#what in hank hill was that sentence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 1 year

Text

About Me: Favorite Video Games

So you may not know this, but I’m a gamer. Shocking, right? Who’d ever have guessed it? But to be totally fair here, I rarely talk about video games on Tumblr. I talk about movies, and there have been a handful of times where I reviewed video games, but I focused more on the story, characters, and all that then I did on whether or not the gameplay was good. In my earliest days, before I found my niche, I talked about games a fair deal, but that fell by the wayside so I could focus on films (my true passion).

So hey, look at this! You’re all going to get to see what my favorite video games are now! Remember, everything here is just my personal opinions; I'm not trying to give actual reviews of each of these games in a couple of sentences or trying to sell you on them, I'm talking about the stuff in them that makes me love them. All of this is my subjective opinion, and I'm not asking you to agree with me here, I'm just trying to talk about stuff that I love.

Oh, and here are some honorable mentions: Super Mario Bros. 3, Banjo-Kazooie (I still haven’t finished it and I don’t want to include games I haven’t played through), Kid Icarus: Uprising, Bayonetta 2, Injustice 2, BioShock, Doom Eternal, Super Metroid, Dragon Age II, God of War II, Castlevania: Aria/Dawn of Sorrow, The Wolf Among Us, The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, Ratchet & Clank: Going Commando/Up Your Arsenal, and Heritage for the Future. Also a shout out to Tell Me Why and Life is Strange, games I watched my wife play and loved the story of but that I didn’t actually play myself; the former in particular has all sorts of elements I love in my stories.

Now, without further ado, here’s my top 50! Oh, and only the top 30 have pictures because there's image limits on posts! What a load of BS!

50. Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Ok, maybe this game is lacking in a few areas at the expense of its massive customization system… but boy howdy what a system it is! I cannot tell you how much time I’ve sunk into decorating my island, reorganizing my villagers, and just making all sorts of weird themed areas. It’s a lot of fun, and I get to do all this work while hanging with a bunch of weird, cute animals.

49. JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure All-Star Battle R

The original game was a lot of fun, but even I’ll admit it felt like it was missing something. That something was probably Foo Fighter, but guess what? She’s in the updated rerelease, along with aslew of other new characters like my favorite minor antagonist Mariah and the bane of Heritage for the Future players, Pet Shop! Add onto that a much better campaign mode with some fun little AU shenanigan matches and you have the most loving fighting game tribute to JJBA imaginable! Now if only they’d give Part 8 a little more love...

48. Batman: Arkham Origins

This is the redheaded stepchild of the Arkham series, and on some level I get why. It is very much aping City, right down to the map despite their being some expansions here and there, and the combat is much more of the same with little in the way of evolution, and don’t get me started on the fucking Joker showing up again. But this game also features some of the best bosses in the series such as Firefly and especially Deathstroke, a Bane who isn’t just a mindless mass of muscles like in the other games, and some interesting sidequests that make this early look at Batman’s superheroics a worthwhile entry in my eyes.

47. Miitopia

This is one of the easiest games out there, what with the autopilot combat and minimal difficulty (though there is a big spike late in the game). But the sheer vastness of the facial customization means that literally anyone from all of art or history can take part in a wacky, cliché RPG adventure. Hank Hill can fight the evil overlord Seth MacFarlane with a crew consisting of Chowder, Thor, and Japanese comedian/director/actor Beat Takeshi. If that’s not worth the price of admission, I don’t know what is.

46. Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin

The DS is where Castlevania truly shined, and my favorite of all the handheld entries is this portrait-hopping journey to defeat a mad artist and his evil vampire children. The locations are pretty great, there’s tons of sidequests and alternate game modes (my favorite is the one where you play as the Old Axe Armor), and there’s an awesome brutal bonus dungeon where you get to fight the bosses from Dawn of Sorrow without the stupid drawing bullshit!

45. Maximo vs. Army of Zin

The original game was a fun, yet very flawed action platformer. This game veers more into the hack-and-slash genre to great effect; it’s not the deepest combat ever, but it’s a lot of fun, with much better platform, bosses, and story than the first game. There’s just something cool about a world that mixes Gothic horror, steampunk, and other fantasy elements together all in one place.

44. God Hand

This is one of the most deceptive games you’ll ever come across. On the surface, it might seem like an ugly beat-em-up, but it’s so much more than that. The bosses are brutal yet fantastic, the music is fucking incredible, and the humor is just the right level of absurd to be incredibly charming. It’s ball-bustingly difficult, but let me tell you, when you finally overcome a fight or a boss battle that’s been giving you trouble? It is literally the best feeling in the world.

43. South Park: The Stick of Truth

‘Member when South Park was funny? I ‘member. And The Stick of Truth really brings back all those memories because this is a hilarious and loving tribute to the series made with the help of Trey Parker and Matt Stone to deliver the playable South Park experience of your dreams. It’s gross, immature, raunchy, and funny, and best of all it doesn’t get too preachy or up its own ass with messages—no, it gets up Mr. Slave’s ass to defuse a bomb. Peak South Park right here, though the gameplay is kind of basic. It’s all carried by that stellar writing.

42. Crash Bandicoot: Twinsanity

This game mainly scores a spot on my list for being fucking hilarious. This is the funniest Crash Bandicoot ever got, with all sorts of wacky gags and clever dialogue. Cortex really is the MVP here, with the constant slapstick that befalls him combined with his snarky dialogue making him a standout. It’s a bummer so much was cut from the game, and it does feel a bit incomplete in some areas, but for what it is it’s a damn fun time.

41. Pokemon White/White 2

It was genuinely hard to pick a single game from the series to go on here considering how much I loved Gens III – V. Emerald perfected the generation I first got into the series, LeafGreen is the definitive Kanto experience to me, Platinum polished up Gen IV’s uneven debut and made it incredible, and SoulSilver is a fantastic remake of the first Pokemon game I ever played (Crystal). But I think I have to go with the Gen V games I played as my favorites. They’re fun and challenging, and while the first game has a ridiculously restrictive regional dex and the second has an overreliance on defunct wi-fi features, the fantastic story and fun new Pokemon make up for it. Can’t be too mad at the games that let me make trashy cult classic B-movies with my boy Garbodor, can I?

40. Batman: Arkham Knight

I put off playing this for years, because I wasn’t happy with some of the things I heard about it, such as a lack of traditional boss battles and an overreliance on the Batmobile. These are still problems, but not near as bad as I feared (obviously, since it’s on this list); everything about the gameplay is the series at its peak. The main story is a bit lacking and ends up being a tad too predictable for me to love it as much as the other entries in the series, but the fact it has Professor Pyg and Man-Bat really helps make up for its shortcomings.

39. The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion

This game is just as silly and clunky as I imagined an older Bethesda game would be, but to my surprise I think it holds up incredibly well even compared to Skyrim. It’s a bit more complex in a lot of areas, but it’s not too daunting. What really strikes me is how this game actually has a really good story; it’s nothing groundbreaking, but when you look at how bad the Civil War plot in Skyrim was it feels like Shakespeare in comparison. Throw in a ton of unique sidequests with interesting plotlines, a gruesome Dark Brotherhood plot, an interesting villain, and Patrick Stewart for all of about five minutes, and I’d almost say I like this more than Skyrim. Almost.

38. Wolfenstein: The New Order

Sure, it doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel when it comes to FPS games, but does it need to? All I want from a Wolfenstein game is a horde of Nazi motherfuckers to mow down, and guess what this game gives me? What really surprised me was how genuinely cool and likable BJ was. He might be one of my favorite heroes ever after this game. It’s a shame they couldn’t keep this level of polish up in the sequel.

37. The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

In a lot of ways, this game is objectively worse than its predecessor. Like the story is ass for sure; I could not give less of a fuck about the Stormcloaks and the Imperials and their stupid civil war if I tried. But the vast world filled with things to do is so much fun to explore, and there’s all sorts of sidequests and shenanigans to get into. This game is pure, stupid fun, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve restarted it just to play as a different race or class. Maybe someday I’ll make it to the final boss. Maybe.

36. Psychonauts

The original Psychonauts is one of the last great platformers, and among them it’s a lot more unique than many of its peers as you’re platforming through the minds of all sorts of wacky characters to help them overcome their issues. Bouncing through the conspiracy theory-addled brain of a disturbed milkman or decimating a city kaiju style inside the mind of a hyper-intelligent mutant lungfish are the kind of off-the-wall ideas this game throws at you, and in my opinion the only thing that could hold it back is if it had a really janky final level that combines meat, circuses, escort missions, and an underwhelming final boss… Oops. Still a great game in my eyes, one that’s 95% perfect.

35. Final Fantasy VI

For a lot of people, this is the best Final Fantasy game, and I definitely see why. It has a truly massive playable roster of unique characters with their own special gimmicks (of which only a handful are actually useful, mind you) and one of the greatest video game villains ever conceived in the mad clown Kefka, plus it is so focused and tightly plotted for the first half of the game. I think that after Kefka takes over the story becomes a lot more aimless and unfocused, but that’s also where the game becomes a lot more fun and challenging too. It’s a bit uneven, but after how hard the opera house scene goes I think it’s allowed to trip a little bit.

34. Dragon Age: Origins

A lot more praise is thrown at this series’ sci-fi sibling Mass Effect, probably because that series is a lot more consistent with how good it is across the board (Andromeda notwithstanding), but I’m much more fond of fantasy settings myself and this game delivers a fantastic one in ways its sequels couldn’t quite manage. This is the only game in the series where I genuinely loved every single party member (especially Leliana) and actively tried to get them the happiest endings possible—yes, even the douchebag anti-villain who joins you if you play your cards right), and the plot is just the right level of epic fantasy cheese seasoned with some delicious side quests. If the dwarf plotline wasn’t such a slog and if Varric was in the game, this would be a lot higher on the list, but this game still holds a special place in my heart.

33. Batman: Arkham Asylum

Our first trip into the Asylum really did kill the notion that licensed games had to be the most obnoxious shovelware schlock imaginable by making a Batman game that actually makes you feel like Batman. Sure, the detective part is a bit minimal here compared to the sequels, but the combat is so fun and refreshing that I’m not too bothered by the lack of crime scene investigations. There’s a clear love for the entire mythos here, and best of all a clear love for the animated series—Hamill and Conroy reprise their roles as Joker and Batman respectively, and Arleen Sorkin gives Harley one last ride before her retirement. It’s a real love letter to the Dark Knight, and it spawned one of the most consistently good video game series around, so I’ll forgive it for having the lamest final boss I’ve ever fought just this once.

32. Kingdom Hearts

What I like about the original game is how it struck such a nice balance in its absurd premise, with it never feeling like the Final Fantasy or Disney elements are really overpowering each other. We have the grandiose, convoluted plots of the former and the magic, whimsy, and awesome villains of the latter combining together into one impressive package. Yeah, a lot of the level designs are dogshit (looking at you, Deep Jungle and Monstro), and some of the stunt casting is really bizarre (Lance Bass as Sephiroth?!) but overall this is a game way better than you’d think by hearing that it’s a game where Mickey Mouse and Cloud Strife exist side by side.

31. Super Mario 64

Mamma mia! It is genuinely impossible for me to not feel nostalgic for this game. So many 3D platformers that came out in its wake took what it did and polished it to absurd degrees, but there’s still something so special about diving back into one of the portraits in Peach’s castle and going through those levels again and again. The music and atmosphere of the game add onto it; every time I play it, I feel like a kid again. It’s just such a charming game.

30. MediEvil

If Tim Burton made a Gothic horror fantasy movie, I imagine it would be something like this game. It really uses the limitations of the PS1’s graphics to the fullest extent, with the jagged polygonal looks of the characters enhancing the experience, and it has such a crazy variety of levels and enemies, from a phantom pirate ship to a crystal cave with a dragon to a village of posessed villagers to an ant hill. Sir Daniel Fortesque is one of my favorite video game protagonists around because of his posthumous journey to live up to the legend fabricated around him.

29. God of War III

Every single one of these games just escalates from the previous one. Oh, you fight the hydra in the opening of the first game? How about you fight through Rhodes and then battle the animated colossus that once stood in its port in the second? And how do you top that for the third game? Beat the ever-loving shit out of Poseidon and gouge his eyes out from his POV. And this game only gets more brutal from there! Titans and gods all fall to Kratos in epic and gory boss battles, but honestly even without that I’d put the game on this list for the simple reason that you get to fucking murder Kevin Sorbo as Hercules.

28. EarthBound

Nintendo’s quirkiest RPG makes the cut, mostly on the basis of how weird and charming it is. At this point I’ve essentially memorized everything you need to do in this game, which is good because if it’s your first time you desperately need a guide or you’ll be fucked. There are points where things get a little too grindy (mostly for Poo’s weapons) but it’s genuinely a game whose charms outweigh any negatives there are. Plus, that final boss battle is something else entirely.

27. The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth

Rebirth and all of its DLC updates took everything great about the original game and polished it into absolute perfection, with so many different item combos you could potentially get and so many bosses and endgames you could encounter. No two runs ever really feel the same, and it’s so satisfying to become so overpowered you nuke the screen every time you attack. The fact there’s a thriving modding community to continually generate new and crazier content also adds to why I have a ridiculous number of hours dumped into this game.

26. Resident Evil VII: Biohazard

This is the first Resident Evil game I ever played and, wow, I sure was missing out all those years! This is one of the most tense survival horror experiences I’ve played through, with a creepy family of hillbilly horrors to avoid as I creep through their ramshackle domicile. It’s fun, creepy, and even a little campy, and it has raised my interest in the rest of the series. Hopefully the game with the giant vampire mommy will live up to how good this one is when I finally get around to playing it.

25. Portal 2

Yes, the puzzles are great, but this game really soars due to its writing. The first game was fun and all, but it was mostly just GLaDOS insulting you the whole time with Chell being an entirely silent protagonist. In this game, we get the lovable idiot Wheatley and the greatest mad scientist ever conceived Cave Johnson to listen to as well, and the way GLaDOS bounces off the former and reacts to the latter help make this game a fun and engaging puzzle-solving adventure.

24. Doom

The legendary FPS series got revitalized after years on the edge of relevancy, and its return is one of the most metal games imaginable. Slaughtering your way through the forces of Hell while heavy metal blares in the background? It really doesn’t get much better than this. While I do think Eternal improved the formula and gameplay in a lot of ways (particularly with the addition of an awesome hub level), I find the original to be way more fun and balanced in terms of difficulty. The lack of Marauders is really what gives it the slightest of edges.

23. Super Smash Bros. Ultimate

Nobody got left behind for this one. Everyone across the series came back, and then they went and added even more to give us the most ambitious crossover of all time. Ridley, Simon Belmont, Sora, Sephiroth, Kazuya, and more all get to duke it out on the best stages of the series as well as some fresh new ones, and every character plays even better and more balanced than they ever have before. While the single player campaign isn’t quite as exciting as Subspace Emissary from Brawl, it still manages to be a pretty epic quest with fun boss battles. This is just the definitive Smash experience in my opinion.

22. Red Dead Redemption

My daughter has affectionately labeled this game “Horse Movie,” and she’s not wrong. This is a true cowboy experience right here, with lots of gunfights and horse wrangling, and it’s all a blast. The story in particular is really well done, and there’s plenty of fun side quests too. Maybe the gunfights get a bit samey after a while, but it’s an enjoyable open world to explore and is filled with oddities and mysteries galore.

21. Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain

The first Metal Gear game to make the list, and easily the most underrated of the bunch. It gets a lot of flak for the missing final episode that would have had Venom fight the young Liquid Snake, and while it does suck that that moment isn’t in the game, the story still feels plenty complete and well-done without it. Venom might be one of the most fascinating characters in the series, and the game has some of the most brutal gutpunches and tearjerking moments in the franchise. Maybe it’s just because I’m predisposed to love Metal Gear, but I loved this game even though I was well aware of what it didn’t have.

20. Final Fantasy VII

Not to be a basic bitch, but this is my favorite Final Fantasy. I mean, the cast is all so cool and fun, the story is great, Sephiroth is an amazing villain, and there’s plenty of obscure and obtuse ways of finding secrets that make a strategy guide practically mandatory if you want the most out of the game. What’s not to love? I think I was mostly surprised by how good the game actually was; it’s always high on lists of the best games ever, and it definitely earns that. The fact that Aerith’s death still made me tear up despite being common knowledge is a testament to just how amazing this Fantasy is.

19. Mother 3

EarthBound coasts by on its fun, lighthearted quirkiness… but what if you took that and applied heaping helpings of darkness and a more solid story? That’s Mother 3, a beautiful tale filled with the same out there humor as its predecessor as well as a lot of more mature and deeper themes than even the original tackled (mind you, Earthbound wasn’t devoid of deeper themes to begin with, so this is saying something). The ending is one of the few times I have openly sobbed while playing a video game. They need to officially release this in the West, because I will buy it day one. Fuck, I’ll pre-order it!

18. Yoshi’s Island

If this game was only one of the most charmingly animated games ever made, that would be enough to earn it at least some respect. But it’s also one of the best platformers in a series that invented the genre, centered around a truly inspired baby-carrying gimmick and featuring all manner of creative boss battles and one of the most earwormy soundtracks ever made. That’s enough to get it a spot on this list, but the fact it solidified Shy Guys as a Mario mainstay and not just a one-shot enemy? That gets it into my top 20.

17. Spyro Reignited Trilogy

It’s kind of cheating since it’s all three games in one package, but it’s my list, I make the rules. I view this as the definitive way to play Spyro; the redesigns are all fantastic (especially Elora) and the fact Tom Kenny is now the lovable purple scamp across all three games is wonderful. They even made the first game more enjoyable and even visually interesting, even though it’s still the weakest link in the series! And as much of a Crash Bandicoot stan as I am, the fact this game allows you to switch between the newly composed arrangements of the songs and the original Copeland tracks is a big W over the Bandicoot remakes only having the new versions of the songs.

16. Metal Gear Rising

This is perhaps the most badass game ever made. The first level has Raiden battling through a war zone and then fighting a RAY singlehandedly, leaping across missiles and slicing it in half while the most fucking awesome metal music blares in the background. The game just decides to get even more insane from there. People have argued against it being canon for years, but these people are stupid. This game is just as insane and politically-charged as the rest of the series, so in my book, it’s fucking canon.

15. Undertale

This game’s time in the spotlight has faded a bit, but that only makes it easier for me to look back on it and say, “Damn, that’s one of the finest games ever made.” It has all the quirkiness of the Mother series with unique combat and a stellar story, a cast of likable characters, and some of the best boss fights I’ve ever been through. Best of all, it’s a game that practically encourages and even rewards you for being nice! I still love it, even after all the discourse and skyrocketing popularity, and nothing will make me budge on that love.

14. Hades

I’m a big fan of Greek mythology, so this is yet another game that would have had to try really hard to make me hate it. Thankfully, all its efforts were put into areas that made me love it instead. While the roguelike gameplay is well done, the writing and story are really the stars here, with fantastic character interactions between desperate god Zagreus, the gods of Olympus, and the various denizens of the underworld really making this game something truly special.

13. Crash Bandicoot 4: It’s About Time

Sometimes this game feels like the designers saw all those articles and reviews comparing the first game to Dark Souls and took it to heart, because some of the levels in this game are absolutely brutal—especially if you’re going for 100% completion. But that same difficulty makes playing through the levels a lot of fun as well; it’s probably the most challenging Crash outing to date. It really polishes and updates the Crash formula for the modern age, and hopefully they expand on this in a future game. If nothing else, it finally lets you play as Dingodile, which is a dream come true.

12. Grand Theft Auto V

It’s wacky. It’s cartoonish. It has a surprisingly good story about three criminals from different walks of life becoming fire-forged friends as they violently work out their emotional issues. There’s just so much to do and so much to see, all sorts of collectibles and side missions, and more black comedy than you can shake a stick at, and all of it is made all the more enjoyable because the main villain protagonists are a likable bunch of nutjobs. Hell, sometimes I just like to hop into a car, put on some tunes, and cruise around until I can cause some mayhem, and the fact that’s just as valid as doing a bunch of story missions really makes me love the game.

11. Silent Hill 2

While the first and third games are good in their own rights, I vastly prefer the psychological horror and the monsters manifesting as living allegories for trauma with heavy and dark symbolism as opposed to the evil cult narrative. Plus, you know, this one has Pyramid Head in it, and his presence makes sense instead of simply being there cuz he’s cool.

10. Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney – Trials & Tribulations

The Ace Attorney series is one of my favorites, and I love just about all the games in it and even the ones I don’t love always have one or two solid cases that keep me coming back. But pound for pound my favorite game in the series is the third one, the one that lets you play as Mia Fey, introduces the callous murderer Dahlia Hawthorne, and has you match wits with the coffee-guzzling prosecutor Godot. Even the filler cases are entertaining, with the one where Phoenix has to get to the bottom of a murder involving his evil doppleganger being wildly amusing (which is more than can be said for that circus case in the second game or cases two through three in the fourth).

9. Live A Live

Few games can boast the sheer variety this game has on display, with levels changing up their style to give everything from standard RPG fair to a prolonged timed puzzle to a fighting game pastiche to an incredibly tense survival horror experience. We also have the precursor to Undertale here in a ninja-themed level where you can spare everyone you come across or otherwise brutally murder them. And while the stories remain relatively simple in every time period you visit, it doesn’t stop them from hitting hard when they need to, like with the fantasy RPG deconstruction that is Oersted’s chapter. This game would easily have switched places with the next game if the final level played a bit more to the game’s strengths, but hey, it’s still good enough to be in the top 10.

8. Chrono Trigger

Square’s other time travel story is definitely the superior one even if it’s a traditional JRPG through and through. Of course, that is because it completely and fully takes advantage of its premise, with actions you take in one time period affecting others in turn, not to mention the vast amount of bonus bosses and sidequests there are to keep the multiple playthroughs to acquire all the endings fresh and fun. I’ve sunk so much time into getting all the endings on the DS version, and I’ve never once been bored even after visiting the Middle Ages or the ruined future world a dozen times.

7. Castlevania: Symphony of the Night

There are few games that I love revisiting more than this one. This is Metroidvania at its peak, a perfect blend of action, platforming, and RPG elements into one glorious Gothic horror monster mash package. What’s truly fun with this one is the myriad ways there are to bust the game right open. I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve grinded for hours so that I could dual-wield Crissaegrims and trivialize the Dracula and Galamoth battles.

6. Psychonauts 2

The original Psychonauts is fun and quirky, and is only really held back by a pretty sloppy final level. This game, though? This game is damn near perfect. Nearly every level here is fun and memorable, and the ways Raz has to help each person deal with their mental trauma is a lot more nuanced and tasteful than the original game’s fair-for-its-time takes on dealing with mental illness. The minds of Ford’s old crew as well as Ford himself provide some of the best Psychonauts content to date, and really, who can hate a level that ends with Jack Black as a gay psychic rock star viking performing a musical number to obliterate his own insecurities?

5. Kingdom Hearts II

This is where the Kingdom Hearts franchise peaked, and it’s a high note they’ve yet to reach again. Sure, the tutorial prologue level drags on for quite a long while, but once you get to play as Sora again, ooh boy is this basically the perfect meeting of the worlds of Disney and Square. The Disney worlds are a lot more fleshed out and have twice the plot due to midgame return visits, the combat is more exciting with fun little reaction commands to let you pull off crazy maneuvers, and you get to hang out with Tron and the most based of all Disney heroes, Chicken Little. Best of all, the story manages to strike the perfect balance between being complex and silly without disappearing all the way up its own ass like later entries would.

4. Jak & Daxter: The Precursor Legacy

In my house, there was a legend that I had beaten this game to completion one hundred times. I’m not entirely sure how accurate that is, but considering how often I replayed this growing up it can’t be too far off. This is one of the most gorgeous platformers around, and Naughty Dog’s final shot at a genre they’d perfected with their Crash Bandicoot games. Even all these years later the visuals are breathtaking; I still am in awe at how you can see the entire world from atop Snowy Mountain. Every day I cry because they decided to turn the series into GTA clones instead of continuing to explore the gorgeous fantasy world they created in this game.

3. Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy

The original Crash Bandicoot was the first game I ever played, and the rest of the series were cornerstones of my childhood. Imagine how elated I was when they not only remade the games, but they created the single definitive way to play them! Sure, the soundtrack being redone can be a little hit or miss, but they completely unfucked the brutal difficulty of the first game (and this is even with adding back the ball-bustingly hard “Stormy Ascent” level) and for the most part left the latter two games entirely untouched save a graphical boost and the ability to play as my girl Coco. Playable Coco alone makes this a dream come true.

2. Batman: Arkham City

The Arkham series is one of the most consistently great series, and this is its greatest entry. The titular city is massive, with so many things to do, and the combat and puzzles are polished to perfection. Add in some actual detective work, some truly epic boss battles against iconic Batman villains like Clayface and Mr. Freeze (and also Solomon Grundy, because why the fuck not?), the ability to play as Catwoman, and one of the most shocking and tragic tales the Dark Knight has ever been in, and I’m more than happy to call it my second favorite game ever.

1. Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater

Of course, there was no hope Arkham City had at overcoming this game. This is Kojima’s magnum opus, not least because the entire rest of the Metal Gear series revolves around the events that transpire in this story. After the mindfuck that was the second game, it’s nice to return to a more coherent story, one detailing how Big Boss came to be the man that Snake fought in Zanzibar Land. Everything in the series sprang forth because of the actions the characters take here, and each subsequent game just makes this one better and better. Every single boss battle is unique and engaging, and the final battle is one of the most heartbreaking moments in all of gaming. I still cry every single time I get to the ending. It's such an amazing game, with a relatively simple yet still strong and convoluted story populated with a Russian madman with inexplicable lightning powers, a spirit medium's ghost, and a man who controls bees. God bless Hideo Kojima, that absolute madman.

#about me #video games

15 notes · View notes

sometranssoup · 1 year

Text

Diagnosis

A 100% serious,short King Of The Hill fanfic about Dale Gribble

Set in a world where autism evaluations are easy and less lengthy for writers convenience.

There is no nsfw under the cut,simply didn't want to make my post incredibly lengthy for people who are scrolling past.

Any jabs or insults to certain politicians are not meant to be political in any way shape or form,I talked to my great aunt and used the first politician she brought up.

Any criticism on my writing is accepted as I'm hoping to get more into writing fanfic. Any criticism on the story itself or the characters is not allowed.

It was a hot day in Arlen and Dale,Hank,Bill and Boomhaur were standing in the alley as usual.

“-and then,I'm going to hitchhike to Canada and expose the whole operation! Blow it all up right in their faces!” Dale shouted excitedly.

Hank groaned loudly,he hated hearing about Dale's terrible plans, especially when Nancy was away like this,that meant he was going to have to bail Dale out...and usually have to bail out Boomhaur and Bill when they undoubtedly got dragged into Dale's problems “Dale,you cannot go to Canada”

“and why not? Are you in cahoots with them?” Dale turned to Hank quickly.

“I am not in cahoots with whoever 'them' is,you've known me thirty years,I would've told you”

“well then why can't I go?” Dale huffed loudly and left,a few seconds later,he returned, grabbing another beer out of the cooler and stomping off again, shouting “I'm going! And return with the body of their leader!!”

Hank shook his head “how're we gonna keep him from getting into Canada?”

Boomhaur piped up,looking over “Dang ol' talking 'bout the news,man,they talking about immigration,dang ol' autism,Canada won't let 'em in”

“Boomhauer...I don't understand half of anything you say,but,I think I get the jist...maybe we can get Dale a diagnosis and then they won't let him in”

A few days later and Dale and Hank were sitting in their office,Dale excitedly talking about meeting the guy who caught Bigfoot,Hank busy worrying about how Dale was gonna try and escape when he realized he was here for an evaluation. Soon enough,the doctor called his name and Dale and Hank got up,they went into a back room and Hank quickly shut the door as Dale realized this was a doctors office.

“no! No! I am not going to sit here with a doctor! They'll just steal my urine! Or my hair! Well..what's left of it!”

Hank sighed,shoving Dale down on the couch “no,no,no,sit,they're not going to take anything. They'll just ask questions, alright?”

Dale reluctantly allowed himself to be shoved onto the uncomfortable couch “alright,alright…fine,I'll answer this guy's questions…but if I think he's a spy,I'm taking him down…shi-shi-sha!” Dale grinned a little,doing a karate chop in the air to punctate his sentence.

“Dale,you are not attacking the doctor.” Hank groaned,reaching over to smack his hand out of the air “attack him and you'll lose your hat.” Dale nodded quickly,reaching up to keep his hands over his hat tightly as the doctor walked in.

“Hi there,boys,I'm Dr.didntwannathinkofaname,good to see you two today. Now,Hank,you've sent in a large…uh,fax of some.. interesting stories about Mr.Gribble here.”

Dale immediately looked over at Hank,horrified “you told him things about me?! What if he's with the government?!”

Hank sighed “I'm sorry about him,Dr.didntwannathinkofaname,he's uh…very into conspiracy theories.”

“yes…I can see that…has this been a lifelong interest of yours,Dale?” Hank and Dale both nod a little. “Alright,thank you..if you two don't mind,I'd like to talk to you both separately. Dale,I'm gonna have you go with my assistant to take a few tests to see how you do. Just some facial recognition tests,memory tests. We just need to see how you play,behave and communicate with your peers.” Dale nods a little and gets up,leaving with the doctor's assistant.

Hank's POV

“Dale's always been…special. When we were kids,he didn't talk until he was about six…he just growled at everyone.” Hank rubbed the back of his neck,chuckling awkwardly “Then there's the fact he's never been good with people. He never really got invited to play with us in first grade,he just sorta…started playing with us,not that we minded,but,after he started being friends with us,he would just run away from other kids.”

The doctor took notes as Hank spoke “and..who is 'we'?”

“Bill,Boomhauer and I. We've all been friends since first grade. We all still talk. Hyup,every evening in the alley,have a drink,unwind. Heh,we used to spend about a half hour before the streetlights came on,sitting on the sidewalk by my house and have some rootbeer” Hank nodded,smiling softly at the memory of when they'd all become friends.

“You four have had the same friend group for…nearly thirty years? And you have a very…similar schedule to when you were kids? That's…very interesting. Mr.Hill,how do you think you and Dale would react if you weren't in the alley in the evening”

“Well,it just throws our whole schedule off. Dale can hardly do anything until the next time we're all in the alley,his brain just turns to mush..and,well,I'd be lying if I said it doesn't mess with my mind too” Hank nodded a little.

“I see..” the doctor kept writing as Hank spoke. He asked a few more questions,listening to Hank ramble on about Dale as a kid and of course,after those stories,Hank talked to the doctor about propane.

Dales POV

The assistant led Dale into a room connected to the doctors office and pulled out a book with pictures in it,some book about frogs and…some games,by the looks of them.

“Alright,Dale. I'm going to have you identify some facial expressions,then you'll read a book to me,we'll do a memory test and then I'd like to know about some of your interests and hobbies that sound good to you?” the assistant looked at him,smiling softly.

“No…but,Hank said he'd take me to get ice cream if I was well behaved…so,let's do this,I guess” Dale nodded,sitting up a little.

“Great,alright,can you…tell me what this woman is feeling,Dale?” she asked,opening the book of photos.

Dale stared at the woman intently,studying her face “she's not feeling anything,she's obviously a robot,duh. You can see where her fake skin stops,right there under her tank top strap, probably didn't put any 'skin' under her clothes to save the government a few pennies”

“Alright then,enough of the facial recognition test for now. Why don't you read me this book and then tell me about it?” The assistant handed Dale a book about flying frogs,which,of course,sent Dale on a rant about alien frogs and all the politicians they're controlling. The assistant nodded,writing everything down as Dale spoke. “Alright,that's very interesting,Dale,I'll make sure to fact check Mitch McConnell the next time he talks. I'm gonna have you do a math sheet for me,please show your work,it's very important.” Dale nodded and filled out the sheet,breaking the numbers down to add them.

“Alright,I'm finished..” Dale nodded,handing the math sheet back “is that memory test next?” The assistant nodded,setting the test up and having Dale go through it.

“I'm very impressed with your memory,Dale,you have a very good memory” The assistant smiled and took some notes. “Okay,I'm gonna send you back to the doctor and he'll give you the diagnosis. Dale nodded and went back into the room with Hank and the doctor. The doctor went over everything.

“alright,Dale,Hank,here's a packet of both of your diagnoses'” the doctor nodded a little.

Hank took the packets “mine..too?”

“Well,I can't give any official opinion on you,but,it is my recommendation that you come back for an evaluation of your own,Mr.Hill.”

“Haha,your plan backfired,Hank” Dale grinned,looking at him.

“Hwell,not really,Dale,this isn't an official diagnosis,yours is. You can't go to canada” Hank grinned as Dale's face fell,realizing Hank was right.

“you traitor. You're temporarily suspended from being my emergency contact.” Dale mumbled as he got up and left with Hank.

#Koth #king of the hill #Dale gribble #Hank Hill #dr.didntwannathinkofaname #nancy gribble #boomhaur #boomhauer #bill dauterive #king of the hill fanfic #fanfic #this was written by an author whose last experience was a gay novel when they were like 15 so please excuse them #please boost #i need the dopamine #reblogs and replies are ADORED #notes are also great

9 notes · View notes

unpopularghostwrites · 1 year

Text

Book Review 5-9: John Green

This is a book review for the following books by John Green:

- The Fault in Our Stars (3.5/5)

- An Abundance of Katherines (3/5)

- Paper Towns (4/5)

- The Anthropocene Reviewed (10000000000000000000/5)

This is going to be an old review, because the last time I read any of these books was when I was in high school as a Freshman. I am now a 21 year old college senior, and was around for the 2016 Tumblr craze over TFiOS, and the status of it as a meme now.

I have only read Looking For Alaska once. I have read Paper Towns multiple times, and An Abundance of Katherines a few times. I have practically memorized TFiOS... Why? Because it was THE book of angst for 13 year old me.

I like John Green a lot. I like what he and Hank Green do for students, young people, and the community online. They are good people with informative videos and with interesting ideas. So here I am, reviewing John Green’s books from way back when. Please note* I haven’t read any of these books within the last 4 years besides the Anthropocene Reviewed. So this is more a review of the nostalgia and the pieces I can remember.

The Fault in Our Stars. There are faults with this book, but there are great parts too. This was the first book I read that had swearing and a realistic (or as realistic as you can get when it’s a straight white man narrating a teenage girls life) portrayal of teenagerhood. Is it pretentious as all heck? Yes. Are there moments where you want to strangle the main character? Yep. Are there moments when you want to strangle her boyfriend? Yes. Most definitely. BUT. This book was extremely important to me when I was younger, it was the first “adult” book I read. It tackled more than just fantasy novels or things like Amber Brown. It was a book that was about someone who was dying, but who was finding their life through it. It helped I was discovering this around the time of the Sherlock, Doctor Who, TFiOS, Tumblr obsession craze. It fueled my love for the story, and the movie was coming out. Unfortunately, I am a contrarian. My roommate loves to tell me so. So it got too popular and my love for TFiOS was squashed. I put it on a shelf and began to love Paper Towns more, but then the movie for that book came out. The Fault in Our Stars is a sucky book for someone who is going through terminal illness. It glorifies, romanticizes, and is pretentious about it all. The kiss in the Anne Frank house is so infuriating that that’s what I remember. I fail to see why Augustus is so loved by Hazel, because he is just a guy. Hit him with your car. (Chrissy, 2023). Okay, maybe don’t hit the guy with leg cancer with a car, but come on. He goes through such a down hill spiral, and it’s understandable why, but it’s really annoying to read. Even though he is in pain and is dying, so is Hazel. He doesn’t have to be a jerk to her. Isaac is a much cooler person. If I were Hazel, I’d have gone for Isaac.

The imagery and quotes that this book has? Worth reading it for. There are lovely phrases about this. I fear that John Green could be my version of Peter Van Houghton. I’m really glad that he didn’t end TFiOS with an incomplete sentence that would have been really annoying and on the nose. But I did find it surprising he chose not to. So good on him for not being cliche.

Perhaps one of the least well known John Green book out there, this one is one of the top books he’s written to me. I liked the way that the book is, with footnotes and science-y nerdy terms that I didn’t really understand when I was 13. I liked that the book really makes you feel like you’re on a summer road trip, it’s hot, it’s long, you’re bored, but there’s enough intrigue and potential for romance you get your hopes up. I like the idea of being obsessed with being a genius, I can relate to that feeling a lot. I think that writing wise, this was one of his worst ones. I really like this book though. I haven’t read a book like this and still haven’t since. I would read it again, but wouldn’t recommend it to people who are obsessed with Green’s other work and are used to that quality and precedent.

Paper Towns is a great book. It’s funny, it’s got a great ending chase scene, it was relevant to my life when I read it. I grew up idolizing people, thinking that they were special and more than just people. This book is about that concept and someone making someone into more than they are. I love the movie of this book and think that it’s a fair adaptation (Cara Delavigne is hella fine). I think that this movie and the book could have been as successful as TFiOS if people were interested in it and it had gained as much controversy. I love the idea of a manic pixie dream girl being tracked down by a nerd and his friends and then telling them it was not fair they see her as a manic pixie dream girl. Sometimes, girls are just girls. People are people. They aren’t your answers, they aren’t your solutions, they aren’t your soul mates. I think this message would be really relevant to any high schooler, simp, or fanboy out there. I think that this book is great. :)

This is how you do a collection of essays. This project John Green has done via podcast is so good. I cannot recommend it enough. I never thought I’d be crying in my car to someone talking about Jerzy Dudek, contemplating Tetris, or appreciating Piggly Wiggly’s origin story. I never thought someone wondering about the world could be so powerful. I think this is such an important podcast, because it’s not only teaching us cool information about niche things, it’s teaching us about humanity. It’s teaching us about our lives, our earth, our society, and our history. I find great value in this project and am so happy that I gave it a chance. It’s so comforting hearing hope and reassurance when looking at Gingko Trees or the start of the Penguins of Madagascar. No matter what essay, Green makes me feel safe and full of wonder. He makes me feel secure to find joy and power in the things around me, how the world used to be, how it is and how it could be. If you’re going to try out something of John Green’s, please try this.

How I rate books:

0 - Could not finish

Could not finish due to various reasons. Be it it’s too boring, or that it was highly offensive or poorly written.

1 - No.

Absolutely detested, will not read again, could not believe some people read this and enjoy it. What were they thinking?

2 - Eh.

Not my cup of tea, but I can see why someone would like this. Wouldn’t read again but not a complete waste of time.

3 - Huh.

Welp. This book is very mid tier. I’m okay that I read it, might read it again if I am bored or forget it. This is an okay read and I’m okay I read it.

4 - Hm.

Hm. I don’t know if I really like this book but it made me feel something. I liked it and would read it again, I don’t know when I’d read it again but I’d confidently tell someone about this book and recommend this book.

5 - WOW! I love this book. I am this book. Read this book. 1000000000000000000000000000000/5 - Self explanatory

If I give a book this rating, assume it is now my personality and I am going to force you to read it in front of me.

**All art is not made by me, it is a google search and not my art. If it is my art, I will say so. Assume all art is not mine. Ty**

#tfios #paper towns #abundance of katherines #looking for alaska #john green #book review #unpopularghostnoodlegivesthisarating

4 notes · View notes

libraryofbaxobab · 10 months

Text

UPDATE TO MY PREVIOUS POST December 5, 2023:

I lied. I forced my way through it. Turns out, the first half of the book is the equivalent to a jogger finding the body in the cold open of an episode of Law & Order. I had to suffer through all of that for next to nothing, because the part that I consider to be the actual story picks up decades later with different characters. That said, once that part actually starts (way too late!) it picks up right away and becomes almost as fun as I hoped it would be. It's exciting and gross and there are guns and explosions and motorcycles and other cool shit.

I stand by my criticism of giving the slime mold anthropomorphic thoughts. The narration goes out of its way to explicitly state that it does not actually have thoughts. And yet, it has POV sections where it wants, it decides, it learns, it remembers, it actively problem-solves-- not to imply that it's gaining sentience like I thought but in direct conflict with the book's own insistence. This leads me to believe that this author just does not have the mastery of language to phrase it any other way. That's pretty embarrassing.

Here's a thing that I liked! The mind-control portions. Those were the kind of horror I wanted and the intrusive thoughts/ instructions were delivered in a pretty spooky voice by the audiobook narrator, who otherwise totally sucked. (Seriously, he narrated in almost complete monotone but then inexplicably did some characters' voices as a Hank Hill impression like wtf) Random weird thoughts that are not the character's own? Yes please.

Next, the characters are going to be... divisive, for some. The main guy (again, once the real story starts) talks manically and nonstop and it's super annoying. He is self-aware of this quirk, but it does make him hard to deal with as a voice. He's an exhausting character that starts out hard to like, but I ended up coming around after seeing he is making conscious efforts to better his life. It's actually really interesting to see someone in the early stages of taking responsibility but not quite getting it right yet. I liked the romance subplot (A sentence I never thought I'd type!!) and thought it was weirdly sweet. It was much slower and more thoughtful than the dreadful horny triple-threat in the "cold open."

Not to belabor that again, but after some more thought, I realized that this book actually has two "jogger finds the body" set pieces. We shouldn't forget that the three characters from the insufferable beginning half are already investigating a reported death, which brings them to the remote village where the fungus originated-- a village that the book once again goes out of its way to note that it is specifically reclaimed indigenous land. That's not important to the plot in any way, but it would be mildly interesting if it didn't mean that the book kills off twenty-six indigenous people offscreen just to focus on the actual experience of the white people (or, in one character's case, white-passing Latino. And yes, that he has a Hispanic name but looks "white enough" is actually a plot point in the book, which makes it even more suspect that in the movie adaptation coming out next year he is played by Liam Neeson and given a different name. Oop!). That just feels weird to me, to have gone on and on about the legality of returning indigenous lands for no reason if we weren't going to use any of those characters' perspectives. They were literally set dressing to show the white people how gruesome the consequences of contracting the contagion would be. They're the unnamed "killer's previous victims" on a bulletin board in the "jogger finding the body" analogy.

One of those three cold-open characters comes back later with a plan to save the day because they've ~seen this before and know what it can do~. Except, no they don't. They barely investigated the village at all and left immediately with a sample. This character has a comprehensive list of difficult-to-obtain materials that are absolutely necessary to containing this threat. Much time is devoted to this list but in vague terms; we are not privy to the specific items on that list, presumably until the moment they are used. But rest assured that every single item is totally of the utmost importance to this plan and they have thought of every possible- just kidding they bring, like, a gun. Why is there even a list, other than of course to waste a bunch of time to make the stakes seem higher to the characters who are trapped and awaiting rescue? Why is this book so interested in wasting my time?

I think ultimately this book shows that the author doesn't grasp the writer's mantra of "show, don't tell" which is wild considering he has written a bunch of famous and exciting movies. This might be his first crack at a novel, and since he can't rely on visual shorthand, he compensates by just insisting to the reader that certain things are true, even when the action shows us the opposite. The list is useful because he says it's useful, don't worry about how little it gets used. The fungus isn't sentient because he says it isn't, don't pay attention to all the active thoughts he's given it. The guy from the offscreen inciting incident died horribly because a character says he died horribly, you don't even need a description. It's not even clever unreliable narrator shenanigans, it just comes off as an inexperienced novelist demanding that you believe him no matter what you've seen.

#whatskenyareading #books #reading #library #horror #audiobook #cold storage #long post #rant #fungal #fungi #fungus #pathogen #infection #illness #disease #action

0 notes

aghostpost · 3 years

Note

Hello! I was wondering if I could request Hank McCoy x reader? I know this is weird but I have this thing where neck kisses make me sleepy and the thought of him kissing my neck while he's all furry and warm just seems like it would definitely put me to sleep. Could you write something like that? Sorry it's so weird!

A/N: Nothing weird about it at all! Neck kisses always a win ♥

“Y/N…”

“I’m trying.”

“Just relax-”

“-I’m trying! It’s hard! It’s… these stupid crickets! They’re so loud.”

Hank smirked to himself. “I think it’s kind of soothing, like ASMR.”

“Yeah, maybe if there were four thick walls surrounding us. I feel like they’re right in my ears screaming. I just can’t believe you took me camping.”

“It’s only one night. I wanted to watch the meteor shower with you. I thought it would be a nice change.”

I sighed. “It was. And I appreciate this, I really do.”

“But?”

I bit my tongue. “But nothing. You’re right, it’s just one night. One loud, cricket-infested, itchy, cold night.”

“Oh, are you cold? Why didn’t you say so?”

“I thought wrapping your body around me like a blanket was a good enough sign.” In a matter of seconds the sleeping bag we were in got snug until it began to rip at the seams. Before I looked to investigate further, a large, furry hand took mine and wrapped around my chest, moving closer to me. “I didn’t mean-”

“-Is this better?” Hank asked, his voice huskier and deeper than before.

“Yes. Thank you. I would have settled for a second blanket.”

He smiled to himself. “I only packed the one.”

As I resituated myself closer to him and got cozy, I stared above me. The full force of the shower had long ended but it seemed there were still some stragglers traveling across the navy blue sky. Other less pleasant outdoor elements aside, it was a beautiful night, and an even more beautiful and thoughtful idea of Hank’s to spend the night camping. “Maybe… this isn’t so bad…”

“I’ll get you back first thing in the morning, don’t worry.”

“I thought we were going to have breakfast here in the wilderness?”

“The sooner we leave, the sooner you get back to civilization.”

I chuckled. “Sorry for freaking out; me and the outdoors are kinda water and oil. But I have you, away from work and the lab and the school. I’ll take that any way I can get it.”

“Even blue and covered in fur?”

“Especially.”

His grip tightened for a second as he ran his nose along the back of my neck, sniffing from my nape to my ear. I don’t think I’d ever get used to that, or the little shockwave it sent through me, all the way down to my toes. “You’re finally relaxed.”

“How could you tell?” I asked.

“There’s some truth in saying you can smell fear. Plus your heart, it isn’t beating quite so fast anymore.”

“What can I say: you make a pretty good security blanket.”

I felt his warm breath on every fine hair on my neck before he softly pressed a kiss to the space. I intertwined my fingers with the hand still wrapped around my torso. “Rest,” he said calmly.

“I’m watching the stars,” I responded, although my lids threatened to shut at any moment. “And listening to the dumb crickets.”

“Shall I tell you about the stars?” he asked before placing another gentle kiss, this time behind my ear.

“Mmm,” was all I managed to mutter, my eyelids getting heavier the longer I stared at the night’s sky and focused on Hank’s voice. Not that I knew what stars he was telling me about, or if they were even present in the sky at this moment, but as he named them and told me about each one he would sprinkle in a kiss every sentence or so. His warm chest rising and falling against my back with each breath was putting me at ease, a calm I rarely experience back in town. “Thank you for this.”

“Not necessary.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was ungrateful.”

“I know this isn’t your element, but it’s good to step outside your comfort zone once in a while.”

“Is that your professional advice as a doctor?” I teased.

“Would it be… odd of me to tell you… you smell different in the outdoors?”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Good,” he said before catching another whiff of me. “Very good.”

I smiled a sleepy smile to myself, my eyes closed as I lightly swirled my fingertips in the fur on the back of his hand. “Then no, it isn’t odd.”

“And it isn’t odd, my… current state?”

Closed as they were, I still managed to roll my eyes. “Hank-”

“-I know-”

“-And you still ask every time as if you expect me to have a different answer.”

“Maybe eventually, the more you say it the more I’ll believe it…”

I turned my head to face him, eyes open as I caressed his face. “It’s gonna take more than a little fur and some sharp teeth to scare me off, Hank McCoy. Sorry to say it.” I winked before turning back around, taking his hand into mine to bring it to my lips for a kiss. “And I mean it.”

Once he realized I wasn’t running for the hills, he settled his feelings to inhale me once more. “Now where was I?” was all he said before he continued his rant about the stars.

I tapped the space right between my neck and my shoulders. “One more, right here.” He placed not one, not two, but three kisses in that spot. I smiled peacefully to myself and listened to my sweet professor, falling asleep to his astronomy lecture, his cashmere soft fur, and his delicate kisses.

#hank mccoy x reader #request #hank x reader #hank mccoy imagine

342 notes · View notes

untothismeme · 3 years

Text

KING OF THE HILL SENTENCE STARTERS. Luanne’s Saga & Hank’s Unmentionable Problem

“I think [ NAME ] is going to ask me to move in.”

“Why do you let her go out with that hairball?”

“Them dang old birds, man.”

“That was a break-up.”

“Oh my lord, you’ve been dumped?!”

“You know, I was almost killed-“

“Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“You seem like a regular guy.”

“Just do as I say and we’ll get along fine.”

“What’s your name, son?”

“You need to have more confidence in yourself.”

“She’s in love. You blew it!”

“Did you really think you could fix it overnight?”

“it’s after midnight, what the heck are you doing?”

“This is not about the leaf blower.”

“Look, it’s gentle and all-natural.”

“Excuse me? What are you implying?”

“You were in the bathroom for an hour last night.”

“If I had to make an educated guess, I’d say he has polio.”

“I’m not eating bacon grease.”

“You’re trying to drug me?”

“Stop making such a big deal out of it.”

“Then I spoke to his mother and she said the most interesting thing.”

“And if she’s concerned, I’m concerned.”

“Just kill me now.”

“Whoa- [ NAME ], what are they doing to you?!”

“When a family faces an illness, all members should be involved.”

“If I were to take your colon and lay it out in a straight line, it would all the way around the earth.”

“Do you have anything that tastes good?”

“Anyone ever try that on me and I’ll kick their ass.”

“I just want this moment to last forever.”

#ask meme #askbox meme #rp ask meme #roleplay ask meme #sentence starters #mine*#TV*#kingofthehill*#king of the hill #tv #funny

32 notes · View notes

cappymightwrite · 3 years

Note

cappy release the ass rankings, do it for the clout (though I live in fear of having to see that picture of Ned’s hairy ass again)

In the notes for this ASSk, I mentioned that I was tempted to do a Stark ass ranking, and looks like the people have spoken so...

First and foremost, let's establish a scoring system. I'm going to go with a grading out of FIVE (5) peaches 🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑 Also, apologies to the original ass anon, but I'm going to be ranking according a general ass vibe, not soley the hairiness of said ass (or arse? since I'm a Brit, lmao... also fuck me, the pain of writing that sentence, christ alive). So 5/5 peaches, that's a mighty fine ass, 1/5... you get it... (actually that might be more of a 0/5).

But what does make a good ass? Yeah, that's right, I looked it up.

“I like the Goldilocks [comparison]," Dr. Kerri Johnson of UCLA says. "Goldilocks only evaluates her man to be more attractive when he’s just right -- the hyper-masculinity is perceived as kind of threatening. ... Having large muscles is not the same thing as having toned muscles; big, bulky muscles are perceived as less attractive than well-toned, moderately sized muscles."

There's a delicate balance in the middle, where "too little is unattractive and too much is unattractive." [source]

^So that's something to consider, lmao. This idea of balance.

Next point to address... who we ranking? I'm thinking we go back to Robert's Rebellion era, as well as the current timeline:

Rickard Stark

Brandon Stark

Eddard "Ned" Stark

Benjen Stark

Robb Stark*

Jon Snow*

*For these two... I'm just going to pretend they are closer to the show ages, but I'll be basing my judgement on book characterisation.

So... let's all channel our inner Tina Belcher and press onwards!

Rickard Stark

Old man Stark himself. According to awoiaf.org, he apparently he had a long, stern face with quiet dignity. No mention of his ass though. So, as with all of these, my ranking will be influenced by vibes, by characteristation, etc.

We all know this guy for his "southern ambitions"... so an ambitious man, a proud man, a man who believes in having the best — according to awoiaf.org, Rickard owned steel armour with golden spurs... fancy. Oh, the irony then, that this man had a less than impressive ass. That's right. It's all about overcompensating for this man. It's all about overcompensating for that borderline FLAT (probably hairy, coz Ned had to inherit it from someone) ASS.

Back in the day, prior to the you know... being murdered, he tried to cover it with long leather jerkins, he never allowed you to view him from behind so would exit rooms by walking backwards... but alas... the less said about old man Stark's arse the better.

As coined by @istumpysk, Rickard was for sure suffering from a "lower extremity impairment."

Score = 🍑

Brandon Stark

This is tough, because I wanna say Brandon inherited that flat Hank Hill ass from his father, but Brandon is canonically meant to be hot stuff — not THE hottest Stark, mind you, but still. So, while I think his fuckboi energy deserves a 1 peach rating... I mean, he did beat up Littlefinger so... I think, when it comes down to it, he had an average looking arse. Like, from all that simping that Barbrey Dustin does about him, you'd think it was glorious, but really... not so much.

So, in a way… it loses points for its deception.

Coz I think it actually looked deceptively good in leather breeches, which added to his hot mystique, but once those clothes came off? Kind of so so. Kind of a oh, that's it vibe. Like, it's fine, but nothing to write a raven home about, you know? Without the presumably tight leather trousers containing it, giving it form, definition, that ass lacks curvature. It lacks verve, bounce, a... plushness. It's not exactly flat, and he is a muscled guy, but that is just part of the problem — you try to smack that ass, you breaking a hand, my friend. Like Dr. Johnson noted, hyper-masculinity in an ass is not attractive, it's just not it, and I think that's part of Brandon's problem here, and that parallels/compliments his wolf-blooded, macho, fuckboi character tbh.

Also, probably inherited papa Stark's hairy ass, which again plays into the hyper-masculinity of it all. But hey, no judgement Barb.

An optical illusion of an ass, if you will.

Score = 🍑🍑

Eddard "Ned" Stark

Canonically... a hairy-assed motherfucker according to THIS image from the graphic novels:

(Special thanks to @kellyvela for being the custodian of this image, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to find it!)

Now, from the clenched fist, one can assumed that that ass in tensed... and more often than not, it probably remained that way, coz there was so much for Ned to be tense and stressed over, lmao. And Jesus Christ... it's hard to ignore the hair, it really is. Most likely it was difficult to overcome the Stark Hairy Ass™ gene, as we have seen in the previous two enteries.

That being said, I'm trying to consider this arse in a more relaxed state... and I think it's got a decent shape to it, let's be fair here. I think we're finally getting somewhere. I mean, you'd hope for Ned's sake that he had some cushioning on that ass during all those Hand of the king meetings, sitting on that god awful throne. If you were to spank that bum, you'd get some decent plush push back I'd say — miles better that the absolute void of his father's arse and the brick wall of Brandon's.

So, yeah, he may have been the more solemn, plainer brother in comparison to Brandon, but when it came to the ass lottery? Cat did alright for herself in the end. No harm, no foul (apart from the hair).

A respectable enough ass. But by no means sensensational.

Score = 🍑🍑1/2… 🍑🍑🍑 with some waxing

Robb Stark

*the Tully genes have just entered the chat*

Ok, this was tough, because I almost switched these two half-brothers *cough* cousins *cough* around. But then I remembered that Robb is described as "muscular", and that made me ponder this a bit more closely. Now, I think the hot Tully genes resulted in a pretty good ass for Robb, certainly better than his father's. I also think he managed to swerve the Stark Hairy Ass™ just as his did the Stark Look™ in general.

For all that Robb made mistakes in his kingship, one thing that never failed him was his peachy lil ass. Spankable for sure. A good look in tight leather, and good look out of it too.

But it's his more muscular bod that lets him down a little... it doesn't quite show off the ass to its full potential. The shoulder to hip ratio for Robb is less pronounced, I feel, than Jon's say, and thus that is where he loses points. That being said, this is a fine young ass that, had it lived, might have, in the right, flattering light, reached four (4) peaches out of five one day. But as things stand...

Score = 🍑🍑🍑1/2

Jon Snow

*the Targ genes have just entered the chat*

Straight away, the curse of the Stark Hairy Ass™ has been eliminated. It's not something to worry about with our boy Jon. I mean, I'm not a genealogist (if you couldn't tell), but I'm telling you that the one (1) perk of the Targs interbreeding is that they filtered out the hairy ass gene a long time ago, probably circa Valyria era.

Now, as we know, Jon is "slender" where Robb is "muscular" (AGOT, Bran I), so that's something to consider. With that in mind, I think Jon has a sweet little twink butt. A real peach of an ass. It's potentially the prettiest thing about him — an interesting contrast to his otherwise typical, solemn Stark Look™. In a way, it hints towards his inherent Otherness, the fact that Ned isn't his real father, plus his "lusty" bastard nature, if you will. That's why I think it beats out Robb's bum, certainly character-wise, if not in the hip to shoulder ratio. Indeed, I think it would be interesting if Jon has a mighty fine tush, because it sets him even more apart from the Starks.

It's an ass with the power to Other. You spank that tush and you won't be left wanting, I'll tell you that for free, my friend.

Because Jon has an ass that, unlike his uncle Brandon’s, is no illusion. It looks great in leather breeches, as well as out of them. It's smallish, matching his slender hips, but perfectly formed. It has that duality of both being adorable and hot property. A hot piece of ass real estate.

Good for you, Jon. You honestly deserve that peachy lil bum.

Score = 🍑🍑🍑🍑

But let's not forget from whom you inherited that butt...

Benjen Stark

I mean... who else was I going to rank at the top? Not only is this man somehow surviving out there in the cold wilderness, he also managed to avoid the curse of the Stark Hairy Ass™ AND his father's Hank Hill butt. What are the chances?! But that's Benjen for you... defying all the odds, somehow surviving in the face of extreme adversity. More than anyone else, he quite frankly deserves a great arse to go along with his textbook Stark Look™.

Because Joseph Mawle just is Benjen Stark, I feel like I'm justified in using him as a reference. And the reference I want to use is JM in s2 of Ripper Street... now, granted, the ass isn't the main focus of this scene, but still... the overall impression I get is that, like Jon's, it's a ass that pairs well with slender hips and wider shoulders. It's an ass that looks good in tight trousers... and out of them. It's an ass with everything that his father and elder brothers' lacked: verve, bounce, dare I say it... vulnerability, charisma.

It's an ass that has endured and will endure.

An ass for the ages. An ass for all time. You spank that ass and you're going back for another swat, my friend. It's that inviting. That giving. It is, as noted by Dr. Johnson, the Goldilocks of asses. Just right.

Score = 🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

Well... there you have it... my Stark ass ranking. Now, stop asking me about butts.

Thank you and good day.

#cappy´s thoughts #you guys out here encouraging my depravity #the whiplash of seeing beautiful scenery and then THIS #what is this blog??#duality of man i guess #lmao #the long awaited stark ass ranking #🍑🍑🍑

61 notes · View notes

abreathofthewild · 4 years

Text

I Need A Hero, Chapter 1/?

Summary: After Y/N finds out that her late grandfather has willed his rural Montana ranch to her, she decides it’s time for a little change of scenery. At least until it’s in a condition to sell. Along the way, Y/N finds a renewed appreciation for hard work, new friends, and possibly even love. She has the land. Can Thor help make it a home?

Word Count: 11559 (I have no idea either, trust me)

Warnings: non-main character death, mentions of alcohol, some thematic elements, eventual smut.

A/N: I have so many people I could tag on this post, so many. For now, I'll just say thank you to @spacelabrathor for allowing me to use this idea and to @itssimplydior for going above and beyond in helping me grammar check and just being a great hype person. Thank you thank you thank you! And thank you to everyone who has waited so long for this. I have an amazing circle of friends on here. I hope this first chapter was worth the wait!

Edit: The banner is by the amazing @frankiemorales who designed this moodboard because she loves the story so much ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Links: Thor Odinson Masterlist and AO3 Version

Skyscrapers cut through the blue sky like ancient monoliths; they weren’t ancient at all but the way the sun glinted off the glass and steel of their structures made them look like modern interpretations of old gods. Car horns and shouts and ongoing conversations hummed through the air, the constant buzz of life an undercurrent that was all at once hard to ignore and easy to be lost in. There in the middle of it, beneath the heartbeat of the city, you sat in an office chair trying to clear your head around a different type of ringing in your ears.

Your grandfather had passed away. Your estranged grandfather. And yet here you were, listening to his attorney tell you that he had willed you his ranch. The ranch you had spent almost six summers at as a child. The ranch where you had learned to ride a horse. The ranch where you had learned how to skip rocks and climb trees. The ranch where you had decided that one day you’d have a big ranch of your own, “just like Grandpa”.

“Miss? Miss, are you still there?” A breath rattled from your lungs as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry, I can imagine this is difficult but were you able to hear me on the line? Hank has passed away and he’s left you his ranch. We’ll need you to come sign some paperwork. There are some stipulations that I’d rather discuss in person. Then you’re free to get the details settled to sell it if that’s what you want.” Another pause.

“Um, yes, I’m sorry. I heard you. Can you email the initial documents?” The barely-managed response felt odd on your tongue, stiff.

“Ah, yes, I’m sure we can manage that. I’ll have to apologize, things move a little slower around here so sometimes it slips my mind that electronic signatures are an option now. Like I said though, the final details will need to be worked out here, in Dove’s Reach.” After that, you tuned out; the man’s voice on the line seemed to drone on. Your brain honed in on “it’s not really in a state to sell” and “I’ll put you in touch with a licensed appraiser just to make sure”. Then the call ended and you realized somewhere in there you must have hung up the phone but you honestly couldn’t remember.

A ranch. A whole ranch. 500 acres of rolling hills in Montana. Your breath caught and you quickly brushed away the tears that had welled in your eyes, pursing your lips and glancing at the paperwork spread in front of you. There was so much work to do here with the Harrison case. Your eyes roved from the physical documents to the spreadsheets on your computer screen and back again. It would be foolish to take time off now when you were so close to finishing it up. You could see your father’s frown as if he was standing in front of you.

And yet… Your grandfather hadn’t been a part of your life for so long. In the beginning, when your parents had told you abruptly that Grandpa had done something bad, been mean to them, you took it hard. Seven years old is a horrible time to lose a grandfather who taught you how to milk a cow and showed you the wonder in the small things. But as you got older and your parents became more embroiled in work, more distant, you put it to the back of your mind. You were still young enough that you had no choice but to take their word for it. The thoughts tripped around your head like a broken record; you felt a little queasy. You wiped brusquely once more at a stray tear and, taking a deep breath, turned to your monitor. You minimized one tab and opened another, preparing to write an email. It was a little more difficult than you had anticipated though and ten minutes later when your assistant walked in reminding you of your 2 o’ clock, you startled from a blank daydream and an even blanker screen. Your surroundings rushed back in around you on a pinpoint vortex and all at once, you knew you had to go. Regardless of parts of the will needing to be handled in person, something split in your heart. Right now, your place was at the ranch.

“Reschedule that appointment please. Let Clark know we’ll be switching it over to a Zoom call. Actually, cancel the rest of my appointments for the next two weeks. I’ll let you know if I need you to move anything around after that.” She widened her eyes but nodded all the same, turning and exiting your corner office with purpose. You began typing out the email to your father letting him know that you’d be taking advantage of all those vacation hours you had stored away for a rainy day. You would take the Harrison case with you and could easily finish it remotely. It would be on his desk by the deadline. Your rainy day was today but despite the circumstance, you were beginning to catch the feeling that there wasn’t a cloud in sight. The ranch house flashed across your mind’s eye and you blew out a breath from your lungs you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

You clicked send and stood, throwing on your coat and gathering the necessary paperwork from your desk. You let your assistant know you were leaving and walked out the door, not bothering to pay attention to a few pairs of wandering eyes who watched as you entered the elevator and headed down to the ground floor. With each minute of descent through the high-rise building, you felt your heart beat faster. It felt like there was a balloon in your chest waiting to burst. Your heels clicked on the marble floor and as you pushed through the doors into the spring air of New York City, you felt just a little more alive than you had moments before.

The redeye flight and extra two-hour drive put you in Dove’s Reach before the sun had completely risen. Last week if someone had told you that you would be standing here right now looking at your grandfather’s ranch house with the notion that you could fix it up, you would have laughed in their face. But as the sun rose in the east, it felt as if anything was possible. To the north was a range of mountains that could have looked menacing, but from your vantage only served to leave you in awe. The immediate land was just miles and miles of green fields that met with forest. The trees were behemoths; the sun bathed everything in a rich golden light adding unbelievable depth to the scene before you. The air smelled clean and fresh and alive.

You resisted the urge to pinch yourself because if this was a dream you never wanted to wake up. There was your grandfather’s house right in the middle of all of it. It still held the country charm that you remembered but there was so much that was… off. From what you could see with the naked eye, the wooden fence was sagging and falling over in a lot of places. The barn was missing slats of wood and one door hung precariously on its hinges. The house was a relic, the paint dry and peeling. You knew your grandfather as a strong, stout man who even in his older age was capable of running a whole ranch. The state of things now left a hollow feeling in your stomach and left so many questions unanswered.

A suitcase, carry-on, and laptop bag was all you had with you as you took the key from under the mat and opened the front door. It groaned loudly as if it hadn’t been opened in a long while but it made you smile to know that your grandfather had left the key in the same place after all these years. You walked to your left into the kitchen and set your keys on the counter. The familiarity of it all suddenly made you pause with a sudden sense of Deja Vu. The magnets on the fridge, the little table with four wooden chairs, and an old fashioned clock hanging on the wall that had faded from a once dark blue. The checkered yellow and white curtains were rolled up above the farm-style sink and an old mason jar with some dried flowers sat in the sill.

You found yourself choking up as you realized your grandfather’s coffee mug, the big one with some western painting of a bucking bronco, sat ready next to the coffee pot. You walked over to it and cradled it in your hands as the feeling washed through your bones that it was your mug now. There was so much you remembered about him and yet so much you never got to know, never would know. It nagged at you as the realization began to set in that there was so much to get done to sell this place. And after it was gone, there would be nothing of your grandfather left. A shaky sigh escaped from your lips.

Sleep. Right now you just needed to sleep. You made your way upstairs, the wood groaning in protest as you went, and headed to the right where one of the two guest rooms were located. Again, it was like a museum, in a state of preservation. With a wrenching in your stomach, you wondered if he’d ever had visitors after you. The bed sat against the opposite wall under the window and the sunlight filtering in passed the tree outside left dappled patterns on the patchwork quilt. You brushed your fingertips across it and marveled at how soft it still felt.

The room smelled faintly of dust so you cracked the window. You were rewarded by the cool breeze laced with the scent of pine wafting gently into the room. It was the beginning of spring but mornings were still chilled with the end of winter. You were pretty sure that in the shade of various trees on your way in there were small drifts of unmelted snow and the dried grass in the fields outside had sparkled with frost. You flopped down on the bed, covering yourself with the knitted throw that was tossed across the bottom.

As your eyes fluttered shut, you had a distinct feeling that you had always lived here. The thought crossed your mind as you edged into sleep that maybe you should stay.

It was well past noon when you startled awake. This time, it felt like there was a weight on your chest. You cracked your eyes and let out a small ah when you were greeted by a plump silver and white cat with green eyes sitting on your stomach. It chirruped when it realized you were awake. The cat hadn’t been in the house when you arrived (that you had seen). Maybe it climbed the tree and hopped in the window. Either way, it had been a long time since you’d last had a pet (your long hours didn’t allow for it back in New York) and your heart did a light skip as you scratched behind its ears. Its purr sounded like a motorboat.

The breeze coming through the window was a little warmer now and after a while of trying to stay lost to the world outside, you knew if you didn’t get up right then, you wouldn’t feel motivated to do so for the rest of the day. And there was a lot to do. With an exaggerated grunt, you deposited the cat on the other side of the bed. It sat there licking a paw and periodically giving you an irked look. You let out a small snort and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the desk and began writing down your goals for the day.

The main one was a basic grocery list (you were pretty sure there was nothing in the fridge or cupboards), and now getting some cat food. If you remembered correctly, the actual town was about another half hour from the ranch in the opposite direction you’d come. You stood and winced as pins and needles prickled up and down your legs from sitting cross-legged on the bed. You glanced at your computer bag tucked in next to the desk on the floor. The Harrison case would have to wait.

Main Street hadn’t really changed much from what you could remember of your time here. A lot of red brick and dark wood. It was quaint and about as small-town as you could get. Something lurched in your chest when you pulled to a stop in the grocery parking lot. Everything was so foreign to how you lived in the big city but at the same time… it sang of a home you had not experienced before. Part of you thought it was a shame that you had to go back in two weeks. You brushed the thought aside as quickly as you allowed yourself to feel it. There was no use indulging that line of thinking and besides, it was the first day. You were sure you would feel differently at the end of that time after you’d put in the work that would be required.

The grocery store was bigger than you remembered; you were pretty sure it had been expanded. Maybe the town wasn’t as little as it used to be. A cartful of basics and what felt like 500 mental notes later, you brought your groceries to the front. You daydreamed for a moment as the steady beep of the register sounded in the background.

“You’re not from around these parts, are you darlin’?” You came back to yourself, shaking your head. The woman ringing you up was older, with short-cropped white hair and glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her name tag read “Rose''. “I thought so. We don’t get many people around here that buy tofu. Is it any good?” She wrinkled her nose in such a way that made you giggle. You shrugged your shoulders.

“There’re a few different ways I make it that taste pretty good. I’m not vegetarian or anything, I just like all sorts of foods.” She brightened at that; you guessed there were also not very many vegetarians in Dove’s Reach either. “I’m actually here to handle my grandpa’s estate. He just passed away…” You trailed off, surprised by the lump that was suddenly in your throat. Her eyes widened just a bit before she reached out to pat your hand.

“Do you mean Hank? Was Hank your granddaddy? Yes, he must be, I can see you have the same eyes now. Well, I’m so very sorry, hon. He was a good man. It seems like only yesterday he was here picking up groceries.” There was a tear in her eye now and it made you wonder how close the two were. “It had actually been quite some time since he was able to make it in here on his own. Months at least.” Months? So he had been sick for a while. Why hadn’t he told you? Rose saw the look flash across your face. “Oh,” she breathed out quietly, “you didn’t know, did you?” She clucked her tongue as you paid. “That Hank, always thinkin’ he didn’t need help. We were all surprised when he finally had Jonesy coming ‘round to do things in town for him. Jonesy was his attorney, you’ll probably be speaking to him soon, I’d reckon. Well, if you need anything, you just let me know, okay?”

You grabbed your bags and put them back in your cart. There would be time to ask Rose questions about your Grandpa later, you hoped. But right now, you needed to focus on getting help with the ranch.

“Well actually, Rose, I’m looking for some help to fix the ranch up. Do you know anyone off the top of your head?”

Rose had told you to go across the street to On The Wings of A Dove, the local hang out after a day’s work had been finished for a lot of folks. It was surprisingly modern with an old feel. Deep red brick, exposed black pipe, and low lighting. The smell as you walked in the doors made your mouth water. Luckily the owner, Gus, was in and was more than happy to help a young lady such as yourself.

“Thor! This lady here needs some help fixin’ up her ranch to sell. You lookin’ for work?” You glanced in the direction the portly man was facing, down the bench, and around a couple of other patrons. A man leaned out and smiled in your way; the flash of white teeth made your heartbeat stutter.

“As a matter of fact, Gus, I just finished up at the Finch’s farm helpin’ them with that young colt.” He stood and walked over to you. If he looked big from a distance, there was no denying it now as he moved into your space. You looked up at his face and the golden hair framing blue eyes was enough to make your brain go foggy. He held out a hand, the chorded muscle across his chest and in his broad shoulders evident even with such a small movement. You took it and something bloomed in your chest when his hand enveloped yours. His skin was rough with calluses. It was warm and a vision flashed across your mind unbidden: those hands grasping at your face, roving down your arms, across your chest, gripping your hips, and moving lower… You shook your head and tried to listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

“The name’s Thor. Thor Odinson. How may I be of service, pretty lady?” Normally, someone being so forward would irk you. But somehow hearing Thor say the words “pretty lady” in a slow drawl didn’t bother you in the least. You offered him a smile back, quirking your head to the side. Taking inventory. He couldn’t be much older than you if he was older at all.

“Thor Odinson? That’s an interesting name.” He nodded, ducking his head and running a hand through his hair. It looked ridiculously soft to the touch and you had to stop yourself from snorting in good-natured annoyance.

“Yes, ma’am. My family comes from the Old Country. They wanted a strong name for a strong man. Gus said you’re lookin’ for help though?” He crossed his arms and leaned in, the white t-shirt he was wearing stretching across his chest. You forced your eyes to move back to his face where you were met with a little crook of his lips. You were pretty sure he saw that but there was no embarrassment in the knowledge. “I can help you do just about anything. Pick your poison.”

It was a lot. And you were certain there was more than you even realized with your knowledge of how to run a ranch being zero. You listed off how the house needed a good cleaning but you could take care of that. It probably needed a new coat of paint inside and out. Several of the shudders on both stories needed repairing. The barn looked pretty run down but you hadn’t gotten up close to it yet. One of the doors had definitely been hanging crookedly on its hinges. Then there was the fence… You could probably use more than two people for that. You had no idea of what state the ranch hand cabin was in. You looked up at him and gave him a shrug. His eyebrows were up near his hairline as he leaned back and whistled.

“Boy, we’ve really got our work cut out for us, don’t we? Well, I think we’d better start with those things you mentioned first. Trust me, if there’re other problems we’ll find ‘em real quick. Might cost ya a pretty penny. Are we tryin’ to stay within a certain budget?” He looked you right in the eye and Lord help you, it had been a long time since someone looked you in the eye with any sort of sincerity. You were used to working with less-than-savory types in your corporate world. You cleared your throat and shrugged again.

“Not really. If we fix it up good enough, there won’t be a loss. It’s a pretty place. Just needs some TLC. And the land is worth its 500 acres in gold.” The silence was palpable but not in an uncomfortable way. Thor leaned in and you caught a slip of his scent. Sweat and leather and woodsmoke. You took a deep breath, pulling the smell with it. You realized he was listening. He wasn’t just hearing your words, he was taking them in and mulling them around in his brain. “But wait. Does that mean you’ll do it? We haven’t even talked about wages or anything like that.” He waved a hand in dismissal, rolling his eyes.

“We can talk about that later. What matters is you need help and we like to help people ‘round here. Maybe that’s not somethin’ you’re used to where you’re from? It’s all right though. I’ll introduce ya to small-town hospitality. When are you wanting to get started?” You threw him a sheepish grin before glancing down at the floor as if the pattern there was the most interesting thing in the world. If your parents could see you now, you knew they’d be appalled. Thinking of doing the work yourself, of hiring someone you literally just met and someone who was only suggested to you by a cashier at a grocery store. It was a little ridiculous you admitted but you brushed the thoughts away.

“Tomorrow? You can stay in one of the guest rooms in the house. There’s a ranch hand cabin but I have no idea what it looks like. As far as I can tell, it hasn’t been a working ranch in a while so there’s really no telling what state it will be in…” Again, he held his hand up slowly, politely putting a stop to the words pouring from your mouth.

“The cabin is just fine. I don’t need much anyway. Depending on how long I’m there, the only thing I ask is to bring my dog, Tucker, with me. He’s as good a help as any man I’ve met and twice as friendly.” You nodded enthusiastically. “Well, all right then. Sounds like everything is as settled as it gets for now. Can I get the address from ya? I’ll head over around 5 PM, get settled in if that suits your plans for the rest of the day.

“Perfect.” You smiled as he shook your hand again.

It occured to you that this is the first contract you’d ever made without a signature on paper and yet somehow, it felt like the most foolproof one as well.

It didn’t take long for Thor to settle in. He had insisted on taking the ranch hand cabin despite your protesting. When the two of you looked it over, it wasn’t as bad as you would have guessed it to be, even though there was a thin layer of dust on every surface. You searched through some of the cupboards and luckily came up with a spare sheet set. You took the old one to wash, holding your breath against all the dust motes that flew into the air as soon as you took the sheets off.

“Tucker didn’t want to come?” You asked with a teasing tone,one that Thor responded to with a laugh. He took his baseball cap off and roughed his fingers through his hair. He shook his head.

“No, ma’am. We’ll see how things go here but guessing by the fence line I saw on my way in, he’ll definitely be coming to stay here with me. Don’t worry, either way you’ll get to meet him. He’ll be tickled pink.” Again, a duck of his head that made you wonder how someone could have such good manners. You looked down, shuffling your feet. That seemed to be a regular thing for you now as well. Not being able to look someone in the eye? Not a good look on a big time lawyer. But you had an excuse, right? You glanced up through your eyelashes as he turned away and looked around.

He stood tall, straight-backed. You absently wondered if it was from riding horses. He probably looked great on a horse. He was no longer in just the white shirt from earlier but his Carhartt jacket didn’t swallow him, it just somehow emphasized how big he was. Every movement brought that into sharp focus. The floor creaked beneath his boots as he flipped switches on and off, watching with concentration as each lightbulb somehow still worked. They took a few moments to crackle on but crackle on they did. And with each one his smile somehow got bigger. After a little while of inspecting the little space he turned to you again.

“This will do just fine. No worries need be wasted on my behalf. Tomorrow I’m thinking we should head down to Redwood Hardware and see if we can get an order in for some fence posts. They might have some in stock already but the amount we’ll need is probably not gonna be in store. You might also wanna consider hiring other help besides me. I stand by my work ethic but we’ll get the job done a lot faster with more people.” You blew a breath out of your mouth and pursed your lips. He was closer in an instant, placing his hand on your shoulder. He lowered his head to make sure you would meet his gaze. It threatened to take your breath away. “I know it might not seem like it right now, but we’ll have this place up and running, sale-worthy in no time. A place your granddaddy would be proud of.”

You did meet his eyes then, glancing back and forth between them. You nodded. If anyone was going to tell you how a thing was going to go and you would believe them… It was going to be Thor.

The day came when it was time to actually set up the new fence posts instead of just staring at them with a certain bit of dread each day when you went outside. The sky was a blue that seemed to go on forever and the air itself smelled alive but still, you stood, hands on your hips, ticking off all the other things you could be doing. There were loads of things. But Thor stood next to you, a smirk on his face and you knew there was no way you could put off starting this any longer. He placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed.

“It’ll be alright darlin’! It’s a lot of work, hard work, but you’ll get the hang of it. I’ll be right there every step of the way to help ya out.” Again, the uncanny wave of reassurance swept over you at his words and so it was you found yourself climbing into the passenger side of his old Ford and marveling at what pristine condition it was in. The last couple of days you’d been driving your rental car; there was an old Jeep in the barn but it needed more repairs than you could focus on at the moment. You’d seen his truck the day he drove up to the house and the days after but you hadn’t seen the interior and you were impressed.

You didn’t know many hyper-specific details about any vehicle but you guessed this one was old and yet… the seats were a rich brown leather, worn in certain places from use but not split. It even had a sheen to it still, as if he wiped it down on a regular basis. There was one little piece of plastic up near the passenger air vent that was slightly cracked but the rest of it still shone as close to new as it would ever get again. A reddish brown darker than the seats but just as fine. Nothing had been replaced or updated it seemed, just kept in the same condition it always had been. But looking around, you knew it had been used. It had worked many long years. You quirked your mouth and glanced at him as he shifted the truck into gear and drove through the gate, driving along the rutted pathway that ran along the length of fencing. The field stretched out for miles and miles beyond you in gentle sloping green hills. There were some wildflowers starting to sprout up but from what you understood, it was nowhere close to peak season yet. The fence closer to the buildings was in better condition; the farther away from there you got, the more obvious it became that the ranch had been non-operational for some time. As it was apt to do regularly now, your mind wandered. You were lost in two vast landscapes, one physical, the other in your memories. It took Thor slowing and then parking at the point where the fence literally ceased to exist to bring you out of yourself.

The two of you hopped out and started grabbing supplies. After figuring out how much you wanted to get done for the day, the two of you started in on the fence posts. Or more like Thor jumped right in and you took a split second to watch him as he began working. Almost immediately he shrugged off his flannel; he was in a simple white tank top and those ridiculously well-fitted Wrangler jeans and boots. Even the gloves on his hands looked slightly tight as if his hands were too big even for the large size. His motions were smooth and concise; he turned away from you, leaving his back on full display. You leaned on your post hole digger for a minute, taking in the way all the parts of his body worked together. From the muscles in his arms, the ones chord across his shoulders and back, all the way down to how his hips swayed with the movement.

An eagle cried out overhead and you moved in about ten feet away from him. You wanted to think that you knew how to do this right away just from watching him. The soil was no problem. It was soft and dark and easy to dig. The smell curled through the air and reminded you of being a kid, when the most you had to worry about was if the dirt was the right consistency for a mud pie. But after a few tries, you realized you must be doing something wrong because your hands kept slipping and Thor had already moved past you to dig and place two more wooden posts. Still, you don’t say anything just yet. You were determined to do this.

As the day waned on, slow as molasses, you could feel him watching you. He didn’t move in to stop you, didn’t tell you you were doing it wrong. He let you struggle. There was a war inside of you at that moment, part of you wanting him to jump in and show you how and the other part being refreshed by him letting you figure it out. That inner monologue went on for a while before he nudged you and handed you a bottle of water. You stopped, relieved. The sun was somehow high overhead now. For every one post you were finishing with difficulty, Thor was getting two done. Frustration flared over your whole body. He cleared his throat and raked his hand through his hair.

“I noticed it looked like you were havin’ a bit of a hard time diggin’ the post holes. Would ya like if I gave ya some pointers?” You watched him, the earnestness in his blue eyes, and nodded. A smile lit up his face and you wondered how many people got to see it. It was bright and put the endless Montana sky to shame. “Perfect. Let’s eat lunch now and then I’ll show ya a thing or two.” You munched on the turkey sandwiches you had thrown together, sitting on the ground in front of the truck where there was still some shade. The ground was cool beneath you, the air around you smelt like something that should be written about in a book; the earthy smell of grass , the distant hints of pine, the promise of wildflowers. Thor was sprawled out next to you but not in an overbearing sort of way. He just took up a lot of space. You tried not to concentrate on the fact that your knees were touching.

“So your granddaddy left you all this? I’d be pressed to sell it. It’s too bad ya can’t keep it.” You stiffened before catching yourself quickly, though you were pretty sure he had noticed He took his last bite before standing up. “You’ve got a life back home though. It’d be hard to leave that behind.” He held out his hand and you accepted it, wanting to push that cagey feeling behind you. He looked off in the distance, hands on hips, then back to you. “Well, ya ready for those tips?”

“Yes, sir.” You brushed dirt off your backside and put your gloves back on. “It is too bad,” you mumbled. Mumbled because you were too afraid that saying it out loud would change something for you. “That I can’t keep it, I mean.” He turned to you, not the least bit of surprise on his handsome face. But there was understanding there. He got it. You grabbed your post hole digger and went ten feet from the last post readying to dig the new hole. Thor watched your position for just a moment before you heard his footsteps come up behind you. And then he was standing there, at your back. If you took one half-step back you would be met with his chest. The day was warm but heat radiated off of him like a steadily growing fire. Something pooled low in your belly and your mouth went dry as he moved into your space and then you were flush with him.

His arms came around yours, his hands engulfing your own. His breath was warm near your ear as he rumbled “No, darlin’, like this.” He shifted your hands from the middle of the handles to the top. You were hyper aware of the way his arms felt around you, acutely aware of his scent. Sweat, and musk, and dirt. “That way you have more leverage and you’re not leanin’ over when it goes in the dirt.” He stayed like that for a moment, probably only seconds, but it felt like longer. You heard his breath catch from behind you before he slowly removed his hands, backing up just a pace. You immediately tried to retain the feel of him against you, the way his voice settled into you when he spoke. The way his smell engulfed you, making you feel like the safest person in the world. When was the last time you had felt that way?

Your limbs moved slow, as if your body was now full of lead. He moved back in again, briefly, sliding his boot between your feet and nudging them just a tad bit farther apart. “That’ll help too,” he said. And this time, when you raised the digger up and heaved down, you immediately noticed a difference. While it didn’t necessarily feel easier, it definitely didn’t hurt as much and your body didn’t feel as stiff, didn’t feel like it was being pushed into an awkward angle. You took a couple more plugs from the earth, digging down far enough to keep the pole stable and when you stood straight and looked at him, there was that grin written all over his face again. This time, that smile leapt to your face.

Thor pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, red with a white paisley pattern, and raised his hand, slowly, as if he was touching a wild animal, wiping a streak of perspiration from your cheek. “That’s my girl! Keep that up, we might not need help like I said before,” he exclaimed with a wink. Time seemed to slow to a halt. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. The words thundered through your brain, down out your limbs, between your legs. That’s my girl.

You looked down at your watch, surprised to see the hands tick forward without delay. As the day went on, a thought tickled at the back of your mind, like a horses’ whiskers on your palm. It’d be easy to be his girl.

The night came in cold enough that you were filled with relief when Thor stood to his full height and stretched, slotting the post hole digger in a pile of soil and suggested the two of you call it a night. Goosebumps had already peppered your skin and the breath coming from your mouth was visible in the air. You nodded and stretched a little too, trying to ignore that stiffness you knew would turn into full-blown pain by tomorrow morning. Thor watched you quietly as you slowly put your jacket on; he glanced from the ground then to the sunset when you looked his way. You let out a small barking laugh and almost immediately regretted it, wincing as the cold night air ripped its way into your lungs.

You managed an uncomfortable grunt as you stuffed your gloves in your pocket and Thor grabbed the keys to his truck. You examined your hands; your palms looked like one huge blister. The skin was bubbled and inflamed and if you were being completely honest, it was one more thing you really had no idea how to take care of on a scale like this. Thor started the truck and even though it was only a ten-minute drive back to the house, you were already thankful in anticipation of him cranking the heater just a bit. It would hopefully be a small relief for the contracting sensation in the muscles along your shoulders and arms and back.

There was not a whole lot to gather since the only portion of the fence that went up today was the posts; still, you moved in to help him by grabbing some smaller loose supplies and your post hole digger. You could feel his eyes on you, feel the way he noted you navigating around your raw hands. It took a moment but soon he was wandering over to you and taking the items from you, nodding his head kindly to the truck. You mumbled your gratitude as you got in, frustrated with yourself. It was only the first day but Thor was already picking up your slack. You watched him from the passenger side mirror as he slammed the tailgate shut. There was not a bit of annoyance in his expression. You had small inkling you were being a bit too harsh on yourself.

When he got in, the truck groaned and immediately the cab that felt huge and open before now felt full; crowded but not in an unpleasant way. You sneaked a sideways glance at him as he settled in. He didn’t shift the truck into gear right away but instead sat back, gazing out the windshield at the sunset. Even from your vantage point, it was stunning. The sky was a variation of colors from deep black-blue, to a soft blue, to pink, to orange. The sun slipped back below the mountains to the north and west and the only detail you could make out on them now was their peaks; they were in shadow and looked like a great set of black teeth.

The light coming into the truck had softened, illuminating the planes of Thor’s face. The slip of his golden brown hair, the strong cheekbones and slope of his nose, the clean jawline that now had a five o’ clock shadow. It was quiet, save for the lulling roar of the truck engine and somehow you knew in that second, you wanted more of these moments. Your brain hadn’t quite latched onto how you would get them but you were going to try. Maybe it was Thor. Maybe it was the gentle heat in the cab with the chill outside. Maybe it was the clean smell of spring scented air. Maybe it was a hard day’s work that was so different than the long hours you kept at home. Right now, it didn’t really matter. You sat back with a sigh of content, able to ignore the subtle aching in your limbs. Finally, Thor let out a gentle hum, a sound you guessed actually reverberated through his body.

“When we get back to the house, we’ll take care of those hands, all right?” You nodded and he shifted the truck into gear, turning back the way you came this morning and it was suddenly all you could do not to reach out and rest one of those hands on his arm.

The gravel crunched under the wheels of Thor’s truck as he dropped you off at the front of the house, telling you he was gonna take a shower and then he’d be back up to bandage your hands. You tried to tell him you would take care of it, really, but he insisted. Deep down, you knew you had taken care of blisters on your heels before but nothing like this so you gave in, hiding a smile as he drove the truck down to the other cabin.

When you got to the bathroom, it took every effort not to just quit and wallow right there on the old tile floor but after a few struggling moments, you peeled your clothes from your body and stepped into the warm water, ignoring the stinging of the wounds. It took a few tries with washing off the dirt of the day, with every contact with soap intensifying the hurt in your hands. As you stepped out, you knew you’d be popping some Advil tonight; it would be foolish not to, you guessed.

You threw some leftover chicken noodle soup on the stove and plopped unceremoniously into one of the kitchen chairs, leaning your head against the wall as you relaxed. The fact that you hadn’t worked on the Harrison case for two and half days now nagged like a trapped rat at the back of your mind. Your laptop was currently upstairs though and there was no way you were forcing yourself up those steps again until you absolutely had to. Instead, you checked your emails on your phone, briefly scanning over the subjects on each of them and filtering out the spam. You set it back down with satisfaction. You’d just worked one of the hardest days in your life and you guessed it was probably going to remain tough from here on out. Despite that, you felt more nervous energy bubbling in your veins.

You decided to pull out the old maps you had found at the little desk in the living area. The house was small compared to the expanse of the land itself. Your grandfather hadn’t been a person who needed extravagance, that was for sure. Maybe you’d convert one of the guest rooms into a study. It would certainly be a lot easier to spread out property maps in an office rather than a little desk in the living room. You put little x’s where you thought the boundaries were. You were somewhat familiar in your work life with reading property maps but these… the maps were old enough that you were second-guessing if the plot already marked was accurate. Another thing to put on the to-do list for a town run. Land maps would be public record, especially in a town as small as Dove’s Reach.

A knock on the front door snapped you out of your thoughts. You hollered that the door was unlocked as you rolled the maps up and put them back on the desk out of the way. You ladled soup into bowls, setting them back on the counter to cool just a bit. You heard him knock his boots on the door jam outside and then set them with a thump just inside the door as he ambled into the kitchen. You reprimanded yourself as you turned and got caught off guard again by his size. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the wood of the kitchen entrance, completely filling it up, quietly surveying your movements. You thought he was zoning out but you were not entirely sure.

“Uh, I hope chicken soup is okay,” you let out. His eyes met yours and he nodded enthusiastically as he shot you a dazzling smile. You gave him one back. “Somewhere else just then?” He nodded and you took one bowl at a time to the table, a heavy cloth in between your skin and the bowls. You hissed as the edge of one of the bowls caught a patch of the blister, the hot ceramic making the burning more intense than it should be. Thor was behind you immediately, taking the bowl and steadying it. It was a good thing because you were certain you couldn’t have prevented a spill at this point.

“Let’s take care of those blisters first. Looks like that soup is a little too hot to eat just yet anyway.” You nodded as he placed a gentling hand on your shoulder, maneuvering you to the chair you were sitting in earlier. The pain was pretty bad at this point; you had taken Advil about fifteen minutes ago but it hadn’t taken effect yet so here you were, miserable, and trying to fight the hot tears welling up in your eyes. It was embarrassing. Thor cleared his throat. “Did your granddaddy have a medicine cabinet around here?” You took a shaky breath and pointed to the little doorway off the kitchen.

“There’s one there in the laundry room on the opposite wall from the door.” He stepped away from you and into the little room. You could hear him open the cabinet door and rummage around. You hadn’t looked in there yet to see what supplies were available but you doubted any of it was still usable. Yet here was Thor, a huge grin on his face, some bandages in one hand and a questionable-looking jar in the other.

“I knew if your granddaddy was as much of a working man as you had mentioned that he’d have some of this here with him. Best ranch and farming remedy for just about anything.” You knew the look on your face was one of clear skepticism because he laughed, a deep booming thing that made you want to listen over and over again. “I know you city folk probably like to go to the doctor’s for everything but let me tell ya, if we put this on your hands twice a day and keep them all wrapped up, those blisters’ll be gone in no time. Three days tops,” he murmured as he finally looked at the ragged state of your palms. He was moving slower again, pulling out a chair and placing it right in front of you.

He sat down and despite the pain, or maybe because of it, your breath hitched when he caged your knees with his own. “Let me see ‘em up close, darlin’” he breathed as you held out your hands for closer inspection. He let out a low whistle as he gingerly took one, then the other to examine the raw skin. He rubbed a small circle on the inside of your wrist and you were acutely aware of every little detail as his calloused thumb against the soft skin there elicited an erratic heartbeat. He sat like that for a moment before seemingly catching himself; leaning back and reaching over to open the jar of salve. It was not a bad smell but you wrinkled your nose a little at it. He glanced over at you and smiled.

“This might hurt a bit. But it’ll help.” You nodded and braced yourself just a little. The balm itself didn’t sting but the contact of fingers on the blisters definitely did. There was no use hiding your grimace so you just let yourself go, taking deep breaths and letting them slowly out through your mouth. He was so gentle. This close and with his concentration on your hands, you allowed yourself to watch him unhindered by the threat of getting caught. His fingers were steady and slow and he was so sure of himself. You found yourself leaning into his touch, holding your breath. After he was satisfied with one hand, he took the roll of bandage material and slowly wrapped it around your palm, down around your wrist, and back up again to secure it in place.

“You did real good today,” he said quietly, still looking down, almost as if he was unsure he should say it. As if he thought you may not want his opinion. A smile spread across your face as you let out an exasperated groan.

“If you say so,” you replied, willing him to look up at your face to see that you mean it. He must have felt your eyes on him because he turned to you then, looking back. Searching. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks and creep down your neck and something leaped in your belly. He was so close. You could see his eyelashes. See how his eyes weren’t just one shade of blue but several different ones. You could smell him. A similar scent to when you first met him but also mixed with a fresher element from his shower. You could smell his wet skin and how it went from a day of work to warm water to the chill outside to the warmth of your house. It made you want to lean forward and bury your face in the place where his neck meets his shoulder.

You must have been staring a hole into him because he bit his lip then leaned back, finishing up with your other hand before grabbing the supplies and heading to the laundry room. “I do say so,” he rumbled from the little room. When he came back out again he’s smiling. His hands were on his hips and for whatever reason, it was exactly the release of whatever emotion that had transpired moments ago. You laughed, grabbing some bread slices and dropping them in the toaster. They popped up and you spread on some butter, ushering him to sit back down.

The conversation was easy, more idle chatter than anything else. Questions about each other’s lives. How long had he lived here? All his life. When did you know you wanted to work in law? As long as you could remember. You wanted to help people at the heart of it. How did he learn to train horses? From his daddy and his grandaddy before him. Would you ever consider keeping the ranch? The question caught you off guard and a rush of emotions flowed just beneath the surface of your calm exterior. Your pause told Thor what he had guessed the moment he saw you go to work on the land that morning.

“Of course I would,” you murmured as you pushed your empty bowl aside. You leaned onto the tabletop, one arm across its surface and the other supporting your face as your eyes stared off into space. “I just… I just don’t think it’s in the cards for me right now. If it had fallen into my lap under different circumstances or at a different time, maybe. But now? I don’t think so.” Your words trailed off and sounded empty even to your own ears. But as you glanced back up at Thor, there was no judgment there. Looking into his eyes, you could almost imagine a future here.

A future here was a dream though. A dream you were not keen on indulging. You tossed him a smile and grabbed the bowls to put them in the sink. Dreams were good. They could keep a person going. But you were already living a dream back home so you plastered your best convincing expression on your face just as he stood and brought the toast plates to the sink. You watched as he washed both of the plates, slowly, like he was waiting for you to amend your words. But you didn’t and he thanked you for dinner and headed for the door.

You followed him to it, leaning in the doorway as he stepped outside into the cold night air. He zipped up his jacket and turned back to you, a curious expression on his face. If he had thoughts about any of the night’s conversation, he didn’t voice them. Instead he just gave you that lopsided grin and bid you goodnight. Without a second thought, you reached out and grasped his wrist. He turned to you, looking at where your hand held on and then back to your face. You let go immediately.

“Um, thanks for… for today? For your help. Thanks for your help so far. I really appreciate it.” He chuckled low and quiet, a sound that seemed to continually get under your skin, and warmed you up from the inside out. He nodded.

“The pleasure’s all mine, ma’am.” You watched from your place as he stepped off the porch; you could still see how his breath fogged up the air. “Good night,” he called over his shoulder.

You did not retreat into the warmth of the house until the darkness swallowed him up.

“This is ridiculous. What do you mean there’s a stipulation?” Another ten days had gone by and you were just now getting around to meeting with your grandfather’s attorney. Thaddeus Jones was emblazoned on the golden placard on his desk. The man before you did look like a Thaddeus but at the beginning of the meeting, he had insisted that you call him Jonesy. He sat back in his chair with a look somewhat like that of a golden retriever being scolded.

“Well, your grandfather wanted to give you time to… enjoy the little things in life again. He thought that maybe you’d need a break from all the hustle and bustle in New York. As such, in his will he specified that you could only sell the ranch if you stayed there for one year. If at the end of that year you decide that you still want to move forward with the sale, then you are more than welcome to and will receive any and all profits made from said sale. If, however, you have a change of heart, the ranch is also yours to run as you please. But if you decide to sell any time before then, all profits made from the sale will go to our local youth program.” There was no use trying to hide the stunned expression written all over your face. You had to stay here for a year? How were you even supposed to go about this without feeling torn about one thing or the other? You weren’t in it for the money. You knew that with a certainty that sat deep in your gut. And donating to a youth program was a great use of anyone’s money.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just thought this wouldn’t be so complicated.” Jonesy nodded solemnly, his round spectacles sitting towards the tip of his nose. “I thought this would be a sign and done deal. I thought I wouldn’t feel so conflicted about leaving,” you finished quietly and suddenly it was as if the air had been punched from your lungs. There it was. There was the real reason this whole thing felt so ludicrous. It wasn’t the stipulation itself--it was the fact that you were actually considering it. You glanced out the vaulted window of Jonesy’s office. It was on the second story of his building and gave you a sweeping view of Dove’s Reach. It also gave you a focused picture of the huge storm brewing outside. Massive cumulus clouds gathered not so far away, the heart of them dark and foreboding. It mirrored the storm in your heart.

“I suppose the good news is that you have a while to make a decision. I’ll just have you sign some preliminary papers today and then you take all the time you need. It is a lot to take in but your grandfather was a good man, one of the best. I’ve known him since we were young colts ourselves. I’d like to think he knew what he was doing when he made this decision.” It was difficult to argue with any of that, considering you didn’t get the chance to know him better yourself. Maybe this was a good thing.

“Thank you, Jonesy. I really do appreciate it.” You bit your lip and glanced outside again. “That should work for today. I have a feeling I should be getting hom--getting back to the ranch before that hits.” You pointed and Jonesy watched you for a moment before nodding.

There really wasn’t much for you to sign at this point. Mainly papers about you having seen the will and that you had a knowledge of what was going to come of it. You gathered your copies and shook Jonesy’s hand before leaving; you were instantly glad that the two of you had decided to speed things up a bit because as soon as you exited the building, a cold gale hit you in the face, ripping back the hood of your jacket and nearly blowing your hair out of its braid. It would have been twice as cold had Thor not given you direction on which clothing was worth spending money on. You gave him a call, letting him know you were on the way back. It was a new routine, one that you had started. It felt good to have someone to stay in touch with. It was unlikely you’d get lost in such a small town, but still.

“Drive safe, darlin’. The closer you get out here, the harder the wind’s blowin’. I already put all the tools away and got most of the larger open spots on the barn boarded up. Also dropped some buckets on the front porch just in case. From what I could tell, the roof seemed pretty sounds but just in case.” A pause. “How did the meeting go?” You sucked in a breath.

“Different than how I thought it would go. I’d rather talk about it later though. I’m thinking I’m gonna head straight to bed when I get back. It’s just a lot. See you tomorrow morning?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The drive back was definitely worse than the drive out. Wind and rain pelted your vehicle, so much so that by the time you got home your knuckles were white and your hands were aching when you released the steering wheel. Thunder rumbled closer and closer and lightning flashed in the distance. A warm bath and warm pajamas were currently at the top of your list. Then bed. You smiled when you saw there were indeed buckets on the front porch, all mix-matched colors and various sizes but they would do if the roof started leaking. At least you wouldn’t have to be scrambling to find anything if it did. There was also a note taped to the door, scrawled in surprisingly loopy handwriting.

Grabbing some clothes and things from my place, won’t be back for a couple hours. Call if you need anything :)

You smiled and stepped inside, glad to be out of the weather. As you turned again to glance out at the land, the sky darkened visibly even as you stood there. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

Your phone screen was too bright in the dark space of the living room. 8:30 PM. The power had gone out and it had taken you a little bit of time to scrounge up some candles to keep things lit. You knew you should just go to bed but quite frankly, you knew that wasn’t a possibility. The storm raging outside was unlike any storm you’d experienced before. Sure, there were big storms back in New York but this… the wind and rain was coming down so hard, you were sure the roof was going to tear off. It was doing surprisingly well right now but with each big gust, the whole house groaned. The thunder and lightning were even worse. The sound of both was so close, so loud, so frequent that your ears were ringing. There was no way to research now with the internet out but you were pretty sure you had read something about lightning being able to strike you in a house.

You paced, already familiar with the location of the furniture, every wall, every corner. It was a comfortable dance around the couch, passed the coffee table, to the window by the fireplace and back. A flash of lightning burst in the sky, illuminating every contour of the layout of the house. Almost immediately the clap of thunder sounded like some ancient drum and despite the logical part of your brain telling you it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine, you dropped to your knees.

“Holy shit,” you breathed through clenched teeth. Your hands were shaking as you brought the phone to your ear. Thor was probably already asleep. He had gotten back about an hour ago and was a naturally early riser because he somehow was able to fall asleep early every night. He was probably asleep--

“What’s wrong?” The sleepy gravel in his voice sent shivers tripping down your spine. He had been asleep. But those two words were still calm. Concise. Protective. You were silent. Now you felt stupid.

“Uh, it’s--it’s nothing. I’m sorry I woke you. I can’t sleep. This storm is pretty wild. Um. I thought maybe you’d still be awake and wanted a drink but it’s fine. We have--” You didn’t know if it was your rambling or if he sensed the fear in your voice.

“I’m comin’ up.” That was that. A dial tone. He had already hung up. There was no chance for you to object. You waited by the front door, listening to the rain and watching for more flashes of lightning. You heard Thor’s heavy footsteps as he came up the porch steps, saw him as a flash of lightning illuminated his outline from behind. You hastily opened the door. He hesitated for a moment, only long enough to watch as you nearly leaped out of your skin when another boom of thunder cascaded about you.

He stepped into you, wrapping you up in a hug. It was unexpected but you felt yourself sag into him. His jacket was wet from running through the rain so he slipped it around you and suddenly you were enveloped in warmth. You buried your face in his chest, as he rested his chin on the crown of your head, rubbing his hand down your back. You took deep pulls of his scent as his voice rumbled above you, into you from his chest.

“Aw, it’s just a little lightnin’, darlin’. Just a little storm. You’re safe. Nothin’ to worry about, I promise. You’re safe.” He kept murmuring it as he nudged the door shut behind him with his boot. Murmured your safety into existence like a mantra. As you rested there in his arms, your hands under his jacket around his back, you tried to remember the last time you felt this way, like nothing could touch you in the world. The house could crumble around you and you would be fine. In his arms, you would be fine. You gripped a little tighter, noticing with mirth how your hands could barely touch around his abdomen.

“How about that drink?” You said it into his chest as he stilled above you, breathing in slow and steady as he nodded into the top of your head. You reluctantly backed up from him as he slipped passed you into the living room making straight for the fireplace. He had it roaring as you brought two glasses of whiskey on the rocks and set them on the coffee table. You sat, dragging the blanket around your shoulders and allowing yourself to zone out while you stared into the fireplace. The crackling of its embers still couldn’t drown out the maelstrom outside, however. Thor took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. When he sat next to you, the couch sagged under his weight. He took a sip of his drink before sitting back and opening his arms in invitation. You didn’t wait this time, instead scooting over to nestle up against him. Heat radiated off of him.

“Did you know the diameter of a lightning strike is actually only about the size of a quarter? Think about that, that big ol’ powerful force of nature the size of a coin.” No you didn’t know that. Another flash of lightning, another clap of thunder. This time you didn’t jump. “And thunder can actually be heard as far away as twelve miles from the actual strike.” Another sip of whiskey. “Lightning can also strike outside of the rain zone. Those strikes are called anvil crawlers.” A log shifted in the fire and your eyes drooped. He chuckled quietly as he intoned “In Norse mythology, the sound of thunder supposedly comes from my namesake as he rides his chariot across the sky.” You offered a lazy smile even though he couldn’t see it.

Thor continued on with more various facts about thunder and lightning and the storms that brought them. The taste of the whiskey sat light and spiced on your tongue, and your eyelids became heavier as you relaxed into him more. The fire burned steady and even though the storm continued to rage outside, at a certain point Thor’s voice faded into nothing as you fell asleep.

You woke up to the sun shining directly in your eyes. You groaned, shielding them from the crisp light and instantly regretted taking your hand out from under the blanket away from your heat source… Thor was stretched out behind you on the couch. It could barely fit the two of you but his arm was locked around your waist, caging you in. His breath came slow and steady on your neck. You could hear the rooster calling from his coop by the barn, hear his hens clucking about him. The cat you still hadn’t named was curled up on the rug by the fireplace, the embers almost completely died down. Thor took a huge breath, tickling the hairs on your neck as he rumbled something into the skin there. Your heart ballooned in your chest.

“I guess my facts weren’t that interestin’, seein’ as how we both fell asleep. Want some coffee?” You nodded as the two of you sat up. The cat chirruped from his place on the rug. He stood and arched his back in a stretch as well, coming over to the two of you for his morning pets. You both reached down to touch his hand, your hands meeting in the middle. Thor offered you a sheepish grin as he stood. “Uh, coffee is… ?”

“In the cupboard above the pot.” You smiled back, not bothering to hide any of the warmth in its shape. You stood, letting the cat out the front door. He seemed a little indignant at the fact that it was so wet outside but his ears swiveled and he was out the door and racing down the steps. You added some kindling and more logs to the fire, satisfied as flames leaped into existence. Thor handed you a mug of steaming coffee, with cream and a little bit of brown sugar. How he knew how you liked your coffee you didn’t know. But you liked that he knew.

The storm had cleared. A peek of blue sky could be seen from the window. With the clear sky came clear thoughts. It had been two weeks already since you had come to Dove’s Reach. Two weeks since you learned you had the rights to a whole ranch. A day since you had learned that you had to stay here for a whole year if you wanted to see any profits from selling. And only a night since you had realized that a year was no time at all.

#thor x reader #thor odinson x reader #thor #thor odinson #cowboy thor #western thor #i need a hero #inthorantine writes #i did it!!!!#i finally am posting it!#i hope chapter 2 will be just as good

69 notes · View notes

romanianwilkinson · 4 years

Text

MORE DISCORD SERVER SENTENCE STARTERS

A collection of quotes from my Discord server with friends. Feel free to change pronouns/wording as desired. CONTENT WARNING(S) FOR: Suggestive, crude, gore, absolutely cursed. [ PART 1 ]

“ Can your father send us child support? Same answer. ”

“ NO GENDER, ONLY LEGION. ”

* Bed rocking, aggressive bike horn noises *

“ [NAME], you are a fucking blight upon my sanity. ”

“ Is being super gay an advanced war tactic? ”

“ Look you have to tell me if this slapping will bring about the eldritch truth, or it's enslapment. ”

“ Fucking, this is still on the most mundane side of your fetishes. ”

“ New law of science. If an autopsy turns into an orgy you did something wrong. ”

“ I AM NEMISIS, DESTROYER OF THE JACK-O-LANTERN. ”

“ If we have a quiz tomorrow, the questions will be: 1) how to burst a mosquito, 2) how to tear your gut, and 3) what will the aliens look like. ”

“ I'm cat girl adjacent. ”

“ Make sure to vaccinate your computer, [NAME]! ”

“ SNOW IS JUST WATER YOU CAN BEAT UP AND BULLY. ”

“ A zombie goth. A zoth. ”

“ Slaughter’s good. I like slaughter. ”

“ They know your sins. ”

“ Why so many loose beans? ”

“ I want him to try it, SPECIFICALLY for the cyberbullying. ”

“ Today I leave y’all an Immensely Cursed Artefact. ”

“ Not the knowledge I was expecting tonight, but glad to have learned it anyhow. ”

“ It’s, unfortunately, not the worst thing that’s been turned into smut fic. ”

“ Poor organless [NAME]. ”

“ Help, I'm only seeing glowing weakpoints on you... This isn’t sexy at all! ”

“ Whelp, time to make everyone MILFs and DILFs then! ”

“ Ok, nothing is getting ‘ misted ’ in horny jail. ”

“ YES, FEED THE TOAST TO [NAME]! ”

“ The only bones I have are teeth. I’m like a snail in that regard. ”

“ This is just SCP Containment Breach: Horny Edition. ”

“ And what's at the bottom of the stairs? Another baby gate. ”

“ That’s what I’m banking on. The arrogance. ”

“ How much XP fucking a demon gives you is important adventuring stuff? ”

“ This is honestly the weirdest form of lust I've ever felt from someone. ”

“ I am holding your face metaphorically when I say this for emphasis. ”

“ My rage runs cold. ” “ Yeah, so does your liver, and it fucking sucks. ”

“ We have many flavors. They are all red. ”

“ I still lose my shit over those gushers like... What kind of psychological warfare was that? ”

“ ... So you WON'T tell me a bedtime story? ”

“ Look, I'll just be my own MILF. ”

“ Listen, she's not stereotypically pretty, but she's pretty in a way where she balances elegance and grotesqueness and that is like top tier pretty. ”

“ So THAT'S where the stick went. ”

“ Ooooh how I wish it would rain down... gays on me ♫ ”

“ FUCK, I CAN FAIL AT THINGS NOW? THIS IS BULLSHIT! ”

“ I wanna put the war god in the jar! For no reason! Just pranks! ”

“ I don't... think monsters come in straight? ”

“ Thankfully, I have enough titty to compensate for everyone else's lack of titty. ”

“ WE DESCENDED INTO BITING EACH OTHER ONCE AGAIN. As it is the standard state of existence for us. ”

“ What is execution, if not legal murder? ”

“ I almost forgot that most drugs are illegal. ”

“ [NAME] could bust into my room right now and say ‘ Hey, I'm drafting you into my demon army ’ and I'd simply hop into her arms. ”

“ For you, you know I would do much more than grind you into a paste and spread you far and wide! ”

“ ... We have graduated from Feral Anger to De-escalation Mode. The fridge may not be knocked over, after all. ”

“ THE TEXT ITSELF IS GAY, NO UNDERLYING TONE IS NECESSARY. ”

“ I know you’re small. You got that scrambling energy. ”

“ No shirts, no shoes, only gays? ”

“[NAME], I'm booked to terrorize you with visions of Christmas Future tonight. Just giving you a heads-up. ”

“ It's not a callout post, if you're just stating facts. ”

“ Therapy is a motion-based predator. ”

“ Please think of me but in a sexy way. ”

“ There is a sexy way to think of you? ”

“ YOU WHAT OUTTA HER MOUTH??? ”

“ Sometimes, it's okay to eat your friends when they insult you. ”

“ The twink has breached containment. ”

“ YOUR JUDGEMENT CANNOT STOP MY NOCTURNAL LIFESTYLE. ”

“ [NAME] is surprisingly malicious. ”

“ ... I am convinced [NAME] is on mind control shrooms. ”

“ You fool, he’s echolocating. ”

“ Snap him over my knee like a fuckin Slim Jim. ”

“ Hank Hill Ass Havin Twink. ”

“ Pff- as if I don't know how to handle a cursed sword. I'm a professional here! ”

“ OH NO. THE SMILIE OF SUFFERING. ”

“It’s Twink Hunting Season and [NAME] is a goddamn trophy buck.”

“ You put those cursed words back in your mouth or so help me. ”

“ Losing a thumb will do that to you. ”

“ GIVE ME DARKNESS. GIVE ME SNACKS. GIVE ME WIFI. ”

“ Got no clue, let me go ask the only one I know that hasn't tried to kill me. ”

“ This. This is why I drink when nobody's looking. ”

“ Hey... want to fly closer to the sun there, Icarus? ”

“ I'm burdened with just enough Naruto lore to be dangerous. ”

“ PUNCH! THAT! ASS! ”

“ That reminds me, I should Beanpost again. ”

“ I have no soul, only void. I feel NOTHING for tormenting friends. ”

“ That’s a lie, you are LYING. You love this and I know you love it. ”

“ We have subjugated the tiddy. ”

“ This is the carbon requirement for human transmutation. ”

“ I mean. Vampire fucker rights though. ”

“ At least take him on a date before you ask him to elope with you! ”

#rp meme #ask meme #roleplay meme #roleplay sentence meme #roleplay starters #i. thought i was gonna have less quotes than this by now but holy shit.#mine

50 notes · View notes

kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

Whatever it Takes

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~4.1k

Summary: In which Steve is always there for you through thick and thin. And in return, even when everything seems like it’s going wrong, you give him hope for a better future.

Warnings: angst (I mean this is Endgame, what do you expect), soft steve, mentions of death, violence

A/N: CRINGEY AF BC THIS IS AN OLD ONESHOT. I’m currently working on something else so I’m just putting this up as a filler oops

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more as always :)

Steve sat outside the compound staring at the floor, deep in thought. With the only possibility of victory no longer an opportunity, he didn't know what else to do.

Then, a deafening noise broke the silence in the distance and he glanced up, seeing a familiar Audi R8 speeding towards the entrance. The car pulled over to him but went a bit too far, then reversed. Tony rolled down the window as he stopped.

"Why the long face? Let me guess, he turned into a baby."

"Among other things, yeah. What are you doing here?"

Tony got out of the car and walked around to the back, ignoring his question. "That's the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might've wound up pushing time through Lang. It's tricky. Dangerous. Somebody should've cautioned you against it."

"You did."

"Oh, did I? Thank God I'm here. Regardless, I fixed it," He held up his right hand with a device on it, "A fully-functioning Time-Space GPS. I just want peace. Turns out, resentment is corrosive, and I hate it."

"Me too."

"We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities: Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs. And...maybe not die trying will be nice."

"Sounds like a deal," Steve nodded, reaching out to shake his hand.

Tony reached back into his trunk to pull something else out, Steve's shield. He handed it over to him but he hesitated for a moment.

"Tony..."

"Why? He made it for you," he referred to his father, "Plus, honestly I have to get it out of the garage before Y/N sneaks over and takes it sledding. I wouldn't give up just yet."

He finally took the shield from him and fit his arm into it.

"Thank you, Tony."

"Will you keep that a little quiet? Didn't bring one for the whole team....We are getting the whole team, yeah?"

"We're working on that right now."

"Steve."

The super-soldier looked up, confused at the sudden seriousness in his tone. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there for Y/N...when I failed to do that, you were there to take my place," he explained. "Being a single parent was the toughest job I was ever faced with. Her mother disappeared without another word as soon as she gave birth, and I was left to handle Y/N all on my own. I was only 18. I'd made a shit ton of reckless decisions before and now, I was stuck and didn't know what to do. So for her entire life, before Pepper came along, she had to grow up with only one parent. She became defensive and cold-hearted and I couldn't do anything about it. I try to push her, she pushes back, or she shuts herself out altogether. I try to understand why, she sinks deeper. Sometimes I don't know just what's going on with her and as much as I try to be understanding, I can't. But you saved her, Rogers. I don't know what you've been doing to make her change but it's working, and I want to thank you for that."

"Tony, you did a good job raising her. But you have the rest of the team to thank as well."

"I think she's softened up because of you."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never seen her look at a man the way she looks at you," the billionaire pointed out.

"With hatred and a burning passion to kill me if I ever stepped onto her bad side?"

"No, her eyes get all sparkly and shit. She's in love with you. But I swear, if you do anything to hurt her and break her heart, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

Steve's eyes widened slightly, and he put his hands in the air in surrender. "Okay, I won't."

"One more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"If all of this, what we're doing somehow goes south, something goes wrong, I need you to promise me one thing. Take care of Y/N. I need someone to watch over her when I'm gone, and I don't think there's anyone more qualified for that job than you."

"I promise."

...

"And I...am...Iron Man."

You looked over in horror to see Tony snap his fingers with a loud 'CLANG' and a blinding flash of white. Rocket fired at a Leviathan and before it devoured him, it crumbled into ash. The Black Order started crumbling to ash as well. T'Challa and Quill looked around in surprise; Steve looked on in exhaustion, knowing that they had won. Thanos, in horror, looked around and saw his entire army disintegrate. He looked at Steve, who just stared blankly at him. Thanos sat down, mourning before slowly being erased from existence himself.

The raw power of the gauntlet's energy left Tony's entire right side fatally injured. He stumbled for a bit before his body collapsed besides a pile of debris. Rhodey soon swooped in and went up to see his long time colleague and friend slowly fading away before his eyes and not long after, Peter did the same as well.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter ran up to his fallen mentor, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. "Can you hear me? It's Peter. Hey. We won, Mr. Stark. We won. You did it, sir. You did it. I'm sorry—Tony—"

He barely had any energy left to respond as Peter choked on a sob, wrapping his arms around him before gently being led aside by Wanda as she put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

Pepper sat down in front of him, "Hey."

Tony was barely able to move his head, but managed to look her in the eyes. "Hey, Pep..."

She placed her hand on his arc reactor, and he rested his hand on hers as she took a good look at his injuries.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?"

"Life functions critical."

Tony smiled with tears in his eyes.

"Dad? Hey, you're okay," you said softly as you approached him, "You did it. We're gonna be okay."

"Hey, angel," he said weakly as he took your hand in his. You tried to ignore how deathly cold it felt. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

"Tony. Look at me," Pepper moved closer to you as she made sure Tony got a long look at her smiling face. You involuntarily leaned into her, as you felt the familiar sting of tears to your eyes. "We're gonna be okay. You can rest now."

With that acknowledgement, the light in his arc reactor flickered off for good. Unable to contain your grief, you let out a tortured cry, sobbing into Pepper's chest as she started to cry on his shoulder.

Earth's best defender was dead.

Dead.

Your father, your everything, the light of your life. Dead.

You flinched when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder all of a sudden as you stood up, jolting you from your thoughts. Steve stood there with glassy, red-rimmed eyes, which was a rare sight because he never displayed any emotions other than confidence and complete control—and it was beginning to take a toll on your already broken heart. He was always strategizing and planning things out, charging headfirst into battle without a second thought and now he was on the verge of breaking down, tucking you close into his side.

So you let yourself collapse into his touch, a sob escaping your lips as you clung on to him like you did to Tony when you were a little girl.

You're not quite sure how long you stand there like that, tightly clutching America's war hero like you'll slip away if you let go. He was a life raft, and you were stranded at sea, hopelessly lost with the stormy waves violently crashing over you and choking you as you struggled to escape.

Eleven years. Eleven years had passed since you first met Steve Rogers, and his unwavering promise to you that he'd stay by your side no matter the circumstance still stood. Since the day you first joined the Avengers Initiative he'd been a major figure in your life, always sticking by and supporting you when no one else was around to do so. He picked you up when you fell; he didn't judge you on your rough past nor your worst mistakes.

Now you found that you were needing him more than ever.

And in that moment, Steve knew, he had to keep his promise. Not just for your sake, but for Tony's as well.

So he swore to himself on his life that he’d never leave your side.

...

With a heavy heart, you dragged yourself out of bed to get ready for Tony's funeral. Alongside Pepper, you carried a wreath out of the house with his first arc reactor framed with the words 'Proof that Tony Stark Has a Heart' and laid it on the lake, watching as it slowly drifted away.

Everyone was finally gathered together as one, although it wasn't in the way you'd imagined it to be. Happy, Rhodey, Pepper, you, Peter and May. Thor. Bruce, Strange, Steve, Wong, Scott, Hope, Janet, Hank, Quill, and the rest of the Guardians. T'Challa, Okoye, and Shuri. Clint and his family. Wanda. Bucky. Sam, Harley Keener, Secretary Ross, Maria Hill, Carol, and even Fury, who was silently watching in the back.

After it ended you stood at the edge of the lake, hands stuffed in your leather jacket's pockets as you stared blankly out at the water. It was hard for you to think about how you were supposed to move on after losing one of the most important people in life, hard to imagine who you'd turn to now that the one man who gave you better advice than anyone you knew was gone.

"You know, I wish there was a way—that I could let him know," you said without looking behind to see Steve, who'd been watching you for a bit, "how much I loved him. Because I didn't get to tell him before he—you know."

"He knows," he said as you turned around to meet his gaze, "and he loved you more than anything." Almost as much as I do.

"I never got to tell him," your voice broke, lashes brimming heavy with unshed tears, "I just—I just wish I could turn back time and tell him that. But I didn't, and—"

Before you had the chance to finish your sentence, he circled his arms around your waist and pulled you close. At that moment you broke down into heaving sobs that ripped through your chest and your throat and your heart, unable to contain your grief for any longer, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. And he just held you there in silence, rocking you back and forth slowly as your tears soaked his suit.

Steve wonders exactly how much more heartbreak he can take because to see you in a condition such as this one wasn't doing him any good, making his heart feel as if it was being shattered into a thousand pieces, then put back together only to be broken again into a million more smaller parts. He hated seeing the woman he cared about so much in pain and found himself wishing there was just some way he could just take it all away from you.

"I just really miss him," you choked out, "I...I don't know what Pepper and I are gonna do without him."

"I know. I miss him too," he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead and pulling you closer, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. "We all do."

"You're not going to leave, are you?" you mumbled into his chest, "Please don't leave me."

"I won't, I promise," he reassured you, smoothing your hair back, "Whenever you need me, I'll be here."

"Okay," you let out a shuddering sigh, "okay."

...

You headed back inside, as Steve led you to the living room with a hand on the small of your back as you sat down on the couch, taking the letter that Happy gave to you.

"He hated writing letters. Always insisted on typing everything up, but he hand wrote this for your sake," Happy explained quietly. "I've never seen someone love their kid as much as he loved you."

"I loved him, too," you smiled sadly. "Thank you, Happy. For everything."

"No worries, sweetheart," he nodded solemnly. "Anything for his little girl."

The super-soldier gripped your hand encouragingly, lacing your fingers together and squeezing tightly as you unfolded the paper.

To my sweet Y/N.

If you're reading this, it means I've been faced with my untimely death. I mean, not that death at any time isn't untimely. This time travel thing that we're gonna try and pull off tomorrow...it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That's the thing. Then again, that's the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. But what am I tripping for? Everything's gonna work out exactly the way it's supposed to.

When I first found out I was getting a daughter, I was sure I'd never be able to handle the responsibility of having a child. I didn't plan on becoming a parent so early and I was afraid, terrified I'd fail you as a father. And I feared that I did, many times. I was afraid you'd grow to resent me for what I'd done. But I persisted, because I wanted to give you the best possible life I could despite that raising you alone was probably the most difficult thing I've ever done. But it was all worth it in the end, because I got to see you grow up and become this beautiful, accomplished and talented young woman who would do anything for those she loves.

Look, I don't want you to make the same mistakes as I did. When the time comes, I want you to find a man that's willing to settle down with you and give you his whole heart- that's how you know he's the one. Hell, if you're going to go and get with Rogers, I wouldn't mind that either. Over this past decade, I've never seen someone as dedicated to protecting you and staying loyal to you as him and if you decide to get together, I'd be more than happy to give you my blessing. Honestly, I think the entire team's been shipping you two since the day you first met (Don't tell Sam I exposed him as a softie, though, he's going to kill me if I do. Or Clint). Seriously, though. Capsicle loves you, more than you'll ever know. And much more than he's willing to admit himself.

Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid to let your guard down, to be vulnerable and let the ones you love in. I know you're afraid of getting hurt, I know you believe that by building up those mile-high walls around your heart you think you're saving yourself, but it's really only going to hurt you in the long run. Love is messy. Sometimes you gotta suck it up and deal with the pain; that's just how it is. You get hurt, you get heartbroken, and there's a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. It's a messy process.

If you ever feel like giving up, like you just can't go on any further, just know that there's always someone out there who's rooting for you. You got me, the team. SHIELD's got your back, so does Happy, and even Peter. Know that there's always hope.

Remember that your past does not define who you are. Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right.

You are not what has happened to you. You are what you choose to become.

Thank you for being born and coming into my life, becoming the best thing that's ever happened to a guy like me. Remember I'll always be with you no matter what, angel. I love you 3,000.

From, the arm-wrestling champion, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, your dad, and #1 fan. I love you so much. -T.S

A tear slipped down your cheek and dripped onto the paper, staining the corner with a dark spot as you folded it back up and set it on the table. You rested your head against Steve's broad shoulder as he wrapped an around your waist in a protective manner, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your forehead.

...

Several days passed and Steve knew it was growing closer to the time he would be forced to make the most difficult decision of his life. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew what he was about to do was absolutely necessary to restore the universe to normal once again.

Night after night for the next three weeks, you woke up screaming with sweat streaming down your face, a shiver running down your spine and images of Tony dying in front of your eyes with you not being able to do anything about it flashing in your brain. He'd come into your room without question, climb into bed next to you, and hold you close, rocking you back and forth and humming old lullabies his mother used to sing to him as a child until you fell asleep, your breathing and rapid heartbeat finally steadying.

Everyone could tell something was going on between the two of you, but because you were so heavily weighed down by your grief that you didn't think before you did anything, they didn't question why you were suddenly so close to the super-soldier. He was your anchor, your safe haven you so desperately needed and were convinced would sink below your endless stream of thoughts without.

The dreaded day finally came and with a heavy heart, Steve got up and watched your peacefully sleeping figure in bed for a moment before leaving and heading outside.

Bucky, Bruce, and Sam were already waiting by the time he met them by the time machine.

He then walked over to Bucky. "Don't do anything stupid 'till I get back."

"How could I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

The two men both exchanged a quick hug with each other.

"Stay safe, buddy."

"It's gonna be okay, Buck. If this somehow—takes longer than it's supposed to—or I don't come back at all—promise me you'll watch out for her, alright?"

"I will," Bucky nodded.

Steve went over to the Quantum portal, donning the red and white suit.

"How long is this going to take?" you asked.

"For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds," Bruce replied.

The super-soldier picked up Mjolnir 2013.

"Ready, Cap? Alright. We'll meet you back here, okay?"

"You bet."

"Going quantum. Three, two, one—"

With that, he disappeared into the quantum tunnel.

"And returning in five, four, three, two, one—"

Steve didn't appear on the pad right away, and Bruce looked around the equipment in confusion.

"Where is he?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here."

"Well, get him back."

"I'm trying."

"Get him the hell back!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!"

"Sam," Bucky cut in.

Sam walked towards him, and him, Bucky, and Bruce saw his familiar broad-shouldered figure in the distance, so they went near him.

"Go ahead," Bucky gestured over to him with a small smile.

Sam went over to Steve, who was silently staring out at the water ahead with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He still looked the same, with his signature leather jacket and khakis. If it weren't for the subtle lines etched in his face from years of enduring hard battles against both himself and other enemies, from his newfound grief, one would think he was barely over thirty years old.

"Cap?"

"Hey, Sam."

"So did something go wrong, or did something go right?"

"Well, after I put the stones back, I thought, maybe I'll try some of that life Tony was telling me to get."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"It was beautiful."

"I'm happy for you. Truly."

"But when I saw how happy she looked living her life...I didn't want to take that away from her," the super-soldier explained. "Seeing that she was able to move on made me realize I could do the same. I can't stay in a relationship when I know my heart belongs to someone else. I made Stark a promise to look after her....I can't do that if I'm not here."

"Is that why you didn’t stay?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled faintly, "I couldn't leave her behind."

"Well, uh...she's inside, if you're looking for her—"

"Steve?"

"Uhhhhh....never mind, there she is," Sam gestured to you as you were stepping down the porch and making your way across the lawn to him. "You want me to give you two a moment?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

You picked up your pace, sprinting towards him as fast as you possibly could into his embrace.

"Y/N—"

"Why'd you come back? I thought you were going to, you know—stay with Peggy—"

"I couldn't, Y/N, and you know that."

"Why not?"

He pulled away, letting his gaze linger on your face for a bit before brushing a stray hair behind your ear. "I made a promise I couldn't break. I'd never be able to forgive myself for it if I did."

"What promise?"

"Tony made me swear on my life that I'd stay no matter what happened."

"Steve..." your voice wavered as you forced yourself to look straight up at him, those icy-blue eyes that never seemed to fail to give you chills and make butterflies flutter around in your stomach, "Why did you throw away your one chance of having a happy ending? Now I'm the reason why your last chance of living the life you always wanted was taken away from you. I can't—I don't want to stop you from being with whom you love. You came back, even when you had the chance to live out the future that you'd been looking forward to for so long. And you didn't take it. Why?"

"I don't need to stay, when my entire future is standing right in front of me. Y/N, you are my future."

"Oh my god—"

"Shut up," Bucky hissed, elbowing Sam in the side, "let them be!"

"So he's been in love with her this entire time and I had no clue?! He's been in love with her for five whole years? Took them long enough."

"Ten. Catch up, birdbrain."

"Look, I'm sorry—"

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Steve reassured you in a soft voice, "I made my decision, and I'm staying here, whether you're in favor of that or not."

You let out something that was a mix of a choked sob and a laugh. "I can't get rid of you?"

"Unfortunately not," he chuckled, "as far as I know, you're sticking with me, because I love you too much to let you go."

"I hate to break the sentimental mood you've created here, you mumbled into his chest, "but...do you mean like...you're actually in love? Because that's what Dad would always say. If a man doesn't leave your side he either just wants to annoy the hell out of you, or is hopelessly in love with you."

"He's not wrong."

"Okay, then I—"

Steve quickly silenced you by leaning down and placing his lips lightly on yours, which took you completely by surprise. It was as if the entire world stopped when your lips met, your body warming up under his touch - a feeling that you'd never really get used to although you'd been working with him for as long as you could remember. You felt as if you were going to explode from the sheer amount of passion and adrenaline coursing through your body.

"I was going to say I love you too," you let out a sound that was a mix between a choked sob and a laugh. "before you—uh—cut me off like that."

"Oh," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as his cheeks flushed a bright pink, "sorry."

"I'm gonna say it! You two. Have taken. Too damn long! To admit! You're in love! With each other!" Bucky clapped with every few words he said. "That’s all you say in response to her telling you she lo—"

"Man, shut the hell up," Sam grumbled. "as if you're dating anyone right now."

171 notes · View notes

replicantdeviancy · 4 years

Photo

Outline:

Connor E. Arkeit (26yo) is a homicide detective for the Detroit Police, Central Precinct, in downtown Detroit. He has been working with the DPD for four years, experience outside of the academy of two years as an officer before receiving a promotion into the detective position in Homicide, where he has a further two years experience. Before joining the force Connor attended college at Michigan State where he had a double major in forensics & criminal psychology. He graduated summa cum laude along with his two brothers. Within the DPD Connor quickly made a name for himself, not only in regards to his appearance & magnetic, charming personality, but with his work performance. To date, his case record stands at seven assigned cases solved, thirteen cold cases solved; solving cold cases has become something of a hobby for himself & his brothers in their free time.

Skills:

Connor has expressed a certain skill level for making seemingly impossible connections through evidence that help solve his cases. The gift of imagination coupled with his extremely proficient sense of observation builds the underlining structure of in depth reconstructions of scenes & incidents, & he has the ability to run through those reconstructions within his minds eye. (Connor used to place himself into the point of view of the perpetrator in order to better understand them in a psychological profiling, but after the Zlatko case he no longer does.) In Connor’s imagination he is the unseen observer to the crime, watching it unfold either in pieces or as a collective in order to fully understand what happened. Note: Because of his observant capacity he is often able to predict events with a strong level of accuracy, aiding him in planning & execution of close quarters combat & defense.

Due to his mental condition, Connor is an extremely proficient tactician, using psychological & emotional manipulation both in his work as well as occasionally in civilian life. He has been known to leave those he is tasked with interrogating in a disturbed state of being in extreme cases, though more often than not his tactics are standard police interrogation techniques. He is a calm & collected negotiator who can bury emotional instability under pressure in order to accomplish his task. Connor has learned from many years of conscious practice to use his mental dysfunctions as a tool rather than a detriment, & while he can be incredibly empathetic & warm he also has the ability to shut his emotions off completely if it is necessary. He can lie without any indication save for the involuntary dilation of pupils, keeping his pulse steady & breath shallow.

His proficiency with weaponry & martial arts is impeccable, though he would claim he is still learning. His accuracy with firearms is upwards of 97% (conditions do apply) & he has proven a capable sniper. Close quarters combat is where he thrives & his dulled sense of pain helps mask the damage he might suffer. While not notably strong physically, Connor is very fast & agile, & he shows a talent for improvisation. He can be brutal if necessary. Around the office, the team gave him nicknames like ‘Bloodhound’ or ‘Plastic prick’ just to razz him, making him part of the group of older, more seasoned police officers. Criminals on the streets call him the Deviant Hunter.

Notable Case:

A hostage situation following a murder of John Phillips on Aug 15th, involving a housemaid turned hostile after discovering he was going to be dismissed in favor of a replacement. (Evidence suggested there may have been romantic involvement between the suspect & the victim.) The daughter, Emma, was taken hostage by the housemaid, Daniel, & threatened with her fathers handgun at the edge of the high-rise balcony. SWAT was called in but with Daniel being so close to the edge of the building it was decided that a negotiator should come in to handle the situation. Connor was called onto the scene, arriving at 08:29PM, where he took the time to profile the suspect before engaging in negotiations. Connor managed to lull Daniel into a sense of security enough to feel assured he would walk out of the situation unharmed, though in cuffs. He released Emma & was taken down by SWAT snipers.

It should be noted Connor was left with a thick scar on his shoulder from a gunshot where the deltoid muscle peaks. In a fit of confusion & panic Daniel fired a single shot at Connor, having initially believed he was Xander, Connor’s younger brother, who was at the scene with his SWAT team that evening.

Sidenote: It was the triplet’s birthday.

Zlatko Andronikov was a suspect in a large scale underground human trafficking ring in Detroit & was under investigation for multiple cases of murders in the area. A raid on his home in the historical district on Nov 6th uncovered a far deeper sinisterness to Zlatko than ever imagined. Beneath the mansion were cages where Zlatko kept some of his ‘experimental art’ - the ones who survived their transformations. People turned into mere flesh barely living, yet still breathing, tortured & disfigured beyond recognition as truly human. Most did not live beyond a few days after rescue, to which most believed was best. Zlatko was killed by a houseman he had manipulated into servitude & Connor was tasked with a profile on Zlatko in order to aid the court proceedings for Luther, in order to reduce his own sentencing for his employer’s death & for accessory charges.

This case broke Connor psychologically & he was forced to spend time on leave to recover from the traumatic experience of inserting himself into Zlatko Andronikov’s head on a psychological level.

Psychology:

Connor, like his brothers, has been diagnosed with moderate high functioning antisocial personality disorder. It is because of this condition he is able to act in ways & in situations people may find uncomfortable, callous or almost impossible. He carries out his objectives without compromise lest the involvement of his partner might somehow compromise the situation. He has been shot protecting his partner, Lt. Hank Anderson, & has killed to defend him in the line of duty. Connor finds difficulty in attaching any kind of emotions to those he has not become close with, & his outward demeanor is more superficial than completely genuine. He is friendly, sociable & very kind, but mostly out of necessity to make work & life easier. He shows concern for others not on his behalf, but on the behalf of those he does care for who might feel sincerely for another. He does not feel guilty for any cruel or damning actions performed in the line of duty, only feeling remorse if he manages to upset someone he feels genuinely for. He lies, is very manipulative & has a tendency to flirt with people, men & women, in order to obtain something he wants with relative ease. He may also flirt in response to another’s flirtations, amusing himself by playing with them a little before moving on.

On the other side of the spectrum, when he does manage to attach an emotional connection to someone he cares deeply, almost manically. His desire to protect & see those he loves well is near insatiable & he has been known to use those same manipulative tactics on people closest to him, though with sincere intentions for their wellbeing. He does not & will not attempt to isolate people from others, insert himself into situations for attention, or harm them in any way, especially psychologically. If he loves, it is completely. He will also never lie to a loved one on any important matter, or really any matter at all.

Though it is very well hidden most of the time, Connor has anxiety & depression, though his depressive moods are few & far between. His anxiety, however, is in constant contention with his numb state of being & only in rare cases will it ever come to light. Nervous fidgeting, such as with pocket change or stress-grooming, are commonplace, though he is not prone to panic unless someone he loves is in danger or his objective is dangerously close to failure.

Involvement:

Silent Hill - A fog loomed over him, not merely over his body but over his mind like a blanket, cool & soft, beckoning him into the darkness. Connor found himself in an unfamiliar place, in a state of utter deprivation, bewildered yet too fatigued to do anything about it. It was not a fatigue of the body, but of the mind which was so powerful it stole all strength from his body & he could not move himself. He didn’t know why this town stole him away, but he knew he would either become a sacrifice for God or repent for his past mistakes.

Resident Evil - Full outline HERE.

Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs - In pursuit of the Chesapeake Ripper, the team under Jack Crawford of the FBI grew needy for assistance as Crawford became further concerned that his specialized profiler, Will Graham, had been compromised psychologically & feared breaking him. Through his resources Crawford touched base with Detroit PD’s director of criminal psychology, Amanda Stern, who suggested her own protégé Connor Arkeit as a worthy successor. As such, Connor was assigned to work with FBI & transported temporarily to Quantico. There he was directed to work with Graham & learn what he could, ready to take over should there be a need for it. Instead he learned to completely harmonize with his partner, after realizing they both possess the same gifts of imagination & reconstruction. However, he realized Will could not turn off his empathy, & slowly Connor began to take on more & more in his role as profiler, both using Will for information & protecting him from further psychological trauma with mixed results.

Marvel 616/Netflix - Many months after the incident in New York when the world learned that extraordinary heroes walked among them & villainy came not only from the furthest reaches of the globe, but from beyond the stars. After the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen helped expose the corruption within the city & FBI filtered out the turncoats within the NYPD, New York was in dire need for replacements. The Arkeit siblings volunteered for a temporary transfer to help clean up the city & maintain order. Having grown up so close to the city limits of Detroit & fully immersing themselves into it’s culture, darkness & light, the trio believed they would be fit to handle the task. On a more personal note, the boys were highly intrigued by the tales of super heroes & vigilantes, & the exploits of organized crime within Hell’s Kitchen. Connor was intent on learning all that he could, against the warnings of his siblings that he might get in over his head.

#˾ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ ̚ ;; ᵀʰᶦˢ ᶦˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ᵍᵃᵐᵉ. ᵀʰᶦˢ ᶦˢ ᴼᵁᴿ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ.#˾ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ & ᴄɪɢᴀʀᴇᴛᴛᴇꜱ ̚ ;; ⁱ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ ʷʰʸ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ⁱ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵇᵘⁱˡᵈ ᵒʳ ᶜʳᵉᵃᵗᵉ.▐ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ #˾ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ʜɪʟʟ ̚ ;; ᴴᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ˡᵘˡˡᵃᵇʸ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉˢ. ▐ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ #˾ ᴜᴍʙʀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴄʜʀᴏɴɪᴄʟᴇꜱ ̚ ;; ᵂʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ⁿᵒ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᶦⁿ ʰᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ʷᶦˡˡ ʷᵃˡᵏ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵃʳᵗʰ ▐ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ #˾ ʜᴀɴɴɪʙᴀʟ ̚ ;; ᵈᵒ ⁱ ᵗᵉʳʳⁱᶠʸ ʸᵒᵘ? ᵒʳ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵃˡⁱᵛᵉ?▐ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ #˾ ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ ̚ ;; ⁱ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰᵉʳᵒᵉˢ.▐ ᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ #˾ ᴄᴏɴɴᴏʀ ̚ ;; ᴵ'ᵐ ᵇᵉᵍᶦᶰᶰᶦᶰᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᶰᵒᵗ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵐʸ ᵖʳᵒᵍʳᵃᵐ ▐ ᴍᴜꜱɪɴɢꜱ

9 notes · View notes

master-sass-blast · 5 years

Text

Hunter and Hunted.

LOOK, THIS FIC IS 100% SELF INDULGENT. THIS FIC IS FOR M E. DON’T @ ME.

Summary: You wake up in the middle of nowhere with Frank Castle sitting next to you. Turns out, the two of you have been abducted --with others--and dumped into a forest to be prey in a sick game of prey and predator. Will you --and Frank--make it out alive?

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Frank Castle x Karen Page.

Rating: T for violence, gore, blood, medication withdrawal, death, panic attacks, violence with guns (it’s the punisher), and general intensity. Like, I don’t think it’s the worst thing ever, but it’s all in here.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @nebulous-leo

You wake up to someone’s hand pressing against your neck.

Your first instinct is to lash out at the mystery hand and its owner –so that’s what you do. You let out a choked scream, grab the wrist of the hand pressed against your neck, and fling a fist in the direction of whomstever the hand belongs to.

The person –a man, but not Piotr or Wade or Nate or Hank or anyone you would remotely expect to be touching your neck—blocks your swing and lets out a grunt. “Hey –hey, calm down—”

You aim a kick at the man’s gut –the light is making it impossible to see, meaning that calming down is on your lowest priority list right now—and make contact, successfully shoving him off you. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down, you fucking pervert, fucking touching my damn neck like some sort of candy van driving creep, I will slamdunk the buttfucking brains out of you…” You stop when you finally see the “neck toucher,” then blink and squint because you’ve got to be imagining things. “What the fuck?”

Frank Castle grimaces at you. “My thoughts exactly.”

You go from crouching to sitting flat on your ass as your brain tries to process what all’s going on –and that’s when you notice another important detail.

You’re in the middle of a forest.

You’re surrounded by trees, dense foliage, dirt, rocks, and fallen debris for as far as the eye can see. There’s no sign of civilization, anyone else, or how you even got out here.

Which, naturally, begs the question: how the fuck did you get out here with Frank Castle and no recollection of how you got here?

“We’ve got a bad fucking track record with running into each other, man,” you grumble as you push yourself into a standing position. “I take it you weren’t casually hiking along and just happened to bump into me?”

“I wish,” Frank mutters as he brushes his hands off on his pants. “I woke up a few meters up the hill.” He jerks his head to the left. “Thought I saw someone through the brush, decided to check it out, found you.”

“And you decided the best way to wake me up was to cup my neck because…”

Frank snorts. “Wasn’t trying to be weird. You’ve got one of the collars on.”

“What?” Your hands fly up to your neck, and you let out a streak of swear words when you feel the repression collar in place. “Mother of fuck –okay, how in the flying fuck did I even get out here with this thing on?”

“Probably a hunting ring,” Frank says, tone darkening. “Was looking into one of their operations last I can remember. They like to pick people up, ship them out to the woods, hunt them for sport. Guess they were looking for a challenge this time.”

Yeah, or a death sentence, you think, considering they decided to pick up the fucking Punisher, of all people. Your hand floats back up to your neck, groping at the collar as you try to get a sense for what model it is. “Tell me what this looks like. Keypad, fingerprint scanner, power cell size, whatever. I’m a dead duck until I get this thing off me, so the more I know, the better.”

“Got a keypad on the back with the numbers zero through nine, a delete key, and an ‘enter’ key,” Frank says, stepping behind you to get a better look at the collar.

“Any seams on the side or areas that would let us access the internal mechanisms?”

“…Yeah. There’s a seam running all around the node the keypad’s mounted on, and there’s a little rectangular hole that you could jam a screwdriver head or a knife blade in to pop the sucker open.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath and do your best to calm yourself. “That’s… something.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” Frank reassures you, slowly pacing around as he assesses his surroundings. “We’ll figure something out.”

“…Frank… if I can get the collar off, I seriously doubt we’re going to get out of this place in enough time for me to get my next does of meds, which means…”

Which means the likelihood of an episode happening –even if regular medication and psychic therapy have helped—and you’re not about to risk someone that literally has no ways of protecting themselves.

But Frank –true to form, if Wade and Karen are to be believed—merely shakes his head once your voice trails off. “Not leaving you out here alone. You’re a sitting duck with that collar on. Plus, safety in numbers. We’re sticking together.”

You open your mouth to argue –but are promptly cut off by the sound of gunshots and someone screaming nearby.

Frank tenses, then takes off towards the sounds of the gunfire.

You swear under your breath, then follow after him; it’s not like you have any better options.

***

The screaming leads you to a group of people dressed in full hunting gear –backpacks, hiking boots, camo, the whole nine yards—with guns trained on a person booking it through the trees, screaming –understandably—like a banshee.

Your gut clenches when one of the hunters hits the running person straight in the back. Shit.

Frank bursts into action. With experienced ease, he darts behind a stand of trees, stalking the group of hunters as they go to check their “kill,” until the right opportunity opens up—

And then it’s over in a flash. He snaps the neck of the closest hunter, takes their gun, and the rest fall within seconds.

You grimace as you edge closer to the pile of fresh bodies. “Are there going to be more of them?”

“Definitely,” Frank says as he starts checking over the hunters’ gear. “These events are pretty big. Lots of people put cash down to participate. My bet is that this is just group one –or, if it’s a big enough plot of land, everyone else is spread out.”

“What about them?” you ask, nodding over to the fallen “hunt-ee.”

Frank shakes his head. “He’s toast. That shot would’ve gone straight through his heart.”

You creep a little closer to victim, trying to get a grasp on the situation without getting a full gore display. “She. Not he.”

“She,” Frank corrects, shrugging. “Doesn’t make a difference.”

“Does in this case.” You roll the body over with your foot, revealing a shock of dyed red hair, fingers with webbing between them, and gill slits on the neck that are partially covered by a repression collar. “She’s a mutant.”

Frank looks up at you before joining you near the woman’s body. “Anyone you recognize?”

“Captain Tribecca Jones, also known as Marlene, no last name given.” You close Marlene’s eyes –set in a vacant, lifeless gaze—and sigh heavily. “Mutant grifter, gotten in some trouble with the law. Notable for tracking ships carrying trafficked mutants and humans on them and setting them free –and for breaking out of the Icebox five different times.”

“Damn.” Frank lets out a low whistle. “They were clearly going for a challenge round if they picked her up.”

“Not much of a challenge with the collar.”

“Trophy, then. Bragging rights.”

Your stomach churns, and you look away from Marlene’s lifeless body. “We’re not fucking trophies.”

***

Much to your dismay –and Frank’s derision—none of the hunters were carrying anything that could be used to get the collar off you.

“Who the fuck doesn’t carry a blade on them?” he grumbles as he pairs down the most useful gear into one backpack. “You’re going ‘hunting’ in the middle of the damn woods; take a fucking pocket knife at least.”

“I mean, they might not need one,” you point out as you scan the area around you nervously. “They’re going out together in teams, they’ve probably got maps and tracking equipment, and I doubt they’re actually sleeping out in the woods. Does something seem off to you?”

“We’re prey in a sick hunting game in the middle of who knows the fuck where,” Frank points out as he hands you a metal water bottle. “This whole thing is off.”

“Yeah, no, I mean… about where we are. Something’s not right.” Your gaze darts around wildly as your brain works overtime. “None of this feels right.”

“Hey.” Frank gently clasps your shoulder. “Deep breath. Panicking won’t help.”

“I’m not—” You purse your lips together when Frank gives you a look, then take a deep breath and let it out. “This not feeling right isn’t me panicking. Something is off about where we are –not how we got here, but the woods themselves. Something’s wrong with these woods.”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“You seem pretty dead set on this ‘we’ thing,” you mutter.

“Should I not be?”

“I mean… if I have an episode…”

“You’re wearing the collar,” Frank points out. “Which means you don’t pose a risk to me.”

“Well, if we can’t get it off, I’m fucking useless!”

“All the more reason for me to stick close to you,” Frank says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not just gonna leave you in this, okay?”

You sigh, then nod. “Alright. Where do we go now?”

Another scream rips through the air –further away this time—followed by more gunshots.

Frank takes off in the direction of the shots. “We go this way.”

***

Your second run in with the hunters doesn’t go nearly as well as the first.

First, the second victim alerts the hunters to yours and Frank’s presence, which means there’s no sneaking up on them and taking them out before they realize what’s going on.

Second, the hunters notice you as well as Frank –and manage to get between the two of you so you have to fend them off as well.

You grit your teeth as you dive behind a massive mound of dirt. Gunfire cracks through the air as shotgun rounds slam into the small hill, and you cover your head with your hands. You can hear Frank shouting and other people letting out various shrieks and grunts of pain, so you can only assume –hope—that he’s holding his own.

This is out of your realm. You’re not a slouch when it comes to fighting, but being gunned down in the middle of nowhere with a repression collar around your neck is well above your pay grade.

You scramble to the side just before one of the hunters clambers over the hill, then kick them in the knee before they can set their sights on you. You make a mad dash for their shotgun, rip it away from them, then skitter back and turn the gun on them.

And then you freeze. You can’t make your finger squeeze the trigger. For all that you’ve shot targets –and been shot at—you can’t bring yourself to fire a gun at another human being.

The hunter lunges at you—

Another gunshot cracks through the air, and the hunter’s head explodes like a watermelon loaded with C4.

You scream, then look up at the bank of dirt.

Frank lowers a rifle –which he presumably took off one of the hunters. His face is spattered with blood, and he looks far too calm for a man who just killed several people. “You froze.”

“I…” You activate the safety on the shotgun and stare at the bloodstained ground. “Yeah.”

“You can’t do that here. If you have a shot, you have to take it.”

“I… I can’t,” you say, ducking your head to hide the tears that have suddenly welled up in your eyes.

“Not an option right now. It’s them or us.” Frank squeezes your shoulder gently, then wraps one of his arms around you and leads you away from the headless corpse. “Come on. I think one of these bastards was carrying a blade.”

***

“This still seems really weird,” you comment as Frank searches the dead hunters for a knife. “Doesn’t it seem weird to you?”

“Outside of being abducted and used as prey in some psychopath’s hunting game? Not particularly.” He lets out a pleased grunt when he finds a pocket knife on one of the hunter’s belt, then removes a pistol from their holster as well. “You comfortable with a .380?”

You swallow hard and start shaking your head. “No, I –I can’t, Frank, I can’t—”

“Look, I know the X-Men have their thing about ‘no killing,’ but this is—”

“No, no, I can’t kill anyone else. I tried to run away from home as a kid, and they hunted me down, and I had to… I can’t, I can’t—”

“Jesus Christ,” Frank grumbles, quickly moving to stand when you start crying. “Hey. Hey. Look at me.” He holds up the knife. “We’re getting this collar off you, okay? You keep ‘em off me, and I’ll make sure they stay down, okay?”

You nod, sniffing loudly and swiping at your nose with your sleeve. “Okay. I can do that.”

Frank nods back, then steps behind you. “Alright, you’ll have to walk me through this.”

“Are there any manufacturers labels stamped on the collar? Any model types or labels at all?” you ask.

“Uh… Essex Productions? Type… 187B?”

You run through your mental file on repression collars –and send a thank you to your uncle—then nod. “Okay. Pop the keypad panel open and tell me what it looks like in there.”

It takes a bit of finagling –and a lot of cursing on Frank’s part—but he manages to lever the panel open with the knife blade. “Alright… got a… glowing, yellow battery-looking thing in the middle. There’s wires connecting the keypad to a motherboard thing, and a… blue something underneath the motherboard. Can’t get a good visual on it.”

“The yellow battery is a cell that contains the repression chip,” you say. “The blue thing is the collar’s power cell. We break the circuit, the collar will deactivate automatically.”

“Great. And how do we do that?”

“See if you can lever the motherboard up with the knife,” you suggest. “There should be wires underneath it that connect to the power cell in there.”

“So, you want me to jam this metal blade next to a power source.”

“I mean, you were going to be on death row at one point,” you mumble. “Could just be part of a well-rounded experience.”

“Very fucking funny; New York doesn’t do electrocution anymore. Hold still.”

You inhale deeply and close your eyes—

And then the collar powers down, opens with a clicking noise, and falls off your neck.

You let out a sigh of relief –then whip your head around when the sensation of ‘this isn’t right’ doesn’t go away. “What the fuck? This place still doesn’t feel right! Did they injection me with repression serum on top of it?”

“Can you fly?” Frank asks with a shrug.

You successfully levitate yourself off the ground, which only increases your confusion. “What the actual hell? Okay, I’m going to fly up and see if I can see any major landmarks.”

“Wait –shit, hold the fuck on.” Frank grabs your arm and yanks you away from the pile of bodies. “We need to move to a new location, just in case anyone else heard the sounds of the fight.”

You follow him along a narrow trail, until the two of you are far enough away that Frank’s willing to stop. “Alright, I’m gonna poke my head above the tree cover. Keep your eyes peeled down here.” You hover up, latching onto branches to help direct your ascent, then push some lush, green leaves out of your way so you can stick your head out and look around—

You gawk. “What the fuck!”

Instead of clear blue sky –or clouds, or anything resembling the fucking sky—you’re greeted by a dark, metal ceiling. Massive industrial lights hang down from the ceiling in a grid, illuminating the space and the “forest” beneath.

“We’re in a fucking warehouse!” you hiss down at Frank.

He frowns up at you, disbelieving. “What? How’s that even possible?”

“I will lift you up here myself if you don’t believe me, I swear to Barbara Streisand—”

“No, no, I believe you, just…” He gestures around at the trees. “How is any of this inside a fucking warehouse?”

You gasp as the light bulb goes off in your head. “Frank! Listen!”

He tenses, eyes scanning your surroundings as he does as you say. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly! No birds, no animals, no bugs –not even a damn breeze. This is a fake forest!”

Frank’s eyes widen as you land next to him. “Shit, you’re right. The trees and shit are real enough, but there’s nothing else. They must’ve built this place just for ‘hunting.’”

“Well, the upside is if we’re in a building, there have to be walls and doors. Some sort of way out, at least,” you reason. “If we can find one of the walls, we can run the perimeter until we find an exit.”

“Hang on.” Frank heaves the backpack off his shoulders. “One of the asshats… yeah, they had a map.” He unfolds it, then holds it out so you can both read off it. “This boundary—” he gestures to a dotted line “—must be the limits of the warehouse.”

“I’m willing to be these spots—” you tap the map where parts of the dotted line are highlighted with red “—are exits and entries.”

“Why would they keep doors if they’re bringing people in here?”

“They might be hidden. Or locked.”

“Then how are going to use them?”

“I can rip them open with my powers.” You kick up a little breeze to illustrate your point. “Or, push comes to shove, we wait for someone to come out and jump them.”

“Good enough plan. Could you see where the walls are when you flew up?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s too big a space.”

Frank grumbles under his breath and peers down at the map. “Okay, we’re on an incline right now, which means we’re somewhere around here.” He taps the bottom of the map. “There’s a stream down here—” he taps the center of the page “—that crosses the whole warehouse. We walk until we find it, then go left until we hit the wall. Closest door will be on the right.”

“Alright,” you say with a sigh. “Guess we better get walking.”

***

The two of you hike through the woods for what feels like half an hour before you blurt out, “Do you think they put trackers on us?”

Frank immediately bursts into a massive, angry barrage of swear words and all but rips the backpack off his backpack. “Should’ve fucking done that right away, goddamn idiot— help me check this shit.”

The two of you check over all the gear Frank’s poached off the dead hunters –guns, the knife, the maps, a pair of night vision goggles, flashlights, boxes of ammo, water bottles, rations—and the pack itself before checking your own clothes over.

Considering you’re wearing your own clothes –and aren’t feeling any pain or finding any bruises that would suggest an implanted chip—you start to think that there might not be anything—

Until you find a GPS tracking device tucked underneath the sole of your shoe.

“Check your shoes,” you tell Frank, holding up the tiny electronic device between your fingers. “I’ll bet there’s at least one in them.”

Frank growls under his breath when he pulls out an identical device. “Son of a bitch. Any chance you can stick this on top of a tree?”

“Hell yeah,” you say with a grin. You find the tallest tree in the vicinity, then float up and wedge the tracking devices in a crack in the trunk.

And, just when you think the two of you might finally have a handle on the situation, the lights shut off as soon as you feet hit the ground.

“Is it night-time?” you whisper. You can’t see anything –not even Frank—and the sudden darkness makes you feel like you can be heard from a mile away.

“Is for us,” Frank says back, voice similarly hushed. There’s a few shuffling noises, and then a flashlight clicks on, illuminating Frank’s face and the map he stole. He crouches close to the ground, hunching over the light to hide as much of it as possible. “Get down. It’ll make you harder to see on night vision equipment.”

You kneel down next to him, squinting down at the map. “What’re you looking for?”

“Topographical depressions. We’re liable to get hurt if we try to walk around in the dark, and if we use the flashlights we’ll lead them right to us. We need to find a place to hunker down that’s as sheltered as possible.” He mutters under his breath as he studies the map. “There’s a spot… but opposite of the direction we’ve been going. Gonna be pretty hard to go uphill in the dark, but if we use the flashlight—”

“Use the goggles and talk me through it,” you insist. “I can use my powers to block the sound of us talking from travelling past us.”

“You might fall,” Frank warns you.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Alright,” he agrees after a moment, rifling through the backpack so he can set up the night vision goggles. “Goggles it is.”

***

It takes no small amount of doing to navigate your way over to the ravine Frank found on the map. Even if there aren’t any animals in the “forest” –which you think might be better called an “arena”—there’s still plenty of plants, fallen branches, partially decomposed logs, and rocks to make your way around.

You keep an iron grip on Frank’s hand as he leads you through the woods, moving as cautiously and quietly as you can.

Eventually, the two of you reach the gulch –and without too many scrapes or bruises, either. Frank briefly flicks on the flashlight so the two of you can find a safe place to hunker down for the night; the two of you are out within seconds of settling down on the ground.

You come to with a jerk when the overhead lights flick back on, blasting the entire space with harsh, white light. You grimace as waves of pins and needles shoot throughout your body and curl up on your side. Fucking withdrawals.

Frank groans next to you and pushes himself into a sitting position. “Gotta get moving again.”

“I know.” You push yourself up slowly, trying to take deep breaths against the pain and general feelings of suckitude coursing through your body. “You sleep alright?”

Frank chuckles as he rummages through the backpack. “Not the worst I’ve had.” He hands you a granola bar and a bottle of water. “Fuel up. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today.”

The last thing you want to do right now is eat. Just the sight of the granola bar and the water makes your stomach churn angrily.

But Frank’s right –doubly so since you’re a mutant and have that accelerated metabolism thing that Hank keeps talking about.

Frank frowns when you hesitate before taking the granola bar and water. “You sick? You ain’t looking so good.”

“Just withdrawals,” you say with a shake of your head. “They make me feel like shit.”

Frank hisses through his teeth, then scans the map before looking around at the gulch and the surrounding area. “I’d say we could just stay put, but—”

“We can’t,” you finish as you nibble at your granola bar. “I know. We’ll stick to the plan of moving towards the stream. I just… I might need to stop and breathe on occasions.”

Frank nods once, twice. “That works. You just say when.”

***

It’s slower going, what with you being so out of it, but the two of you manage to cover a decent amount of ground in what Frank reasons is only a couple hours. He keeps the map in his hand, checking your surroundings ever few minutes so he can keep tabs on roughly where the two of you are and how close you are to the stream.

All in all, it’s going pretty good.

And then you get hit with a panic attack.

It slams into you out of nowhere; granted, in hindsight, you’ll be able to track the mounting tension in your torso and shoulders, the increase in your heart rate, and the growing shallowness of your breaths.

But, unfortunately, all you have is the present moment –and, in the present moment, you go from striding next to Frank to having overwhelming waves of anxiety crash over you and feeling like you can’t breathe.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Frank quickly moves you over and sets you down in front of an outcropping of large boulders –cover in case a group of hunters is in the area. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

“Panic attack,” you eke out, trembling from head to toe as you gasp for air. You close your eyes, trying to calm your breathing. “Just gotta ride it out.”

“Ah, shit.” There’s a gentle thump, then more rustling. “Hey.”

You open your eyes and see Frank sitting next to you, pack on the ground and one hand outstretched to you, palm up.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Frank says, giving you a meaningful look.

You manage a ghost of a smile and take his hand, squeezing it tight as you try to wide out the waves of fear.

It’s hard, as it’s always been –more so since you’re going through medication withdrawals. You know it’ll pass, that it always passes, but the whole thing has shades of being kidnapped and trapped underneath your parents’ house, which only serves to make it more terrifying—

Except Frank’s here. His hand is solid and warm around yours, and even though the two of you aren’t anywhere near “close,” you trust him. You trust him to work with you through this, to have your back –and, apparently, to hold your hand while your work through a panic attack.

Something in the back of your mind says the Punisher’s probably had his fair share of panic attacks, too.

“Heard you and Rasputin got hitched,” Frank says after a bit, voice gravelly.

You let out a wet laugh and look down at your engagement ring and wedding band –which, miraculously, the abductors didn’t take off you when they scooped you up and dropped you in here. “Yeah, we did. Couple months ago.”

Frank nods slowly, gaze occasionally darting towards you but largely fixed on scanning your surroundings. “Figured that’d be the case. He’s the type. You two are good together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling as you think of your husband. You sniff wetly, then wipe tears from your face. “He is. And we are.” You draw in and let out a jerky, shaky breath, then look over at Frank. “What about you and Karen?”

Frank’s face scrunches up amusingly as he mentally scrambles for some sort way to shut the line of conversation down. “Karen and I—”

“Are a thing,” you interject.

“We ain’t ‘a thing,’” Frank says firmly –sadly. “We just… it’s not gonna happen. It can’t happen.”

“Seems like it’s already happening.”

“We—”

“You took me to her apartment, you knew where stuff was there, she had one of your hoodies there, she showed up to support you when Wade dragged you over to Xavier’s for the target practice outing, you stashed her at Xavier’s when you helped rescue me, not to mention that a majority of people in New York know and believe that you jumped in front of two bullets for her,” you list off. “Face it, the two of you are a thing.”

Frank sighs heavily –like a man dead set on torturing himself—and shakes his head. “We ain’t. Can’t be. I’m… I’m not good for anyone. Not like this.”

You take one look at Frank’s defeated expression and slumped posture, and your current lack of filter does the rest. “Take it from someone who got told their whole life that they weren’t ‘good for anyone,’ Castle—”

Frank looks up at you, surprise evident in his expression.

“The only people who suffer more than you do from believing that about yourself are the people who love and care about you,” you say as firmly as you can. “And, for you, Karen’s definitely one of those people.”

“Karen’s…” Frank swallows hard and stares at the ground. “Karen’s good. She’s… she’s someone I care about. And I can’t lose anyone else I care about.”

“Seems to me you’re already losing her.”

Frank shoots you a sharp look and opens his mouth to retort –then tenses and snaps it shut when the sound of voices echoes from nearby. “Hunters.”

“Sounds like a big group,” you murmur, forcing yourself into a crouch next to him. “Think we can avoid them?”

Frank slings the back pack over his shoulders, cocks one of the –many—guns he’d taken off the wake of corpses, and starts stalking towards the sound of conversation. “Not how this works.”

“Of course it isn’t,” you grumble under your breath before following after him.

***

The third fight is a bloodbath.

You were right about it being a larger group. There’s at least seventeen people, men and women, all in fancy hunting garb and wielding a variety of guns.

A few of them start yelling when they see Frank and you –then scream when the two of you charge them.

You can’t really keep track of the fight in your exhausted, strained state. You merely channel all your energy into keeping the hunters from ganging up on you and Frank, while Frank unleashes his rage in a maelstrom of guttural screams, bone-crushing punches, and sprays of enemy blood.

It’s a mess.

You bat hunter away from Frank with a burst of wind –then let out a scream when another hunter slams into you, forcibly shoving you away from Frank and against a thick tree trunk.

The hunter growls under his breath and unsheathes a massive knife, angling it at your face. “Mutant bitch.”

You grunt as you flinch away from the swing of the blade, heart hammering as he embeds the knife into the trunk of the tree. You use the opportunity to knee him in the gut –then let out a shout of pain when he slams your head against the tree.

“Told me you were X-Men,” the hunter says, pressing his hand against your throat and pushing against your neck while you thrash and struggle. “Told me you’d be a challenge. None of you mutant bastards have even been remotely interesting to kill.”

You let out a raspy gurgle as your pulse pounds in your ears, then focus your powers on expanding the man’s lungs past capacity as quickly as you can.

The hunter jerks, makes a horrific choking noise, then collapses to the ground in a heap as blood trickles out of his mouth.

You stumble forward, almost tripping over the body, gasping and coughing. You brace your hands on your knees, trying to stay steady as your vision clears and your hearing goes back to normal—

And then you hear the sounds of Frank struggling to fend off the last hunter, who’s got him pinned behind a tree and keeps advancing on him whilst firing his rifle.

You grit your teeth, then let out a guttural scream as you aim a blast of wind at the hunter.

The man slams through a nearby tree, shearing the trunk half before bouncing along the ground like a ragdoll.

There’s a beat of silence, then Frank pops out from behind the tree, looking a little startled. “You okay?”

You nod, panting, and wave a hand dismissively. “Yeah. Lets get out of here before anyone else finds us.”

***

The two of you find the stream right as the lights are switched off for the night.

You sigh heavily and drop down onto the ground. “Well, at least we can focus on finding the wall tomorrow.”

Frank grunts in agreement as he settles next to you, then briefly flicks on one of the flashlights as he rifles through the pack. “Here.” He hands you a ration packet and a bottle of water. “Need to stay fueled up.”

You shiver as another wave of pins and needles sweeps through your body and groan. “No. I don’t think I could even keep it down.”

“You need to eat.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I feel sick.” You shiver again, then curl into a ball as best you can. “And cold.”

Frank goes quiet for a minute, simply observing you, then sits back against the base of a thick tree trunk and motions for you to join him. “C’mere.”

“What?”

“You need to stay warm. Sharing body heat is the best way we have to do that.”

“This sounds like the start of a smut fic,” you mutter dubiously.

“You sound like fucking Wilson,” Frank grumbles under his breath before motioning for you to join him more insistently. “Come on. Not like I’m gonna do anything. I’m just looking to keep you warm, s’all.”

And even though it’s weird –and, in another universe, one hundred percent the start of a smut fic—you trust Frank not to do anything. And, moreover, you want to be warm.

You crawl over to him and sit between his legs, huddling against Frank’s chest. You nestle closer, shivering. “How are you so warm?”

“Testosterone,” Frank grunts, taking your ration pack and mixing some water in it to start the cooking process. “Higher amounts of testosterone means higher body temp.”

You grit your teeth as you shudder. “That sounds like cheating.”

“Probably is,” Frank agrees mildly, mixing your ration pack around with a fork –because the “high end hunters” kept actual silverware on them, for some reason—before handing it over to you. “Alright, try to get most of this down.”

You grimace and shake your head. “No. I just wanna sleep.”

“C’mon,” Frank encourages you, pressing the ration packet into your hands. “Wilson yammers almost nonstop about your guy, including his whole thing about ‘eating balanced meals’ and whatever the fuck. He’d want you to eat.”

You grumble to yourself as you reluctantly scoop some of the contents of the ration packet –which looks like a jambalaya rice mixture—onto your fork. “That’s a cheap move and you know it.”

“If it works, it works,” Frank says with a shrug.

…

Progress the next day is painfully slow. Your body hurts from sleeping on the ground and the withdrawals, you’re exhausted, and you feel sicker than a dog. You trudge along, stopping every few meters to catch your breath or double over from pain, nausea, or some inhumane combination of both.

Frank is markedly patient with you. He keeps an eye out for any sign of danger while the two of you trail along the stream, encourages you by picking out little landmarks –usually fallen logs or rocks—and challenging you to make it to them, and handles keeping track of when to eat and drink.

You’re getting the sneaking suspicion that you’re dead weight –though that could just be the increasing paranoia caused by the medication withdrawals.

Frank seems to think so, too, because he’s adamant about sticking with you when you suggest he go ahead and find the wall. “Not gonna happen,” he says, voice firm. “I’m not leaving you out here like this. We’re sticking together, and that’s the end of it.”

You nod, too tired to argue, then offer up a weak smile. “Besides, Wade would kick the shit out of you if you abandoned me.”

Frank huffs and nods while scanning the route ahead. “You’re right about that. Not to mention your dad and your husband.”

“Piotr’s not a violent person.”

“Pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to slam me around if I left you out here while you’re like this,” Frank insists before nodding at a bend in the stream. “Let’s reach that curve, then you can sit and rest for a bit. Sound good?”

You nod wearily and press on. “Good as it’s gonna get right now.”

…

You crumple to the ground when the overhead lights switch off. “Thank Cthulhu.”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Frank snorts as he settles down next to you. He rummages through the pack, then offers you some water and another ration pack. “Here. Eat.”

“No,” you groan, turning away and curling into a ball. “I’m gonna puke up whatever I eat. I’ll just go without tonight.”

“You need to eat.”

“We have limited food supplies,” you fire back, voice heated, “and we are not going to waste them by just having me throw them back up. I’m not eating.”

“Not eating is going to cause more problems than eating,” Frank argues. He switches out the ration pack for a granola bar, then forcibly shoves it in your hands. “Eat. Or, so fucking help me, I’m feeding it to you.”

You sit up with an irritated huff –then let out a cry of dismay when a fallen branch rips your jacket. “Fucking… stupid fucking piece of shit branch –get the fuck off of me!” You whip it away from you—

And it bounces off something a few feet away with a metallic thud.

You and Frank both go stock still.

“Is that—” you whisper, scarcely daring to be hopeful at this point.

“Stay down,” Frank growls under his breath as he scrambles for the night vision goggles. He scans the area, then whispers, “No one’s nearby as far as I can see.”

You suck in a breath and flip on a flashlight—

And, less twenty feet away from you, is a wall.

“We made it,” you breathe, barely able to believe it.

“We still need to find a door,” Frank points out.

“Well, it’s supposed to be to the right, right? I can hop us over the stream, and then we can find the door, break in, and maybe sleep somewhere that isn’t the ground.”

Frank hesitates for a moment, then whips a wild glance over his shoulder when the sound of gunfire and more screaming emanate from the distance. “Fuck it.” He slings the pack over his shoulder and shoves himself to his feet. “Let’s go.”

***

Finding the door is markedly easier than finding the stream or the wall. You get you and Frank over the stream, then the two of you follow the wall until you reach a metal door with an electronic scanner that strongly resembles the keycard mechanisms on hotel doors next to it.

“Maybe there’s a keycard in the pack,” you suggest, voice hushed. “Or something similar that’ll let us in.”

A quick search of the pack does indeed yield a keycard that looks like it’ll fit the scanner –and, from there, you and Frank make a plan for entry.

“You swipe the card, and if the door opens, you stay behind me while I clear everything,” Frank says, tone brokering no room for argumentation.

You nod, then tuck yourself against the wall before swiping the card in the key slot.

The door swishes open, revealing an empty hallway.

Frank does a quick scan, gun aimed and ready, then nods for you to follow him.

***

It doesn’t take long to clear the base connected to the hunting grounds. There’s only a handful of people in there –a couple of guards, another hunting party hanging out in a luxury lounge area while they chat and compare trophies taken off the victims, and a couple of men watching cameras that overlook the outside of the complex –which, by in large, looks like a barren field—and a GPS scanner that covers the hunting arena.

Frank slaughters everyone there without hesitation or mercy, then piles the bodies in one of the opulent suites built into the complex. His lip curls into a sneer as he eyes the place, clearly designed for luxurious, top end comfort and relaxation. “This place is fucking disgusting.”

“If it’s any comfort, I’m pretty sure Wade will help you burn it once everyone comes and picks us up,” you mutter, shivering slightly. “Can I sit down now?”

***

Frank manages to get word out to one of his friends –a “tech spook,” as Frank describes him—who then gets word to the X-Men, who then relays a message that the X-Men are on their way to rescue you and Frank. The only thing the two of you have to do in the meantime is sit tight.

Things are markedly quieter, now. There’s a few more rounds of gunfire as Frank finishes off the last of the hunters attempting to reenter the complex attached to the forested arena, but other than that things are deathly silent.

You feel markedly better once you take a long, hot shower and change into some clean clothes, poached out of one of the dead hunter’s closet. That, plus some decent food that you found in the lounge kitchen, has you feeling miles better than you have over the past few days.

You look up from where you’ve been watching the camera bank, perched on one of the chairs, when Frank walks in from his shower. “Everything’s been quiet.”

He nods, scanning the cameras before plopping down in the seat next to you. Should probably hole up in here. Door’s reinforced, and it’s not likely anyone would think to look in here.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone left,” you say. “There aren’t any other GPS trackers in the arena, and you already cleared the complex.”

Frank simply shoots you a look before going back to watching the screens. “Your people should be here in a little over ten hours. They’ll get us back to New York.”

“I take it we’re not in America anymore?”

Frank shakes his head. “Siberia, according to Lieberman. One of the few places you could hide something like this. Right in your guy’s territory, if I’m not mistaken.”

“I mean, Piotr’s dad has a farm in Siberia, but I’m pretty sure he would’ve tipped us off if this was anywhere near him.” You smile as you think of your husband, then look over at Frank once more. “You looking forward to getting out here?”

“Pretty much anywhere’s better than this shithole.”

“I meant more as it relates to seeing Karen—”

“For the love of Christ, will you fucking drop it?” Frank groans, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “There’s nothing to relate it to! Karen and I are not a thing.”

“Bullshit!” you fire back, swiveling your chair so you’re facing him. You cross your arms over your chest. “Even if you two aren’t an official ‘thing,’ you love her, and you know she loves you.”

“We—”

“Look me in the eye, Frank,” you challenge, staring him down. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love Karen.”

Frank stares at you for a moment, licking at his lower lip nervously, then sighs heavily and hangs his head. “I love her. I’ll always love her. But we can’t –we cannot—be a thing.”

“Why not? And don’t tell me it’s about keeping her safe,” you snap, pointing at him. “We both know –along with everyone else in the state of New York—that Karen Page does just fine all on her own at being a colossal shit magnet. She’s built her whole career off it. So don’t fucking sell me some sort of line about ‘keeping her safe,’ because the actual chances are she’d be a lot safer if you were always close by to watch her back.”

Frank’s jaw works, and his finger taps against his thigh. “Look, Karen… Karen’s good. She… she deserves better than someone like me. She deserves someone who can give her the whole fairytale ending, y’know? Two story house, picket fence, couple of dogs… a comfortable life. I can’t ever give that to her. I’m not going to just take her future away from her. I’d rather get shot in the head again than do that.”

“Let me ask you a very fair question,” you say, cocking your head to the side and raising an eyebrow. “Have you actually asked Karen what kind of future she wants?”

Frank’s gaze darts to the floor sheepishly. “Don’t matter. I’m not putting her at risk.”

“The fuck it doesn’t matter, you misogynistic shit goblin!” you shout, lurching up out of your chair. “You can’t just make decisions for Karen without even consulting her about what you want. Look, you either love her and want to be with her for who she is, or you’re in love with this tortured ‘will-it-won’t-it’ scenario and keep stringing her along because you like the attention but don’t want the commitment.”

“You fucking –you fucking think that I would do that to Karen?” Frank roars, shoving his chair back so hard it topples over. “That what you fucking think of me? That I’m some –some fucking player who wants some pretty woman’s attention, so I’ll –I’ll just string her along! Tease her with the idea of some sort of future that’ll never be fulfilled! Is that the kind of person you think I am?”

“I think you’re a guy with his head wedged so far up his own asshole that he’s forgotten that there’s another person in this situation and that you’re hurting her,” you fire back, voice going gravelly. “If you’re so dead set on not putting Karen in danger and not having her be connected to you, then just cut her out and call it good so she can move on with her own life.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Frank’s expression crumples, and he sags against the desk positioned in front of the camera display screens, borderline lifeless. “I have. I thought it… that it was the best option. For –for both of us. And then I come back and I find out that she had to fight an entire war practically on her own and… and I wasn’t there to help. So I decided to stay, decided to stick around and make sure nothing like that happened again, but…”

“You can’t do love by halves,” you surmise.

Frank shakes his head, shoulders sagging. “You can’t. I can’t.”

“So why not just make things official and take things as they come. If you’re protecting her, then she’s still connected to you. May as well get something more out of the arrangement –for both of you.”

Frank growls and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Chrissakes, will you just drop it already?”

“I talk to Wade Wilson for fun and my daily job involves managing and teaching teenagers,” you fire back, placing your hands on your hips. “I can argue circles around you, Castle, even on my off days.”

Frank shoots you an irritated glare. “So –what—I just… I just act like a selfish asshole and—and sweep her off her feet and stay in her life properly?”

“If that’s what she wants, then yeah. Enough with the self-flagellation, Castle, sheesh. We’ve all got our selfish points.”

“Not like this,” Frank insists. “Not like me.”

“Bullshit,” you fire back. “Plenty of us have dark shit in our past and present. That doesn’t stop us from living the lives we want as best we can.”

“You’re not a killer—”

You frown severely. “The fuck I’m not!”

Frank alters course without missing a beat. “What happened to you as a kid isn’t even remotely the same thing—”

“I’ve killed people since then,” you interject hotly, which shuts Frank up. “I went to a murder shack out in Harmony –anti-mutant community, I’ll explain more later—and killed twenty people to steal some repression serum. I don’t care what kind of arguments you make about the trauma that lead me to do that, about the quality of people they were, or whatever the fuck else! Point still stands: I chose to kill people. I still choose to associate with people who kill people. And, for whatever reason, the universe hasn’t chosen to smite me for it. So, I’m going to live the life I want for as long as I can, and anyone who doesn’t like it can go suck my dick.”

The corner of Frank’s mouth quirks up. “Most people don’t go around admitting stuff like that to me.”

You roll your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m bursting any bubbles of masculinity here, but I could beat you in a fight, easy.”

“Is that so?” Frank asks, brows raising towards his hairline as he chuckles.

“I could make your lungs explode or throw you against a wall so hard you turn into human Jello. Unless you got the jump on me with a gun, it wouldn’t even be a contest.”

Frank shrugs while chuckling. “Yeah, probably. You’re a tough bird, that’s for sure.” He sobers quickly, finger tapping against his thigh in a steady, quick rhythm. “Look, I –I hear what you’re saying. ‘Bout me and Karen. I really do. I just… I can’t lose anyone close to me again. I can’t.”

“I get that.”

Frank pins you with a sharp, intense look. “Do you?”

“Frank, I’m a mutant,” you say tiredly. “I have to register as a mutant by law, and I –and my loved ones—could be rounded up and detained any day. I work with the X-Men, which includes the risk of any of us not coming back from a mission. I may not understand what you went through specifically with your family, but not wanting to lose someone close to you when there’s a daily risk? Yeah, I get that.” You shrug. “Personally, I think it’s better to life happily, even if for a short amount of time, than be miserable forever.”

Frank swallows hard, then starts poking around with the equipment hooked up to the screens and cameras. “Go get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on things.”

It’s an obvious deflection tactic, but you’re too tired to argue right now. You yawn, then head out the door. “Scream if you need me.”

Frank snorts. “Will do, Rasputin.”

You smile at the inclusion of your new last name, then pad off in search of a comfortable place to sleep.

***

By the time the sun properly rises for the day, one of the X-Jets finally touches down next to the complex entryway.

Most people wouldn’t think that someone as big as your husband would be particularly quick or nimble –especially when armored up—but he manages just that as he rushes down the loading ramp and over to you. He lifts you up into his arms –ever mindful of his added strength and, ah, firmness of his armor—then carefully sets you down and looks you over for any signs of damage or illness.

“I’m okay.” You shudder when another wave of pins and needles sweeps through you, then offer your husband a reassuring smile. “I just need my meds and some sleep.”

Piotr nods, then delicately kisses the top of your head. “Let’s go home, myshka.”

You make to follow him to the jet, but stop when you hear a relieved cry of Frank’s name—

And then Karen Page sprints off the X-Jet and into Frank Castle’s arms.

Frank looks shocked to see her but catches her anyway. His eyes dart around wildly for a moment as he holds her close, but then he relaxes into the embrace and lets his eyes shut.

“Man,” Wade says, all suited up, from his vantage point on the loading ramp. “They’ve got it so bad for each other, don’t they?”

You laugh quietly and nod. “Yeah, they really do.”

***

If getting back to the United States takes a long time, being cleared by the medical team at Xavier’s takes even longer. You’re poked, prodded, examined, assessed, and checked on until your head spins.

Fortunately, though, you have Piotr to keep you company throughout all of it. He sits by you for the entire time, dutiful in holding your hand and offering murmured encouragements and affections when needed.

Nathan and Neena also pop in and out during the evaluation –Nathan to ask questions about the hunters, their methods, and the complex, and Neena to make sure that she “rubs some luck on your examination.”

All in all, you’re good.

You look up from talking to Piotr when you hear a loud guffaw of laughter –and then Wade skips into your room.

“Did you really tell the Punisher he was being a ‘misogynistic shit goblin?’”

You grin sheepishly when Piotr makes a choking noise. “In my defense, I was off my medication.”

***

“There have to be more places like them. I seriously doubt the people running that kind of operation would only invest in one location.”

“I suspect you are right, myshka. However, now is not time for thinking of such things. Your job is to rest and recover. Nathan and Wade can handle tracking down mis-doers.”

You can’t help but smiling at the slight mangling of “wrong doers,” and nod. “Yeah. I feel bad for whoever’s running the show. Dad’s gonna put them through a world of hurt.”

You and your lovely husband are walking back to your house, stationed at the back of Xavier’s property. You’d insisted on walking by yourself –and while Piotr had agreed to let you, he still keeps a sharp eye on you for any sign of discomfort, dizziness, fatigue, or pain.

You reach out to pat Piotr’s arm reassuringly –then stop when you spy two certain someones across the lawn. “Well. Would you look at that.”

Frank and Karen are also strolling across the lawn, hand in hand. Frank seems to be talking, head bobbing uncertainly as he keeps an eye on his surroundings, while Karen seems more quiet, more focused on him.

And then Frank stops, finally looks at Karen, and says something that results in her kissing him.

“What is that all about?” Piotr asks, gently tugging you along as Frank slowly wraps his arms around Karen.

You grin, then follow your husband. “That, my dear, is the world as it should be.”

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #frank castle x karen page #SETTING UP MY OTP #BECAUSE IT'S HOW IT SHOULD BE #tw: violence #tw: gun violence #like i don't think it's the worst or most intense thing ever #but it's there #tw: panic attack #tw: medication withdrawal #this is kind of intense #but there's a sweet dose of fluff at the end i promise #deadpool fanfiction #x men fanfiction

52 notes · View notes