that”, and even through the speaker of his phone he can hear that beautiful laugh that makes him hot all over, “Why not, Peaches? I thought it would suit you. Also, I don't have to be afraid any more that you'll get shot or robbed – or both, or worse.”, “Jacob, there's no way I'm gonna accept this fucking penthouse”, “Language, Peaches”, Jacob warns, but Staci can literally see the smug grin on the other end of the phone

“Fuck it, he's officially your sugar daddy, no matter what you say, Stace!”, Grace laughs when he tells her that his address changed, and Hudson nearly drops one of the fresh polished glasses. “No, he's not! He was just concerned!”, Stacie tries to protest but he knows she's right and he should feel dubious or shady or like a hooker but he doesn't at all

“Good evening, Peaches”, Jacob whispers into Stacie's ear, his trimmed beard tickling the back of his shoulder as he presses gentle kisses on the soft skin and he leans into the touch, carefully dropping the brush he just applied some highlighter with

“Daddy's boy is looking good”, Jacob continues, sending shivers of anticipation down Stacie's spine, “Do you promise to look even better when I pick you up later, Peaches?” “Yes, Jacob”, Staci whispers and smiles at him in the mirror “Good boy, keep your beautiful head up Peaches. And don't forget that I love you - Staci”, he winks and leaves the dressing room and Staci to himself, blushing in a deep red with a whole fucking swarm of bees starting a love-riot in his stomach

[sergeantrosabellaswan]

Follow Me Down- ANON REQUEST

SUMMARY: “Hi! Can I please request a soulmate AU where the words their soulmate speaks first are tattooed on their arm with Pietro pretty please with all the toppings on top?” from anon. Inspired heavily by @floral-and-fine’s Silent Treatment.

You huffed out a sound in between a sigh and a groan as you came out of the shadows. Ever since you could remember, you had always hated parties- especially parties that your “uncle” would throw- this one was no exception. You glanced around the room, hoping to spot Natasha’s flaming scarlet curls, but only spotting a young man who had silver white hair. It was obvious that he was flirting with six girls at once, judging by how they all crowded around him, smiling and laughing at whatever he was saying.

            You only scoffed and returned to search for your friend as you pulled your trademark leather jacket tighter around your petite frame, seeking comfort rather than shelter from the chill. The heels of your motorcycle boots softly clicked on the floor as you wandered around, making it a point to not look friendly as you looked for the Russian assassin. The thick crowd of party goers parted for you as you stomped through, thinking of the long rant you was going to unleash onto your friend once she was located.

                        For the second time that night, your eyes flitted in the direction of the silver haired flirt, and he caught your eye, sending you a flirty wink and a cocky smile. You only rolled your eyes and fought the urge to stuff her middle finger as far up his nose as possible as you strutted over towards Natasha, having spotted her at last.

                        “There you are!” the Russian redhead greeted you with a beaming smile. “Have you seen Tony?”

  Do I look like a babysitter? You used your hands to sign out the sarcastic response, shifting your weight onto the balls of your heels as you rocked uneasily back and forth several times. Have you seen dad anywhere? Natasha’s response was to point up at one of the balconies, where you saw your father, Clint Barton, AKA Hawkeye, perched as he watched all the boisterous festivities.

  I think I’d better get him some food or something, you signed, hugging your friend and mother- like figure before making a head start for the buffet.

  As you was filling a plate with food to bring to your father, a sudden gust of wind almost made you drop the plate. You turned your head and saw that it was the silver haired flirt.

  “Where have you been all my life, krasivaya?” a heavily accented voice purred into your ears and you violently jumped as your hearing aids began to whistle shrilly in your ears. You yanked them out, fiddling with the program switch as you waited for the angry sounds to die down. Ignoring the looks on surrounding people’s faces, you stuck them back in before turning to face the young man.

  Are you nuts? ‘Cuz apparently, you are! You just don’t walk up to people and nearly scare the living crap out of them! You screamed, using your hands to give him a lecture. As you continued to yell at him, you could see random people glancing in your direction and laughing. Hopefully, not at you, otherwise, you’d be doing more than just giving out a silent lecture.

  At last, you spun around, with the plate of food gripped tight in your hands and stormed off, leaving behind a very amused silver haired speedster. As you went up the stairs to where your father was situated, you found yourself shaking. You wanted to scream out your frustrations, however, the only problem was that you were at a party and didn’t want to cause further embarrassment to yourself. So you settled for standing next to Clint and handing him his food.

  “So I see you met Pietro Maximoff,” he commented with an amused sparkle in his eyes.

  So his name is Pietro, you thought.

  “The little shit saved my beef in Sokovia last week- he took several bullets meant for me and a little kid,” he continued on.

  You didn’t say anything as you leaned into the railing of the balcony, knowing why your father preferred being up high- to spot danger more easily.

  Like father, like daughter really.

  He tried to hit on me, you informed her dad, a smirk toying with the edges of your mouth as he growled from deep within his chest, a truly frightening sound, if directed at anyone, really. Don’t worry, dad- I gave him a piece of my mind.

  “I should hope so,” he grumbled, finishing off the plate in no time at all and leaning over the banister with you. “Do you want me to hunt him down and give him a lecture as well?”

  No thanks, you smiled at your father, spying the silver speedster looking up at the two of you. I’m a big girl. I can wipe my own ass and everything.

  Clint belted out a loud thunderous laugh, making you giggle as well.

  “Barton! Barton Junior! Get down here and meet the new recruits!” Tony Stark suddenly screamed, nearly making Clint topple from their high vantage point.

  “Shall we?” Clint smiled down at you as he fired off an arrow with a zip line attached to it.

  We shall, you grinned happily, letting your father descend first before taking a deep breath of air and jumping from the balcony. You grabbed onto the line and slid down with many years of practice under your belt, a face splitting grin on your face as you let go before your feet had even touched the floor and spun around to smirk at Natasha, who was shaking her head at you.

  “Clint Barton and his daughter, Barton Junior,” Tony introduced them to a tall red and green man and a pretty brunette with streaks of red running through her hair. A blue and silver streak zipped into the equation to reveal that it was the silver haired flirt. “This is Wanda, Vision, and Pietro.”

  You turned to Wanda with a shy smile on your face

  “Oh, now she smiles,” Pietro groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically, earning a dirty glare from Clint.

  Can I punch him now? Please? You begged, causing for your father to snort with amusement and Tony to roll his eyes.

  “Only if you can catch him, sweetheart,” smirked Clint, secretly delighted in the way your eyes lit up at the challenge. You marched right up to Pietro and landed a solid punch to his jaw, making him fall down, more in shock then with pain.

  Wanda stared at you with amused shock in her eyes as you shook out your hand, turning to walk away. For the first time, Pietro noticed that you were wearing a back quiver with teal blue and cream fletchings with a compound bow strapped onto the leathers.

  The silver speedster smirked as he stood and zipped to stand in front of you, where he took you into his arms and whisked you off onto the dance floor.

  “So, are you deaf?” he asked nonchalantly and got a shake of the head. “So you’re mute then?” A lazy shrug met him and he grinned brightly at you. “Ah. Makes sense. Why are you mute?”

  This question made you frown and pull away before turning to leave the party. But your escape wasn’t quick enough- Pietro saw the tears pouring down your cheeks.

  ~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~

  Over the next two months, Pietro kept trying to get close you, only to be pushed further and further away from the alluring mystery that was Clint Barton’s daughter. He and Wanda had both learned enough sign language to hold a conversation with you, however, you mostly talked to Wanda.

  Is he always this much of an ass? You complained to Wanda one day after having the silver haired speedster try to talk you into training together.

  “If I’m right, and I’m always right about these things…” Wanda trailed off, a mischievous twinkle in her soft brown eyes, making you lean forward in anticipation. “I’d say that Pietro has a crush on you!”

  You nearly fell over at your friend’s words.

  Why would he possibly like me? You scoffed, folding your arms and looking bored.

  “I do have to give you credit on your poker face,” the brown haired woman said with a smile. Pietro had appeared and settled himself down onto the chair behind you.

  “Well, for one, if he’s not with me, he’s with you,” Wanda began. “Second, he’s trying to get to know you- why are you pushing him away?”

  Because I was hurt by someone I thought loved me! You exploded, spinning around to leave, only to bump into Pietro, who was pretending to read a book.

  “Please explain,” Wanda begged, taking your hand into hers and rubbing comforting circles into the back. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears began to fall once more and fled.

  Wanda’s eyes flew open and her hands went directly towards her mouth as she rushed after you.

  “Wait! Please!” She caught up to you as she was entering your room. “I’m your friend- please tell me why you refuse to trust my brother!”

  You took a shuddering breath before opening her door more, allowing Wanda to enter. You then closed the door and pulled your jeans down to showcase your soulmark.

  “Where have you been all my life, krasivaya?”

  The words that your soulmate would first say to you, written in messy cursives, branded into your right hip.

  “Pietro said those words to me when we first met,” a muffled snort escaped through your nose as your voice, rough from not being used in so long, whispered through the air. “I’m not ready- I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

  “Pietro will be so happy!” Wanda all but squealed in delight. “He’s been looking for you his entire life- I kept telling him that he needed to slow down- that he’d find you when it was time-”

  “Please don’t tell him!” you begged through tears.

  Before Wanda could speak, a voice made you both jump.

  “Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch, Artemis, please report to the launch bay for missing briefing.”

  ~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~

  After the briefing, you came out of the meeting room in your seemingly skintight leather jacket, your quiver and bow flung onto your back, heels clicking loudly as you strutted your way out to where the quinjet was waiting for its passengers.

  “Ready?” Clint grunted, planting a protective hand onto your shoulder. You smiled up and him and nodded, groaning in your mind at Pietro, who’d came to see his sister off.

  “Ready as always,” you muttered quietly, your father taking a surprised step back at your words.

  Steve caught word of your little exchange and a grin lit up his face as he took you in for a brotherly hug.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Roger, roger, copy you loud and clear, cap,” you peeled yourself away from Steve’s hug, wincing at Pietro’s sharp intake of air coming from behind you. “Ready when you are.”

                        “You are not going out on this mission.”

                        You slowly turned to face Pietro, who was staring at you with something that could only be described as wonder in his eyes. You could only scoff at him as you placed one foot into the quinjet.

                        “Who the hell do you think you are trying to stop me from doing my job?” you hissed out in a dangerously low voice.

                        “Your soulmate,” he answered, reaching out with one hand to touch your pale face. You only scoffed and smacked his hand away.

                        “Yeah, no,” you all but sneered before getting into the quinjet and starting to close the doors.

                        “Then I’m coming with you!” His jaw was stubbornly set. “No, you don’t understand- I’ve been looking for you my entire life!”

                        “Evidently, you haven’t been looking hard enough!” you snapped irritably before shutting the doors and taking a seat. “Ready, Steve? Dad? Wanda?”

                        “Yup,” Clint answered as he powered up the quinjet and lifted up.

                        “How did he take it?” Wanda asked as you strapped yourself in.

                        “About as well as you’d think,” you answered sarcastically, kicking back your heels and taking an arrow out of her quiver. You began to nervously play with its fletchings as the destination came up quickly.

                        “Okay, so here’s the plan,” Steve told called out from the co pilot’s seat. “Scarlet Witch and Artemis- you two distract the guards while Clint and I destroy the compound- is that manageable?”

                        “Hell yes,” you smirked as you cracked your knuckles. You stood with Wanda, and the two of you exited the quinjet into a rainstorm of bullets. You began releasing arrows, always hitting her target and killing HYDRA agents left and right as Wanda used her telekinesis to wreck havoc.

                        “Just like old times,” you smirked, releasing another arrow without even looking and killing a man who was getting ready to shoot out Wanda.

  “Thanks!” Wanda yelled as she heaved a boulder up and crushed three men at once.

  “You’re welcome!” you shouted back as you used one of your many trick arrows- this one being an exploding arrow- to make a jeep explode, the sudden flames killing everyone who was inside.

  “Okay kids- time to run!” Clint yelled, bursting from the compound with Steve close on his heels. Wanda and you both took up the rear as a loud explosion nearly rendered the four superheroes momentarily deaf.

  ~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~xoXox~

  Pietro was a nervous wreck as he waited for word from his sister that everyone was okay.

  “We have two injured coming in!” Clint’s voice thundered over the intercom, making the silver haired speedster’s heart start to jackhammer in his chest.

  “I’m fine- good God in heaven dad, it’s nothing more than a tiny, benign papercut!” came your exasperated voice. “I’d be more concerned about Wanda- that explosion knocked her up pretty good.”

  “Both of you are going to be checked out,” Steve ordered. Pietro could practically hear the eye roll from you- his soulmate.

  “Steve, I hate to break it to you, but Wanda and I are not library books!” you sassed him and her words were directly followed by laughter from Clint at his daughter’s well timed joke.

  At that moment, the quinjet landed, and a crash team rushed out with a gurney at the ready.

  You stepped out first, supporting Wanda with an arm wrapped around the brunette’s waist and an arm slung over your shoulder.

  “She was hit with a flying brick to the head, the wound has mostly clotted, but I’d still take X- rays and possibly a MRI just to be on the safe side,” you told the head medic, running to keep up with the team as they took Wanda and headed straight towards the onsite hospital. “She’s been in and out of consciousness for almost about an hour now. Her blood pressure is 179 over 26- I think her body went into shock about ten minutes ago...”

  Pietro stayed behind as he listened to you rattling off words and terms he didn’t even know existed, outside of the occasional medical sit com.

  “You need to be checked out,” Clint told you as he came up to you. You opened your mouth only to be cut off with a stern look.

  “Okay, fine, you win,” you dramatically huffed, heading over to a vacant bed and shrugging off you leather jacket, tugging you dark grey tank top up over your head.

  All that Pietro could do was stare at the delicate inked artwork that decorated your body. The eclectic tattoos seemed to form a story that only you could tell- mermaid scales in shades of teal blue and silver, a yellow teddy bear and a pink pig holding onto a balloon, the words “Once Upon a Time…” in fancy calligraphy, and random music notes on a staff were some of what Pietro could pick out.

  “Hey, Maximoff?” He turned and gulped at the look that Clint was giving him. “Take care of my little girl, will you?” He didn’t bother waiting around for an answer as he marched off.

  “Can I help you with something or are you gonna continue staring at my back like some kind of creep?” you sighed heavily, rubbing your face with one hand.

  Pietro snapped himself out of his thoughts and walked to stand in front of you, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was suddenly at a loss for words as he refused to look anywhere but at your unflinching face.

  The two of you settled into an uncomfortable silence, neither one wanting to break.

  “Are you injured?” Pietro was the first to crack, his eyes scanning your body, looking for any pain. You wordlessly showed him your hand, which had a small burn scarring the skin. It looked painful, but you weren’t showing any signs of discomfort.

  “I got it while pulling Wanda onto the quinjet,” you explained in as few words as possible. “She was hit in the head and lost consciousness directly afterwards.”

  Pietro smiled at the unemotional expression on your face. He reached up to touch your cheek, only a twitch of your eye made him stop.

  “I mean it.” His words were soft and full of love. Your eyebrow shot up and this was all the encouragement he needed to continue onwards. “I have been looking for you everywhere, ever since I was old enough to know what soulmates were.”

  You scoffed, but remained silent, your eyes full of distrust and fear as he stepped closer to her.

  “What happened to you?” he asked, his voice nothing more than a soft whisper.

  You chuckled humorlessly, breaking eye contact and looking down at your fiddling hands.

  “Ten months ago, I found out that my now ex boyfriend worked for HYDRA,” you explained, wiping away the tears in your eyes. “He actually killed children- little babies, only hours old. All because they weren’t “perfect enough”, whatever that means.”

  Pietro’s eyes filled with horror at what you were telling him.

  “In the end, it was either him or me. I had no choice but to kill him,” you sniffled loudly, wiping away more tears as they fell from your eyes.

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that, moya printsessa” Pietro said, gathering you up into a hug.

  “What does moya printsessa mean?” you asked, your nose scrunching slightly at the words.

  “Moya printsessa means “my princess” in Sokovian,” he translated with a deep red blushing his cheeks.

  “Already with the pet names?” you dryly asked. He shrugged silently. “Look, I’m not ready for another relationship. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

  “Okay,” Pietro said, his words making you look at him sharply. “I understand what you’re saying. I can wait until you’re ready- I don’t mind. Anything for you, moya rodstvennaya dusha.”

  You made a face at his nickname for you.

  “You aren’t going to stop, are you?” you muttered.

  He smiled down at you as he stepped in between your legs and kissed the top of your head.

  “Never,” he murmured gently against your curls.

                              krasivaya~ beautiful

  moya printsessa~ my princess

  moya rodstvennaya dusha~ my soulmate

  taglist

@captain-ariel-barnes

@propertyofpoeandbucky

@invisibleanonymousmonsters

@thedevilwearsvibranium

              If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE (http://ko-fi.com/A0A4A4UD) It only costs $3!!!

[katiebug445]

The Beginning

Fandom: Free!  Pairing: pre-Rintori  Word Count: 1480 Rating: I don’t normally post ratings for things, but I went ahead and rated this M, because there’s blood and death, and a little gore, and I really just wanted to be safe. Read with caution, please.  A/N: I’ve never written anything that leans on the graphic side of murder or anything like that, and it was a fun challenge for me to do it, but I say again: please be careful. This is a continuation of my Supernatural AU, actually taking place about a year or two before the first one. Um... enjoy if you end up reading, but no hard feelings if you give it a pass? Next one won’t be so rlgso;ghagjwka 

The day began innocently enough with their regular training regimine. The Samezuka team was practicing well into the evening, putting in every spare minute they could to make sure they were ready. They would be competing against Iwatobi at the end of the season, and they needed to be on their A game. Captain Aiichiro Nitori watched from the edge of the pool, shouting encouragements at them as they swam laps, proud of how much they’d already improved since the start of the year.

They were nearly done with practice when one of the windows shattered, spraying bits of glass all over the floor and splashing into the water. Everyone stopped, eyes fixed on the thing that caused the crash, and they all froze. Standing there, breathing heavily, and looking wildly at all of them, was a creature that to this day Aiichiro couldn’t fully explain.

Its canine teeth were enlarged, gleaming a dangerous white under the lights, and very sharp, its nose was curled up similarly to a bad dog-inspired makeup, it’s eyes… the pupils were two vertical slits like a cat, with bright blue irises behind them. On the tips of its fingers were ten very long, very pointed nails and were tinged red. Ai didn’t want to know why they looked like that.

One of the boys in the pool screamed, and the beast whipped its head around, lips pulled back into a snarl, and it jumped into the pool and moved forward with a speed not even their old captain could touch. It grabbed the boy’s leg, sinking its nails into his ankle and dragging him backwards, closer to its mouth. The boy screamed again, the sound echoing through the entire pool, and the thing sunk the claws on its other hand into his chest, ripping out his heart and taking a bite of it. The water around them ran a deep red, and more of the team began screaming, trying desperately to get away from whatever this was.

He would never forget that sound as long as he lived.

Nitori stood frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off the horror in front of him. The body of his teammate was floating off to the side of the pool - eyes still wide and mouth still open - as the creature chased after some of the others. Five more boys were taken down and mutilated before the beast finally turned its attention to the Captain.

Ai couldn’t take his eyes off the body in the pool, his stomach rolling with bile as the corpse bobbed up and down with the movement of the water, blood still seeping from the wound in his chest.

He heard a snarl coming from somewhere to his left, and almost as if in a daze, Nitori turned his head just in time to see the thing tense, its body coiled and ready to strike after him. Its hands were stained an even deeper red than before, and its teeth were dripping with a mixture of blood and saliva. It had a maddened look in its eyes that were out for a massacre, and he was just another name to add to the list.

Ai’s brain tried to send a signal to his legs that he needed to move, but all he could do was stand there in terror as the thing prepared to rip his heart out. He whimpered as the beast growled again, hands closing up into claws as it prepared itself, and then it began to charge. Nitori closed his eyes, bracing himself for the end, and then he was on the ground, pushed a little ways out of the way.

He looked up, seeing a figure standing in front of him, both hands out in front of them and holding a pistol, aimed directly at the beast. Ai gasped, still unable to process exactly what he was seeing, and let out a yelp as the gun barked, a bullet flying from the chamber and embedding itself in the wall near the monster’s head. The man swore, and the beast snarled again, getting ready to attack.

The man pulled out something long and made of silver from the sleeve of his jacket and met the thing halfway. It howled in pain again and again as he touched it, leaving behind burn marks every time he lifted whatever it was.

The thing howled one more time before darting back out through the window and into the night.

Ai breathed heavily, eyes darting from the bodies of his friends, to the man in front of him, and back again. When his brain finally processed that he was really seeing this, that he just witnessed the deaths of several teammates, he screamed.

He didn’t stop until his throat was raw, and he finally lost his dinner.

“Here,” the man wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and Ai pulled it tightly around him. He was still sitting on the floor, in one of the few spots that hadn’t been covered in glass, and had his back turned away from the destruction. The cops had come, taken a report, and according to the man with him, they determined it was a woman who had gone completely insane, and decided to take it out on the first group of people they saw.

It was a pretty little story, but that didn’t explain anything that Nitori had witnessed with his own eyes. The man promised that he’d be back soon, that he was just going to get his car and then he’d take him somewhere to calm down. It gave him a moment to think. Ai, despite being terrified of all the ghost stories Momo liked to tell him, didn’t actually believe in any of that stuff. He preferred to believe that life could be explained easily, that everything could be wrapped up in a nice little bow, and nothing went bump in the night. But even he had to admit, that thing that he just saw was not, in any way, human.

Especially that howl it let out before it disappeared.

“Ai, it’s time to go.”

Aiichiro stood up, keeping his eyes ahead and away from the still bloody pool, and followed the other man away from the scene and outside. Still keeping his blanket around him, he got into the passenger seat and they drove off.

There was something familiar about him, but he couldn’t exactly be sure what. And then he got a good look at his face. “Rin.” he gasped, turning sideways in his seat and staring at him. “Rin, what are you doing here? I thought you were back in Sydney?”

“I was.” Rin replied, eyeing the smaller man. “But work brought me back a little earlier than I’d anticipated.”

“Work?”

“That thing you saw in there. Look, about that, I’m sure you guessed that wasn’t entirely human.”

“‘Entirely’.” Nitori snorted. “There’s not a damn thing about it that was human.”

“It was a werewolf. I’ve been chasing after it for over a year now.”

Ai sat back in his seat, staring out the window with wide eyes. A werewolf. A monster. A monster that killed his friends right in front of him. He clenched his hands on the fabric of his pants and tears stung in his eyes. What kind of a captain was he that he couldn’t even protect his team? All he did was stood there and watched as everything happened. “A werewolf.” He repeated out loud. “So, that thing… it’s… a person?”

“Kind of. Not during the full moon, though.”

“Lucky us.”

“Ai, I’m sorry you got wrapped up in this. And about what happened, I… I should have gotten there sooner.”

“No, it’s… not your fault. But Rin, can I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Can I be with you when you kill that thing?”

The older boy looked over at him, his dark eyes illuminated by the streetlights, and breathed in. “It’s dangerous, man, what I do. You’ll only end up getting hurt.”

“I don’t care.” Ai replied through clenched teeth. The tears started to fall, and he kept his attention out the window. “That thing killed my friends.”

“It’s killed a lot more than just them, no offence.”

“Rin,” he begged, turning to him again. “Please. Take me with you.”

The older boy thought about it for a minute before sighing and pulling off to the side of the road. “If I do this, you have to agree to listen to everything I say. You’re gonna need to learn to fight, and how to use a gun. It’s not gonna be easy, and it’s only gonna get worse from here on out. Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Taking a deep breath, Aiichiro nodded, determination in his heart. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“Alright then. Your training begins now.”

[sunflowerseedsandscience]

By the Dim and Flaring Lamps: Part Four, Chapter One

Part One: One | Two | Three | Four Part Two: One | Two | Three | Four | Five Part Three: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

OCTOBER 1863 CULPEPER, VIRGINIA

Scully's dreams are disjointed and confused, and she's never certain if she's awake or asleep at any given moment. Unfamiliar surroundings and strange faces drift in and out of her consciousness, and she thinks that Mulder is there, his face tight with worry, but she can't be sure. The pain in her stomach is the only real constant, a sharp and aggressive ache that pulls at her with every slight motion.

When she finally awakens completely, she discovers that she is, indeed, in a strange place. Comfortable, it's true, but strange nonetheless. The bed in which she's been sleeping is soft, upholstered with plush quilts of pale blue, perfectly matching the blue canopy above her head. The room is large, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto rolling fields, empty of crops after the autumn harvest. Everything- the furniture, the land, the room itself- seems to indicate that she's in the home of a well-established (and likely wealthy) family, and she has no idea how she's gotten here.

"Scully?" At the sound of Mulder's voice, she relaxes somewhat: wherever she is, he's here as well, so she must be safe. She tries to turn to see him- he's just out of sight to her left- but the pain in her abdomen intensifies and she gasps. "No, don't move, it's all right," Mulder says, coming into view at last and sitting at the edge of the bed. He reaches for her hand without hesitation. His other hand strokes gently at her cheek, and in spite of the lingering ache, she feels warm all over.

There's the sound of a door opening, off to the right, and Mulder looks up, across the room, at someone Scully can't see. "She just woke up," he says, and Scully hears quick, light footsteps approaching... and then, the last person she could ever have expected appears at her other side.

"Melissa!" she gasps, her voice scratchy with disuse. "How did you- what did-" Her sister takes the hand that Mulder's not holding. "What are you doing here?"

"Your friend Colonel Mulder here sent for me," says Melissa. "I got an urgent message telling me that you'd been hurt, that you were going to need someone to take care of you while you recover." Scully looks at Mulder, dismayed.

"'Take care' of me?" she demands. "Why would I need to be taken care of, Mulder?"

"Because you can't sit up, Scully, says Mulder patiently. His exasperation is tinged with affection, and he squeezes her hand. "I know it's going to make you crazy, but you're going to need to stay in bed and rest for a long time if you want that wound to heal."

"But what about the regiment?" Scully demands. "Who's commanding the regiment, if you're here, Mulder?" She looks around again. "And where is here, anyway?"

"We're at my family's plantation in Culpeper," says Mulder. "I brought you here four days ago, and you've been in and out of consciousness since then. Colonel Skinner is commanding the men, until I return. Your sister arrived just this morning... and a good thing, too, because I have to leave today."

"I came as quickly as I could," Melissa puts in. "I took the train as far as it would take me, and hitched a ride the rest of the way here with some highly interesting characters... definitely not the sorts of traveling companions Mother or Father would approve of."

"Does Mother know what happened?" Scully asks her, already cringing at the very idea.

"Not yet," says Melissa. "But... I think that we should write to her and tell her." Scully groans. "We don't have to say where you are. We could just tell her that you're somewhere safe, and I'm with you. But she'd want to know, Dana. You know she would." Scully sighs.

"Fine," she says, relenting. "But do not tell her where we are. Not the town, not the region, not even the state. I wouldn't put it past her to track me down and drag me home, and I'm not exactly fit to fight her off just now." Melissa smiles.

"I'll go write her now," she says, standing. "That will give the two of you the chance to say farewell in private." She grins brashly as Scully's glare, and sweeps out of the room. Scully turns to Mulder apologetically.

"She's never been big on tact," she says, but Mulder only smiles.

"She's had plenty of questions for me in the few hours she's been here, and I've been playing my cards close to my vest," he says. "So, fair warning: she's likely going to interrogate you as soon as I leave."

"Terrific," sighs Scully. The idea of trying to explain her strange, wonderful, and ever-evolving relationship with Fox Mulder to her romantic, free-spirited sister, while stuck in bed, immobile and unable to flee, is not something she relishes. Melissa is going to want to know absolutely everything about what she and Mulder are to one another... not to mention, everything about all of the men in her regiment. She'll ask what it's like to spend all of that time surrounded by men, what they talk about, how they look, whether she's seen any of them naked, if any of them are handsome, which ones she could possibly write letters to in hopes of kindling some sort of romance-by-mail... and as Scully mentally lists all of the eligible bachelors she can think of, she remembers something.

"Pendrell," she says. "What happened to Private Pendrell?" Mulder says nothing... but she has all the answer she needs in the way that his face falls. In truth, she'd known the moment she had seen Pendrell's wound, the moment she had heard the way he'd struggled to draw breath.

"I guess you don't remember," says Mulder quietly. "He died right before we realized that you had been shot, too." He looks ashamed. "I feel terrible, but... I have to admit I didn't spare him much thought, once I saw that you were bleeding. But I've written a letter to his parents, while I've been here waiting for you to wake up, telling them how he knocked you down, how he protected you. I've sent the letter to Colonel Skinner to be forwarded to his family." Scully feels tears welling up in her eyes.

"I should write them, too," she says. "If he hadn't taken that bullet... there's every possibility that I would have died." She shakes her head, thinking back to the interactions she's had with Pendrell. They had always been friendly, to be sure, but they had by no means been the best of friends. And yet, he had taken a fatal shot for her. Her chest is suddenly tight, so tight that breathing causes her entire torso to burn. It must show in her face, because Mulder is immediately concerned.

"Scully?" He brushes his fingers over her forehead. "Are you all right?" She bites her lip and nods, trying to master herself.

"It's just...." She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and just barely manages to keep from crying out in pain. "Why did he do it? Why throw himself in front of a bullet like that? For me?"

"Because you would have done the same for him, Scully," says Mulder. "You're a good soldier, a good leader, the kind of person that inspires others to do brave things, because you do so many brave things yourself." Scully wants to object, but Mulder puts his fingers to her lips. "Yes, it's the truth," he tells her firmly. "And don't think I'm going to let me fight you on that."

"You think too much of me, Mulder," Scully mumbles, her voice weak and tired. He just grins at her.

"Not possible," he says. He glances out the window at the sun's progress towards the horizon. "I'm going to have to go," he sighs heavily. "Much as I don't want to."

"I can't believe you're going to leave me to face my sister's questions alone," says Scully, cringing at the thought of the conversations to come.

"I don't envy you," chuckles Mulder... but then, his face softens, and he shifts his position, so that he's sitting closer. "I am glad that you woke up before I had to leave, though," he says. "Because I really wouldn't have felt right about doing this while you were still asleep." And before she can ask what he means by that, he leans over and softly, tenderly, presses his lips to hers.

A small part of her knows that she should pull away, that she should stop him... but for once, she ignores the little voice on her shoulder that tells her that this is a terrible idea. Here, alone with him in a room where no one can possibly see them, she responds as much as her injured body allows her. The rush that fills her is all-consuming, just as it had been in the woods outside of the encampment, her appetite for him whet by the feel of him pressing his body up against hers as he'd stood behind her.

Scully's guilty conscience is far too quick in catching up with her, and though every ounce of her being is screaming for her to pull Mulder down into the bed beside her, she regretfully breaks the kiss.

"Mulder," she says, "as badly as I want this, it's still wrong." He shakes his head.

"I want you and you want me," he says, and a shiver runs through her at the boldness of his statement. "What could be more right?"

"But what about Diana?" Scully asks, and again, Mulder shakes his head.

"Scully, why would I chance my future with someone who may not be a good match for me, when I know beyond a doubt how happy I would be if I spend my life with you?"

This time, it's Scully who pulls Mulder into the kiss, and he comes willingly. Scully wishes desperately that she could keep him here, drag him into bed with her and keep him there, burrow under the covers with him and refuse to ever let him go. When he pulls back, it's much too soon for her liking, even though her increased heart rate and heavy breathing are causing her considerable pain. Mulder's eyes are bright and his face is flushed, and she thinks that hers might be, too, but for all she knows, she's still white as a sheet from blood loss.

She knows, though, that Mulder couldn't possibly miss the beaming smile that breaks out across her face. His answering smile is every bit as warm, though slightly tinged with sadness.

"I didn't want to leave before," he says, "and now I'm not sure I'm going to be able to force myself to go." She reaches up and strokes his stubbled cheek affectionately.

"You have to, though," she says, even though the thought is tearing her up inside. The idea of him back out on the battlefield without her by his side is a terrible one. She has no illusions that she can ever fully protect him, but she's always been confident in her ability to at least curb some of his more impulsive tendencies. "Promise me," she says, her hand firmer on his face, keeping him from breaking their gaze, "that you'll be careful. Promise me you'll think before you go rushing into a dangerous situation. Promise me that you'll do everything you can to come back to me in one piece."

"I'd say that this would be a terrible time for me to get careless with my life," Mulder says, reaching up and covering her hand with his own. He turns his head and presses a kiss to her palm. "Right at this moment, I have more to live for than I've ever had before." He bends and kisses her again, briefly, sweetly. "But I need you to make sure it stays that way. Relax, rest, stay in bed, listen to your sister, and give yourself the time you need to heal."

"I will," Scully promises him. If he'll agree to be careful, she'll agree to just about anything. "You'll write to me? Let me know that you're still safe?"

"Of course," he says. "Though I may have to make it look as though I'm sending letters to the servants here, with yours folded inside." He chews his lip nervously. "None of my family knows that you're here, you see. I thought you would want to continue to keep your secret, if it's at all possible." He frowns. "Which reminds me, how did Colonel Skinner find out?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Scully says truthfully. "I had no idea that he knew until the moment I came to in the surgeon's tent." Truth be told, Scully hasn't given much thought to this since waking up. At first, she'd been much too concerned with the pain of her injury, and of the surgeon removing the musket ball from her abdomen. She'd passed out again before she'd really had the time to think more about it, and since waking up in Mulder's family's house, there have been... other things keeping her attention.

"Well," says Mulder, "if he hasn't ratted you out yet, I don't imagine that he's going to. I think you're probably still safe."

"Ask him how he found out, will you?" Scully asks. "If I've been careless, I'd like to know how, so I don't make the same mistake twice."

"I can do that," Mulder agrees. "I'm curious to know, myself." He looks out the bedroom windows, at the gradually-darkening grounds. "But for now, as much as I don't want to, I have to go. I promised Skinner that I would be back at the encampment tonight." He leans down and kisses her one more time, a long and lingering press of their lips. "Let your sister take care of you, all right?"

"I'll do my best," says Scully. "And you take care of yourself, you hear me?" Mulder grins.

"I'm so used to having you next to me, telling me when I'm about to do something incredibly stupid, that I think I'll still hear your voice in my head, even if you're not there to admonish me in person." Scully laughs.

"I suppose I've served my purpose, then," she says.

"Only as my lieutenant," says Mulder, his voice low and dark. "I have many, many other purposes in mind for you... but we'll get to them later." Scully shivers and bites her lip, which seems to affect Mulder in some deep, primal way. "Scully, if I don't leave right now, I'm not going to be able to," he says. She gives his shoulder a gentle push.

"You should go, then," she says. "Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine here with my sister." Slowly, reluctantly, Mulder stands. "Go on, Mulder. I'll feel better if you're not riding back in total darkness." He nods his agreement... but still, he doesn't leave. "Go, Mulder," she insists. "I'll see you as soon as I'm ready to return to the regiment." He swallows.

"I'm not lying when I tell you that this is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do," he says, and she nearly melts.

"I know," she says gently. "But you still have to do it. Go." And with one last, longing look, he does.

As the bedroom door closes behind him, Scully lets out a long, slow sigh, trying to ignore the pain that ripples up through her abdomen. She had kept it out of her face as long as Mulder had been there watching, because she had known, on some level, that he would be less able to tear himself away from her bedside if he had known how badly she's hurting. It's almost a relief to be able to stop trying to hide it... but not enough of a relief to make up for the sudden ache of his absence.

She's not left alone for long, however. Less than five minutes after Mulder's departure, the bedroom door opens again, and Melissa strides in.

"Well," she says without preamble, sinking down onto the bed, "clearly, you've been keeping a few things from me in your letters."

"Such as?" asks Scully, resigned to being interrogated. She doesn't fool herself into thinking that Melissa can be put off simply because her little sister is in pain, not when something potentially gossip-worthy has transpired.

"Such as your dashing Colonel Fox Mulder," says Melissa.

"I've told you about him, Missy," says Scully. "In almost every letter I've sent you, I've written about him. He's the one you were supposed to contact if you didn't hear from me for too long, isn't he?"

"Yes, you told me all of that," Melissa says dismissively. "But you never mentioned that he was handsome... or that he's in love with you."

"That's been a somewhat recent revelation," says Scully. "And most definitely not the sort of thing I would put in a letter." Melissa crosses her arms with a huff.

"You could have at least hinted at what was going on," she complains.

"Nothing has been going on, not really," Scully argues. "At least not until now."

"And now?" Melissa presses her.

"Now?" Scully thinks back over their conversation, over the weighty things they've said to one another this afternoon. "Now... well, if I understand things correctly, I think we might have just gotten engaged." Melissa's mouth drops open.

"You think?" she repeats, flabbergasted. "How can you only think that you might have gotten engaged? Did he ask? Did you say yes?"

"Well, no," Scully admits. She can't quite explain it, the feeling of gravity inherent in the conversation that she and Mulder have just had, the sense that she has that they've just committed themselves to one another, fully and permanently. She and Mulder have always possessed the ability to understand what isn't being said every bit as well as what's being voiced out loud, but to an outsider, it's difficult to put into words. "He told me that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me, that he's not interested in marrying the woman his family thinks he's going to marry." Melissa doesn't look convinced.

"He was already engaged to someone else?" Scully shakes her head.

"No, not really," she says. "His parents expect them to marry, but he's never proposed, he's never told the girl that he ever intends to." Melissa, perversely, is thrilled by this.

"It's all rather like a romance novel, isn't it?" she exclaims. "His family wants him to marry a girl in his own social circle, and instead, he's fallen for the lowly sailor's daughter, and now he's going to have to defy his family to defend his love." Scully rolls her eyes.

"It's not quite that dramatic, Missy," she says. "And it's not as though either of us planned for this to happen. I never meant for him to find out about me... and I certainly never meant for him to fall in love with me. I was happy enough to just be his friend."

"And yet, here he is, madly in love with you," says Missy, undaunted. "It's clearly meant to be. It's fate, Dana. The stars are aligned in your favor."

"I'm lying in bed after being shot in the stomach," Scully grouses, irritated. "I would hardly call this evidence of the stars, or anything else, working in my favor at the moment."

"You're alive, aren't you?" Melissa points out. "And soon enough, you're going to be right back by his side, as good as new. I'm going to see to that." At this, Scully laughs, even though it sends ripples of pain up and down her side. She can't help it.

"Missy," she says, "you are the most squeamish person in our entire family. You used to all but faint over the sight of a skinned knee. How do you propose to tend to something as serious as a musket wound?"

"I'll manage," Missy insists, doing her best to look dignified. "I watched Colonel Mulder, when he was changing your bandages for you. I'm sure I can handle at least that much."

"And if it becomes infected?" Missy bites her lip. "It could smell, Missy. There could be...." Scully lowers her voice, unable to resist goading her sister. "Pus." Missy shudders.

"Don't even say that word, Dana," she protests. "You're only trying to shock me. It won't work."

"And then you might have to open the wound back up again to clean it out," Scully continues mercilessly. "The flesh could become gangrenous. And you know, there's a school of medical thought that believes that the best way to deal with rotting flesh-"

"I'm not listening to this," says Melissa, shaking her head and clapping her hands over her ears.

"-is to put live maggots on the infected site and allow them to eat away the putrid tissues, until only healthy flesh is left behind." Melissa squeaks indignantly.

"I'm warning you, Dana," she says, mustering as much older sibling authority as she can, "if you won't let me take care of you, if you make it as difficult as possible...." She fixes her younger sister with a stern and threatening glare. "I'll have no choice but to call in reinforcements." Scully pales.

"You wouldn't," she says.

"I absolutely would," says Missy. "If you won't cooperate for me, I'm quite certain that Mother would have no objection at all to coming down here and taking over." Scully has nothing to say to this. "So do you think I'll be up to the challenge of taking care of you?" Her younger sister remains silent, and Melissa smiles, satisfied. "That's what I thought," she says, and stands. "So for now, I suggest you get some sleep. I'll be back later this evening with some supper."

As Missy flounces out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her, Scully sinks back into the pillows with a sigh, wondering exactly what she'll need to do in order to set a new record recovery time for a musket ball to the stomach. As far as she's concerned, her health cannot return quickly enough.

[gravediggerkai]

Prompt 4/30

There was sadly very little inspiration for this one so... Yeah.| Also I skipped 3/30 because my life is boring.

In the German mountains, in a privately owned bit of forest, four young men slowly wander through the forest, two Hope’s Peak scouts and two current Ultimates. Each is covered head to toe in paintball gear, all holding on tightly to their weapons like their life depending on it. Each covered one area of the forest as they slowly headed to their location, towards their target. But what they didn’t know is that they were no longer the hunters, but the hunted. The man in the front, known as ‘Gamma-2’ or as he was known to his colleagues ‘Yuto’, grabbed his radio. “ This is Gamma-2, “ He got a few disappointed glances from the people around him, who clearly weren’t taking this as seriously as he was, but whatever. He was the only one who had any combat training anyway. “ We passed Team Alpha-3 a few minutes ago, already having been taken out. We received important intel however. Target KS is using a long ranged weapon, moving passed the rivers and streams to hide the sound of his footsteps and uses the mountains to shoot from highground. We’re currently closing in on his expected location, over. “ “ Aww man… This sucks. “ One of the Ultimates complained, taking off his helmet and moving his hand through his spiky hot pink hair. “ We get sent out to Europe to check out a Ultimate Student and I think we’re going to get a chance to check out Miss Sonia’s country, but instead have to hike in the mountains. “ “ Awww, come on. Just think about all the Hope that this new Ultimate could bring! I can almost taste the beautiful hope. “ The other Ultimate seemed a bit confused when the three others looked at him with… Let’s say less than understanding looks on their faces. Quickly changing the topic, he began to ask around. “ What’s their talent anyway? “ “ Ultimate Marksman? Weren’t you listening at all Nagi- “ But before the Ultimate could finally confirm his or his friend’s identity, a small pink object shot through his friends hair like a hot knife through butter. His hair somehow wasn’t damaged at all by this. One might even call him lucky~ Sadly, his friend wasn’t as lucky as the boy with the pink hair collapsed to his knees, some pink liquid streaming from his face. Luckily for them, this was only paint, yet it still hurt quite a lot. “ Where the hell is he shooting from? “ One of the scouters asked, extremely confused. From where they were standing, there was no way he could shoot from the mountains. The angle just didn’t allow for that, unless he had somehow factored in the bullet drop. But could someone really do that with a paintball gun? And better question, why would anyone bother doing that with a paintball gun? “ What an amazing talent! “ Instead of hiding from the shots however, the Ultimate that was left began to praise the one he couldn’t see. “ But I guess a pathetic worm like me has enough luck to dodge one lucky sho- “ While the Ultimate was lucky, he wasn’t always the smartest as he stepped right onto a net, which pulled him all the way up. After the Lucky Student received a few well deserved paintballs to the face, the position of the one they had been looking for was finally revealed. Kai stood up ontop of the branch he was carefully balancing himself on, revealing the large camo cloak he had been using to hide. Ever since he took out the other party, he knew he had to change up his strategy, or else he might actually be in trouble. While he was still a Marksman of Ultimate level, he couldn’t shoot in all directions at once. If someone managed to sneak up behind him, it could be the end of him… Well, not really. It was just paintball after all. Sure, they hurt a little bit, but that’s it. The worst that could happen was that his perfect record had one loss on it. But even that was too much for the boy. Before the scouters could even raise their weapons, Kai fired two quick shots from the pistol on his side, his draw as quick as the fastest cowboy. With each having been hit at least once, Kai carefully climbed down from the tree, bowed his head in apology before quickly hurrying off. There was no time to waste. The game he was playing was a simple game of paintball. Kai prefered paintball over using real guns. While his talent still heavily applied to those, something inside of him said using them was wrong. Maybe it was the death and destruction they caused? Maybe there was someone out there who wouldn't like him using them? He didn’t know, but he still trusted that feeling inside his gut. However, just playing a regular game of paintball was a little… Boring. So, the company that sponsored Kai’s shooting, who had provided this large plot of land for him to use, had set up a fun little event. 100 Versus 1. As the title implied, it was a game of one hundred contestants against just one. While the odds seemed in the favor of the large team at first, well… Kai bowed his head to the four one more time, though he seemed a bit confused by the one in the net, who seemed to be enjoying all of this just a little bit too much. He couldn’t stay and chat, after all… He still had 10 people to get.

Another writing thing for @royal-despair

[princeoftheironfist]

@itsaaudraw Ayy, thought I’d tag ye in this so you could see the Bad Dad in full! Hopefully this also gives you an idea about the rest of my Clown fellas!

-

HEY. Like Clowns? Wanna hang and chat with other Clown fans? Join the ClownTown Discord Server and have a grand ol’ time!

-

Alright, it’s time for Nonkinaverse Bad Dad #1: Sir. Andross Ironvein, Field Marshal of the British Armed Forces.

You might remember a few days ago I posted his son, Alfred, and made mention that Al’s story ties heavily into Andross’. Well it’s time to get to that, as well as learning what made this Bad Dad so Bad.

And just a heads up: It’s not a pretty story. There will be mentions of Child Abuse and Neglect, so if you’re sensitive to that stuff, here’s the TL:DR;

Andross was attempting to create Super Soldiers by putting his men through hellish trials, but to no avail. He then had Alfred and got the idea to train his son from the moment he could walk on his own two feet, eventually turning his son into the stoic, hammer wielding Soldier he is.

Now for the real nitty gritty.

Andross’ came from a poor family in London’s east end. They lived in a shitty flat with barley any money to their name. They barely had enough to send Andross to a good school, but he proved to be quite the bad egg.

Andross was smart, with an IQ soaring over everyone else, but was as stubborn as a mule. He was rude, bragging about his greatness, and always came to classes late or left without being excused.

His parents lacked back-bones and only let their son grow more and more vile, up until his teens. By then he had become a violent street punk, getting into fights and muggings. His folks had enough of their son and planned to ship him off to Military school to get him straightened out.

Luckily for Andross, he had heard of his folks plans and ran away from home into the night, winding up in Scotland where he met a very peculiar Clown. A Japanese Clown by the name Jigu-Jo Momotaro, martial arts practitioner and master of a mysterious fighting force that Clowns can tap into: Clown-Po.

Jigu-Jo saw promise in Andross’s street fighting skills and offered to take him under his wing as a student. Andross saw this as an opportunity to increase his brutal strength and accepted the offer. For months Jigu-Jo trained Andross, forming an almost father-son relationship with the youth, but that all came to an end when Jigu-Jo had found out that Andross was a run-away being looked for back in England.

They had their real first and final fight that ended with Andross being victorious. AFter that Jigu-Jo moved to the mountains of Diamond Star, New Yo-Kyo, while Andross returned home and willingly went to the Military academy with his new found power.

He graduated at the top of his class and quickly joined the British Armed Forces, where he rose to the top of the ranks within 10 years: Field Marshal, even being knighted by the Queen herself. And it was all thanks to his Clown-Po abilities (of which we’ll get to later).

He was jokingly touted as England’s Super-Soldier, a fact that he took to heart and mind. But soon he realized that one day, he will die, and England’s pride would be forever lost. With that in mind he began a top secret program within the Forces where he trained soldiers in hellish conditions, hoping to spark more Clown-Po in Clown soldiers.

Many showed promise, but it was all to no avail. No matter how tough they were, they could never get that spark to light into a mighty flame. It seemed to Andross that England’s Super-Soldier would be without a successor...That was until he got married to his long-time partner from Military school and they bore a child.

His son Alfred was born onto this world, and the idea sparked in the back of Andross’ head: Train Alfred to become the successor.

And so he did.

Once Alfred was able to walk on his own two feet and speak, Andross began his harsh training. Pulling hellish hours and tasks on his son, putting his young body through hell back with tasks such as (but not limited to) wrestling a bear into submission in the middle of a Category 5 snow-storm, fish out a shark with his bare hands and NOT losing said hand, and holding up a giant pneumatic press for hours on end, latter of which caused Alfred to reach his breaking point, turning him into the stoic fighter he is today.

And now we jump to the present.

Alfred has reached his peak performance, finally able to best his dad in a one on one fight. While the win gave Andross the satisfaction he had hope to achieved through his training of Alfred, it wasn’t enough. Andross was the only Clown-Po user Alfred had fought against. How would he stack up against others?

That’s when Andross creates The Great Team Grapple Royale: A Clown-Po User only Free-Style martial arts tournament to find a Clown-Po user strong enough to truly test Alfred’s capabilities.

And it just so happens that Grand Stand Tournament winner Ace Nonkina and his friends have been invited to participate in the Grapple, and oddly enough their teacher Jigu-Jo seems to have a score to settle with Sir. Ironvein...

--

Andross’s fight style is his own mixture of his old street fighting style (which focused on strong power and hard defense over speed), Jigu-Jo’s teachings of Shorinji Kempo and Bajiquan (Eight Extremities Fist), his training of Gōjū-ryū, CQC (Close Quarters Combat) and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.

That’s not to mention his Clown-Po abilities: Pure Wind and Electricity Manipulation, both of which give Andross an advantage with distance. Not to mention his Wind Manipulation is strong enough to cause storms.

What? You thought that Cat.5 just came out of no where?

--

Now I’m sure you’re asking “He can’t be that much of a dick?” to which I say: He’s Major Dick. There is no good bone in this man’s body.

And I love him so much for that.

But don’t worry, we got an even WORSE Dad in the Nonkina pipeline~!

--

OTHER FAX:

-8′1″ -Likes to lounge around in his dumb, Wolfgang Krauser ass looking armor -Fav. Book is Lord of the Flies -Prefers Star Trek over Star Wars -Fav. cut of streak is Chuck Eye Roast (Well Done) -Punched a bullet hard enough once to light the gun powder inside and fire the round -Character Inspirations: Jaki Daiguin, Heihachi and Jinpachi Mishima, Wolfgang Krauser, Geese Howard, M.Bison, Rugal Bernstein and The TF2 Soldier.

Can you guess which characters influenced which parts of Andross? You already have one hint!

Guess correctly and you’ll get nothing but my admiration for your sharp eyes!